Tag Archives: Bosnia

Bosnian Post(ers)

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When I visited Bosnia in the spring the weather was particularly cool and damp. I wondered if my photos would be a bit dreary. I was looking through my pictures last night and realized that many of them held vibrant colour and they cried out to me for a poster treatment. So here are a few of my photos, posterized. I don’t usually tart my photos up this way but I kind of like these.  Enjoy a brief visit to Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The hill behind Inat Kuča.

The hill behind Inat Kuča in Sarajevo.

The Mostar Bridge

The Mostar Bridge

Street in old Mostar.

Street in old Mostar.

This building in Mostar near the river was heavily damaged during the war. It has been shored up with timbers. Snapdragons grow between the bricks on the window ledges.

This building in Mostar near the river was heavily damaged during the war. It has been shored up with timbers. Snapdragons grow between the bricks on the window ledges. In fact, I didn’t alter this photo. This is how it looked. Dramatic.

Mostar

Mostar

Sarajevo Market

Sarajevo Market

Coffee time.

Coffee time.

The old bridge - Stari most - from which Mostar gets its name.

The old bridge – Stari most – from which Mostar gets its name.

The Neretva River on the very scenic drive between Sarajevo and Mostaf.

The Neretva River on the very scenic drive between Sarajevo and Mostaf.

 

100 Years Ago Today

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Last month I stood on a Sarajevo corner and tried to imagine the day 100 years ago when, on that very spot, an event changed the history of Europe and the whole world for the upcoming century.

Today this corner looks very much like it did 100 years ago. In May I stayed in a hotel that was just at the end of this historic little street.

Today this corner looks very much like it did 100 years ago. In May I stayed in a great little hotel  (Old Town Hotel) that was just at the end of this historic little street.

Today, the intersection is unremarkable. People stand waiting for the next tram. Traffic pushes by.  A small plaque in the wall of a building on the corner states “From this place on 28 June 1914, Gavrilo Princip assassinated the heir to the Austro-Hungarian throne Franz Ferdinand and his wife Sophia.”  

That’s it.  Nothing mentioned that within a month after this shooting, all of Europe was drawn into the war that became World War I, a global conflagration that apparently claimed over 16 million lives and wounded another 20 million — staggering statistics that have ranked this as one of the most deadly conflicts in human history.

Earlier that spring, while Austrian Archduke Ferdinand planned his trip to Sarajevo, proud to have his pregnant, commoner wife, Sophie accompany him, a group of Serbs who were disgruntled with the Austrian control over their region plotted to assassinate him.  Knowing that Ferdinand would be exposed in his motorcade through Sarajevo streets and inflamed by recent Austrian military activity in Bosnia, the seven Black Hand conspirators hatched their plan.

They smuggled weapons, guns and grenades, into Sarajevo and seven of them traveled individually into Bosnia from Belgrade.  Their plan would position them at several spots along the motor route to the town hall.  Each would have a chance to kill the Archduke and all had vials of cyanide to kill themselves afterward if captured.

imageIt was a bright sunny Sunday morning and crowds lined the streets to greet the Archduke and his wife, both decked out in regal finery and waving from the raised seat of their open car.  Part way along the street that ran beside the river, Nedeljko Cabrinovic threw a grenade at the royal vehicle.  It bounced and rolled under the Archduke’s the car and toward the car behind.  It had a ten second delay on the fuse so when it exploded it damaged the vehicle that was behind Ferdinand’s, injuring the occupants.  Ferdinand’s car sped up and proceeded to the city hall.

After the official function was done, local officials persuaded Ferdinand to make a speedy exit from the city due to the obvious danger to him and Sophie.  Ferdinand agreed but first wanted to go to the hospital to check on the members of his entourage that had been injured earlier in the day.  They got back into their car and set off down the street.

Here is how the story goes from there.

The driver is uncertain of the new route and makes a turn up a small street, not far from the city hall. The local governor, also in the car, shouts to the driver that he has taken a wrong turn off Apple Quay.  The driver stops the car and tries to reverse onto the main thoroughfare.   The car stalls.

Nineteen year-old Gavrilo Princip, one of the Black Hand seven, thinking that chances to carry out the assassination had passed has stopped for a something to eat at Moritz Schiller’s Shop near the corner of Franz Joseph Street and the main Appel Quay.  He looks up to see Ferdinand and Sophie perched in the stalled car only a few feet from him.  From his waistcoat he pulls his revolver and fires two shots, almost at point blank range.  One hits Sophie and the second hits Ferdinand in the neck.  Both stump forward, utter a few words to each other and die shortly thereafter.

Gavrilo Princip is arrested shortly after shooting Ferdinand and Sophie in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914.

Gavrilo Princip is arrested shortly after shooting Ferdinand and Sophie in Sarajevo on June 28, 1914.

Princip and Cabrinovic both took their cyanide but if was outdated and only made them vomit.  Cabrinović also jumped into the river but it was only a few inches deep. Princip was quickly apprehended.  Both were convicted and died in prison of tuberculosis before 1918.

For its day, this was a terrorist event that equates in political significance with the 9-11 attack in New York.  It is deemed to be the spark that ignited wars that involved Europe and the globe for the 20th century and beyond.  June 28 also happens to also be the date of the famous Battle of Kosovo in 1389  — one that was often mentioned by Slobodan Milosović in partial motivation for the conflict in Kosovo at the end of the century.

When I was a young student this assassination was the only thing that I knew about Sarajevo.  I also knew that my grandfather went to war in Europe as an indirect consequence of this event. It always surprises me when I walk past this Sarajevo corner, how little official notice has been given to mark the spot where this world-altering event happened.

But the fact that so much about that fateful corner is unchanged, allows one to stop and just imagine how it unfolded and reflect on the consequences of the place where you are standing. A more striking remembrance than a huge cenotaph, perhaps.

 

*** Published in the Kingston Whig Standard – June 17, 2014.***

 

Bosnia is struggling.

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Since I have returned from my visit to Bosnia and Herzegovina, my first in five years, I have been asked many times “What has changed since you were there last?”  I have been surprised to have to say, “Not much.”

image I worked in Bosnia on and off from 1998 to 2009. I came to be very familiar with much of the country but was usually based in Sarajevo, a second home for me for a few years.  It was in the relatively immediate post-war period so there were a lot of international dollars being spent in recovery in one way or another. Every time I returned, there would be some obvious changes – new roofs on buildings that were damaged during the conflict, people moving back into neighborhoods that had been demolished by war. Many of the locals were being employed or supported in some way by the recovery efforts.  Recovery was the industry but many of those programs had a ten year lifespan. Ours went for about 15 years, but like the others, the money to maintain it was doled out over a fixed term and once that was done, we withdrew and our local associates needed to find other sources of income.

Ready for the tourist dollar.

Ready for the tourist dollar.

So now, five years later, it seems like the country is once again stalled.  The one area where there has been more development is in the tourism sector. Of course, during the post war period, tourists, except for very curious and courageous ones, were not coming to Bosnia. Now it seems that industry is stuck or even declined and tourism is the only sector that is in some way flourishing.  This is true of the Croatian coast as well.

Hotels have been fixed up and are quite presentable, comfortable and not expensive. When I first went to Bosnia in 1998, there was no internet or banks or computers.  imageNow the coffee shops and hotels all have WiFi, there are ATM’s on all city streets and credit cards are accepted widely.

The people are a bit frustrated. In fact, there have been some demonstrations throughout the country protesting lack of economic security.

To add to the economic woes, in the last week the region has received record rainfall – three months worth of rain in three days – with resulting catastrophic flooding and landslides causing havoc, destruction and loss of life. It has been estimated that 40% of the country has been affected by flooding and damage exceeds 2 billion dollars, money that Bosnia doesn’t have.  The flooding has uncovered or exposed buried land mines left over from the war, adding to the disaster and many are without safe drinking water. Thousands have again been made homeless.

An election scheduled for the fall but there is skepticism that anything significant will (or can) change.  In the next few months there will be a lot of mopping up to do.  Bosnians are, once again, facing the challenges of coping with recovery – financial, infrastructure and political. They will need some help.

 

 

 

A place in history

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The hotel in Sarajevo where I am staying this week (Hotel Old Town) is about 50 metres from one of the most historic sites of the 20th century.  But you would never know it.

In June 1914, Gavrilo Princip assassinated Archduke Franz Ferdinand of Austria as his motorcade stalled at a corner on a Sarajevo street.  This event is seen as the trigger that set the path to World War 1 in 1914 and shaped political events in Europe for most of June 20th century.

Taken from near the spot where Princip stood as he fired the two shots that led to the First World War.

Taken from near the spot where Princip stood as he fired the two shots that led to the First World War.

The corner is unremarkable.  There is a small museum, now covered with scaffolding, in the building that was once Schiller’s store where Princip ostensibly had just purchased a sandwich, thinking that his chance at assassination had passed, when the Archduke and his wife, Sophie rounded the corner in an open car.  The driver had made a wrong turn and when he stalled the car in an attempt to back out of the little street, Princip seized the moment to draw out his pistol and shoot both Ferdinand and Sophie dead.

This June will mark the 100th anniversary of that event and the start of the war. I am sure that you will be reading more about this event as the anniversary approaches. It is interesting to be so close to the spot where this event occurred.  I took a photo of the street and matched it with one taken on that fateful day in 1914 moments before the assassination as the motorcade reached the corner.  You can still see some of the landmarks today that were in that 1914 photo.

Photo of Ferdinand and Sophie in their motorcade as they approached the corner in Sarajevo where they were assassinated in June 2014

Photo of Ferdinand and Sophie in their motorcade as they approached the corner in Sarajevo where they were assassinated in June 2014

I have written more about this here … http://wp.me/p2wvIq-16T

 

Dobro došli u Bosnu i Herzegovinu

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I have switched countries. Now on the east side of the Adriatic in Bosnia where I worked for several years between 1998 and 2009.  It is nice to be back.  My friend Saša picked me up at the airport and we headed along one of my favourite drives from Sarajevo to Mostar.  A twisty road lined with mountains and following the Neretva River.

The weather was threatening rain but the sky was dramatic and there were lots of bursts of sunshine to give great light for photography.

 

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Bosnia Reflections – Part 4 … Renewed unrest

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Not only were lives and buildings destroyed by the four-year Bosnian war, the economy was decimated.  What international companies was going to invest in a country torn by ethnic violence, widespread corruption and uncertainty?

The move to privatization that happened in the years immediately after the war widened the gap between the rich and the poor.  People with money had power and politicians in all sectors used their political influence to fill their pockets.  A political appointment was a ticket to financial influence.  Bribery was common and almost accepted by everyone. The tripartite government that was born after the war was/is cumbersome and inefficient.

While I was working in Bosnia from 1998 to 2009, it was not uncommon for nurses or teachers or doctors to go several weeks without receiving their pay.  The government leaders claimed lack of resources as they drove around the country in black SUV’s with a police escort.  Government workers were threatened with losing their jobs if they did not show up to work despite not being paid. It astounded me that there was not more backlash from the mistreated workers.

For a few years, this may have  been chalked up to a post-war recovery process.  But it appears that things have gotten worse in the past few years.

Scenes of protests against the government in Bosnia last week . They took a violent turn.

Scenes of protests against the government in Bosnia last week . They took a violent turn.

Depending on the source, it is claimed that there is 25 to 40 per cent unemployment now in Bosina. Young adults are particularly hard hit. Poverty and boredom and hopelessness are a bad combination that can lead to unrest. Last week in Bosnia the tension boiled over and protests in many cities turned violent with government buildings being burned, police using tear gas and several people injured.

I can’t say that I blame the protesters for being fed up with corrupt and ineffective governments.  But I deplore the vandalism that is particularly sad when it takes place on the streets so recently destroyed by war and so painstakingly rebuilt. Sometimes it feels like this country is bent on self-destruction.

I have been been making plans to travel back go Bosnia this spring. I would really like to reconnect with all the friends that I met while worked there.  I had visions of sunny afternoons in a street cafe in old Sarajevo or overlooking the Neretva river from the reconstructed bridge in Mostar.

On a Sarajevo street last week.

On a Sarajevo street last week.

The images of police cars burning on streets that were so familiar to me have stunned me. My immediate thoughts were to postpone my return to Bosnia this May. But 24 hours of reflection have calmed my thoughts. Will I go? Of course, I will!

When I look at the news photos that I have posted here, I realize that many were all taken within a few blocks of each other. (I used to enjoy my lunch at a restaurant that is about a block from these burning cars.) The images are dramatic for sure. Disturbing. But are they representative of how 99.9% of Bosnia looked at those moments?

I know lots of sensible and peace-loving Bosnians in all districts. Did people stop coming to Toronto when images of the 2010 riots in Toronto at the G-20 conference hit the news?

I remember bringing some Bosnian colleagues to Canada for a study visit in the midst of the SARS epidemic that was getting widespread global news coverage. Did they back out in fear? No.

I booked my ticket this week. I will avoid mass gatherings and demonstrations and If things are too unstable I will relocate to neighbouring Croatia. Look here in May to see how I make out and what I find when I revisit Bosnia and Herzegovina.

(and for an update from my trip to BiH in 2014, the story continues here.https://johnageddes.com/2014/04/29/dobro-dosli-u-bosnia-i-herzegovina/ )

By the way, where was the photo below taken???

This shot was in the news from Toronto in July 2010. No country is immune to political demonstrations getting out if hand.

This shot was in the news from Toronto in July 2010. No country is immune to political demonstrations getting out if hand.

Bosnia Reflections – Part 3 … Lovers, a cat and the Mozart Café

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I found these two journal entries I made in September 2002 and February 2003.  I have been writing about Bosnia this week.  This one has a Valentine’s day theme … sort of.  These are notes I made 11 years ago while I was visiting there.

Bosnia and Herzegovina    September 10, 2002.

I am in Tuzla this week.

If Sarajevo is the Montreal of Bosnia, then Tuzla is its Hamilton. Not much to do here in the evenings except wander the streets with many of the rest of the people who live here.  During the day I work teaching principles of Family Medicine to local doctors.  At night I am on my own.

Last night was a bit rainy and I thought I would wander downtown for some dinner.   While I was looking for some keys in my knapsack, I came across the Stuart McLean Vinyl Café book that friends had given to me for Christmas a couple of years ago. I had brought it along with me, knowing that it would be good for short reads on the plane or while waiting for my meal in a restaurant.  I tucked it under my arm and headed out.

I ate in a restaurant called Cite del Sale, a Bosnian version of an Italian restaurant and I was actually able to order Vegetarian Lasagne – not bad in a country that sometimes seems to worship meat.  The beer, a local Tuzla variety, smelled a bit sulphury but it tasted OK.  I started into a story about Dave and Morley and Harrison Ford’s toes and smiled to myself, all the while hearing Stuart McLean’s distinctive voice tell me the tale.

AUT_8445After the meal I decided to head down to a café called Mozart that is a short stroll along the main walking street in the city. I often go there for a cappuccino in the morning – a replacement for my Canadian Starbucks habit.  The café has a small outdoor section that  was not busy since it was misting rain, another large main room and then a wicker- furnished salon at the back that  is kind of separate from the rest.  I usually sit back there in the morning and read a bit while having my coffee and at 8 am, I am often the only one there.  In the evening, I discovered,  the music is louder – sort of Euro Disco.  I wondered as I ordered my tea if I would be able to concentrate on my book.

There were three couples spread around the room.  I pulled out the Vinyl Café  and started to read.  Soon I was distracted, not by the beat of the music but by the sound of kissing which seemed to be going on all around me.  I quickly realized that I had stumbled into a make-out area of the café.  So, here I was,  a middle aged foreigner, sitting at a little table in the middle of the room, reading Stuart McLean and trying not to look up  at the couples surrounding  me who were fiercely groping at one another.  This felt worse than the week before when I had accidentally found myself in the middle of a Nudist Colony on the Adriatic coast!  But that is another story.

The stereo sound of smacking and sucking seemed to rise above the music. I was having trouble concentrating.  I casually looked up. One couple, kind of fat were making most of the noise.  The guy had a sort of Henry VIII look to him. I imagined that he makes similar noises as he tears into his chicken legs for dinner.  Another couple had ordered both coffee and coke to drink. They must have wanted to stay awake. They smooched away between drags on their cigarettes.  The third couple were in the corner and at first I thought they were having a bit of a tiff.  I decided that if I had to look up, I would gaze in their direction. Soon, unfortunately for me, true love rose to the surface and they started kissing away, the woman also chewing gum between slurps.

I thought maybe I would leave but I had ordered a veliko caj (large  tea), which came in a cup the size of a sink.  So I was stuck, feeling a  lot like a High School Hall Monitor.

Just as I was starting to feel sorry for myself, a small kitten appeared at my feet.  It was a nice little grey striped thing that was sharpening its claws on the carpet.  It started to pounce around and jump like it was being poked by an imaginary stick.  I put my hand down to play with it but as it got closer,  I noticed that its right eye was oozing and crusted and swollen shut.  I withdrew my hand, thinking that I didn’t want to catch anything. But this didn’t deter the cat.  Soon it was pouncing on my feet and grabbing at the laces of my sneakers and climbing my pant legs.  I tried to look inconspicuous, periodically shaking my  leg to detach the tiny sharp little claws from my pants.  The kissers broke apart and looked over at me as I tried unsuccessfully  to discourage the cat. I ended up downing the rest of my tea as quickly as possible and headed back to the hotel.

February 20, 2003

I am back in Tuzla.

I find the breakfast at the hotel simply annoying. It usually consists of  dry buns, scrambled eggs that have turned greenish black from sitting in the warming pan too long and “orange juice” that is a cross between Tang and Fanta , a watery orange coloured sugar water that is sometimes even effervescent.  My preference is to start the day on a more positive note, by walking to a local Pekara or bakeshop to pick up a fresh bread roll filled with cherry jam. I then  head a bit further down the street to the Mozart café for some coffee.  They don’t serve food there so they don’t mind if you bring your bun in a bag and eat it while you have your drink.  And I usually go to the Wicker room at the back of the café that I have come to view as the nocturnal lair of lust.  In the morning, however, it remains bright and cheery and almost empty.  This morning was no exception.

I ordered my coffee, pulled out a journal to read, and got the cherry bun out of the paper bag.  I put the bag on the chair beside me rather than have it obviously displayed on the table.  I was trying to be discrete about bringing food into the café although I know that this is a common practice and the waiter really doesn’t mind.

Cat 1I hadn’t counted on the rustling sound of me getting my food out of the bag to attract…the cat.  Suddenly this little grey striped beast ran from the other side of the room and jumped up on my chair to quickly begin exploring the empty bag.  Within seconds he was halfway buried into the bag.  He pulled his head out of the bag and stared up at me. We hadn’t seen each other for five months.  He had grown but was still scrawny and where his right eye should be was now a hollow socket.

Cat 2We sat together, the cat and I, reacquainting.  Periodically he would  chase the shadow of a bird on the roof, bounding over the furniture as he ran around the room.  I crumpled up the bag and he batted it around on the floor. We played and visited while I drank my coffee.  When I got up to leave, he lay back on the chair pad and cocked his head to look up at me with his good eye.  I imagined him thinking, “Nice to see you again”

cat 3This little cat has it’s niche in a café here in Tuzla.   I   travel all over but I can  still come back to find this friendly kitten here several months later.   “Strangely comforting”, I thought, “how small this world really is.”

Bosnia reflections – Part 1 … Rebuilding after a war

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A government office building in 1999 and after reconstruction in 2009.

A government office building in 1999 and after reconstruction in 2009.

Actually this is probably more like part 1000 for Bosnia itself. But it is part one of three blogs I am going to post this week reflecting on my experience in Bosnia in the past several years. The opening of the Winter Olympics in Russia may have spurred some of this thought since the Olympics in 1984 were in Sarajevo.  So much has happened there since then.

I first went to Bosnia in March 1998. I remember flying into the airport in Sarajevo and looking down at rooftops of houses blown off by war. Others were new and bright orange tile. You could see where things had been somewhat repaired.  But the view told the story of a country torn apart by war.

The photos of Syria which have circulated on the internet this past week have reminded me of what I saw in Bosnia. And I was there about 18 months after the war had officially ended.  There were still some tanks on the streets and roads and bridges were broken down. Some cities looked like…a war zone.

I took some photos in 1998 and sent them back to the Kingston Whig Standard with an article, one of my first for the newspaper. They suggested that I get some people in the photo for “interest”. The photos were of bombed out houses and deserted desecrated neighbourhoods where no people now lived.  They missed the point.

Zetra - the Olympic arena in 1984

Zetra – the Olympic arena in 1984

The stadium in the centre of Sarajevo that hosted the 1984 Winter Olympics was in ruins. The fields surrounding it turned into graveyards.

So many of my photos of those early trips to Bosnia were of war damage. And it was everywhere.

Digital photography was quite new then and my camera

1984 Olympic fields transformed into graveyards after the Bosnian war.

1984 Olympic fields transformed into graveyards after the Bosnian war.

was a state-of-the-art point and shoot 1 megapixel camera. You likely have 5 times that on your phone now.  So the photos are grainy.  But I think they make the point.

Over the 11 years I worked and lived in Bosnia I saw a lot of change.  It took a while but new buildings sprang up – mosques tended to be the first to appear.  The people in Sarajevo, who all wore black and looked very sad on my first few visits, gradually became more animated and even smiled.  Some of the buildings that stood as monuments to war were refurbished into shiny new buildings, the windows replaced and the pock-marks on the walls from grenades gradually filled in.

The appearance was that Bosnia was slowly recovering.  Unfortunately, underlying ethnic tensions were not too far below the surface and often led to problems of governance.  It is hard to forget war.

My last trip to Bosnia was in 2009.  New buildings were springing up along the main thoroughfare in Sarajevo.  Glass and escalators, clothes from Italy and flat-screen TV’s.  On the surface it looked like things were recovering.

Looks can be deceiving. It takes more than new buildings to recover from war.

In March '98 I stayed in an apartment near the centre of Sarajevo. There were bullet holes in the wood floor and on the walls. The view out the street was of a hill, most buildings damaged. By 2008, these had been restored.

In March ’98 I stayed in an apartment near the centre of Sarajevo. There were bullet holes in the wood floor and on the walls. The view out the street was of a hill, most buildings damaged. By 2008, these had been restored.

Later we stayed in a house on the west side of town. At the bottom of the hill was the "front line" during the war. I was always intrigued by this house which was eventually torn down and replaced.

Later we stayed in a house on the east side of town. At the bottom of the hill was the “front line” during the war. I was always intrigued by this house which was eventually torn down and replaced.

This neighbourhood was particularly hard hit. It was uninhabitable in 1998 but by 2006, the buildings had been restored and it appeared like a "normal" neighbourhood street.

This neighbourhood was particularly hard hit. It was uninhabitable in 1998 but by 2006, the buildings had been restored and it appeared like a “normal” neighbourhood street.

The Newspaper office on the main street was demolished (although it continued to operate out of the basement throughout the war. Eventually the frame was used to construct an office tower..with a revolving restaurant on the top.

The Newspaper office on the main street was demolished (although it continued to operate out of the basement throughout the war). Eventually the frame was used to construct an office tower..with a revolving restaurant on the top.

Bosnia reflections, Part 2 … People

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Earlier this week I posted photos of how the buildings and streetscapes changed during the time I worked in Bosnia from 1998 to 2009. Over those years I also got to know and become friends with many people, Serbs, Croats and Bosniaks alike – Muslims and Catholics and Orthodox and agnostics.

I watched them recover slowly from the trauma of war.

I heard horrendous stories and visited places that made me weep.

I shared lots of smiles, laughs and good food Bosnian beer with the people I worked with, Bosnians and Canadians and other internationals.

But I also got to know some of the people in the neighborhood. There was a bakery at the base of the hill where we lived and every Saturday morning I looked forward to walking down the hill and buying a freshly baked apple (jabuka) turnover to eat with my coffee and the Globe and Mail crossword I could download onto my laptop. The young man who was behind the counter was always there. Always. He spoke little English and I knew only enough Bosnian to say good morning and ask for my bread. Over the years I watched him grow up, covered in flour and serving up bread at the bakery. We exchanged greetings in the store. He, no doubt, was watching me age as well.

hljeb then and now

There were also two little waifs who lived in a house just below ours. My understanding was that their family were refugees, squatting in a house that had been abandoned by people who fled during the war.

Semir and Kiko with toques that I brought for them from Canada.

Semir and Kiko with toques that I brought for them from Canada.

I am proud to say that kids generally like me. And these two little fellows were no exception. They would come together early in the morning and ring the buzzer at my door. I would take them to the market and sometimes buy them something small. Once I took them to a restaurant and bought them each a slice of pizza and a coke. I remember them sitting there like they were princes and thinking that they may never have eaten in a restaurant like this.

Once I was cooking on our barbecue and realized that I and no flipper for the burgers. The kids were hanging around and they saw that I had no utensil to turn the burgers.  They disappeared and within about five minutes returned with a nice new barbecue spatula. I suspect that they swiped it from somewhere. They reminded me of the Artful Dodger.

One of the neighbourhood photos that the kids took with my camera.

One of the neighbourhood photos that the kids took with my camera.

One winter I loaned them my digital camera to take a few photos. I would see the neighborhood through their eyes. When I got the camera back I found they had taken it inside their house. There was their mother sitting under a blanket in bed beside an oven door open for heat, and smoking a cigarette with an ashtray of butts on the floor beside the bed. Out of respect for her privacy I have never printed that photo but I look at it and smile.

One year when I returned the family had moved away. Occasionally I would see the mother at a bus stop or the kids in the schoolyard. A few years later I chanced upon one of them, a teenager now, working in a local garden.

I wonder what became of those kids. I hope they are doing OK but they may be part of the large proportion of young Bosnians who are unemployed, disgruntled and fed up with their lot.  There is growing unrest among the unemployed and disadvantaged in Bosnia and last week it boiled over into anti-government protests in several Bosnian cities.

Semir grown up. Where is he now. He would be about 21 now.

Semir grows up. Where is he now? He would be about 21 now.

What famous figure, alive or dead …

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I am sure that you have all played this game. “What famous figure, alive or dead, would you like to meet?”

I keep this at “famous” figure as there are many deceased relatives that I would like to visit with again. I would really love to meet my grandparents, now, as an adult. How different it would be to relate to these people and see them for who they really are rather than through a child’s eyes.

And when I look online at the choices people make they range from Jesus Christ to Lady GaGa.

Today my choice is Angelina Jolie.

Apart from being incredibly beautiful, this woman intrigues me. I know very little about the Brangelina stuff that I see on the tabloids as I check out of the grocery store. I have not seen the Lara Croft movies (or any of her movies, in fact) nor do I have any desire to do so. I have, however, seen television interviews in which she has surprised me with her insight, intelligence, eloquence and general “down to earth” demeanour.

I have been impressed that Angelina Jolie has used her celebrity to promote awareness of problems in the developing world and has even adopted children from these areas. She is a United Nations Special Envoy for Refugees and has worked for the UNHCR for some time. In some ways her adoptions have followed the principles espoused by Peter Singer in “The Life You Can Save”. Enjoy the fruits of your work and privilege but also share some of that with others less fortunate. She has three kids of her own and has balanced that with three more that were adopted from the developing world. She has struck a chord with me as I think she has made a genuine effort to use her celebrity to help others.

I am anxious to see In The Land of Milk and Honey, a film that will be released in North America next month – one that Jolie wrote and directed. The plot revolves around a love story of a Serb and a Muslim in Bosnia during the war in that country. I worked in Bosnia for several years and heard horrible stories of violence, rape and ethnic hatred that tore families apart. The film is fictional but the setting real. So real, in fact, that Jolie ran into problems getting permission to shoot the film in Bosnia as originally planned and had to move filming location to Hungary. The film was shot in both Bosnian (with subtitles) and English. I want to see the Bosnian version. I admire Jolie’s gutsy decision to tackle this subject and put her reputation on the line at the same time as writer/director rather than actor with a film that will not be a blockbuster but will explore a delicate topic.

But today’s news was the topper. Angelina Jolie has revealed in the New York Times that she has had a bilateral mastectomy in order to reduce the risk of her acquiring breast cancer after finding that she carries the BRCA1 gene for the disease. Her mother died of breast cancer in 2007 and she is at significantly increased risk herself, being found to carry the genetic mutation that will elevate her lifetime risk of breast cancer significantly. She has made this decision so she can reduce her risk and be available for her children. This must have been a huge decision for a movie celebrity to make. By being open with this Angelina Jolie has also done a great service to other women who face the same risks. Once again today’s revelation by this celebrity also strikes home to me as my wife died of breast cancer at age 48 and one of my daughters, already touched by breast cancer at a young age, has elected bilateral mastectomy with reconstruction to minimize her risk of recurrence. I was proud my daughter for making this difficult life choice and I can relate to the angst that Angelina Jolie must have suffered as she made the same decision (at almost the same age).

We often look at celebrity through a very tainted lens. We see them through Hollywood gossip columnists and papparazzi. But under the movie star veneer live real people who live with personal challenges just like the rest of us.

Today my celebrity hero is Angelina Jolie. I am free for lunch tomorrow if she is.