Science must be coupled with gratefulness, not arrogance

The short advice from the boulder was funny in at least two ways. First, how would a Croat feel when walking past here? Mostar being a 50-50 town of Bosniaks and Croats, tensions will logically be very much retained. The other thing is that apparently the Bosniaks are losing (or giving up) more and more cultural influence here; their struggle in 1993 might have ended with victory, but I doubt this one is in any way similar. With every inch of infiltration from the Croat's western-like culture, Islam is slowly losing its grasp, unless serious measurements are taken.

Unfortunately however, this is not an uncommon situation in the Muslim world today. These forces have succeeded in entering into many cultures and 'private' lives, despite the countries declaring themselves Islamic. Alcoholism, sexualism, hedonism, and materialism are the commonly spoken ones. More dangerously though, but at the same time receiving less immediate attention, is atheism, which takes root more subtly. It started when materialism and hedonism were augmented by the study of the 'faultless', 'omniscient' secular sciences, with God totally ignored and shunned. Day after day more and more people decided that their lives revolve around this transient world, remembering God less with every earthly achievement. Soon after they became blind to any significance of God's presence, and later doubting its sheer existence. This, when aided by the shameless arrogance they have subconsciously bred for so long, proved fatal to their faiths. If they regress to this stage, the pristine words of "There is no god but God" will be cut short to "There is no god (at all)". As Murad Wilfried Hofman rightly said in his diary, the strength of Islam is insidiously sapped by the subtle and pervasive influence of Western technological civilisation. Now, why would we worship science but not the Creator of science??

Pressing a few yards further, we finally reached the much-dubbed Stari Most. It was suspended quite high above the river, with unmistakable concavity. Exclusively for this bridge, I would prefer to use the verb 'climb' to the usual 'cross'. In fact its floor was embedded with numerous stepping bars to prevent us hikers from slipping down. I could only appreciate it so much after knowing that this was a rebuilt version of the multi-decade old bridge, brought down and sunk into the river by the vicious, beastly enemies of 1993. Don't forget, as they say. Don't forget, said another boulder sitting very quietly at the other end of the bridge.

The view we had of Stari Most and Rijeka Neretva was an almost complete one- soothing to the eyes, astonishing to the minds. Building the picture from the bridge and then on a lower ground, we were absolutely amazed. It was impeccably in every way picturesque. Truly, one can never fully imagine the detrimental blows it received 16 years ago. Today here it stood proudly, continuously glorifying Allah in its own way, incomprehensible to our limited senses.

Arts and crafts

Not long after walking in the direction Izzudin put us, the atmosphere changed. The pavements disappeared, and out came the stones in its place. The streets were not unlike Durham city's at all, but Mostar's old city is further embellished with its distinguished people, weather, and shops. The nostalgic sound of blacksmiths hitting on their copper plates would put one a hundred years back into history. As I walked, I gathered all my senses to elicit this latent, forgotten spirit, so that I can experience an imaginary mid-day walk in a younger Mostar.

We stopped into a shop from where we thought the sound was coming from, and there was a man sitting diligently with his hammer, anvil, and an almost finished copper carving. Dzewad, as we came to know him, paid meticulous concentration on his artwork, to the point that he didn't mind a slight delay in greeting his customers. The shop was full of his and his wife's craft, each piece seemed so delicately done. I glanced through all of them with a sense of satisfaction- to be artistic is indeed a special gift from Allah! I recalled how I despised this subject in school so much that I didn't mind getting embarrassing marks. They say that a man without art is a man without heart- poor me...

This part of Mostar is inundated with souvenir shops, an understandable response to meet the demand (or actually being their source of income) of increasing number of tourists. Nubli stopped once in a while and bought the lucky ones that caught his attention, but I was indifferent; an attitude you should long trash before embarking on a journey. Maybe I didn't think that I would mind if I have or not any tangible memories from Bosna to be proudly displayed to other people. Also I didn't think that my loved ones back home would really mind if I hadn't brought anything in material back for them. What matters is my coming home, and the many things I learn from my travel to share and help build a better me. Luckily, that is not absolutely true though. It is always nice to know that people think about you, and that is what the souvenirs would bring along- beautiful memories.

Suddenly I noticed something sitting boldly but peacefully undisturbed in between two shops- a boulder. It was not just another boulder, I would think, because of its unusual placing and most intruigingly the writing-in paint- it had on its presenting surface. We went closer and read it out loud in our minds: DON'T FORGET '93