Life in Bosnia: Impression of Mostar

Life in Bosnia: Impression of Mostar

This article was submitted by LISA DRITTENBAS, a traveler in Bosnia. 

My friend Yanush and I arrived in the pouring rain one cold, early December day in Mostar. We tried to find a couple of hostels but they were all closed. Finally, we ended up at Hostel Miturno, the last hostel on our list, whose doors were also closed. The nice lady in the shop next door called the hostel manager, Armel, and soon we were comfy in our sleigh beds with a big powerful heater drying our drenched clothes. Although there were only a few guests, Armel was so hospitable.

He started to tell us about Mostar, and about the war. On the wall he had a picture of Mostar, taken in the very place we were standing, around 1993. This city was 90% destroyed. They did not have electricity for 10 years. Various foreign monies and support came in to rebuild portions of the city, especially the historical Turkish quarter.

I was afraid to ask questions, not sure how much he would want to remember that horrible life for years during the war. But Armel was eager to answer. He said that most of the fighting was here, in this very spot where the youth hostel had been rebuilt. He pointed to the photo of the building, which was virtually bricks and rubble. He said, “Along the river there was mortar, gunfire and shattered glass…snipers. About 200 meters farther north people were sipping cappuccinos.” This was my first introduction to Bosnia, a confusingly beautiful, sad, and war-torn country.

We found our friend Paula, a Spanish woman who was volunteering with children in Mostar. And she introduced us to her friend, whose father was the director of an elementary school. Her father kept the school going in the basement of a house during the war. She talked of neighbors against neighbors, throwing grenades at each other. Confusion, snipers, I could only imagine the horrors she had seen. We have to talk about it. We need to tell people what happened here.” I was grateful that she shared her stories.  As she spoke, we were sitting on the river in the beautiful town of Blagaj, where the Buna river originates. In this idyllic setting I couldn’t imagine war.  Only the fast-moving, clear water, hills, trees, and fresh trout that surrounded us. When I close my eyes, I can see the hills and bridges, softly lit at night and hear the roaring water, so abundant in Mostar.  Unfortunately, when I open my eyes I can still see the burned-out, shelled buildings and the tall, ghostly bank building – still standing – from where snipers picked their prey.

My greatest hope for Bosnia is that more people will get to see the incredible natural beauty and strength of character in the people of this country with a troubled past. That peace will prevail, stories will be shared, and through those stories, a hopeful future will be re-written. The telling of these stories, without malice, with only the desire to be heard, gives me hope.