They say high politics dictates life. But who is most qualified to speak about life? It is the small yet great people who fight daily battles against poverty and illness. In the latest episode of „Da te pitam, komšija,“ we spoke with Ljiljana Perović, who leads the humanitarian group „Složni humanitarci“ from northern Kosovo, and Fitore Haxhihasani from the Pec region, who runs the „Center for Independent Living.“
Ljiljana Perović from Zubin Potok has been engaged in humanitarian work for 18 years. Her network includes up to 40 dedicated volunteers and serves around 1,000 beneficiaries, providing assistance to the poorest and most vulnerable Serbian and Roma families across Kosovo.
The number of those in need is not decreasing—on the contrary, Ljiljana is overwhelmed with work:
„There are many families who have nothing, who live in dire conditions. They struggle for medicine, food, and a roof over their heads.“
Almost no part of Kosovo where Serbs or Roma live has been left without the help of „Složni humanitarci.“
„In every place, there are at least five families living in extremely difficult conditions. The reality is grim, and the hardest part is when they are sick and feel trapped, believing there is no way out. But there is a way out—they just lack money and visibility. Many people need systemic support, but hospitals discharge them, leaving them without treatment. They think there is no hope.“
That is when „Složni humanitarci“ step in. They raise funds through bazaars and community events.
Fitore Haxhihasani from Pec runs a similar operation, though her organization provides services for children and individuals with mental illnesses, autism, Down syndrome, and other disabilities. For many, her organization is their only refuge.
Each day, they support about 30 individuals, though in the past, that number reached 200.
„Many cannot attend regular schooling due to their conditions, so our organization is their last hope. We teach them essential life skills—how to make coffee, prepare food, and buy bread. That is our main goal, and we also assist their families in every way possible.“
This help includes handling documentation and securing aid from abroad.
Some of the people they help come from well-off families, while others are impoverished. For the latter, Haxhihasani’s organization focuses on gathering financial and material support.
Institutional Recognition—To What Extent?
Haxhihasani states that central institutions began recognizing their work in 2016. Since then, licensed organizations like hers can receive support from relevant ministries. However, even with government and local support, it covers only 40% of their annual budget. The rest must be secured through grants and donors.
Perović, on the other hand, shares a different experience—nearly two decades of work without any institutional support, relying solely on the goodwill and donations of citizens. „Složni humanitarci“ remains a fully volunteer-driven group, unregistered in any official system.
This makes securing aid particularly difficult, especially given the dual-system reality for Serbs in Kosovo. „It is a tough fight. If an initiative starts in Serbia, our friends there step in to help. But it’s complicated. Donations are collected at churches, monasteries, or by individuals, and then transported to Brnjak.“
And from Brnjak? „We move bit by bit. If it’s a sack of flour, sugar, or oil, we can’t transport it all at once. We struggle.“
Transporting humanitarian aid across borders presents its own set of challenges.
„We’ve had bags of flour ripped open at border crossings, spilling into the car. Sometimes, we are turned back and must try again the next day because we lack the proper paperwork. Even second-hand clothes are difficult to transport.“
Perović has tried to legalize the process but has been met with bureaucratic hurdles. „I’ve gone to police stations, asked for guidance, pleaded for help, but they always redirect me elsewhere.“
Haxhihasani highlights that those in need are unaware of donor challenges—they simply expect assistance.
„They want activities, hygiene supplies, and everything we provide. We’ve worked without salaries for months at a time, sometimes four, sometimes six.“
The Role of the Diaspora
Haxhihasani expresses deep gratitude for the diaspora, particularly Pec natives living in London and the U.S., including the association „Shoqata e Peja.“
„Every year, before visiting their families, they first come to me and ask, ‘What do you need this year?’ One organization covers firewood, another provides 30 large food packages, sometimes they donate money. This is a huge help.“
Serbian communities have also contributed, donating food items like fish, eggs, apples, and ajvar.
She dismisses claims that people donate for self-promotion.
„No, they don’t ask for recognition. If someone donates apples, maybe someone else will see and bring pears.“
The Harsh Reality
Serb-majority areas in Kosovo fall within the social welfare systems of both Serbia and Kosovo. While Serbia boasts about its support, Perović paints a starkly different picture:
„Without commenting on what institutions do, what my team and I see on the ground is overwhelming sadness.“
„Složni humanitarci“ regularly help about 50 families and 20 frail individuals. „They rely solely on us. They see only our food and hygiene packages. They welcome us with joy and cry when we leave, begging us to return.“
From Velika Hoca to Kamenica, from Vitakovo to Zubin Potok, Perović’s team covers it all.
They encounter heartbreaking scenes—elderly people living in basements, houses on the verge of collapse, individuals without bathrooms, and people who are visually impaired and isolated. Their goal is simple: to provide whatever they can, however they can.
She emphasizes that they have never specifically avoided helping Albanians, but rather that nationality is irrelevant when people seek assistance. The reason they haven’t had requests from the Albanian community until now is simply that no one from that community has reached out.
Unlike her, Haxhihasani has been collaborating with the Serbian community since 2001. In the early years, working on multinational initiatives was challenging. She recalls a beneficiary, now deceased, from Gorazdevac, and how difficult it was for her, as an Albanian, or her colleague to enter this Serbian village.
Instead of sending a driver, she would go herself to avoid complications—just to help her beneficiary.
“I’m not interested in politics or sports. I care about my work. I do this job because I love it. I love these people, regardless of their gender, nationality, or religion.”
For Haxhihasani, success means keeping her staff engaged, ensuring they can work every day, supporting 30 beneficiaries daily, and knowing that:
“No matter what problem I have, they will stand behind me.”
What Shaped Them as Leaders?
For Perović, it was the beginning of her work and the length of her struggle, best illustrated by one example.
Her humanitarian journey began quietly, gathering aid for a neighbor. The first major initiative was helping Gorica Radunović, an elderly woman who had lost a son and had another battling cancer.
„Her son told me he had no money for treatment. I was shocked that someone so close to me lived in such hardship without me knowing.“
She launched a fundraising campaign, reaching out to everyone—from Novak Djoković to Serbian singer Lepa Lukić. Support poured in, including from the church, and they built Gorica a house. But her son passed away before it was completed.
„It was heartbreaking. His dying wish was, ‘Don’t abandon my mother, finish the house.’ We did. She lived there for seven more years.“
The Consequences of War
The war shaped Haxhihasani’s path in humanitarian work. During the 1999 conflict, she found herself in a refugee camp in Tirana, where among the 600 displaced people, around 150 had intellectual disabilities—some congenital, others developed due to trauma.
“My family and I took action. After the war, we wondered what we could do for them, inspired by the Italians who were helping in the camp.”
Upon returning home:
“We all remember what Pec looked like. We knew many families had children with disabilities, so we spent six months visiting them. Initially, we worked in a hospital until 2001. We started with just a few beneficiaries, but word spread quickly. That was a positive step for us.”
Haxhihasani recalls the pre-war era when children with disabilities were hidden away at home, considered a shame.
“A huge stigma,” she says.
Now, she sees improvement. While stigma still exists, particularly against the sick and disabled, things are far better than before.
“Today, parents take their children with disabilities to the seaside, outside, to play. They go out with friends. That wasn’t the case before. Families and communities have changed. That wasn’t the case in the past.”
Still, there is a long way to go in achieving full acceptance and support for people with special needs. Kosovo’s law mandates that every 50th job position be reserved for people with disabilities, but not all companies comply. The education system also lacks full adaptability for these students.
Kindness That Multiplies
In the end, kindness continues.
“Please distribute this donation as follows: €40 for Ivona Bojković, €30 for the Stojanović family, and €30 for Mileva and Sanja—thank you.”
Perović found this note, along with a €100 bill, one morning under her doormat.
“Anonymous. Completely anonymous. We still don’t know who it is. For the fourth time, someone has left money like this. They find a way.”
This interview has already made a difference.
“I’d love to meet you. My question is—would you like to meet me, too?” Perović asked.
“Of course! Even tomorrow, if possible.”
Perović and Haxhihasani will meet soon. Who knows? They may soon be helping those in need—together. Perović already has a few suggestions for assistance in Haxhihasani’s region.
“Your help would be more than welcome.”
Another takeaway from the conversation was Haxhihasani’s advice—that Perović and her team should officially register their humanitarian work to make things easier.
“You must do that immediately. And I’ll share some important information—if you’re licensed, you have the right to request funding from the Ministry of Justice. This year, their budget has increased to €2.5 million, and they offer grants of up to €40,000. Why shouldn’t you apply?”
They say that hardship and adversity bring people closer together, while good energy only multiplies.
Watch the first episode of the series „Da te pitam, komšija“ below:
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