Christine and Keith's Travels: Sarajevo to Zelenkovac (Mrkonjic Grad), Bosnia, Monday June 16th

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We didn’t know anything about bus times so we packed, left our packs at the hostel and walked the three kilometres or so to the bus station to check times and buy tickets. We knew roughly where it was and just kept looking for buses and asking until we found it. We were lucky that a bus left in the afternoon and that we hadn’t already missed it. We wanted to go to Mrkonjic Grad, but the man in the ticket office said that we would have to go to Jajce, and take another bus from there. This seemed at odds with the instructions for getting there that we had received from Borislav, our next couch surfing host, but the language barrier was too great to get clarification.

We took a very crowded tram to the Sarajevo Museum 1878 – 1918, the one with the assassination spot outside. It explained that, at the Berlin Conference in 1878, Austria-Hungary was given the mandate to occupy Bosnia and Herzegovina. It is amazing that groups of countries could make decisions about others, but it has happened many times, with the other countries being awarded as spoils of war or simply being taken over. There was considerable resistance in Bosnia and Herzegovina, since a nationalist movement had already been active. The Austro-Hungarian Minister had said that he would take Bosnia and Herzegovina with ‘a company and the military band’ but it eventually took 300,000 troops to do it, such was the resistance. The room had various displays showing progress over the years from 1878, with industry, transport and power all being areas of great development. Many public buildings were constructed, the Bosnian Assembly was elected and met for the first time in 1910, traditional crafts died out or adapted to new western expectations eg fez maker to hat maker, and there was a multicultural mix of Muslim, Christian and Jewish people. Interiors of rooms changed from the Turkish style with built in cupboards, shelves and seating, to western style rooms with chairs, sofas, beds and other furniture that could be moved around. Rich people changed over sooner than others, who would combine the old with the new, perhaps in the form of one western chair added to the existing scheme.

A large part of the exhibition is devoted to the assassination of Archduke Franz Ferdinand and his wife, Sophie, the trigger for WWI. Excerpts from the general exhibition film made about the events showed a glamorised version of them arriving at the station to a crowded welcome, of driving through the streets towards the City Hall, of the first failed assassination attempt being made with a bomb, of them bravely proceeding with their itinerary of the reception at City Hall and of the final moments when they are both shot by Gavrilo Princip. This was mixed in with actual footage and photos up to one second before the assassination. There were so many opportunities for the assassins, since the royal couple were travelling in an open carriage with their bodies from the waist unprotected even by the vehicle. The seven in the plot were arrested, a large funeral was held in Sarajevo and the bodies taken back to Austria for burial. After the shootings Serbian property was destroyed, with many photos showing people destroying furniture, and dwellings – whatever they could get at. Presumably this was done by those loyal to Austria-Hungary or, as seems to happen, by those with other interests or scores to settle who take advantage of unrest. A Serb told us that Austria-Hungary was looking for an opportunity to attack Serbia – we simply don’t know enough and will look up what events led up to this moment and what happened next, to draw so many nations into a world war. As Keith put it, a Serb killing Austrians ended up in Australians fighting the Turks, but obviously there are complexities behind that situation.

There were two mannequins dressed as Sophie and Franz Ferdinand, and Sophie, in her feather be-decked hat, bore a remarkable resemblance to my friend Val, when viewed from the end of the room. The real Sophie was not nearly so good looking and looked like she enjoyed pastries quite a lot. An extra sad note was that they left behind a young family and that Sophie was pregnant at the time.

We had time for one more visit so I chose a small Serbian church and museum. The museum had many vestments with the most amazing embroidery – the stitches so fine that you had to peer closely to see them. There were treasures such as icons and silverware from the 17^th century on. It was interesting to see the way icons have maintained a set look up until the present day, but there are developments in proportion and depictions of bodies and robes. Most expressions on the faces are just garden variety holy, but there was one 17^th century Pieta that showed Jesus looking incredibly peaceful and Mary, so sad and lost. If you look into icons, some are strange, such as the one showing Mary in the clouds with one foot on a crescent moon and the other on a snake that is winding around and looking down, its forked tongue out. Two angels, disembodied heads with wings, look on from the corners. It was called ‘The Annunciation’. This is when a good knowledge of religious symbolism would help. A lovely 18^th century icon of Mary and baby Jesus enthroned in the clouds, had him as a tiny adult, clutching a blue ball. Could this have symbolised something, or could the painter just have put in something that a child would like?

We entered the church of St Michael, the Archangel, built in 1539 and the oldest Serbian Orthodox church in Sarajevo, through low, solid, wooden doors. There was low lighting, protecting the icons but a tour group happily flashing their cameras at them. It had a central section with an altar and seating for the three priests who would officiate at a service and no chairs, since the congregation would stand in a circle if not elderly or infirm. Columns partially enclosed it and formed an outer corridor around it.

We were lucky enough to be able to listen in to the tour leader’s talk in English and it was fascinating. The carved decorations surrounding the icons at the front were embellished with real gold. The piles of grass in several spots are a traditional part of worship with branches and leaves being added at Christmas. There were separate spots for men and women (usually different sides), but in this case the men are on the ground floor and the women are on the balcony. Women cover the heads, something which the guide reminded the American crowd, was done in Catholic churches not so long ago. Serbian Orthodox churches in the old world have people standing and in the New World, their congregations are seated. There are also separate entrances. The wall colours of blue, yellow and white are common in temples built up until 1900 and are the Serbian state colours. The two wells for candles are one for the dead and one for the living. There were also two altars, one in the centre and one in a corner of the outer corridor. Some saints are common to all Orthodox churches but others are local saints. This church has many relics that look like little pieces of bones and they also have the whole hand of a saint (whose name sounded like St Etwa) in a silver mesh glove. She had lived in Syria but died in Greece. There was a record like a calendar, telling which day it is and which saint is special for that day. There was also a pile of money and the guide explained that it was considered that there needs to be a bridge created between a human and the Holy Spirit when asking for help, guidance etc. The bridge must come from the earth and has always been represented by metal, which is mined from the earth and usually with money. The money ensures that the message gets through, although the guide said that it was a good source of revenue for the church. The evolution of the church was that, after acceptance of Christianity, there was the Church of Rome, demanding taxes and condoning statues but condemning icons. The Byzantine Church split off, retaining icons, and from that the Orthodox Church evolved. The Serbians were the first to have an independent Orthodox Church, with internal power. The church leaders have historically played a big part as community leaders and in decisions about wars and major issues, and continue to be represented in the Serbian Government.

Keith went back to the hostel for our bags while I checked the internet and, discovering that we may need to cater for ourselves at our next destination, bought some basic supplies. The crowded tram was not the best for carting big packs but we managed, and luckily the tram went nearly all the way to the bus station. Every country has different procedures, with the Balkan countries requiring you to buy a ticket for yourself, to pay for each piece of luggage and to buy a token to get through the turnstile to the area where the buses are. At last we were on our way, with no idea of where Jajce was, except that it was somewhere north of Sarjevo, in the same direction as our destination, Mrkonjic Grad.

At one of the stops we showed a little diagram of the towns and our destination to the conductor, and an English speaking man helped. It turned out that we had taken a Bosnian bus in Bosnia, but that Mrkonjic Grad was in Republic Serbska, a part of northern Bosnia allocated to Serbs. The bus wouldn’t stop there, but would be passing within a kilometre of the town. It could drop us off on the side of the road and we could get a taxi for the last twelve kilometres to Zelenkovac, the home of our couch surfing host. Our helper was getting off there and he assured us that there would be no problems and that he would assist us. We paid the extra amount and thanked our lucky stars that this man was on our bus and we had avoided a possible long wait or overnight stay at Jajce. Further on in our trip we met a Bosnian, now living in New York, who we chatted with us about his and his country’s experiences. His family had left because of the war, had spent months in a refugee camp and had gone to America because it was the first country to offer them a visa. We commented on a war damaged house which he told us had belonged to a relative of his. A destroyed manufacturing complex had been the place where his father worked. He firmly believed that it was necessary not to dwell in the past but to look forward and to create the kind of future that would be good for everyone in the Balkans. It was a pleasure talking to him.

Standing on the side of the road, the bus diminishing as it drove into the distance, we were very grateful to our friend who rang a taxi for us.

A little while later we were on our way to meet ‘Boro’ (Borislav) and the group of people who live with him at Zelenkovac. Bosnia is a very beautiful country and Boro lives in part of it that is like paradise. As a young artist and poet, he had set himself up in a small mill of his father’s in the forest. The mills are little wooden buildings with grindstones in them attached to a water wheel, which is turned by a water race diverted from a stream. They are very small and many of them were usually set up near each other, as was the case near Boro. Over time he developed his mill into a gallery and bar, built bungalows in traditional country style and set up a community for like minded people who love nature and want to paint or create. He worked more and more on the environmental aspects and, despite problems with the municipality, has succeeded in having its support for his project. There is now a 30 hectare 'ecological zone' surrounding the camp.

Boro welcomed us in the bar and introduced us to the workers, to his family and to couch surfers Clare from Tasmania and T from America. We had a cup of tea and then went off to settle into a bungalow in a little glade about 30 metres from the gallery.

It was still light as we climbed the ladder to put in our bags, and easy to negotiate the bridges and streams on the way back to the gallery. There we chatted for a while and sorted out that we would be cooking for ourselves, were shown the kitchen by Boro’s son, Alex, and started work. The gallery is a cosy nook and cranny combination of spaces with all the tables and chairs being made from forest materials and a great stone fireplace in the middle. On every wall surface paintings, pastel works and drawings are displayed. An artist was drawing in a corner, the bar was hugged by locals, workers and friends and the atmosphere was decidedly laid back. Outside it looks like a building from a fairy tale, and in fact the whole forest and the little huts and houses, the flowered open spaces that you come suddenly upon, everything could be in a story. The evening’s discussions ranged over many topics but was particularly interesting when Alex, who was born at the end of the war, talked about its impact now. He said that there are deep schisms between the three groups of Serbs, Bosnians and Croatians, with each being taught their own versions of recent history and their own groups to hate.

It was not so easy to find our way to bed in the pitch dark, but, by allowing our eyes time to adjust, we managed. We had not settled in for long when we heard some thumping and the scurrying of little feet. Too tired to care that it was right next to my bed, I fell asleep. We found out that it was squirrels on the roof, and apparently in the gap between the logs and the wall linings. They were to carry on every night of our stay but we were never lucky enough to see them.

One of the short bus breaks was a lovely spot in the beautiful countryside, but there was a little surprise to be found if you went close to the river bank. Unfortunately this is typical of almost everywhere we have travelled so far.