Recent past, imminent future?

It did not take us long to fall in love with Bosnia. Driving down from Croatia, my family and I were immediately captivated by the lush green fields that coexist with the imposing mountains, and the landscape dotted by red tiled roofs and tall minarets. In Sarajevo, people have been kind and generous as if we have been friends for ages. The mosques, some of which date back to the 16^th century, are among the most beautiful and peaceful I have ever been to. The architecture and the artwork takes one to a different planet of peace and reflection — a much needed respite from what is happening in the world all around us.

The culture, language, heritage and art of Bosnian Muslims (or Bosniaks) depicts both their Slavic roots and the engagement with outside communities, most importantly the Ottomans, who ruled this area for well over three centuries. But unlike common perception among many, Bosniaks share their ethnic heritage with Serbs and Croats. Most Bosniaks are native to the area, and converted to Islam — they are not invaders or outsiders, they are just as sons and daughters of the soil as Serbs and Croats. Yet, fueled by nativism, bigotry and hatred, they have continued to suffer by the very same people who share their DNA, heritage and history.

In part driven by my research interests in studying healthcare systems during post-conflict rebuilding, and in part due to my interactions with wonderful Bosnians (and not just Bosnian Muslims) in the last several years, the place had been high on my list to visit. I went with high expectations of the landscape, history and people — but the country and its people exceeded it in every respect. Yet, as I spoke to the people in Sarajevo — the waitress in our restaurant who was studying mechanical engineering at the university, the receptionist at our hotel, the professor at the university, and the shopkeeper whose English was impressive — I realised that the ethnic fissures in the country are cracking open once again, and the society is dangerously close to an all-out conflict. The political system is broken (the Dayton peace accord resulted in creating a system where there are three Presidents!) and the economy is among the weakest in Europe with unemployment touching 30%. But the biggest challenge is increasingly secessionist rhetoric and provocation from the Serb controlled autonomous region of Srpska whose leader has repeatedly denied some of the worst episodes of genocide (including the massacre at Srebrenica) and made clear his intentions of joining Serbia. The war in Ukraine — and the aggressively pro-Russian stance of Serbia and the Srpska — has made many in Bosnia really anxious about the country and their lives. The worry for the future is palpable. Every young person I spoke to wanted to leave the country. They fear that the recent past — with all its pain — is perhaps the imminent future.

The past is present here for all to see. Not too far from our hotel was the Museum of Crimes Against Humanity, bearing witness to the atrocities of the Bosnian war. It is much smaller, and less well funded than the Hiroshima Museum in Japan. But in terms of its message, it is just as powerful. The images are raw and incredibly moving. One of the rooms is dedicated to messages from the visitors. One sees the support and solidarity from visitors from all parts of the globe. There were messages in nearly a dozen languages. I went through many of them and was touched, and even moved to tears, by the genuine love and pain felt by fellow human beings. I also left a message, in Urdu, few verses from Sahir’s poem ‘Ae Sharif Insano’. But as I was just about to leave, I was caught by a small note by someone from Norway. All it said was “We are so sorry, we could not come in time to save you”. I could not help but ask, will we be late again?

Published in The Express Tribune, June 28^th, 2022.

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