While the kids napped I traveled 10km outside Prishtina with Shaban to visit one of his best friends. The car ride to his home I asked a couple of questions to get some history on their friendship. They met doing business together in 2004 after the war. They never knew each other before that. “He is my brother” Shaban says. I learned the word “shok” (friend) quickly during that car ride.
Shaban’s friend enjoys being a giver. He gives him chickens, and fresh produce on the regular. They greet each other with a handshake and a kiss on the cheek. He shows me his rabbits, apples, chickens, and “1st class peppers”. We retire to the porch where his daughter in law makes us tea and fresh homemade passionfruit juice. They argue for a few minutes about peppers and how much things cost. The friend insists Shaban take a trunkload of peppers to make fresh ajvar for us to take back to America. Literally, a trunkload…
I’ve never seen a better bromance. He calls him “Shabi” for short. He served us ajvar made from his peppers. It’s the most delicious pepper related thing I’ve ever ate. After tea he hands me a pair of clogs and says ‘lets go’ in his language. We walk to the field to collect peppers. Before we walked to the field he handed me a fresh apple. I ate it quickly.
About 10 kilos of peppers later he finally agreed it was enough for me. He wanted to give me more but we had to strong arm him to stop picking. We walked by some chickens he snatched up a rooster and said it was for me. Giving someone your rooster is a huge honor BTW. He also gave me a huge bag of apples, cucumbers, and eggplant.
The ride back to Prishtina makes me wonder:
A. How will I get it all back to America?
B. How generous is this man to give me so much stuff just for visiting his home?
Hospitality is just indescribable in this country.
I bet there isn’t even a word in the dictionary to translate.