A better tomorrow?
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Bosnia is yet to throw off the horrors of its past. But the citizens, especially youngsters, seem ready to embrace a new future. BENITA S.
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A 16th century bridge over the Neretva, Stori Most was destroyed in the war and HAS since BEEN restored. IT once linked the two parts of the picturesque Mostar town but now clearly divides the Muslim side from the Christian.
Photo:AFP
Scars of war: With close to two generations of men brutally murdered, women are left to struggle in a patriarchal society.
The view that took my breath away at 10,000 feet (or perhaps not as high) swept me off my feet as I walked out of the small space that is the Sarajevo International Airport. A sense of being on a paradise island always engulfs me any time I am surrou
nded by glorious mountains. It was near impossible to escape this feeling in Sarajevo, being encapsulated by the Dinaric Alps, a mountain chain in South Europe.
However, as I got talking to our hosts from the Institute for the Research of Crimes against Humanity and International Law, University of Sarajevo, everything started to grow dark. The green expanses that held my breath gradually mellowed and all I could see from the car were bullet-pocked buildings and a people who seem to have woken up to life after a decade and a half of painful slumber. And just like that, with no way out, I had become part of what is known as “Dark Tourism”.
The other Bosnia
Trips to Nazi death camps, battlefields, and a day in Chernobyl are just some of the macabre dimensions of “Dark Tourism”. And yes, Bosnia has also entered this list. After the war in the 1990s, death camps, mass graves and blast sites have become one of the biggest money-making attractions for the Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) government. It is almost as if people have forgotten the snow-clad mountains and breathtaking landscapes, which had played host to the Winter Olympics only two decades ago.
However, I learnt from colleagues that it was not forgotten but was simply not the same as in 1984. At the farewell dinner of the International Association of Genocide Scholars’ (IAGS) Biennial Conference, Professor Robert Melson, Clark University, U.S. told us of Bosnia in the 1960s and 1980s now long gone. Professor Melson spoke nostalgically of his holidays in Bosnia as a young adventure-seeker. It seemed as if he spoke of a different country.
Perhaps the search for a lost country would explain the attitude of the academia and media who closely follow the evolution of Dark Tourism. They often explore and attempt to comprehend the factors that drive tourists to destinations such as Bosnia.
At this point, the question would be: what was my motivation to go to Bosnia? Apart from the fact that I had a paper to present at the International Association of Genocide Scholars (IAGS) colloquium, I was not sure why this trip to Bosnia was significant; at least not until I arrived in Bosnia.
Not until, I stood at a mass burial ceremony in Potoèari (pronounced Poto-chari) on July11. In July1995 the Serbian army breached UN safe zones and massacred thousands of Bosnian Muslim males. Thousands of Bosnian Muslim families were also forced to flee north to Potoèari to escape the Serb army. Fled they did, escape they did not. The UN force, manned by 600 Dutch soldiers, could not do much when the Serbian army followed the nearly 30,000 refugees to Potoèari and continued their strategy of cleansing in order to build a Greater Serbia. They then dumped bodies, sometimes just parts, into mass graves.
After this narrative from our tour guide, the scene outside our long convoy of buses, accompanied by police cars, seemed shocking as we rolled into Potoèari. Hundreds of people, dozens of vehicles and stalls selling snack and drink.
A parallel would be Vellankanni in Tamil Nadu during the annual pilgrimage. We were not tourists in Vellankanni and I was not a tourist in Potoèari but I could not help feeling like one.
Stepping off the buses, we followed the signs pointing in the direction of “Masovna Grobnica” or Mass Grave. I followed the group up a rain-drenched gravel path for a kilometre and gathered around a man who explained to the visitors that over 2000 people are still missing, 12 years after the tragedy. Missing meant their bodies have not yet turned up in the several mass graves that have been exhumed over the past decade.
Photo: Benita S.
After a glimpse into the exhumed grave behind the man, I walked back down to the buses recalling discussions at a panel aptly titled “Genocide and Tourism”. The debate definitely raised questions about the ‘intent’ of researchers like us; especially since the world turned its back on Bosnia in the 1990s when they were in dire need.
Though I turned away from the macabre sight of the exhumed grave, my intent became clear at the memorial cemetery in Potoèari.
Struggling with a past
The state of Bosnia is ironically worse today than it was a decade and half ago and the rest of the world is more ignorant today than when images from the killing fields exploded incessantly on television screens. Her people are still struggling with a past that looms like dark clouds over their present. Families have yet to find their loved ones, perhaps in graves yet undiscovered.
With close to two generations of men barbarically murdered, the women left behind are grappling with life in a patriarchal society. And those who have been fortunate enough to find the bodies of their dear ones, some after 15 years of search feel more unfortunate as they bury only bones or fragments of bones that have been DNA-tested and identified. On the day we were in Potoèari, over 400 coffins were buried.
The scars of war are witnessed every year in July in Potoèari and Srebernica. Towns like Mostar (closer to the border with Croatia) have changed irrevocably since the 1990s. Stori Most — a 16th century bridge over the Neretva was destroyed in the war and since restored — once linked the two parts of the picturesque Mostar town but now clearly divides the Muslim side from the Christian. War, conflicts and tribulations have certain consequential trends. People either become agnostic or they become more devout.
The latter is the scenario in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Both the Muslims who were the primary victims of the 1990s war and the Christians have stronger beliefs now. Perhaps it is out of trepidation. This religious fervour is also on display at Medjugorje (pronounced Medu-gor-ye), also close to the Croatian border. This primarily Christian town has become famous for having witnessed — some say even today — many apparitions of the Virgin Mary.
What I wanted to do was not leave with only war-weary apparitions in my head and so decided to stay back a couple of more days to get a feel of what Bosnia was all about today. Like most cities, especially being the economic, social and commercial core of Bosnia, the capital Sarajevo is speeding ahead.
Old and new
The old merged into the new and concrete and glass structures overshadowing traditional Turkish-influenced architecture. Some parts of the city retain original architecture for touristic authenticity.
BasŠarsije (pronounced Bas-char-siya) is one such tourist magnet. Apart from housing the Turkish quarter complete with blacksmiths, coppersmiths and artisans, BasŠarsije is also home to the National Library, the Catholic Cathedral and the Gazi Beg Mosque among other attractions.
However, meandering through the marbled streets onto tarred roads and tramways, there is something more that meets the eye. The citizens of Sarajevo especially the young adults, seem ready to embrace the new and bold tomorrow. After a long day, they are ready to kick off some steam at cafes and pubs even during week days.
Several young Serbs and Bosnians speak of getting past yesterday and moving away from the prejudices and ill-will still prevalent in the villages and small towns. It does seem that the Bosnia of old is not far gone. The spirit of people is alive and, perhaps, can ignite a better tomorrow for Bosnia.
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