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Transit to Bosnia:
Kuytun to Sarajevo
July 5 - 6
Traveling is never as easy as it seems. Two new cyclists will join
us to ride from Bratsk to Samara, and I planned to be at the airport
a couple hours early to welcome them. We changed our route and went
to the south of Lake Baikal rather than the north, so the group
will not cycle the Bratsk-Tulun section of the original route and
will continue straight to Tulun and west.
I arranged for a car to pick me up at our campsite at 4 a.m., to make
sure I had plenty of time at the airport to deal with potential problems.
I arrived at 7:30 a.m. to greet the new cyclists, but quickly learned
that their arriving flight (also my departing flight) was indefinitely
delayed because of bad weather. The weather was beautiful in Bratsk,
but when there was still no word about the flight's arrival at 4 p.m.
-- it seemed like I wouldn't be able to leave.
The flight did eventually leave, and 23 hours after leaving the
campsite, I was in Moscow. After a few hours of sleep, I caught
an early morning flight to Belgrade, Yugoslavia. There are no direct
flights from Moscow to Sarajevo, so in order to be on time and avoid
another day layover, I flew to Belgrade. As the rail lines connecting
Belgrade to Sarajevo have not been repaired since the war, my traveling
continued another 8 hours by bus.
The contrasts between Serbia and Siberia are marked. In Siberia,
summer is only now starting to arrive and people are still planting
potatoes. In Yugoslavia, summer is here and the crops look good.
Immediately outside of Belgrade, there is significant flat land
to grow corn and similar crops; between there and Sarajevo, however,
many smaller fields are on the sides of mountains and mostly hay.
Going from Serbia to Bosnia and Herzegovina, the roads become narrower,
winding along the mountain base of a valley. Tile-roofed houses are
placed where there is enough space, and when the terrain allows for
more houses, there is a village. Sarajevo itself resembles the base
of a bowl, with mountains surrounding it. When the mountains were
captured during the war, the result was tragic.
Balkan Intermezzo - July 06-07
Belgrade, Serbia and Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Belgrade gives the impression of a city that is full of life and functions
with little reference to war. That impression, however, is only an
initial one; I didn't walk far from the bus station before seeing
buildings destroyed during the bombing of the city. A block of buildings
are bright and newly constructed and further down are the remains
of what once as an office building. Across the street, government
offices are housed in buildings with pock-marked facades of artillery
shells.
The ruins of Sarajevo are immediately more evident. As the city is
surrounded by mountains, when the higher points were taken the city
must have been a terrifying place to be. One street, with a church
on one end and beautiful view of the mountains on the other, became
known as "sniper alley." Today, people walk freely through
the crowded pedestrian way and the senselessness of war seems overwhelming
-- I can not see that anything was gained by the destruction.
The resilience of people and their ability to rebuild their lives
is evident. The Ottoman and Austro-Hungarian sections of the Old City
have been largely restored, and tourists are returning to see the
cultural heritage of the city. But the streets are also filled with
a sense of uncertainty and uneasiness. Living together seems a bit
more complicated in the presence of painful memories and the absence
of reconciliation.
Over the next seventeen days I will be participating in a forum devoted
to the problems of religious tolerance in the region. Under the umbrella
title of "New Perspectives on Peace," the First International
Summer School on Religion and Public Life and three open panels --
Religion and Citizenship; Religion, Pluralism and Democracy in Southeast
Europe; and Religion and Public Life -- will convene in Sarajevo,
Mostar and Dubrovnik. The intention of the sessions is to gain a better
understanding of the challenges of tolerating the other and to encourage
the development of practical projects and working relationships aimed
at bringing communities together. The physical reminders of war so
apparent in Belgrade and Sarajevo are stark reminders of the difficulty
in rebuilding relationships within the community, but it equally affirms
the desperate need to try, even when it is easier to walk away
Balkan Intermezzo - July 07 - 15
Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Mostar is beautiful. A turquoise river winds through the center of
the city, lined with orange-tiled houses that span a third of the
way up the mountains, and the old part of town teams with cafes and
souvenir shops wishing to capitalize on tourism. The symbol of the
city was an old stone bridge, destroyed during the war. The bridge,
built by the Ottomans in the 16th century, survived numerous wars
over the centuries, but sadly was bombed in an effort to divide the
city and redraw the border of Croatia and Bosnia and Herzegovina at
the river.
During the war, a temporary bridge was built and maintained to keep
the two sides of the city connected. The bridge is being rebuilt in
the same way it was originally constructed, with the hope that rebuilding
the central symbol of the city will help in rebuilding the relationships
divided by the war. Though this symbol will help with tourism, it
is not clear what it means to the people who lost loved ones in the
war.
The front line of the battles was a few blocks west of the river.
Every building and item of historic value was destroyed. Remnants
of once-lived-in apartment buildings and vacant lots dot what was
the line of fighting, but new construction has placed life and a fresh
face on the new buildings on the street.
New shops are opening throughout the town, but across every street
there is evidence of where the fighting stayed too long. Some cafes
look quite elegant on the ground level, but looking up to what was
the second floor belies the need for more rebuilding, still.
It is amazing to think of the destruction and how far people have
come to overcome the devastation. And if anyone forgets when the war
was, they need only look at the cemeteries along the street and one
sees numerous tombstones with the year 1993 written on them.
In the kitsch trinket shops which seem to accompany any Western area
of historic beauty, a prevalent item for purchase is a cartridge/bullet/mortar
shell of differing sizes that are carved by artists. In a twisted
sense of irony, some even have a carving of the old bridge on them.
Despite the atrocities that must have taken place here, many too horrible
to recount, there is a festive sound of life that can be found in
the streets of the city center. How far that goes beyond the center,
or even if it is just a facade, is unclear and public opinion of the
few people I spoke with is divided on the level of progress. Divisions
clearly remain, but hope remains that they won't be articulated violently.
Balkan Intermezzo - July 09
Stolac, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Just outside of Mostar, Stolac stands to symbolize the deepest scars
of the war. We entered the town, and visited an old Christian cemetery,
the grave of an influential Bosnian rabbi, and a mosque in the center
of town that was destroyed during the war. Pointing out the closeness
in proximity of the three sites connected to the monotheistic faith
traditions gives a sense for how closely the religions have co-existed.
The destruction of the mosque was of no strategic and military value,
though it was a significant contribution to the psychological war
and the strengthening of ethno-nationalism. The destruction of religious
sites is intimately tied with ethno-national identities in the region:
Croats are equated with Catholics; Serbs with Orthodox Christianity;
and Bosnians with Islam. The war was instrumental in forcing people
to form communities along religious and ethno-national lines, making
enemies of neighbors in Stolac and other communities that once enjoyed
peace in plurality.
In an attempt to maintain historical integrity and cultural memory,
there is an ongoing effort to rebuild the mosque to resemble its original
construction of almost 500 years ago. When the mosque was destroyed,
many of the stones were hidden and thrown into the river. After the
war, some of those who destroyed the mosque directed those reconstructing
it to where the stones had been hidden. This allowed many of the original
stones to be included in the reconstruction efforts, but the progress
remain slow.
SFOR troops patrol Stolac (and Bosnia in general) to keep the peace,
but Croatian flags fly prominently throughout the town as a sign of
Croatian ethno-national dominance. Perhaps most tragic, however, is
that schools in the area are segregated with Catholic Croats, Orthodox
Serbs and Muslim Bosnians no longer studying together and children
neither sharing histories nor play together.
Such separation at youth creates and reinforces difference, however
artificial it may be. A few of the young people I spoke with offered
a grim view of the situation, with one suggesting that it would be
better to build walls between the ethno-national/religious communities,
while another prophesized that there would be fighting again in five
or ten years, after the SFOR troops left. As an outsider, certain
uneasiness can be sensed, but I sincerely hope that the pessimism
expressed by the small segment of the population that I questioned
was more connected to the drama of youth than with any tangible future
reality.
Balkan Intermezzo - July 10
Medugorje, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Medugorje is a site of pilgrimage for many Roman Catholics who believe
that the Virgin Mary appeared to six children in the mountains around
the town, giving them messages of peace. The church is the center
of town, with life being organized around it. Catholics from around
the world stay in the numerous hotels and buy copious amounts of religious
kitsch sold at the souvenir shops around the church.
The commercialization of the apparition is what makes the town prosperous.
New construction is active, as it has been in other places that we
have visited, but any signs of the war are less obvious than in Mostar
or Stolac. Walking further away from the center of town, one finds
some buildings that show signs that fighting took place, but the overall
impression is that the war did not happen here.
There are clear messages, however, of the pervading ethnic divisions
from the war. Most obvious is the large Croatian flag in front of
the church. The Croatian flag has come to symbolize the Catholic community,
or at least the ethno-nationalists are attempting to assign it that
meaning, and with some success, and the Bosnia and Herzegovina flag
is less prominent. The message is that Medugorje, despite being in
Bosnia and Herzegovina, belongs to the Croats.
I do not know how to reconcile the peaceful message of the Virgin
Mary with divisive markers of communal division, other than noting
the distinction between religion and politics, but the building of
symbolic walls between communities does not appear to be a step towards
reintegrating the other. As long as Bosnia and Herzegovina is divided
and the populations of towns such as Stolac and Medugorje try to mark
its illegitimacy as a governmental structure, the future for peace
seems strained.
Balkan Intermezzo - July 11
Pocitelj, Bosnia and Herzegovina
The clearest image of Bosnia and Herzegovina is one of destruction.
A few kilometers outside of Pocitelj, we visited a Serbian Orthodox
monastery which had been destroyed. In Pocitelj, a majestic village
set in a mountain's cove, the mosque and many other houses were destroyed.
Both the monastery and mosque are being rebuilt in an attempt to reconstruct
their place in the community's identity, but reconstruction raises
a number of issues. The money generally comes from international organizations
whose aim is the preservation and restoration of historic sites, or
from Serbian Orthodox and Muslims living abroad. Some see the reconstruction
efforts in the broad context of a shared Bosnian identity, i.e. that
the churches and mosques belong to all Bosnians rather than only those
of the faith tradition that they serve, and that is a promising sign
for peace.
The challenge, however, is to bring the community together in a way
that leads all to see their identity in terms of co-existence rather
than mere symbols of exclusion. Rebuilding religious sites in their
traditional form, i.e. rebuilding a 16th century mosque to look like
a 16th century mosque rather than a modern building devoid of cultural
integrity, provides an opportunity for rebuilding the community in
constructive or destructive ways. Any rebuilding incorporates the
history of destruction with the history of original construction.
So long as the other is not demonized by claiming this is what my
neighbor did to me, the community can take steps towards reconciliation.
Around every beautiful location in Bosnia, however, there are tangible
signs of the difficulty of reconciliation. Perhaps the metaphor to
describe it is the mountains, which seem so inviting. Numerous times
I have wanted to go for a hike in the mountains, but cannot because
they are filled with land mines left over from the war. For this country
to see its potential beauty, the land mines must be cleared, physically
and symbolically (in the sense that reconstructed sites do not fuel
future divisions against the other). All ethnic and religious groups,
however, must engage in that process.
Balkan Intermezzo - July 14
Blagaj, Bosnia and Herzegovina
Not far from Mostar is Blagaj, the site of a Sufi tekke (a center
for mystical Islam.) Situated at the source of the Buna River, Blagaj
is hidden at the tranquil base of a mountain wall.
The quiet and natural beauty of the setting gives the tekke the feeling
of a sacred space. Time has moved more slowly here and a history of
Sufi worship has graced Blagaj.
To get to Blagaj, we turned left at a fork in the road. Had we turned
right, we would have gone by the sight of a former concentration camp
during the 1993 war. Rightfully, Blagaj is more of a tourist town,
but understanding the current situation of the country is the juxtaposition
of both. The future interpretation of the past will be more peacefully
symbiotic if the ethno-national segregation of schools is set aside
and the spirit of the tekke, the mosque, the church or the synagogue
is given deference over the politics of the concentration camp.
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