A thousand Marks' worth of smile

In that fateful night, we arrived in Split at 0100 hours, and were immediately taken to our hostel by the patiently waiting woman, Elda, a polite and kind lady who was in her 50's. The plan is to catch the first bus to Bosna tomorrow, and that requires our already sleep-deprived souls to wake up at 5am. I had an even more detrimental idea- waking up at 4am, after only 2 hours of sleep to have some personal time with my Creator. This merciful Creator has however ruled against it; my phone went dead for no technical reason while I was sleeping, thus did not ring the alarm on time, letting me sleep through the quiet hours of the night. Perhaps He wanted me to have enough rest. I conceded.

Nothing particularly interesting took place in the 4 hour ride to Mostar that morning. I spent most of my time praising Allah and seeking forgiveness from Him, knowing nothing better to do. I made some prayers and supplications, mindful of the hadith in Sahih Bukhari singling out a traveler's prayers as special- lifted and answered by Allah. At times I got emotional and the eyes started to accumulate tears, realising that we are completely at Allah's merciful hands. We were both overpowered by sleep every now and then- clearly the three hour nap in Split was not enough. Outside the scene was notably picturesque, first half dominated by the calm Adriatic sea, and the marvelous mountains in the second half. Once in a while I threw my sight far over the sea, trying my luck to see any shadows of Italy, a land used to be the centre of the much spoken Roman empire. After a while I realised that it was an impossible dream- the sea was too wide for my sight to grasp its other shore.

Sometimes we fail to realise that our smallest actions can mean a lot to other people. It adds to the reason why a Muslim has to be careful in everything he does, from anything largely obvious to the most subtle and simplest acts. When the Bosnian officer gave us a hearty smile and a warm greeting that morning during the border checks, it stayed afresh in our memories for weeks or even months to come. It was nice to feel welcomed by the officials- it felt as if the whole Bosnian authority has humbled themselves to welcome us. It certainly did not take much effort to say such simple words as "welcome to Bosna", while pulling some strings of muscles to curve a smile. It cost the official nothing, but secured her some definite reward from Allah, in return to making other people happy.

We stopped for about half-an-hour in a place I think was Čitluk. I did not wait to jump out of the bus, knowing that we're already in the Bosnian soil. The moment of my first steps in this beloved country is still vivid to me, even the first breaths I took was encrypted into some form of indelible memory. It was sunny, yet it wasn't boilingly hot. Perhaps the weather was trying to do its best to welcome us too. There I learnt my first live Bosnian phrase, "Dobro Jutro"!