A BOSNIAN IN FRANCE… CHAPTER 4: WAR, MUSIC AND THE HYPOCRISY OF EUROPE

I’ve been toying with the idea of renaming this blog to properly suit my intentions here, and I believe I finally got it. So, from now on, the blog „An Expat in France“ officially continues as „A Bosnian in France“. I’d say it’s quite suitable for the intended purpose, and it also echoes one of Sting’s classics.

Now, onto the topic itself. Last week Europe was in its regular annual Eurovision fever. Songs were heard, performances were discussed. Ukraine (deservedly) won this year’s Eurosong. Yes, it was a sympathy/empathy vote, too, but I firmly believe music should also have a message that goes beyond the rhythm and lyrics. And yes, next year’s competition can be held in Ukraine if the Russian aggressor is finally kicked out of the country. It would be a cathartic rebirth and recognition of human values we like to say we cherish inside.

However, this is not the first time one part of Europe was celebrating, while another one suffered in the noise of bombs. Back in 1993, Bosnia and Herzegovina, my homeland, participated in the Eurovision Song Contest for the first time as an independent country. Our own Muhamed Fazlagić Fazla, along with the accompanying ensemble, literally had to go through hell to come to that shiny stage. Bosnia was suffering from an aggression by Bosnian Serb paramilitary forces & former Yugoslav army. They wanted to obliterate us, and there was no pardon for children, or mothers, or artists who just wanted to sing. As per this thread and other sources, first our delegation had to flee besieged Sarajevo to get to Millstreet in Ireland. They were forced to run across the airport tarmac, were shot at so hard the conductor had to give up and stay behind. Six people who tried to escape that night were killed, while 17 were wounded. The singer, Fazla, had to try twice. On the second attempt, he lost his shoes in the mud of the destroyed airport runway and kept running, barefoot. But that was only the beginning: after that they had to walk ten kilometers over the 1510 meter high mountain Igman. Igman is a symbol of suffering, and many people did not survive the journey over the mountain. Because of cold, exhaustion or Serbian killers. Ten kilometers through snow and mud, up a mountain, in danger from armed murderers. Our Eurosong delegation survived. The delegation then had to pass another obstable when it was stopped around Mostar by the HVO (Croatian forces), the soldiers of which were saying „There is no Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina“.

Despite the historic, geographic and other differences, so far one could have the argument that these were, more-or-less, the kind of conditions that the Ukraine delegation also had to go through, but Ukraine isn’t besieged in the same totality as Sarajevo, and their path is open. Our dance of death, as the Mirror describes it, took extreme courage and luck in impossible conditions, above all things – because hardly anyone knew or cared, as opposed to now & Ukraine.

But this is the point where, really, any sort of resemblance disappears. Even when that iconic line „Sarajevo, we’re hearing you“ broke through the applause that erupted amidst a ‘screeching’ telephone line from the besieged Sarajevo, our delegation faced obstacles that the Ukraine delegation (luckily) didn’t experience. There was tremendous media attention, but sometimes for bizarre reasons. See, for many journalists, the fact that our singer is called Muhamed and also has blond hair and blue eyes was raking their brains. The additional fact of his model height (1,90) was another point of bewilderment. Fazla heard the line „You don’t look like a Muhamed!“ every day, to which he asked: „What is a Muhamed supposed to look like?“ The above-linked thread continues: „Those who already knew that Muslims can also ‘look European’ still wanted to exclude him from Europe. A Croatian journalist tried to portray Fazla as an ‘Islamist’ just because he had a green jacket.“

Seriously? Suddenly green is a forbidden color? Judging a man who lost his shoes while escaping from the snipers? It still baffles me almost 30 years later. But despite these finely-tuned obstacles and discrimination, Fazla knew why he had to sing for Bosnia: “The music was a symbolic interaction to prove that our struggle against aggression and genocide and everything we had to endure was right and human. And that we will win in the end.”

Just consider the following lyrics:

„All the world’s pain is in Bosnia tonight
I stay here to defy the pain
And I’m not afraid to stand in front of a wall
I know how to sing, I know how to win
Tonight when the tears on my face freeze
I will not let fear overcome me
Who will keep watch instead of me
So that the evil doesn’t repeat itself?”

He knew that he needed to nurture our tortured souls. People in shelters struggled to find a source to watch or hear the contest, soldiers on the battlefield gathering around a battered transistor and crying at the chorus – that night, Bosnia’s cries were heard in Europe and in many of its corners for the first time.

But why was his name and religion important? Why is that a measure of worth in Europe? Why did our song end up in 16th place, and Ukraine won? Who ‘deserves’ to be perceived as European and human, and who not, according to this? Is it only bestowed upon persons with an ‘approved’ religion, heritage and physical appearance? In case I need to spell it out for you, Bosnia and Herzegovina is in Europe, too. We are Europeans just like you are. The apsurdity of Europe’s hypocrisy is often, like now, loud and clear.

Speaking of hypocrisy, why is Palestine barely in the news? Palestine, a territory massacred to appease a religious group and steal it from its righteous owners? Why is there hardly any concern, let alone action, against a massive scale genocide (including organ harvesting and sterilization) of Uyghurs in China? I am glad that France and some other countries denounced these despicable acts, but why is doing it an act of shattering diplomacy with Beijing? Why does the USA have to play the role of the world’s policeman, but actually likes to oppress people and bring down governments for profit? I am not proposing to deny one injustice and crime (the aggression on Ukraine) over another (all of the above). I am simply and genuinely asking why there is such a sharp difference in standards of Europe (and the world)? Are we Muslims less worthy of someone’s compassion? Why is the fact constantly negated that us Bosnians are part of Europe? Of the world?

The reasons for these questions are as loud today as they were then. My beautiful country is ravaged in a time of supposed peace by nationalist politics from the main neighboring countries (same old), there is a seed of poison growing in it as well, and there is pressure everywhere to be less. Less Bosnian, less Muslim, less oneself. Whether you are in Bosnia or abroad, these sometimes invisible forces push your head down into a guillotine of self-loathing and hiding, because they hate what you represent and they are afraid. Afraid of my beautiful Bosnia, of all the highest human values that lived in my country for centuries. CENTURIES. Afraid of Islam, because that generational blood speaks volumes about the crussades their ancestors led in the name of another religion, so they’re projecting (those who have issues, of course – I am NOT generalizing). Hypocrisy much?

But you will never be able to silence me and my existence. The same with my enlightened compatriots. And when you tell me in the face that my language does not exist and that I am actually speaking another language, I will laugh in your face (this one’s about you, genocide denier from the Office of Immigration – shame on you). If you make jokes about my name and conflate me with another nation, I will call you out on your racism and mysogyny (another „humanoid creature“ here in France who is yet to feel my full wrath). At first, I played nice here, trying to be as polite and kind as possible (also another trait of us Bosnians that gets us into trouble sometimes because we are TOO nice). But, it’s been a few months since I released my spite and my full presence here and I breathe nicely now, thank you. If that’s too much for you, Europe, well, tough titty, said the kitty! I will forever be a true ambassador of my identity here. An ambassador of respect towards others, but also of pride towards my own. By the way, those are true European values, and not atrocious things that end in –ism – check yourself, EU.

And one other thing: Bosnia will exist forever. Because the ethereal idea of Bosnia, of a land with beautiful nature and beautiful, kind and welcoming people, of love – that will never disappear. My body will rest in soil and disappear itself, but Bosnia is and will be long after that.

Muhamed Fazlagić, our blond and blue-eyed singer, showed all that on the Eurovision stage. And he sent hope into this world. Hope of not only helping Bosnia, but also the hope of seeing the love of his life again. The song was a love letter to her: „I cannot take the stars down from the sky / I can’t find the road, the road to the universe / But I can send you this song / So that you know that I’m alive, my love.“

They reunited during Eurovision and haven’t been apart ever since. A few months after the contest, they returned to Sarajevo. He performed for our troops and they both survived, thank God. How’s that for a love story? How’s that for a European story? How’s that for a human story?

Music achieved something valuable back in 1993, despite the votes. I just hope that there will be no countries at war and no genocide anywhere next year. An utopian thought, perhaps, but a thought to strive for. We Bosnians know very well what the oppressed people around the world are going through, at the hands of oppressors and new Hitlers and Karadžićs, and so we know the importance of that thought being born into action. A voice, an act against the evil. Against hypocrisy.

14 ON FIRE: Burch & TETA Conferences

For those of you not familiar with the title – it was actually the Rolling Stones tour this year where I managed to see one show (more on that in the upcoming post), so I thought it’s a nice way to describe the whole summer. ’14 on fire, indeed!

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The unofficial start was all business. The long awaited conference at the Burch University in Sarajevo was an event I anticipated ever since I got the presentation acceptance letter back in February. This was an effective strategy to both research political metaphors in our surroundings, get much needed ECTS points for my studies, and test whether the idea will hold water in the long run (basically, will it be of interest to me to my PhD thesis on it) – and test it I sure did. This was my first solo presentation at a conference, but I had my faithful companion and dear friend Nizama with me, so I was simply „positively“ excited to present my work. Not only her, mind you, but also my professor from Osijek, Prof. Tanja Gradečak-Erdeljić, along with her colleagues, my PhD colleague Ružica, my colleagues from the faculty in Bihać… Their presence meant a lot, and I still can’t thank them enough! Just imagine the situation – the colleague who presented before me just ended his speech, which was taken as cue for the bunch of people to open the door of the hall and enter it – for me! So cool! The hall was full, and even though I didn’t have the planned time to present everything (due to all first-round presentations being late since prof. Langacker prolonged his keynote speech), I was pretty satisfied with how it all went. I prefer presenting on the first day, because I can relax after my speech and just hang out with my friends and colleagues, checking out interesting presentations or mingling at the buffet. In that aspect, it was like the lovely organizers at Burch read my mind.

Overall impression from Burch – it was like a rockstar show, only for linguists! Not only because they had some pretty big names of the academic world (aforementioned Prof. Langacker, then Professors Pinker, Mackey, Ellis and Schmidt), but also due to the fact that they had that special event vibe going on – and with 600 presenters and who knows how many visitors, it was a true academic beehive! As for Nizama and me, we loved buzzing around and we’re already planning our speeches for next year. Hopefully, we’ll finally get to see and meet Prof. George Lakoff, who was announced, but in the end couldn’t come or hold a video conference this year (he’s up on the 2015 poster though). We’re totally gonna fangirl over him and have him sign our copies of „Metaphors We Live By“, right, Nizama?

After we came back home, disaster struck our country (the May floods), so we were all, in one way or another, influenced by the whole catastrophe. For a while it was also touch-and-go for my third conference this year, organized by TETA – Tuzla English Teachers’ Association that currently dubs as the organization for the whole country, and does a pretty good job at it too. By then (second week of June), I was entirely spent by the exhausting work year behind me and ready to call it a day – or in this case, a year. Hence me being extremely tired at the conference and the days preceding it. I also had a solo speech there, and in the presence of several colleagues – English teachers there (Nizama too), and a couple of my students from Bihać who were helpers at the conference, I presented my research on the cognitive dimension of early acquisition of EFL, and was once more able to relax after that. I think my brain went officially on vacation the minute my speech ended. After that, it was mingling time again – and at the dinner TETA organized for us at an Irish pub in Tuzla, I actually won a pretty nifty tablet! How cool is that! The rest of the evening I spent in a very pleasant company of fellow English teachers from all across Bosnia and Herzegovina and Slovenia. The late evening was blank, as I basically fainted and slept for close to 12 hours. Tomorrow held another journey for me, but more on that and the four Englishmen in the biggest rock band in the world soon! Until then, enjoy my gallery from Burch, with TETA being added soon as well!

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My presentation (as you can see, I love to plug my fave horror movies in them – and “They Live” is a masterpiece!):
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With colleagues Hakan and Nizama in front of Burch:
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At the House of Sevdah in Sarajevo:
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With Ružica at the Pope John Paul II statue in Sarajevo:
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Where’s Waldo? :) (last photo courtesy of Burch University)
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U2 in Sarajevo – Fifteen years later

Fifteen years ago, I was standing inside the Koševo stadium in Sarajevo, singing loudly, along with the rest of the audience – on a show that was to be one of the highlights not only of my life, but of my country and U2 – too. See, these four Irishmen came and played the hell out of their instruments (and themselves, Bono lost his voice during the show) for their Bosnian fans. And I was there! Today, we in Bosnia remembered the event, including many portals and media throughout the country, which makes me content. I contributed with my own piece on Venia-Mag portal, which you can read here, and after you, hopefully, read it, you can join me and watch the entire show below – and don’t forget Bono’s piece of wisdom – fuck the past, kiss the future! ^^


Watch U2 Live From Sarajevo Popmart Tour 23.09.1997 in Music | View More Free Videos Online at Veoh.com