Sanadin took us to a restaurant for dinner. It looked pretty much like those mini restaurants in Dublin, where my friends often take me to, except that this one was worryingly empty. 'Worrying'- because, in cities like London and Manchester (and in fact Selangor too), consumers know very well how to communicate messages amongst each other. A simple rule of thumb; less-frequented restaurants reflect the quality of food it serves. It immediately reminded me of Babah, who at his best, when taking us for a family's night out, has always avoided places of this like. Instinctively memories of Dr Asri taking us to an empty restaurant in London flashed vividly- I smiled thinking how I forced myself to enjoy the food, in respect of the ex-mufti.
Don't ask me what I had that night- I certainly had had enough of new, unfamiliar, intangible words digested, processed, and repeated in the last 24 hours. All I can remember was that I didn't finish my meal, and tried to push my plate to Nubli who also resisted. Not knowing his culture very well, I hesitantly asked our Bosnian friend's help; to my astonishment Sanadin graciously accepted my left-overs and finished it in a matter of minutes.
This incident might be overlooked by many, if not most of us. However I can't help but to think about its potential underlying causes and effects. As my story unfolds, if God had willed, it will become clear to readers that this culture- the abhorrence to wasting- is in no way exclusive to Sanadin. In fact it was too extensive that I sometimes worry about infectability issues! It can be said that Muslims in general find its roots in the verse in the Qur'an that relegates and degrades a person who wastes to being a close sibling of the devils. When put into practice, anyone would quickly realise that it demanded more values to jump into the scene- e.g. love, togetherness, aid, selflessness, and humility; to name but a few. As an example, without humility, one can never imagine himself proudly eating the left-overs of another- not unless if the person was someone special and loved!
When everyone finished, we payed the bills and walked out. It felt so different- that I was so refreshed by the meal. Taking the first few steps into the fresh air of Sarajevo again, I reconfigured my previously exhausted self- which almost turned to hibernation mode- back to the vigilant, alert Safwan. So we set off to experience the exotic "moon lit Baščaršija".
Thursday, 12 November 2009
Friday, 30 October 2009
Lingual reflections from 'Baščaršija'
Having had some part of Sarajevo uncovered, and the BBI shopping complex explored, we resorted to rest at the concourse in front of the complex, not knowing anything else to do. Fortunately we didn't have to wait long, after a few minutes Sanadin appeared from the direction opposite to which we came from. He hugged us, giving a warm welcome to his two guests of the same faith.
I learnt that my facebook profiling skills was not so bad- Sanadin is a walking proof. Although his english is not very fluent, he has in his heart the warmth ever-ready to be extended to his guests. He is a man of extraordinary valour- indeed we were not the first tourists he has attended to. He mentioned his regular experience working as a group tourist guide in Mostar, from which he aims to improve his english and spread the beauty of Islam. Only recently, he brought some non-muslim tourists to sleep in his house, another of his not uncommonly done deeds. At his age, only a year younger than me, I would think that many other youths would prefer to busy themselves doing something else. Something most probably less productive than this.
Our unofficial guide had plans. He wanted to walk us through the very heart of Sarajevo tonight, in the difficult-to-pronounce Baščaršija, a Turkish derived word. In fact, I would later come to know that in Bosnian language (and culture; with limitations), elements of Turkish are quite widespread. Sanadin explained that in Turkish, Baščaršija simply means 'main marketplace'. I had to have him repeat this word a number of times that I was afraid I might offend him; his language and culture at the same time. It couldn't be helped, I needed it to be transcribed somewhere, I need to see its written form before I could appreciate it better. It was not until I came back to England that I actually learnt this word without the same difficulty.
Language is simply a marvel to me. It is something everyone- without exception, not even the deaf or dumb- uses everyday, but many would ignore its exquisite intricacies. If only languages were like stamps or coins, I would have collected every variant of it that ever existed between east and west. Much of the words of any one language are intermingled with at least three other completely different or even ancient languages (I'll leave history, there will be no end to its facts, interrelation, mystery, and excitement). Some languages have words distinct from each other, but their verb conjugation structure might be somewhat alike. Compare any two languages in the world, little do I doubt the possibility to find some similarities in the most starkly different languages. In that way, if you have mastered a language, and I suspect everyone has had at least one, you will never have to learn another language from scratch. Rather ironically, there must be something that you have known about the yet-to-be-known language.
Another thing about language, perhaps obvious but the most noteworthy; it connects people.
I learnt that my facebook profiling skills was not so bad- Sanadin is a walking proof. Although his english is not very fluent, he has in his heart the warmth ever-ready to be extended to his guests. He is a man of extraordinary valour- indeed we were not the first tourists he has attended to. He mentioned his regular experience working as a group tourist guide in Mostar, from which he aims to improve his english and spread the beauty of Islam. Only recently, he brought some non-muslim tourists to sleep in his house, another of his not uncommonly done deeds. At his age, only a year younger than me, I would think that many other youths would prefer to busy themselves doing something else. Something most probably less productive than this.
Our unofficial guide had plans. He wanted to walk us through the very heart of Sarajevo tonight, in the difficult-to-pronounce Baščaršija, a Turkish derived word. In fact, I would later come to know that in Bosnian language (and culture; with limitations), elements of Turkish are quite widespread. Sanadin explained that in Turkish, Baščaršija simply means 'main marketplace'. I had to have him repeat this word a number of times that I was afraid I might offend him; his language and culture at the same time. It couldn't be helped, I needed it to be transcribed somewhere, I need to see its written form before I could appreciate it better. It was not until I came back to England that I actually learnt this word without the same difficulty.
Language is simply a marvel to me. It is something everyone- without exception, not even the deaf or dumb- uses everyday, but many would ignore its exquisite intricacies. If only languages were like stamps or coins, I would have collected every variant of it that ever existed between east and west. Much of the words of any one language are intermingled with at least three other completely different or even ancient languages (I'll leave history, there will be no end to its facts, interrelation, mystery, and excitement). Some languages have words distinct from each other, but their verb conjugation structure might be somewhat alike. Compare any two languages in the world, little do I doubt the possibility to find some similarities in the most starkly different languages. In that way, if you have mastered a language, and I suspect everyone has had at least one, you will never have to learn another language from scratch. Rather ironically, there must be something that you have known about the yet-to-be-known language.
Another thing about language, perhaps obvious but the most noteworthy; it connects people.
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