“Peace begins with a smile.” Mother Teresa
Our Fulbright summer in 1989 was spent in the former Yugoslavia. We traveled and studied in each of the republics which, a few years later, would revert to their earlier independent countries.
My roommate and I had become good friends when we met and were roommates during our Japan Fellowship, meeting again each year to room together at the annual convention of the National Council for the Social Studies. We visited each other’s homes and stayed in touch throughout the year especially during the holidays. From Mississippi, she always personified “Southern gentility and grace” and with a thick Southern accent.
In 1988 at Thanksgiving, we were chatting by phone when she asked if I had applied for the Fulbright program for the summer of 1989. I said that I had applied, asked if she had applied, she had applied, asked what country I applied for (Yugoslavia) and she had applied for Yugoslavia, too. We decided it would be too wonderful if we could both receive the award, could be wonderful if one of us received the award, would be too sad if neither of us was selected. With the notification letters in our hands, a joyous phone call confirmed we could be roomies again…this time in Yugoslavia.
She and I had much in common: grew up in small southern towns (MS and NKY), I was just two weeks older than she, both taught social studies, graduated at the same rank in our high school classes, delighted in life-long learning. We talked about everything with much in common regarding education.
That summer, we were nearing the end of our time in Yugoslavia, arriving in Skopje, Macedonia (now called North Macedonia). Skopje, the birthplace of Mother Teresa, held special interest for us.
Throughout our whole time in Yugoslavia, the immense burden of nearly 100% inflation was apparent in all areas of the country, in all aspects of life.
After a Sunday full of activities, we returned to our hotel in late afternoon. My roommate’s one eyelid was puffy and redness rounded the eye. Clearly, her problem was worsening. She decided to head back into town by herself for some shopping and to find a clinic/hospital. No need to bother an official for assistance.
In town, she was attracted to a shop selling small painted red shoes, memento trinkets for her Christmas tree. The shopkeeper’s young son was there playing quietly while his father painted the shoes and waited on customers. The shopkeeper’s English was adequate.
My roommate asked for his help in selecting a shoe that he had painted. As he assisted her, she pointed to her eyelid saying she needed to find a hospital or clinic.
The shopkeeper replied they weren’t open on Sunday. “Must wait until tomorrow.”
She explained she was a teacher, smiled, and chatted with the young child. She prepared to leave, asking the price of the small red shoe. She paid with a slightly larger bill, saying, “Please keep the change to buy some ice cream for your son,” pointing to the ice cream shop down the street.
The shopkeeper had not experienced such gracious generosity from an American shopper. He thanked her. Before she could leave the shop, he directed her to a small neighborhood clinic near his shop.
She found it easily. Two female doctors examined her eyelid and prescribed two medicines. Her passport provided all the documentation required for the free consultation. They directed her to the pharmacy where her prescriptions, antibiotic tablets and an ointment, cost the equivalent of two American dollars.
Her recovery guaranteed.
Amazing sometimes what a smile and kindness kindles.
Judy Harris is well established in Northern Kentucky life, as a longtime elementary and university educator. A graduate of Thomas More, she began her career there in 1980 where she played a key role in teacher education and introduced students to national and international travel experiences. She has traveled and studied extensively abroad. She enjoys retirement yet stays in daily contact with university students. Reach her at judyharris1579@gmail.com