San Francisco Chronicle
Redefining Women's Work In Postwar Kosovo
U.N. programs help expand opportunities©December 28, 2001 - By Susan Ladika
Vucitrn, Yugoslavia -- As a child, Azize Muharremi could only dream of becoming a soldier or police officer.
"I always loved uniforms," she recalled. "In secondary school, I wanted to go to military school."
But in the male-dominated country of Yugoslavia, in the Serbian-ruled province of Kosovo, the 29-year-old ethnic Albanian woman knew she had no chance of moving into a career in law enforcement.
Instead, Muharremi enrolled in college, majoring in English, and went on to work as an English teacher.
But NATO's air assault on Yugoslav forces in 1999 -- launched to counter Belgrade's harsh crackdown on ethnic Albanians, who make up the vast majority of Kosovo's population -- wrought unexpected consequences for Muharremi and other women: It opened up new opportunities for them in this traditionally patriarchal society.
Thousands of men were killed fighting for Kosovo's independence or in mass executions by Serbian forces, leaving many households headed by women. Refugees who fled to the West and later returned were exposed to different ways of thinking about a woman's place in society. Finally, the postwar influx of international organizations to Kosovo has created new job opportunities and offered new role models for women.
One of the most successful has been the Kosovo Police Service. Set up by the United Nations and the Organization for Security and Cooperation in Europe, it has introduced a new, even-handed brand of law enforcement in a region where Serbian repression was the norm for years.
Since the police school was founded in Vucitrn two years ago, it has trained 4,000 local law enforcement officers. The force's 20 percent female representation -- patrol officers, administrative staff and instructors among them -- is the biggest percentage in Europe, according to Ardian Spahiu, the school's public affairs officer.
"It is an example for southeastern Europe, and for the Balkan mentality, it's something special," he said.
Muharremi had to overcome her father's resistance to her entering the police school after she was accepted in 1999. "You didn't finish university to become a police officer," he grumbled.
But once there, Muharremi received surprisingly strong backing from male officers. "The most important thing is when they support and trust you," she said.
After working for 14 months as an investigator in her hometown, the tense and ethnically divided city of Kosovska Mitrovica, Muharremi was transferred to the police school to become an associate instructor.
There, she and her co-workers can turn to Western instructors and administrators for advice.
Sandra Higgs, the school's executive assistant and a lieutenant in the Fauquier County, Va., sheriff's office, said female officers in Kosovo faced similar challenges to those met by American women 30 years ago trying to break into fields long dominated by males.
"They, too, have their struggles for acceptance," Higgs said, adding that her students often asked her about how her own family had come to terms with her career.
At the nearby cultural center in Vucitrn, where women are offered sewing, English and computer training courses, mention of the police school draws an enthusiastic response.
"This is a very big success for us. It shows the male world that women can do the same work they do," said Naxhije Buqinca, coordinator of Women Veterans of Education, whose goal is to educate and train women in the region.
The pioneering group was founded in 1993, encouraging young women to complete high school and educating them on what they might achieve at home and in the business world.
For most of Kosovo's women, such organizations were unknown prior to 1999.
A linchpin of the effort has been the Kosovo Women's Initiative, an umbrella program organized by the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees (UNCHR) and initiated by a $10 million grant from the U.S. government.
The original goal of the program, which received $2 million this year, was to establish support groups for women who had been raped during the war, or who needed legal assistance or business know-how.
At first, many hesitated to take part. "The first battle was getting them out of the house and into groups," said Maureen McBrien, a UNHCR community service officer. "There's a perception that women belong at home to do the family work."
She added that men didn't want their wives and daughters gathering together, fearing that the women might formulate a united stance against domestic violence, which is common in Kosovo.
By the end of 2000, the Kosovo Women's Initiative was in full sail, with more than 250 groups. Many teach English and handicraft skills. This year, reproductive health programs were introduced; the average woman in Kosovo gives birth to four children.
Opportunities for women are particularly limited in rural areas, where marriages often are arranged, birth rates are very high, and many girls never go on to high school.
Things got even tougher after 1989, when Kosovo -- which for decades had a high degree of autonomy -- had it taken away by Slobodan Milosevic. Yugoslav officials banned education in the Albanian language, so underground schools were established.
Many parents were afraid to send their daughters to those schools, especially when their route took them past Serbian-populated villages.
The Women Veterans of Education, one of the groups receiving support from the Kosovo Women's Initiative, actively encourages girls to complete their schooling -- meeting with parents, accompanying the girls when they register for school and monitoring their progress.
"You have to solve illiteracy before you can start to empower," said Brenda Belton, a program manager for the Kosovo Women's Initiative who works with the educators' group.
As the girls gain education and self-confidence, Belton said, they often end up telling their mothers: "I am not going to do what you did. I am not going to have an arranged marriage."
Last year, more than 200 young women took part.
Hava Uka is just wrapping up a sewing course. The 23-year-old had been a university student when Serbian forces began their harsh crackdown. Police checkpoints made it impossible for her to travel the 15 miles from Vucitrn to Pristina to attend college.
Her home was later torched and other family members lost their jobs, so Uka was "forced to get skills to generate income for my family." She has begun doing sewing from home and is enrolling in English courses.
"With more economic independence, women have a bigger role and a higher position in their family and society," Buqinca said.
