THE PARADOX OF OUR TIMES by dana

There is no inanity and death in you...
You even tears convert like a rain into colorful rainbows.
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And when the time comes, then my old heart appeases,
yours will acacia fall over me like the rain.
(Lament over Belgrade) – Milos Crnjanski

У теби нема бесмисла и смрти...
Ти и плач претвараш као дажд у шарене дуге.
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А кад дође час, да ми се срце старо стиша,
твој ће багрем пасти не ме као киша.
(Ламент над Београдом)

This personal reminiscence and reflections on the NATO bombing over Belgrade and Serbia 10 years ago on todays day I’m not writing as columnist, writer of fiction and non-fiction, blogger, lecturer, web anthropologist or information specialist, but as a girl then and now a young woman who has, ten years ago in Belgrade right after graduation, found herself in surrealism.

It wasn’t long ago after I returned from Budapest and plans for short academic visit to London, as I was never really into politics and watching the news – but the situation during that time was pretty alarming.
For me as carefree girl in the early 20’s would be unthinkable to even imagine of what may come so I kept with my nomadic life, creating art, wonderful things, gathering people, writing a lot, publishing a lot. Those were the years of great creative productivity in the most positive sense.
As the political situation and threatens from the outside came around – I was / we were even more stronger, the resistance and famous Serbian “in spite’ of everything was always “on”, and we were never stronger than those several weeks of NATO aggression on Serbia.

My memories for significant moments in life always make me to remember random details: weather it was the “protest” student walk in ’97 on the cold winter days, or careless walk on the beach in the winter 2003, dream that was a sign that I dreamt exactly 365 days before 24th of March, the smell of the sea and the ocean in the spring time, serendipities that are happening all the time, mind-mapping moments with great people I am meeting and know, that afternoon and evening that was full of joy, craziness, excitement, love.

Now when I think after all those years, the best parties, the best unions and strength in Serbia showed its lovely head in it’s critical and life threatening moments. I couldn’t see bigger amount of love (yes, love!) during 11 weeks than in 1999. Ordinary, unconditional , pure, concerning, fully consuming love for the other, for the country, for your neighbour.
So we made a cycle: it was late afternoon, running from Faculty to meet friends, and another friends, roaming around the city, feeling the people’s pulse, feeling the city and its restlessness for the thing to come.
A friend had photography exhibition at small coffee bar at Obilicev venac, old Belgrade – as we enjoyed in black and white photography the music was not present as everywhere the radio stations, TV programs were on, everyone was so alert.
I was carefree. And hopelessly in love then (well..).
A good friend of mine and I – after the photography exhibition as the night that has fallen to the city, rushed to get some groceries, drinks and snacks as we planned to spend a night listening to news, etc.

When the sirens started around 20.00 and when people started to run randomly rushing to their homes – I was like Alice in the wonderland, standing at Trg republike, in the very center of dear Belgrade not believing what was happening, pretty shocked with surreal scenery around me.

I grabbed my female friend into my favourite bookstore right there on Trg republike to come with me, as I was about anyway to go there and as brave and silly young Serbian girl without any second thought to express my affection to a book-seller I liked very much for some time. I thought it was then or never, and as he was smiling watching me talking clumsy and sweet in a hurry how much I liked him and how I’d like to spend this evening with our (common) friends who is making a party, I watched through the glass window people passing by, running in different directions.
I even didn’t react when he said with a smile that he’d that moment take me home if he wasn’t engaged. As being silly in my 20’s and very brave I must to admit, I really liked the honesty's of this man, and any rejections I perceived as “it should be like that” and “god only knows why it’s good like that”, and as we hugged, I bought additional books for my stack, and with all bags we (friend and I) hurried back home.

My heart was fulfilled with uncertainty and we were thowing the dices. We played a game. It started with huge blast, slamming our front doors, windows, and detonations has begun. First in Batajnica, suburbia of Belgrade and then the city, day after day, after week, after months. Being foolishly brave, I dared in 11 weeks to travel through Serbia during the daylight when attacks switched night for day and vice versa, being at great risk of road detonations, with no civilians on the road, once in real danger, but hopefully what didn’t kill me – made me stronger. All of us, I guess.

Who was during that time in Serbia, as I said at the beginning of this reminiscence that I won’t write about politics but personal thoughts, knows very well that the best parties ever, ever happened during 11 weeks of air strikes against Serbia.
We didn’t have the power many times, but we had unplugged guitars, we spent first spring evenings in Skadarlija – my neighbourhood and my favourite part of the city, having fun, talking, hanging out.
Also we did went online in computer laboratory to spread the word to the world, my passion for written word on paper transformed to digital medium and many people from diaspora and Serbia supporters wrote us back: emails, discussion boards, BBS’s.

The paradox of our times denotes that nothing is a rule and everything is not coincidence. I believe in serendipities, humanity, presence of the sanity in this crazy world, amazing people that glow and have helped during those times, and those significant people that are supporting and helping out in today’s context, in the power of good will.
And smile.

Dana

Don’t ask me here why I will end this text unfinished and quote my favourite Serbian writer and poet Milos Crnjanski but this is what we were ten years, five years ago:

Sumatra

Now we are carefree, tender and airy.
Let us think: how quiet are, the snowy
peaks of the Urals.

If we get sad over a pale figure,
whom we have lost on some evening,
we know that, somewhere, a rivulet,
instead of it, all in red, is flowing!

One love, morning in foreign land,
envelops our soul, gets tighter,
in endless peace of blue seas,
from which the crimson corals glitter,
like, from my distant homeland, cherries.

We wake up at night, smiling dearly,
to the Moon with its bow bent,
caressing the distant hills, tenderly,
and icy mountains, with our hand.