At last! A real informational entry!
The neighborhood where I'm staying is euphemistically and somewhat derogatorily referred to by locals as Beverly Hills. More precisely, New Beverly Hills (since there has been a previous neighborhood snarked about that had the name first). It's actually called Senjak, and hosts the houses of most of the foreign ambassadors.
One of the coolest surprises I've had here-and I've had more than a few wonderful turns-is the genuine hospitality and generosity of the average person. Cabbies are friendly and approachable (even when they don't speak English), and the common person on the street will stop if you ask them a question and (perhaps overly-so) give you the directions you ask.
But topping that for me is the fact that when I've called on people (whom my local agent and public relations officer, Yvonne Kuss-Slough, has tirelessly tracked down for me-usually through a woman named Olji or Tanya), they hear me tell them I'm on a university grant to research the area and such-and-such. To that they react with a little surprise of their own and also with a bit of curiosity as well. But that hasn't been what landed me coffee-talks with Matija Bećković and refugee interviews with Bread of Life (Hleb Zivota). It is my telling them I am an author and researching a novel that wins the invitation. Artists, poets, writers, these are people who are culturally respected here far more than the Western countries; far more than the United States.
Don't misunderstand, I love my country (even while despising the immensely stupid government and president), but when dumbshits like that actress who mouthed off recently about having photographs take her picture as akin to being raped, I wonder why she is continually paid to contribute nothing expect more carbon dioxide to this planet. But in the States (as elsewhere) people like that glorified, and in the States/Great Britian, they draw the most attention, the highest wages. And, to the general masses, are the people to culturally emulate.
In this part of the world, artists are given far more professional and personal respect. As a researching student, I've had a couple of people chat with me about the politics and history and maybe a surface-level story along with it. But as a writer, I've had people open up about things that, as one person said, he hadn't spoken of to anyone since it happened in 1993. "Go and tell the world, if you can," one man told me, "Of what you see here-what you smell, taste, touch. These are the things that matter. Not what someone says on the television news."
And, given the treatment this region has had in the history of Western media throughout the past century, I understand that. I've read, literally, more than two hundred articles and books about this place, and I have to wonder now if more than one or two authors/writers/journalists have really set out to learn and share something about the Balkans, or if those who actually came here and walked around merely looked for individuals who would confirm what they wanted to print about it.
Nothing ... let me say that again ... NOTHING that you hear/see/read in media about the Balkans should believed. Including this. Come here, walk around with open eyes and ears and heart. Taste the food, listen to the music. Even in Belgrade (crammed with troubles that are most recently due to bombing/sanctions/eschewed at the hands of the US in order to allow a province "independence" where they had no history of being independent ever before. And this independence is still paid for by various international organizations. Personally, I think it was the guilt of having left Sarajevo to be destroyed that spurred the US to action. That and believing the well-told lies of several people who drew significant funds from the very same government they asked to protect them. Sarajevo had been a tru international city, multi-cultural and multi-religious, but now is being altered to suit people whose future intentions are not to bring it back to that status.
It's a beautiful, frustrating mess. And I hope I can take what I have learned, am still learning, will learn, from here and write what I have experienced in a story that tells more than the truth. I hope to use my words to build a bridge to some kind of understanding.
This is my hope. This is my prayer.
As I heard from another recently. "Despise if you must, but don't ever hate."
I do despise. A lot. Vast and varied.
But hate...?
"Ain't no time to hate, barely time to wait..."
...
I'll be leaving for Kosova Monday night.
~*~
No comments:
Post a Comment