Miracoulous Water of Saint Anthony from Bistrik
VIS VITALIS Man is collection of various parts: eyes, flash and bones, arms, legs, skull, brain and The Holy Spirit. Blood exists on its own; it runs down a street and gets frozen in winter. Are angels good simply because they don’t possess any circulation?
ECCLESIASTES (Eternal return of the same) The main topic of conversation among Sarajevans is water, electricity, gas, and distribution of humanitarian aid. Maybe because these are the only topics that deceive them with an ostensible sense of normalcy that something is being done and changed. It appears that there are no rules of law but everything is actually occurring in proper and predictable cycles because: there is a time when one should go and fetch the water and a time when one should not; a time to look into darkness and a time not to look into darkness; a time to knead the bread and a time not to knead the bread; a time when shells are falling and a time when the shell are not falling; a time when negotiations are done and a time when they are not done; a time when there is cigarettes and a time there is none; a time to light a fire and a time not to light a fire; a time when raids are done and a time when they are not done; a time to pay attention to the radio news or not to listen to the radio news at all; a time when there is sugar and there is no sugar; a time when there is some bread in the bakery and a time when there is none; a time when convoys are leaving the city and a time when they’re not; a time when to have an intestinal disease and a time when not to; a time when shots are heard and a time when it’s quiet; a time when there are candles and a time when there aren’t any; a time when the phones are working and a time when they are not; a time when the humanitarian aid is distributed and a time when it’s not; a time when there is yeast and a time when there is no yeast; a time when documents are valid and a time when they are not valid; a time to flush the toilet and a time not to; a time to collect the rain water and a time not to; a time to collect branches and a time not to collect branches; a time to cook on gas and a time not to; a time when there is enough gas for aggregate and a time when there isn’t; a time when to stand in a que, a time to make a list and a time not to make a list, a time when sniper is shooting and a time when sniper is at rest, a time when to perform funerals and a time when not to; a time to wear three layers of sweaters and a time when not to; a time when cigarettes are rolled and a time when they are not rolled; a time to speak to the angels and a time when angels are silent; a time to when canned fish is distributed and a time when it’s not; a time when the ‘greens’ are growing on the balcony and a time when they are not; a time when you can drink a glass of water and a time when you cannot drink a glass of a simple, plain glass of water. Let’s just say it’s in a liquid form and transparent, that’s all.
MIRACOULOUS WATER OF SAINT ANTHONY FROM BISTRIK
The neighbors gathered in a narrow passage preceding the building entrance. Even though it appeared sheltered it was as dangerous to spend time there as being outside. A metal street lamp pole right across the street in front of the car service garage also emitted warning signals with its bent shape as if King Kong himself had twisted it. I am not sure why they picked it as a meeting point, I guess because it gave them the feeling of ‘freedom’ of sort, based on a desire to spend the summer time outside in the ‘fresh air’ since we were not able to go for a hike in the mountains. The mountains, my dear God, where are our mountains, the smell of grass, pine trees, the view of the city from the top, the view from Vidikovac, a famous view point! We used to get there by a cable car ride. All that’s left of it now are the dead cable car pillars sticking out on Trebević slope. Who will ever dare and when to hike the mountains again even when this is all over? With all those planted mines, unexploded bombs and shells that will chop off shepherds’ limbs for another three hundred years. I remembered how we were once taught in a national self-defense class what tactics would be used to defend our city in a ‘future war’, as they liked to say in the army–last lines of defense are up there, the officer explained, and if those are taken by an aggressor it’s all over. For god’s sake they attacked us from the highest point of the last defense line. The ‘future war’ has now arrived and it has nothing to do with what they used to teach us over the years: ‘wars can be classified into the following categories: just, liberation, class, revolutionary and unjust, conquering, imperialistic, colonial wars…’
The only correct lesson they taught us, and only partially accurate one I should add, was the fact about the armed “people”. Anyway, unarmed people from my building brought out a whole assortment of stools and chairs, even a stylish armchair into the passage in front of the building, just a few meters from Dobrovoljačka Street, a weary Miljacka river on one side and Obala Vojvode Stepe on the other, with their blemished facades being constantly hit by armed people’s weapons day and night. The unarmed people, on the other hand, were sitting in front of the building with a naïve feeling of security (if there was only one shell to hit they would have all been killed). And they’d discuss everything and anything, mainly evoking good old times’ memories and hoping that this wouldn’t last long, after all the world wouldn’t let it happen, and such similar nonsense. It was only old Mugdim who dared to say ‘The world doesn’t give a fuck about us’. They thought Mugdim was crazy – if not the world then America will help for sure, if Clinton wins the election, and he certainly will because he said he would help us. ‘It would only take twenty hours for the Americans to rout these drunken bandits’ Zoka would stress out taking out a full cigarette pack (where the heck did he get it from) and offering everyone a smoke as if celebrating an imaginary ‘Bosnian storm’ military action. There has been no water for a long time, nine days to be precise, with sporadic supply to the ground floor so we had to haul the containers to the upper floors which seemed really hard and exhausting. Months later we were recalling those days with nostalgia when we had to haul the water canisters and buckets deep into the night through the dark staircase passing each other with a heavy breath while the reddish hovering bullets would lit the way through the broken hallway windows. It was actually wonderful to have water supply at the ground level and wait for an hour or so in a que to then climb the fifth floor (I was lucky since some people had to climb the fifteenth) and then fill up every container with water – from bath tub to each coffee cup. That afternoon I went out in front of the building together with my water canisters to have a smoke that Zoka so generously offered and asked all the present: “For God’s sake, people, where can I get some water?”
I spent the whole afternoon yesterday wandering around looking for water and got empty handed after waiting for almost an hour in front of the City Command post que where the Egyptian UN soldiers had installed a kind of reservoir and after realizing that it hadn’t move an inch I gave up. Then Mr. Jurkić advised me with a smile that water might be available in the church of St. Anthony or in the city brewery. Some also mentioned the mosque by The Seven Brothers shrine. Mr. Jurkić deliberately emphasized the word ‘church’ since we lately made a lot of jokes about his Catholicism and we did so comfortably simply because Mr. Ivo Jurkić had been a Catholic and Croat all his life, long before the HDZ (Croatian Democratic Union) was formed and before all the new authorities were in power. It was simply in his nature and thus naturally common and normal thing unlike the others who would have grinned at even a mention of a church or a mosque, expressing the looks graver than those who’d fake it in the opening words of the Communist Party meetings or unlike a serious debater highlighting ‘irregularities and irresponsible deeds by some negative civilian individuals and elements’. Mr. Ivo sincerely made fun of it all gladly confirming his affiliation with a ‘reactionary element’ which had constantly been under attack of eradication over and over again and it was no exception that the same was the case in this latest war. In the past it was the middle class under attack and now it’s been done collectively and unselectively, the whole city with all its citizens in one set. Mr. Jurkić’s wife was originally from Poland and she’d sometimes like to mention “our Pope”.
- There must be some water at the St. Anthony church, Ivo stressed again. - Yeah, there must be some for me – I added jokingly, since my mother vowed to the God in that exact church while she was pregnant with me.
- Anthony will give me water, I was named after him - Really? asked Mrs. Jurkić. - Honest to God, I confirmed.
Then my Marija showed up at the door carrying Marko in her hands to catch some ‘outside air’ She repeated the story for a hundredth time about the sacred pictures of Mrs. Filomena in whose apartment we were temporarily living and she stressed again that we should not take them down at any cost:
- It’s only in our apartment that none of the windows are broken, you see – Marija said cheerfully. - OK then I am going straight to St. Anthony church, I said rushing down Dobrovoljačka street.
A shell exploded near Čumurija bridge but on the other side of Miljacka river, far enough. There were two bursts from anti-aircraft machine guns and a few sniper shots while I was passing the park of Emperor Dušan. I made it to the church. I started searching for that water. I could see that people were moving on to the city brewery, including a few of my neighbors who came with me; there was already a huge lineup I could see it from here. I paused and looked at the church tower, rising up to the sky. Then suddenly I heard a car breaking, Mercedes Benz, an older type likely 200D or similar, in black color, typical taxi car, must have cost five or six thousand German Marks in Germany, and I could see that it actually still had a “taxi’ light sign on the top. A chubby short guy jumped out wearing the camouflage uniform, with a short haircut shaved on the sides. I instantly thought that he must have been a taxi driver and a dealer before the war and is now a member of the armed forces. He opened the trunk and took out a plastic barrel, then used a lever to break a manhole cover and attached the fire fighter hose to fill up the barrel. He then threw it back in the trunk slamming the door and adding a gas with a screeching sound to speed off down Bistrik. I just stood there, the water flowing over my feet. Then I bent down to fill up my containers. People started to gather around but I’ve got my containers filled.
I went back to our building. I was smiling from the distance towards Ivo and his wife; and to everyone else.
- Already back? The old Mugdim wonders
Ivo opened his arms smiling. No other neighbor has returned from their water fetching trip yet and it’ll likely take them another hour or two. I placed the containers on the ground to catch my breath. Zoka approached me offering another cigarette, he must have been involved in some deals, I thought. I stood there looking at the skies, waiting a little before I said to Ivo and his wife in a voice loud enough so everyone could hear as I could tell they were dying to hear:
- As soon as I arrived to the church the earth opened and the water flooded my feet.
(Excerpt from Yellov Snow, translated by Aida Krneta)
