commitment with a bundle of brochures in his hands and eyes on the lookout for large chequered holdalls, naim basha can often be found waiting at the bag- gage carousel in priština airport. ‘ura’, the albanian word for ‘bridge’, is printed on ba- sha’s information leaflets. they address peo- ple who left kosovo in the hope of being granted asylum and starting a better life in germany. for most it is an illusory hope: af- ter careful case-by-case assessment, few peo- ple from kosovo are granted protection status on the grounds of asylum, particularly since it is seen as a safe country of origin. some of them have abandoned everything to achieve their dream and invested all their savings in the journey. the holdalls, which they are giv- en prior to repatriation – voluntary or other- wise – after their application for asylum has been dismissed, often hold all their worldly possessions. psychologist basha works for the ura re- integration project. as part of a team of social workers and job placement officers, he pro- vides guidance on starting a new life back home. those returning voluntarily to kosovo in 2015 and 2016 numbered 13,524 in total. during these two years, basha and his colleagues counselled 9,763 returnees. in the first half of 2017, a total of 1,323 returnees joined them. giz is implementing the project on behalf of the german federal office for migration and refugees, which has been organising reintegration projects in kosovo for 10 years. the challenges facing returnees are enor- mous, since finding work in kosovo is extremely difficult. the unemployment rate in the country was almost 28 per cent in the third quarter of 2016, and rose as high as 50 per cent among young people. in addi- tion, around one third of the population lives in poverty. vestiges of the war are visible in potential in priština: young computer experts like 22-year-old blerina berisha usually have no trouble finding a job in one of the many start-ups in kosovo’s capital. many buildings – many are just shells. weak structures proliferate and corruption in the country is rife. returnees, most of whom have spent many years in germany, no longer have a network of friends and acquaintances who could help them find a job. and yet there are sectors in kosovo – including call centres and it – which offer good opportu- nities, particularly for returnees. moreover, with 43.5 per cent of kosovars aged under 25, the population is one of the youngest in europe. that too harbours potential. listening to what people need in his counselling office, basha and his col- leagues help returnees to develop prospects. in the first instance, that means listening closely to what people need, what they can do and above all what they want. their aim is to find tailored solutions to individual needs. counsellors tell of a single mother, who after the death of her husband fled to germany with her two sons. her request for asylum was turned down. on her return, the centre helped the widow to find a flat and buy cloth- ing and materials for school. the woman was also under considerable psychological strain, basha recounts. the centre for returnees also has a job placement service. korab lekaj, who sits at the desk next to basha, is in charge of job placement. he knows from first-hand experi- ence what it feels like to make a new start back home. during the war in kosovo, lekaj lived in switzerland for five years. since 2007 he has provided information to other return- ees about opportunities on kosovo’s labour market – as well as on training courses and work placements. ‘sadly, their level of train- ing is often inadequate,’ says lekaj. but many of the returning men and women have a ma- jor advantage: an additional language. ‘there are currently excellent opportunities on the labour market for german-speaking return- ees,’ he says in german. call centres have specifically relocated to kosovo because many inhabitants speak several languages. there are no figures as yet showing how many of those seeking counselling from ura have actually found work there. the it sector in kosovo is also expand- ing. blerina berisha works for a start-up in priština. the 22-year-old computer expert sits in a bright, modern office with a small kitchen and a view out over the city. a poster on the wall exhorts, ‘get shit done’. this is where the staff of eight, all in their twenties, spend their day programming apps. ‘kosovo is a popular destination for outsourcing app development,’ says berisha. the app they are currently working on is for the austrian au- tomobile, motorcycle and touring club (öamtc). berisha is thinking about apply- ing for postgraduate studies in germany. she has plans. ‘there’s an app i would love to create myself, but it’s still in the early stages.’ she has already found out about require- ments for studying in germany at the german information point for migration, vocational training and careers advice (dimak) in priština. the information point provides clarity on legal ways to move to germany, as well as warning about the risks of illegal entry. at the same time, it offers information about employment and training opportunities in kosovo. so the service is also open to return- ees. it is a counselling service provided by the centre for international migration and development (cim), a joint initiative of giz and the german federal employment agency’s international placement services. the information point was created on behalf of the german federal ministry for economic cooperation and development (bmz). rural isolation meets cutting-edge digital technology blerina berisha’s boss, bujar muliqi, has been running the priština office of openre- search, the austrian app developer, for two- and-a-half years. he is optimistic as far as his country’s it sector is concerned. ‘kosovo will never be silicon valley, but it has poten- tial,’ he says. one of his staff members has already left the company to set up his own business. 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