In Malaysia, there are countless women walking around with hijab, yet we never have really appreciated it- at least not until we were sent to study here in the Europe. The case is not unlike of mosques, which we might take for granted for all these years- but I cried so profusely when I first found a mosque in my early days of studying here. Somehow the taste of Islam gives us serenity in our hearts; it soothes our eyes and gives us a new breath. I now know why I am always so delighted to go to London- not because of its fame or diversity per se, but the many muslim women in hijab and lively mosques that one can rarely find in other metropolitan cities. It feels warm and safe. Above all, it's a source of peace, and that is as far as words can describe.
The opposite remains true; here in the streets of Mostar we didn't- and couldn't- feel safe. We felt at lost, and we were lost. While looking for the grand Old Bridge, we secretly hoped to find these Islamic signatures manifest in hijab and mosques. Mind you, there wasn't even a sign of a single mosque then. The first one I saw was miles away, at the peripheries of the city, when we were still in the bus. Confused, we tried to reason out the situation. It's not surprising at all to find that the answer lies in its bloody history..
The Balkans were a single unified country before Yugoslavia broke in the end of 20th Century, consisting of Croatia, Bosna i Hercegovina, Serbia, Slovenia, Macedonia, Montenegro, Kosova and Vojvodina. After Tito's death, the Serbs tried to take control of the whole bunch of Republics, only to be confronted by secessions initially from Slovenia and Croatia. Insulted, the Serbs, who inherited most of the powerful JNA (Yugoslavian National Army) waged wars with these two whom they forced to remain as Yugoslavian Republics, but both assaults ended prematurely. It is extremely stupefying to learn that as part of the peace process, the Karađorđevo agreement was made between Slobodan Milošević and Franjo Tuđman in which they agreed to partition and share Bosna as they would a cake. Their brainless action was in every way similar to two men stealing and devouring another man's birthday cake, when shamefully they were not even invited to the party!
Bosna was soon attacked from both sides- from the very neighbours that they thought mutual relations can be peacefully maintined. Understandably Bosna was furious, but they had literally nothing- neither arms nor real army to resist. And yet brutal occupations and heartless massacres took place every so often. In fact, from within Bosna, the Bosnian Croats and Serbs in general overwhelmingly sided to the aggressors, which resulted in sheer disaster. Within towns polices turned against each other. Within villages neighbours burned their houses down. The war seemed to be external, between countries, but not even the streets where they lived were any longer safe.
Although Ahmići massacre was most atrocious, the siege of Mostar accorded more publicity in the history of Croatian offensive on Bosna. Roughly, its east region was fiercely defended by both the army of Bosna and the inhabitants of Mostar from the continuous assaults of their enemy from the west. There was even a road, which appeared to me like a motorway, that historically demarcates these territories until today. The defending party, with Allah's help, managed to stop the enemy advances and land incursions, but in 1993 the unsatisfied Croats resorted to shelling down the invaluable Old Bridge until its fall in November the 9th of the same year.
No wonder, we were still in the 'enemy territory'; a term that would become increasingly used as I continued my journey. At least now I'm satisfied, that I've got an explanation. Possibly..
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