What my eyes see
A friend from far away asked me yesterday how it is going here. Yes, how is it going here, with the early spring in Bosna i Hercegovina?
It is going so that a people deeply wounded in its soul less than a month ago found a way to break out of a hypnotic, depressive, passive condition and started to remember itself.
It is going so that we are NOT going back into that darkness.
A slow, difficult way, but the wonderful, amazing thing is that this people IMMEDIATELY started to think out requests, organize assemblies from below, trying to get things done. Immediately. Coming from twenty years of darkness.
The media want blood. So they quickly got bored when they saw that after a couple of days of stones against windows and a little fire here and there no bloodshed was following. They found that in Ukraine.
Bosna i Hercegovina is not Ukraine.
No, we are trying to do much better.
What do my eyes see?
The little people. No big leaders or heroes. We are the little people. Crawling along, slaloming between tricks and traps from shrewd and merciless politicians and other mighty players. Stubbornly looking for a way out of this mire.
Yesterday evening I was in a meeting of some sixty or so people. Very different among them, women and men, the younger and the older, former combatants and schoolteachers, doctors, journalists, students… There was some stress, sure, but above all there was a strong, true desire to come to common decisions and get things done.
I love this bloody place.
I chose it as my home more than ten years ago, never regretted it. Not even in the darkest moments.
What my eyes see now is what my eyes have seen all these years, through the darkness, through the fog.
Let the spring come.