Drops of life from the orange Sun

About the Third Summer School of the Kosovo Pomoravlje Community Centre

Summer is so hot. Heat waves, one after another, hit concrete, stone, water, forests and people hard. The sun in the sky is a big glowing orange from which not a single drop of fresh juice can be squeezed out. The holidays, the thought of school is distant and thin for the Serbs in central Serbia, but not in Kosovo and Metohija. For the children from the enclave, the Summer School on Šar Mountain is not just a summer program – it is a sip of that fresh juice from the sunny orange, which will trickle down their dry throats; a sip of freedom, of clean air after a long stay in narrow alleys and solid borders that were drawn on them by some unknown hand. Imposed. This is a place where they learn to dream without fear and where they get to know a wider, denser and more open world.

Many have been separated from their parents for the first time, and for some this is their first summer camp in their lives. Here, at over a thousand meters above sea level, children, about twenty of them, of younger age, from Serbian enclaves – Mogila, Lepina, Donja Gušterica, Lipljani, Pasjani, Donja Budriga, Bratilovac… The married couple Nikola and Marija Vasić, founders and leaders of the Kosovsko Pomoravlje NGO, with the help of donors and many good people, manage to organize this year’s summer school on the Šar mountain.

Like the “Dragana Hrebeljanović” Summer School at Draganac Monastery, this summer school-camp also follows the NTC program, but is designed for younger children from the enclaves of Kosovo and Metohija. Alongside Ivana Otašević Veljin, lecturer of the NTC system, the team includes Marina Vesić, a teacher from Mogila, Bogdan Mitić, a teacher from Lipljan, Katarina Kojić, a teacher from Belgrade and volunteer of the  HO Kosovo Pomoravlje, as well as Ivana Antonijević, also a teacher from Belgrade. Returning again this year is volunteer Sonja, and joining them are the married couple Maja (a mathematics professor) and Ivan Arsić (a physical education professor and coach of the “Kosovo Pomoravlje” Basketball Club).

Teacher Ivana, born in Priština, says this camp was a special challenge for her, even though she has much experience working in different camps. She expected quiet, reserved children but instead met cheerful, lively, and eager ones. Just like her own peers back in Priština, before the last war. These children, she says, carry the faces of those who were once expelled or disappeared from Serbian towns and villages across Kosovo and Metohija. These are the children who will grow up to win freedom. For them, every day is the best day, every game the favorite, every night the most beautiful. They are joyful, curious, and full of love. And although divided into two groups—“NTC” and “Champions”—they are, in spirit, one.

Bogdan, the teacher from Lipljan who also completed NTC training, highlights the method of “illogical stories” as particularly inspiring. Through associations and images, children connect countries with their flags and unique characteristics. Guided by Ivana’s instructions and advice, both Bogdan and Marina are finding new strength, independence, and inspiration for their future teaching—especially in their isolated classrooms back home.

Katarina, who works in Belgrade but has been part of these summer schools since the very first one in Bratilovac, compares her experience with children in the capital and in the camp. Her key word is empathy—sharing a piece of bread or even a chair, weaving bracelets not only for themselves but also for family, and showing care for friends. Because these children rarely have access to art schools, theaters, cinemas, or sports trainings—mostly due to the restrictions of enclave life—every change, even one lasting only ten days, is immensely important. As essential as bread and water. She notices that while the children are excellent at orienting themselves in space, they struggle more with mathematics and reading:

“Teachers here should dedicate more time to the little ones, without skipping or overlooking important lessons.”

For Ivan, teaching is like tending to “a bouquet, a garden ready to bloom.” He believes motor skills are deeply connected with intelligence. Competitions bring excitement—it’s wonderful to win, but children also need to learn how to fall, get back up, and keep going. His wife Maja adds that the biggest challenge for a teacher is:

“To step into children’s shoes and walk in them—through the world of mathematics, abstraction, anecdotes, symbols, and riddles.”

The joy is enormous: Bogdan proudly brought along his best students; Marina’s class from Mogila is discovering new worlds; sisters Milica and Bojana, two of five children from a family in Bratilovac, are making memories that will last. Friends of the Organization—Nata, Slavo, and Tamara—two political scientists and a PhD candidate in Serbian language and literature, interrupted their vacations to come help and be with the kids. Sneža takes care of the meals, mindful of the shy ones who would never ask for seconds—so she fills their plates generously. And somewhere quietly in the background, unseen but present, are the donors and kind-hearted people who made this camp possible. They are witnesses to the power of the invisible.

Participants of the Summer School at the Monastery of the Holy Archangels

Beyond education (through workshops, activities, and skill-building), beyond social value (new friendships, teamwork, tolerance, and communication), beyond emotional growth (confidence, independence, empathy, and care for others), and beyond moral and physical aspects (work habits, responsibility, awareness of nature and heritage, and less screen time), summer schools are far more than just “filling free time.” Especially this one, organized by HO Kosovo Pomoravlje. This is a workshop for life itself. It gives children a chance to grow their knowledge, skills, relationships, and values—treasures that will stay with them long after the camp ends.

These children, arriving from enclaves where everyday life is woven of both love and fear, where games are played behind high gates and longings remain beyond forbidden paths, now, on the slopes of Šara, paint the clouds with their words, bodies, and thoughts. One girl tells of a horse carrying light through the dark forests of her homeland. She says she will climb on that horse and never get off. And so, the light will shine forever where it was born.

When the camp ends, teachers and children will return home, and the mountains will fall silent again. Laughter, stories, and songs will be carried away by that horse of light and the mountain wind. But they will also carry the clouds they drew and the skies above them—helping them endure the fear and uncertainty of enclave life. Some wish they could stay “five nights and ten days more,” because here, everything is doubled—especially the days of happiness.

And while the Vasić family coordinates the summer school, looking at the photos and impressions sent from Šara, they are also joyfully preparing for the birth of their second child. Little Sava Vasić will cry his first cry in the Pasjane hospital before the author even begins to write this story. Life is beautiful.

Finally, the thought of children being born in Kosovo and Metohija, despite everything, is stronger than the gunshots that once echoed by the Bistrica river, exactly twenty-two years ago today. Back then, children of the HO Kosovo Pomoravlje Summer School waded into that same river—innocent, barefoot, and joyful, just like Panto and Ivan on that tragic day. They are here to remind us of the immeasurable in time, in which we constantly suffer yet bravely keep stepping into the river of life—washed, ready, and unafraid for the days ahead.

***

his is life here, in Kosovo and Metohija. I live here too, with them and around them. I laugh and cry alongside them. And somehow, I sense, know, and believe—that one drop of the burning orange sun from the beginning of this story will moisten our dry throats in the days of drought.

And to keep life going, all it takes is a sip of that juice of freedom. Bare feet in the Bistrica. The murmur of laughter in stone. A curly head in the clouds. And a brave rider carrying light through the hidden valleys of Kosovo and Metohija. To remind us—here we are, alive, standing strong.

For HO Kosovo Pomoravlje,

13. 08. 2025.