Migjen Kelmendi is a rock star-turned-journalist from Pristina. He is the editor of Jáva, a newspaper written in Kosovo's native Gheg dialect, and not in Standard Albanian, which is based on Tosk from southern Albania. Gheg is the mother tongue of all Kosovars. The choice to write in the dialect actually spoken by Kosovars reflects Migjen's fascination with the development of a distinct Kosovar identity, and a civic and not an ethnic state.
The story of Migjen's family reflects Kosovo’s social transformation over the past two generations.
"My grandfather was a highlander from around Peja. He 'slipped' down the mountains between the two world wars and ended up in the first city at the bottom: Peja! My mother came from an old Pristina Albanian family. Apart from Albanian, they also spoke Turkish, the lingua franca of the time. People in their social class did. So, old Serbian families talked in Turkish to old Albanian families."
Migjen's father Ramiz grew up at a time when there was still no education in Albanian. As Ramiz Kelmendi told us:
"We had no Albanian schools, we had no teacher, we had no history of our nation, no connection to Albania. We were not allowed to mention Albania. But the paradox was that the regime of the Kingdom of Yugoslavia opened a Mejtepe, a Turkish religious school. My father sent me to a Mejtepe, where I learned Arabic, "elhamdyrylahi e rabilalemin e rrahmani rrahim". I remember until today what "kuluwallahu ehad" means, because we had imams beat it into us with sticks."
Ramiz Kelmendi went to study in Belgrade in the 1950s. He was the first member of his family to receive a formal education.
Midjen also remembers the late 1960 and early 1970s:
"In this period we started to enjoy some kind of wealth. There were the first colour television sets, modern furniture and fridges. We started to have a middle class. Everyone was beginning to live like everyone else. The university library started to be built and it felt like we were becoming the real capital of Kosovo. All the streets were being paved with asphalt and asphalt was the symbol of progress. We even called the mayor "Asphalt Nazmi".
"At the time our leaders thought they were fighting the old Ottoman heritage and building a new society, a new language and a new man. So they also started to build new blocks of flats, and people wanted to live in them. If you lived in an old house, it began to feel very old-fashioned. A cousin of mine exchanged his house for a small flat. He thought he had made a good deal. Today he regrets the deal!"
In 1976, suddenly we had the first modern cafés. The 1970s were the best period we lived through in this place. After 1981 everything started to decline."
1981 saw violent confrontations between Albanians and the police.
"In 1980, along with some friends I started a new-wave band called Gjurmet – The Traces. After the demonstrations of 1981, in the context of youth in Pristina identifying with communist Albania, where rock 'n' roll was banned, this meant that we had taken a kind of political attitude. We were declaring ourselves for a 'go west' attitude, and not for communist Albania. Being a rocker meant that you were closer to the Yugoslav brand of communism rather than Albanian communism. Amongst many this was unpopular."
"The song "All roads lead to Pristina" was one of our biggest hits. The song is about immigration from the villages in the city, in the 80s."
This period was followed by the Serbian apartheid regime of the 1990s.
"Suddenly everything went underground. The centre of town was dominated by Serbs. For ten years I never entered the Hotel Grand. There were paramilitaries there, secret police, Arkan. I was afraid. There was no social life, except in private homes.
After the bombing started in March 1999, we were picked up by the Serbian police, gathered together and taken to the outskirts of Pristina, to the old train station. When I got there I saw 20-30 thousand people. Milosevic had started the crazy idea of deportation. I was afraid in case they were going to start killing. When I realised we were going to Macedonia I was happy."
For two years after the war, Migjen worked as director of the literature program for Kosovo's state television RTK. In 2001 he founded Jáva.
"Today Pristina is a mess. People are greedy. They are grabbing houses and land and selling things they don't own. But they are not Pristina people. They are newcomers. They don't feel the pulse of the city. They are building ugly buildings and grabbing public spaces for their own private benefit, and ministries and the government are involved. I feel like they are creating a large village out of our city. That makes for a challenge, though. Just like during our rocker days. A challenge to start something, a civic movement…”