Gnjilane is a town in Kosovo Pomoravlje, where almost no Serbs remain today. Only faint traces of the once grand city hint at what it used to be. When I think of my most vivid childhood memories, I immediately think of my hometown. To truly understand Gnjilane, one must feel its spirit; only then can you grasp its significance for the Serbs of Kosovo Pomoravlje.
On a sunny Vidovdan, people from nearby villages came to Gnjilane. Walking through the town center with my father, we passed the memorial fountain dedicated to the Knights of Prince Lazar, erected alongside the Prince Lazar Monument to commemorate the 600th anniversary of the Battle of Kosovo. I asked my father, “Why did Prince Lazar have to die if he had a strong army that could fight for him?” It was the first time he told me the story of Lazar Hrebeljanović’s great sacrifice for the “heavenly kingdom.”
I remember not understanding the meaning of death at that time. I felt sad and angry. It seemed unfair. I cried. My father lifted me, hugged me, and said not to cry because Prince Lazar had done so much for the Serbs, and sometimes that comes at a price. Not long after, with the arrival of NATO forces in Kosovo and Metohija, the statue of Prince Lazar was destroyed. KFOR soldiers removed the damaged bust to their military facility at the entrance to Gnjilane, preserving the memory of this once-symbolic landmark. Over the years, the number of Serbs in Gnjilane continued to dwindle. Deep down, we knew one truth: as long as the memorial fountain stood in the town center, our mark remained there. Sadly, that too did not last long.
Monument to Prince Lazar
Municipal authorities in Gnjilane demolished the Knights of Prince Lazar fountain with a bulldozer on Vidovdan, 2009. Every memory of the famous Serbian prince had to be removed from Kosovo soil, as if they did not know the land was soaked with the blood of heroes. In 2007, kind-hearted people organized and collected the necessary funds to move the bust to the nearest Serbian village, Šilovo. The monument was placed next to the Church of Saint Mark on June 17, 2007.
Šilovo is a small Serbian village in Kosovo Pomoravlje, home to just over 1,500 Serbs who mostly work in agriculture, thanks to fertile land and a favorable climate. Like in other Serbian villages in the region, life is quiet, and the residents work hard to survive. On a hill in the village stands the Church of Saint Mark. From this hill, the view stretches over Gnjilane to Prilepac, the birthplace of Prince Lazar. It is not just an ordinary piece of village land. Whenever I went to morning prayers, I felt something was missing. Now I understand: the place was meant for the Prince Lazar Monument, the same monument destroyed in Gnjilane.
Today, the village center also features a memorial fountain dedicated to Prince Lazar, officially opened on September 2, 2007. Kosovo—the “most precious Serbian word,” as Matija Bećković said—must be spoken carefully and listened to with caution. Only through memory can the idea of Prince Lazar’s immense contribution—both on the battlefield and in preserving the spiritual identity of the Serbs—remain alive.
