Bosnia

The past couple days have been heavy. Heavy like thick mud sticking your feet to a memory, a place, a feeling, a bursting bomb battering your neighbors lives, your son’s life, your life, or the life of your home, a place once so culturally rich and accepting, a place so unconcerned with ethnic or religious difference, that it was easy to live with one another, unified brotherhood just like Papa Tito always wanted. But Sarajevo went through hell and back during the war from 1992-1995. Eastern Bosnia, a place heavily mixed with Bosniaks and Bosnian Serbs, were ethnically cleansed. The stories of these people, the stories of response from Western powers, the stories that are buried in the mass graves spotted throughout the country, are enough to make me want to crack.

Sarajevo, the capital city of Bosnia, lies within the Federation of Bosnia I Hercegovina (BiH). After the Dayton Peace Agreements at the end of 1995, BiH was advised to split the country into two entities: the Federation of BiH, and Republika Srpska. Republika Srpska is in the eastern part of the country, on the border of Serbia. The city of Srebrenica (srebrenitsa) lies within this entity, a town completely dissolved by Bosnian Serb forces in July 1995, where thousands of women and young children were torn away from their brothers, sons, husbands, and fathers so they could be driven off and executed. Some of them escaped. Most of them died. The ¾ muslim town was completely cleansed of its majority, and now Bosnian Serbs rejoice over their territory. Thousands of people are still missing. The town was protected by first Canadian and later Dutch UN soldiers, who were symbols and tools of safety and peace. They handed thousands of people into the hands of Bosnian Serbs.

I have two recommendations for movies that you must watch: Cry from the Grave and the Survival Guide (about the Siege of Sarajevo). Cry from the Grave is an amazing documentary about the genocide (and yes, it has been recognized as a genocide) in Srebrenica.

Sarajevo is an entirely different story. The city, nestled quietly within the valley of big mountains, was surrounded by Bosnian Serb forces in 1992. From the end of 1992-1995, after almost 3.5 years, Sarajevo was under the guns of heavily armed men in the mountains. All electricity, water, food, everything, was cut off. For 3.5 years. If you want to read an extremely interesting recount of Western Response (primarily US response), read Samantha Power’s book A Problem From Hell: America in the Age of Genocide. The chapter titled "Bosnia: 'No More than Witnesses at a Funeral" was an amazing illustration of this.

Out of the 4 days I had in Sarajevo, I went out 3 of the nights, ate amazing Cevapi (little meat "turds" we call them, which taste amazing, in a pita with onions), Burek (which is thin layers of bread with either cheese, meat, potatoe, or spinach inside), baklava, Turkish coffee, and "turkish delight", which is a sweet here which I can't explain, but it has coconut and sometimes has walnuts inside and makes me so excited.

It was Becca's birthday on Thursday, her 21st. One of the men at the Pansion we were staying at, Edin, brought us out for it. That day was long: we talked with a woman who did work against Trafficking of Women in BiH (Bosnia i Hercegovina), we talked to the GLBT organization in the city, and we went to a drumming workshop, where 3 founders of the Sarajevo drum band (like a marching band) spent two hours with us and made us into our very own marching band. They usually do work with the elderly and the handicapped (mental and physical). They are three brothers who used to be in a band during the "shit period" (aka the war from 1992-95).

I have to share this: I think a Bosnian fell in love with me. Although totally not something that is on my radar, it felt really good to be noticed. It happened to be Edin, the Pension worker who had been helping us out all week. He is a really sweet guy. He is 24 and is working hard to make something of his life. His dream is to swim in Hawaii. I am not sure whether it is because I am from the US or what, but he seemed to be very interested very quickly. We exchanged contact and he might visit in Belgrade. But as far as I am concerned he was sweet and nothing more.

So Edin brought us out to Boeime, a club in the city. It was perfect for Becca's birthday. Lindsay, Marissa and I bought her champagne, and Edin brought us all vodka and we hung out and talked in the Pension beforehand. When we got to Boeime, we proceeded to meet a gagle of US Army NATO soliders in Sarajevo. The odds of this? But they were awesome! A few of them had just come from Iraq, and the little I got to talk to them about it, they seemed thrilled to be out of there.

And now I am in Mostar--which in the language means "old bridge". It is beautiful but quite touristy. But it is warm and the people are warm too. The group dynamics are breaking down but I've gotten used to enjoying my time with 3 others on the trip: Marissa, Becca, and Lindsay.

So tomorrow we head to Dubrovnik to walk around and catch a plane back to Zagreb. From there I have 9 days to get my life together and head to Belgrade, to start my ISP. I think Marissa, Becca, and I are going to live in a hostel together. We have friends there already and major plans to get down and dirty with academia, but have a great time as well.

Until next time (which will certainly contain pictures)
Erica