Sarajevo, a Year Later

1998

I had intended to keep the usual trip notes, those daily reminders of impressions, usually written in the late hours over a glass of whatever's handy, dry red wine if I'm lucky.

But this return trip to Sarajevo made me realize early on that it wasn't going to happen. Too much was unchanged for another description of wrecked towns and bewilderment. Actually, the bewilderment seems to have slowly settled into that next stage of the war-torn, the 'what are you going to do for me now' stage that brings a gleam of 'get it before it's gone' to the eyes.

Perhaps I'm wrong. It might be the light of recognition that things will change for the better in their eyes. I would settle for that. I'd be happy to accept hope in the place of avarice, plans for a future replacing greed in the present. Yet it is still greed and avarice one finds everywhere. A roof doesn't get repaired except by designated roof repairers at outrageous prices and that was true a year ago as well, closer to the aftermath. My friend Alex, the Russian UN guy's words echo in my mind that there's no use speculating on what will happen when the UN leaves, because the UN isn't going to leave, not in the foreseeable future. I saw Alex across the terrace of Morgan's beer garden, but he was with a group and we just exchanged nods, never touched upon that year old conversation again.

But I guess he's right and for sure the UN is the only source of income in this country without an intact manufacturing base and now without an agricultural base either. The SFOR vehicles rumbling about are pretty much an excuse for Germany and Italy and the other participants to train their troops and exercise the newest technology---a huge proving-ground for weaponry. Walking the dogs of war. Where else can the miles be put on equipment without much fear of being shot at? That might be cynical. On the other hand it might not be nearly cynical enough. Major war criminals have not yet been sent to the International Court at Hague and are having coffee at their leisure in Pale. Minor war criminals are running everything worth running, at least everything that's profitable to run.

Cynicism is a constant attendant in Bosnia. (Except for Morgan's new cafe, shown on the right).

There are more roofs, that's an overall impression not only in Sarajevo but throughout the country. More roofs and glass. A cynic would say that war is good for business in the tile and glass industries. I wonder if they have planning meetings when something like this breaks out, if the wise old heads at PPG cut back a bit on advertising and step up production in anticipation of markets in Baghdad and Kabul, Sarajevo and Dubrovnik. Someone must stand by to supply the market for sheet-glass and clay-tile just after the market for 50mm shells and mortar rounds has been exhausted.

There is still a however-many time a day call to prayer in the mosques of Sarajevo and to my western ear it's exotic to hear prayer-callers wailing from the heights of needle-thin minarets. Chanting in four directions, their chant carrying back across the city as if they were in conversation. I am not a religious man, but still I find the ringing of church bells and calls to prayer to be both soothing and rather nostalgic, a reminder of who we may have been in centuries past, the opening of a time-capsule either on the hour or five times a day.

Yet if the overall impression is of more roofs, it is also of more Nike and Reebok, more Gucci and Versace. Sarajevo is still a very much shot-to-hell city and the water runs only four hours in the morning and four more in the evening. There is no visible industry other than the designated repair contractors along with an explosion of fashion boutiques. No national currency either and the deutschmark is king. But fashion, like warfare, is a taker rather than a provider of wealth. Strutting one's stuff down the main street in the evening is a nightly event and those who can afford the strong Turkish coffee sit and watch the passersby. Those who are unable to afford it remain in constant motion, but no matter---the overall effect is more fashion than commerce. Easy to understand the need to take to the streets in good clothes. Going home is unutterably depressing, with radiators hanging away from shattered walls and too many needing the toilet if there is a toilet in the few hours when flushing is possible.

This is an unnecessarily sad thing, because the UN and NATO could have and should have taken out the Serbs who ringed the city with air strikes. For three years this rather small city was shelled, mortared and sniped at by entrenched Serb artillery that could have been knocked out in an afternoon. In the place of action there was endless thumb twiddling.

The thumbs continue to twiddle. Kosovo is unfolding before our eyes as an even more brutal remake of the Bosnian adventure and UN officials are quoted as saying they can "make no hasty judgments ahead of a complete study of the military options." Anyone familiar with Sarajevo is inclined to suggest that the UN officials be shipped to Kosovo and set down in a small town cafe until they more properly understand the "military options." Why is it that the ditherers and twiddlers are always in charge? Why is it that the ditherers and twiddlers are always well fed and safe?