Sarajevo's revenge

Lying on the seat in the compartment, I look at the moon and stars, high in the sky between the mountains around. There is no greater feeling of freedom, to me, than travelling through the countryside on a train, bus or else, to a destination one does not know anything about, or almost ... At the counter of the railway station in Zagreb, I had three possible choices: Budapest, Belgrade or Sarajevo. In a second, the choice was made*.

So, here I am on the train, snaking between the mountains, in the valleys of Bosnia. Around one in the morning, passing the Customs worth a scene of a Kusturica film: the train, stopping in the middle of nowhere, in front of a small border crossing lost in a valley, and its moustached customs agents in uniforms, rifles hanged on the shoulder, inspecting the train and checking the passports of the travelers ... In the morning, through the window, I discover the landscapes, the villages, the fields... And scattered here and there, my first "remainings" of the war. Here a destroyed bridge, There a factory in ruins. The war is over since 20 years, but has left many scars. What do I know about Sarajevo? actually not much. I remember of course, the images of war, which were broadcasted on the television news, bombings, massacres, snipers and civilians caught in the middle of it all. I have nothing planned, don't have a guide book and doesn't even know the currency here, but I know in my heart that this will be a travel that I'll remember for long. The arrival at the station is impressive: along the railways, warehouses covered with bullet holes, and it is the arrival at the platform. Once in the hall of the station, on both sides, gigantic Coca Cola advertising frescoes welcome the travelers: one suspects that before Coca, it was certainly frescos of propaganda of the communist regime which had to be there. Regimes and ideologies change. And as always, all is not lost for everyone.

* See down the page.

trad: Coca Cola welcomes you.

trad : Coca Cola, Wish you a safe journey.

Leaving the station, I ask people how I should do to go to the town center: first mission: find a bank and change some money. To leave the station and reach the main road (the infamous "sniper alley"), I have to pass by a whole block surrounded by high walls topped with barbed wire, armed watchtowers and surveillance cameras. I first thought, walking, it must surely be the prison. A little further, I'll see over the wall the American flag flying . In reality, this huge secure area in the middle of Sarajevo (an area larger than the administrative district, parliament etc ...), is the US Embassy ... Going up sniper alley, I noticed many holes in the sidewalk and the roadway at intersections. Suddenly, I realized with horror: that's the impacts of sniper bullets, and it means that many people died here. Later, I'll find a bank, and a bed in a guesthouse before going to the oldtown for further investigations...

The sidewalk on Sniper alley

The streets of the old market

the bazaar

Miraculously, the old town of Sarajevo went through the war almost without destruction, also small pedestrian shopping streets and the bazaar are still the same as they have always been, except that you can find modern products among the traditional products now. In the district, mosques, synagogue and churches coexist in harmony, surrounded by antique shops, restaurants and barbers. By climbing a little over the hill, reaching about a view on the city and the valley, I cross a Muslim cemetery. Mounted against each other by the nauseating propaganda of the various parties, communities fought up to topple Yugoslavia into civil war, chaos and ethnic cleansing.

Sarajevo, city where the different communities have always lived in harmony, has been the scene of the worst violence since its "Art of living" together represented an affront to the supporters of disunity. The hills surrounding the city conserve a silent testimony: they are covered with cemeteries.

On the hill

The next day, walking in the street, I observe how the city has "healed". Some buildings are still half-demolished, the walls bear many traces of impacts, but Sarajevo has chosen Culture, and on the squares, in each park, and everywhere on the walls, artists express themselves, to give a new breath to the city, to life. Many famous, came to Sarajevo since the end of the war, to collaborate to its renewal by working with the locals. We note among them the french street-artist M. Chat, whose frescoes are found everywhere in the city, Chris Marker, etc .... Officials or not, artworks are appearing everywhere, expression of a youth that push the city to reborn from its ashes. Of course, injuries are always sensitive, and sometimes the questions posed by some of the works are not to everyone's taste ... So close to the market, scene of bombings and civilians massacres during the war, the question remains painful.

One of "M. Chat" 's frescoes

The market

During the Bosnia war, milicias where coming down from the hills, to the market. There, they where catching the people who had not the good religion. It was easy for them as it was written on their identity cards... The unlucky ones were aligned against this wall, in a small street nearby, and they were shot down. When i passed in this street, i noticed those stickers on the wall, so i took the picture. Then, a man came and explained me that it was, according to him, provocation from the Serbians, and he took of the stickers... To me, this ephemeral artwork was expressing so many things for those victims.

The next morning, I take the coffee, chatting, with my hosts. Alissa, her younger brother and their mother have recently opened a little a small hostel in an old building from the Soviet era in the center of Sarajevo. with the success of the Croatian beaches, visitors begin to return to Bosnia.

I ask them to tell me about the war, their war, so Alissa explains, regularly throwing questioning glances at her mother when she is not quite sure, her mother reply in Bosnian and Alissa continues her story: "I was eight when the war began. I remember the omnipresent anxiety. Sometimes we did not have food for 4, 5 days on, then we drank water, to calm our stomach. One day my father went out to try to find something to eat. We never saw him again ... We were afraid to go to the market because we feared it could be bombed, and sometimes there, militias raided and massacred the people, including children, in the nearby streets. To fetch bread, you had to go through sniper alley ... Some in both camps, want to maintain anger, they do not want us to forgive, but that's sort of fascism. We must forgive, but we must not forget ... I have Serb friends. We don't often talk about it, because our opinions differ, and I know (I fear) that if it starts again one day they will be the first to want to hurt me. We all come from the same roots, regardless of our differences, and we must learn to live together in peace ... "

Alissa and me

In the afternoon, going through the city by tramway, I spoted a café which looks nice on the banks of the river Miljacka (http://kriterion.ba/). Also, I left the tram to check it out. In fact, it's a film club, which organizes exhibitions, concerts, debates etc .... in short, an alternative place where people meet, discuss, exchange. Sarajevo abounds of places like this. In the cafes, the Mezze restaurants and cultural places, Sarajevo, since always a multicultural and cosmopolitan city, grows and reinvents its Art of living. the city has its revenge. A revenge on death. On barbarism.

in the tramway

In 2006, i had the great opportunity to meet and exchange a bit with Jean-Luc Godard, in his place in Switzerland.

There, he showed me one of his short-movie: "Je vous salue Sarajevo".

This Report / Road-Book is an a modest attempt to respond to his film.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=WKbfu8rRrho