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It’s a long way from Kosovo to the United States—just over six thousand miles and across an ocean from the capital city of Prishtina, Kosovo, to Seguin, Texas. And yet, back in 2006, Getoar Mjeku made that journey. He came to attend ����̽��. 

It’s also a long way from being a brand-new college freshman to becoming deputy minister of economy of the Republic of Kosovo, not to mention a respected lawyer, writer, and father of two. But that’s another journey Mjeku has made in the fifteen years since he graduated. 

This month he circled back to ����̽�� to touch base with friends and professors and to present ����̽�� President Debbie Cottrell with a gift expressing his gratitude to the university—a piece of quartz from Kosovo and a book he’d translated into English during college.

But back to the beginning of the story: Mjeku was born in Prishtina, Kosovo in the late 1980s—he would’ve been about ten years old during the Kosovo War, and in his early twenties when Kosovo was finally able to declare its independence in 2008. 

He was, in fact, a student at ����̽�� when that happened. He was one of fifteen Kosovar students who attended the university between 2002 and 2014. (The first to arrive was Faton “Tony” Bislimi, who then petitioned ����̽�� to support his compatriots.)

Mjeku came to ����̽�� by way of a generous scholarship sponsored by Ann Saegert and Bill Adams. He’d been valedictorian of his graduating high school class—could probably have taken his pick from a wide selection of universities. But Mjeku chose ����̽�� for the very same reasons that generations of students have done the same. “It was certainly the liberal arts program, and the expectation that you would get the personalized attention that you needed,” he says. “And that’s exactly what I got here.”

Mjeku flourished in college, as did others in the group from Kosovo. Sure, there were twinges of homesickness—not to mention the challenge of getting used to the South Texas climate. But for the most part, any sense of culture shock was actually a positive thing. “People were very welcoming,” he says, explaining that the students were encouraged to tell their stories and to talk about their homeland, “which encouraged us to speak incessantly,” he adds with a laugh, “but also led us to care more about home.”

 Mjeku keeps in touch with his fellow Kosovar classmates. “Many of them have gone on to build successful careers in IT, finance, automotive, and other industries,” he says. And Mjeku himself? “I pursued my long-term dream of becoming a lawyer and returning home to Kosovo.”

The terms of his scholarship called for a promise to take what he learned back home after graduating, but Mjeku wouldn’t have had it any other way, promise or no. It was his dream to carry the lessons he learned back to his country. “I was inspired to share what I’d witnessed here,” he explains. “Your dedication to the community here, your patriotism, helped me love my country more. I wanted to follow that example.”

Mjeku received his bachelor’s degree at ����̽�� in 2010. He spent the following year in Washington, D.C. working as a broadcaster for Voice of America, an international broadcasting network funded by the federal government. Then he headed to Dallas for law school at Southern Methodist University. All the while, Ann Saegert and Bill Adams, the couple who’d sponsored his undergrad scholarship at ����̽��, still kept up with him, offering encouragement at every stage. “To this day, they still check on me,” he says.

So Mjeku became a lawyer in Texas, then returned to Kosovo as he’d promised he would. With him, he carried a new perspective and countless life lessons. “As alma mater, nourishing mother, ����̽�� helped prepare me academically, socially, and emotionally—all three—to make a difference in my own life and in the lives of others anywhere I went.”

That preparation included experiences like theology classes with Dr. Norman Beck. Mjeku remembers that Beck had his students learn about and experience different religions, took them to a mosque, to a synagogue, to a Buddhist temple, “he really taught us that there are ways to make room for everyone. The theologies seem conflicting, but they can all serve a common purpose for humanity.” Mjeku walked out of ����̽�� with the understanding that various philosophies and ideologies don’t have to be reconciled—that they have far more in common than what separates them. And that broadened his thinking, which, of course, is exactly what a liberal arts education is all about. 

“In my work, in my life, I often look back to my time at ����̽�� and draw inspiration from the lessons I learned and the memories I created here,” he says. “����̽�� taught me to embrace diversity and cooperation and to believe that the success of one person could be the success of others.”

Those lessons came in handy as Mjeku’s career evolved. He went from practicing law to becoming Kosovo’s deputy minister of industry, entrepreneurship and trade, and is now serving as deputy minister of economy in “a government that is dedicated to improving the rule of law, growing the economy, and promoting social justice.”

The path into politics, while not necessarily on Mjeku’s original agenda, was a natural progression. “I was always interested in public affairs,” he says. “I would have people ask me whether I intended to go into politics. My answer has always been that I will choose whatever job can make a difference.” He chuckles, saying that sounds like something a politician would say. “But I mean it.”

Studying law in a foreign country and then transitioning back home gave him unique tools to help in ways others could not, and he points to ����̽�� again for equipping him for the journey. “I saw an opportunity to do more in politics by bringing the experience I had and the values nurtured at ����̽��.”

Looking back on his undergrad years, he says it’s hard to pick a favorite memory. “It’s probably the celebration we put together on the day Kosovo declared its independence,” he says, remembering how the campus came together to share the joy with the Kosovar students. “We were happy to see our people achieve their long-term goal—independence—but we were also delighted to share our story and our celebration with friends here. We all celebrated together.”

Returning to the campus that holds so many memories, that he still credits with changing the trajectory of his life for the better, Mjeku spent his day at ����̽�� revisiting faces from his past and meeting new people, noticing what has changed, and what hasn’t. “I’m happy to visit Seguin after so many years and to see old friends and professors and to witness ����̽��’s growth as an institution and as a community,” he says. “I’m very pleased to see the expansion and addition of academic programs that will have a tremendous impact on local communities and beyond.”

He’s not just saying that—about the impact a university can have and how that impact is carried forward by students into the larger world. It’s the truth, and Mjeku—a man who has championed his people and cherishes diversity and freedom, who works one day at a time to make his world better through service—is living proof of that.