Product of the past

We went further into the 'east', until the road diverged. At this junction on our right, we could see the Katedrala, a massive cathedral for the christian masses, which stood very proudly beside the aforementioned dividing road. "Whatever has happened 16 years ago here where I'm stepping, one thing is undisputed; it greatly affects the future", I thought to myself. We should never undermine or put down a resistance, for they have real reasons in so doing. The Muslims knew what was going to happen if their land was given up to these aggressors. They'd rather fight unequipped than die not trying. By protecting their land, freedom and identity, they essentially safeguard their religion.

Glancing to our left, the road sloped slightly down the hilly contours of Mostar, leading to a more conservative side of the town. Standing- or actually crumbling- at its forefront was a building, or what remained of it, with obvious destructions from shellings. 15 years and the scar is still visible- this, really, is something to be astonished about. I know some people who came here in 2004; they described all the fallen infrastructures in Mostar even then- but mind you, this is 2009! However, it seemed to receive no attention from the people driving and walking around it, as if it was never there. Perhaps the mighty Katedrala and a vibrant Gimnazija (high school) masked its sheer existence- together with the history it brings, the memory it may sustain, and the emotions it may evoke. Maybe, like Sarđan, they want to forget the past. Or maybe they simply don't want people to remember anything about it anymore. They want their atrocities to be left unchecked, unchastised.

Whatever was the case, it has helped us to decide on our next steps. It happened almost naturally; we were in Bosna not so much to worship the modernity, but to mull over its prized antiquity. We took to the narrow street, closed on both sides by rows of buildings, old and new. Before we could go any further, an image of a building came to our delighted sights- a mosque. It wasn't huge, but still I had all this imagination of praying in this first mosque we've been to in the whole of Bosna i Hercegovina. My brain started to come out with plans; if we want to pray a proper peaceful zuhr prayer, wherever we are by then, we have to make it back here. I mean why should I pray in the streets, in a country like Bosna?

As we walked closer to this dream, we saw the most disturbing phenomenon one could ever see. Oh no, there goes our plan, shattered to pieces. And I mean very small pieces.