Remembering Boris
It is difficult to believe that it has now been 20 years — two decades — since Boris Trajkovski left us for a better place. And yet, just like that, in the blink of an eye, he was gone that cold day on February 26, 2004, over the mountains of Bosnia-Herzegovina. And not just Boris, but eight colleagues of his, proud Macedonians, all of them, dedicated to Macedonia and to President Trajkovski. We pause too, to remember them:
Risto Blaževski
Aleksandar Božinovski
Dimka Ilkovic Boškovska
Branko Ivanovski
Mile Krstevski
Anita Ložanovska
Marko Markovski
Boris Velinov
President Boris Trajkovski was my friend. I had met him through his chosen political party, VMRO-DPMNE, in 1997. I had arrived in Macedonia in July of 1996 to start what was to have been just a three-month gig working with Mercy Corps, a humanitarian outfit working in Kosovo and Macedonia. Three months turned into seven years living and working in Macedonia and during that time, Boris became a close friend of mine, though after he was inaugurated president on December 15, 1999, I rarely called him Boris; it was a high honor to call him Mr. President.
He wasn’t my president, but he was my friend, and my brother in Christ. And even though I’m not Macedonian, I came to share his passion and his love for Macedonia, and the Macedonian people. And not just Macedonians, but all of Macedonia’s citizens. I remember him — even before he became president — traveling all over Macedonia, to cities, towns, and villages, meeting with people of all ethnicities, all economic levels, all walks of life. He met with them — regardless of who they were — because he wanted to know them, wanted to learn from them, wanted to learn about their hopes and dreams, frustrations and anxieties so that he might, if it were possible, do something about those things. He wanted to live for others.
I think that’s one thing that made him special, among all the Macedonians I know and have known. He was a big man, physically, with a big heart, metaphorically. He had a big smile and a twinkle in his eye, and he would give people big bear hugs, a hearty handshake, a kiss on the cheek, a slap on the back, and when he spoke with you, he was talking to you, and no one else because he wanted to know you. He connected with people because he cared about them, as a man and as a Macedonian, first, and as president, second. I want to see more Macedonian leaders like that — I think Macedonians want that too.
He had his faults, his issues; don’t we all? We are all sinners, part of the “crooked timber of humanity” as Kant said, and prone to our own faults and foibles. But the way I saw Boris and the way I watched and observed him, he was always trying to do the right thing for Macedonia as a whole, and for individuals and families. Sometimes he got it right, sometimes he got it wrong. And, constrained as he was by both politics and the office of president, I think — I believe — he did an excellent job for Macedonia, for Macedonians.
Boris was a man of God, a phrase I do not use lightly. He was also a man of prayer and I remember praying him with on many occasions, for more faith, for more strength, for the ability to do the right thing, for Macedonia and for Macedonians and for much else. He loved his God, because Boris knew that God loved him, and he gave God praise and was thankful, grateful, for what God had done for him. And it was precisely because of Boris’ thankfulness and gratitude, I think, that God gave him the strength to continue on, in very, very difficult circumstances; 2001, as you’ll recall, was not a good year for Macedonia.
On Wednesday, February 25, 2004, I spent time with Boris in the morning, at his office, as he was talking with a businessman who needed help, because Boris was always quick to want to help. And then I saw him in the afternoon, at his residence on Vodno. We spent about three hours together, with another friend, talking about what should have been a reelection campaign that autumn. While the details of what was going on, in the party and politically that February are not important, what is important is that Boris wanted to run again; his task as president, as he saw it, was not yet complete. And yet it was, in a way, because that very next morning, February 26, 2004, he ceased to be president as he entered God’s presence.
I remember, like it was yesterday, how Macedonia stood still and how Macedonians came together to mourn Boris and his friends. At that very point in time, they realized he was a good man, trying to do what is right. And they missed having him here.
What can we learn from the life of Boris as we reflect on the past two decades since his passing? We should learn something, I think. And it is this, I believe: living a life for others. This big man with a big heart would want us to carry on, and Boris’ message and life of forbearance, forgiveness, reconciliation, and love must be carried on. All of us can do this.
