James Nash, Associate Professor of Social Work, spent the 2007-2008 academic year as a Fulbright Scholar with the Faculty of Criminal Sciences at the University of Sarajevo. Here's his archived blog -- most recent entries shown first. Click on any image below for a larger version.

Sarajevo Swan Song? -- June 06, 2008

Well, a little more than three weeks before I leave Sarajevo and head back to the States. I am looking forward to spending time in North Carolina where my family will celebrate my father's 90th birthday in early July. I will also spend a couple of days in New York visiting an old friend, before going to NC. New York should be a nice place to transition back into the US.

What to say about leaving Sarajevo? The city has become another home town for me. I will visit, often I hope. But I doubt I'll ever live here again. I hope not too much time passes before I come back, because this is a city that will probably change considerably in the next five years. For better or worse, it's impossible to say for sure. In the best case scenario, Bosnia will evolve into a viable and better functioning multi-ethnic state with a strong economy. But as it moves towards closer association with, and eventual membership in, the EU, I wonder if the country, and Sarajevo in particular, will lose some of the things that make it special. Or more accurately, will it gain things that it may not necessarily need? The people here seem pretty happy without McDonalds, KFC, Starbucks, and the like. Bosnia could become a wonderful tourist destination, and this may be one of the best ways to improve the economy. But do the people here really want hordes of tourists making their way through the old towns or through the lovely mountains? It's not for me to say. The country is filled with smart, strong, and kind people, and I think they will find a way to preserve as much as possible of what makes Bosnia special. The worst case scenario is failure of the state and war.

Leaving also means saying goodbye to Sanel, my very good friend. I met him through a contact at a local NGO, and he started giving me Bosnian lessons in October. Since then, we've seen each other at least twice a week for language, and many weeks we'll get together for a meal or tea at least once or twice. We went to Istanbul together, and he joined me when I traveled with my sister and her husband to the coast in April. It will be difficult to say goodbye, but I feel sure we will remain connected. We are something of an odd pair - him the 27-year old straight Bosnian man and me the 52-year old gay American. It's a hoot being friends with someone so much younger than I am. We learn a lot from each other, and we help each other in some wonderful ways. I continue to be amazed at his kindness. Not long ago Sanel helped me rearrange furniture in my apartment, in anticipation of a visit by two friends. I had cleaned the apartment well, and as we put the final touches on the new arrangement he looked around and announced that the windows were filthy. I agreed, but said that I just hadn't had time to do them. A few minutes later he was washing the windows, refusing my offer to assist. So I just sat back and watched him clean. Sanel even tried to help me shop for clothes once, but my fashion deficit disorder was too much. Luckily, our friendship survived the ordeal.

As I look back on the work I've done here, I have mixed feelings. There were no ongoing lecturing opportunities for me at the Faculty of Criminal Sciences, so a part of me feels I haven't done what I was supposed to do. On the other hand, I am working on a number of interesting research projects with colleagues at the Faculty and I have collaborated fairly extensively with one local NGO. My efforts to establish relationships with stakeholders in the developing juvenile justice system here are finally paying off, and on the 19th of the this month I will give a talk at a meeting of the Coordinating Body that is charged with implementing the Strategy Against Juvenile Offending for Bosnia and Herzegovina. This group includes government officials, academics, NGO administrators, practitioners, and others, and there are representatives from all over the country, including the RS. It should be an interesting event, and I think what I have to say will be useful. Plus, the meeting is at the coast, so there will be time to jump into the beautiful clear water of the Adriatic Sea at least once or twice. I guess the bottom line regarding work is that I cannot honestly say I wish I had worked more. Getting to know the city and its people has been a bigger priority. I suspect that beginning around September 15 I'll be doing plenty of work.

Three weeks plus a few days. I expect the time will fly. And then, so will I.
Sarajevo Spring -- May 19, 2008

Sarajevo and Sarajevans positively bloom in springtime. The hills surrounding the town are bright green, the trees and shrubs in town are thick and leafy, and flowers are blooming everywhere. On every available square inch of sidewalk, cafes have set out tables and chairs, now packed day and night with coffee drinkers. Sarajevans have shed the winter coats and hats and many are sporting tight Ts and jeans, and the young especially have the look of being ready for adventure. The park at night is filled with young couples making out and more. The nights are cool but during the day it's balmy.

My apartment building is surrounded on three sides by a big police station that houses courtrooms and a jail. The Faculty of Law is also attached. It's a massive, 19th century building, or set of buildings, one of which is located on a corner I pass on my walks towards the pedestrian zone and old town. This building was still pocked with bullet and shrapnel holes when I arrived in September and it carried years of grime from traffic exhaust. About five months ago, scaffolding went up around the building, and work has been continuous. Last week the scaffolding came down to reveal a lovely façade - perfectly restored and painted pale yellow with two shades of orange trim. The transformation is amazing, and the entire corner looks so much brighter and friendlier. Friends tell me that the pace of repair and restoration in Sarajevo has picked up considerably in the past several years. Today, there are still many buildings with bullet holes and other damage from the war, but it is hard to imagine how the city looked after the war and in the ten years following. One friend who was here a year after the war described Sarajevo as having been "pretty torn up." It must be a wonderful thing for Sarajevans to see the place being restored to its former loveliness.

Even the news is springlike, comparatively. The elections in Serbia hold some promise for a different path. At this point it's not clear what the new government will look like. Although the pro-EU party did much better than expected, a coalition of nationalist parties may yet form a government. Serbia and less so Republika Srpska, the Serb-majority entity in Bosnia, are both divided, it seems, between those who feel the future is with Europe - a future that will require much work towards reconciliation and even reparation - and those who seek a more independent Serbian future with closer ties to Russia. The RS especially seems intent on reinventing itself as a quasi-independent state, separate from Bosnia. Who knows how the situation will progress. But closer to home, the EU is moving towards the next step in accession for Bosnia and moving to relax visa requirements for travel. Real change, if it happens, will be slow, but maybe the overall trends are positive. Bosnians at any rate are fond of an expression that somehow combines a hard assessment of the present with optimism for the future: "bi če bolje" - "it will be better."
So What is Bosnia? -- April 09, 2008

So what is Bosnia? I had conversations with two men yesterday that moved onto this topic. One man is a colleague at the Faculty and the other is my friend and language instructor.

It's fucked, it doesn't work, the politicians are corrupt, the entities don't like each other, the things you hear in most conversations of this sort. But what's the way out, I ask. Shrugs. The RS - Republika Srpska - wants to be independent. They have no interest in working together towards a common Bosnia. I ask what would happen if they just separated. You mean, the RS secede and become independent or part of Serbia? Yes. Look, my colleague said. The RS makes up almost half of the land of Bosnia. How did that territory get to be the RS?

My friend's point was the same: Where did the RS come from?

The answer is unimaginable to me, but it happened. An independent RS would mean rewarding ethnic cleansing. Rewarding genocide. Serbia wanted Muslims out of here or dead. Serbia wanted Bosnia. They might have been willing to split it with Croatia, but they wanted most of it. And they wanted it free of Muslims. So they should be rewarded for this?

I think about the Bosnian history by Noel Malcolm I just reread. Serbian officials are quoted in the book as stating openly in the early 90s, bragging even, of a policy of expanding aggressively and taking over much of Bosnia, and of a need for Muslims to be prepared for big changes or to be kicked out to Turkey. Greater Serbia would be Orthodox Christian.

I ask whether the way the RS became the RS is different from the way the US became the US. Isn't the US the result of similar policies towards the indigenous native peoples? Isn't this the way nations are made? They concede there's not much difference. They hope that civilization has progressed or is progressing to a time when raw aggression and genocide don't have the final word. I don't know what to say to that.

What does all this mean for Bosnia? If the current state is incapable of functioning and separation into two states is unacceptable, what are the options? My colleague was not optimistic. But he, and especially my friend talked about what Bosnia meant to them. This is the place where we all lived together. It's anyone who lives here, they are Bosnian - we don't ask about who's Muslim, who's Croat, who's Serb. That's what Bosnia is supposed to be. That's what makes it a special place.

To me things feel stuck in Bosnia. Most people here would probably agree. Still, in Sarajevo I see a city and a society that seem to work pretty well, with reasonably contented-looking people working and enjoying their lives. Something's working here. Lots of things work here, to my outsider's eyes with my limited limited command of the language. But I'm ignorant of life outside central Sarajevo. And how much of what I see matters, really? I see a café society and people strolling through lovely streets lined with shops filled with people and goods. But how many of those people are just looking and will never buy, are buying one coffee for a couple of KM and letting it last for hours, are un- or under-employed, with no realistic options for becoming better off? I don't know. I do know that even though Bosnia feels stuck, it also feels special.
My Monday -- April 01, 2008

I set the alarm for 5:30 am thinking I might get up and go to the gym early. It opens at 7 and it's usually uncrowded in the morning. We had the spring time change this weekend however, and it was still dark when the alarm went off, so I turned it off and went back to sleep for an hour.

After breakfast I checked email and worked on a paper for a couple of hours. I'm helping with the analysis of data collected by colleagues at the Faculty, and I was able to finish writing up the results this morning. I sent the paper off for others to deal with for a few days. Then I spent a half hour practicing yoga.

After a shower I headed across the river to the office of the East West Theatre company. It's an independent company in Sarajevo that performs locally and tours - this spring they're going to Singapore and in the summer they will spend three weeks in Edinburgh. The producer knows people in the Fulbright office at the embassy, and he asked if someone might spend a few hours a week helping the actors and technical workers with English. We've meet now for three or four weeks. I do one class with three actors, a second class with two sometimes three actors, and a class with four or five technical folks. Most of them speak pretty good English already. We read and discuss short passages in English, chat, and I have them write brief essays which they hate. The actors are young and beautiful, and they work hard. The technical folks have, on average, less experience with English, and I think they're less convinced that they need to learn it. But they also work hard and seem to enjoy the class. It's a blast working with all of them.

After class I had a cappuccino, stretched, then went to the gym. It was leg day, so I spent 25 minutes on the stationary bike, then did several series on various leg machines. The bikes are on the second floor in front of a window facing south. The view of the hillsides and mountains is gorgeous, especially on a sunny spring day like today. Trees and bushes and grass are all turning that early spring intense green. It was inspiring. As I was using one of the leg machines, a kid, maybe 15 years old, who I've seen working out in the afternoon before, was using the next machine and said something to me I didn't understand. I asked him to repeat, but it took a couple of times before I understood that he was telling me that he had seen me walking up in the hilly part of the old town on Sunday. He said he lived up there. I told him I thought that part of town was really pretty. Later we chatted a bit more and I told him how difficult I find his language. He nodded and said it was hard for him sometimes too, especially the cases. I said the cases really suck. I couldn't decide whether I should use a formal or familiar "you" with him. He used the formal, polite form, but maybe he's supposed to do that with someone my age. Am I supposed to use "vi" or "ti" with him?

After the gym, I went to the market and bought bananas, oranges, carrots, lettuce, and a cucumber, and then at the almond shop I bought almonds cashews and dried cranberries, and also figs. My language instructor was supposed to come at 6, but at 6:50 he called and said he had forgotten to change the time on his cell phone and should he still come. I was tired and had already eaten so I said let's wait until tomorrow. Then I took a lovely walk up in the hills and looked at the snow covered high peaks in the distance. It was the first after-dinner walk with daylight since shortly after I arrived in September. Spring has arrived in Sarajevo. Could snow tomorrow, but still.

Talked to my partner on Skype when I got home. Now it's almost 9 pm and I think I could just about go to bed and read. I ought to study Bosnian first. But will I?
Weekend in Istanbul -- March 26, 2008

A tea garden in Istanbul, below Topkapi Palace, overlooks the Bosphorus. You can see the suspension bridge connecting the European section of the city with the Asian section of the city in the near distance north and to the left. Directly below the tea garden boats and ships criss cross the water from one continent to the other, into port, or out to sea. The city itself spreads out forever, buildings low to the ground, rolling over hills blanketed by red-roofed houses and shops and fabulous mosques. To the south the water opens into the sea dotted with hilly islands.

We had Turkish tea for two served in a double tea pot, the top filled with strong black tea and the bottom filled with hot water, so you can control the strength of the tea in your cup. It was early afternoon, sunny and mild, and we had a lovely spot under a crooked and well canopied pine tree. We chatted for several minutes but soon settled into silence as the place grabbed hold of us. Forty five minutes, maybe an hour we spent there, gazing out over the Bosphorus and the city of Istanbul.

My friend is from Bosnia and he is blond with blue eyes. In Turkey it seems the locals took him for a westerner, maybe US, German, or Scandinavian. When they asked us where we were from, he would answer in Turkish, "Sarajevo Bosnia" that is, a mainly Islamic city with old and strong ties to Turkey. This pleased the already hospitable Turks to no end, and they became even more animated in greeting him and welcoming him to Istanbul.

Istanbul provided countless magical images, so many that I left disoriented but sure that I want to return for a longer visit. We saw gulls circling the minarets of the Blue Mosque in the moonlight, gardens with palm trees, pansies, daffodils, tulips, and primrose, ancient streets, and in the Grand Bazaar, a chess set of Bush, Cheney, Rice, Rumsfeld and company - with the twin towers of the WTC as rooks - representing one side, and bin Laden and associates opposing. There's even a scrappy little gay scene that I visited on Friday evening while my friend checked out venues of the other team. Our hotel served breakfast on the top floor in a room with windows on three sides. The city, the water, the mountains in the distance, and the bright sunshine surrounded us as we sat and lingered over coffee one morning. The first sounds of Louis Armstrong singing "What a Wonderful World" emerged from the sound system. My friend looked at me and said, "Oh. I like this song."

Back home in Sarajevo it's snowing. Yesterday was sunny. The day before it snowed. The day before that was sunny and in the 60s. March weather. It's good to be back, but I already have wanderlust, maybe for Amsterdam or Cairo. My friend would like to see Amsterdam, but getting a visa could prove difficult. I would love to see Cairo, but it would be more expensive, and it would take more time to reach.

I half listen to the news about the US economy. Kosovo continues to simmer but, happily, no signs of it spilling over. Also in the news, it seems there is a movement in Republika Srpska, the Serb dominated entity of Bosnia, to erect a big cross on a hilltop overlooking Sarajevo. It would be on a site from which the city was shelled in the war, maybe as a sort of monument to those who killed from the place. The cross would be visible from much of the city. What an obscene idea. It's almost like saying to the Muslim population: This land belongs to us. Remember what we can do from here.
Belgrade and Berlin -- March 01, 2008

Monday 25 February 2008

I flew back in to Sarajevo this afternoon, ten minutes early, and I arrived at my apartment around 3 pm. It was in the 70s and beautifully clear, and I was happy to be back home in Sarajevo. Leaving Sarajevo a few days earlier I ran into a couple of Americans I know at the airport. We agreed that it would be nice to get out of town for a few days. The man said, yes, back to civilization. I didn't say anything, but I was a little shocked to realize I thought the same way. But not really. The day before I left I was walking along Ferhadija in the afternoon. I was struck by the thought that I would be in Berlin the following day, back to the? back to the what? I thought "real world" but that didn't seem right. Back to the known world, the familiar world? Well, Sarajevo is known and familiar, but even though Sarajevo is western, it's also eastern. So back to the "West European / Anglo world"? I couldn't come up with the right word, but I perceived distinctly, in a way I hadn't been aware of before, how Sarajevo is different. It wasn't until I arrived in Berlin that I realized that the word I sought was "rich." Back to the rich world. Germany is rich. The US is rich. Bosnia is not rich. Sarajevo is not rich. I don't want to exaggerate the difference, because there are many sections of the city, and many Sarajevans, that look prosperous. And Western. But economic reality is not hard to see either.

I flew to Berlin on Thursday and spent four nights there. The last time I had been there was in 1993, and before that, in 1984. I lived there from June to November 1978 and from March 1979 to March 1980. The first time I visited Berlin was in July 1976. Until the '93 visit, my time was before the fall of the wall. In those days Berlin had a scrappy feel to it. West Berlin was huge, geographically. The city was amazingly full of energy and activity (I was much younger then and full of energy too). It was my first time living in a city with a big and happy gay scene, and Berlin remains a very gay-friendly city. There were rich and elegant sections and extreme counter culture squatter sections, with everything in between. The subways and buses made getting around simple, and the fact that West German young men could avoid the draft by moving to Berlin ensured that tons of young people lived in the city. Being surrounded by the wall, just as the cold war was on the verge of heating up with the approach of Reagan, combined with the city's isolation from the West, made for a sense of deterioration and decay - well subsidized by the Federal Republic - and sometimes I found myself wondering how a city could survive and thrive so cut off from its immediate environment.

And now Berlin is undivided and all barriers between it and the surrounding area are gone. It is the capital of the most prosperous country in the prosperous EU. It looks it: rich and mighty and socially responsible. Berlin is still people-friendly, accessible, easy to get around without a car, with lots of trees and wide wide sidewalks that make for easy strolling. The western sections always included lovely streets, squares, and neat shopping districts, and these are more polished and tidy than ever. Kreuzberg is still counter culture land, and I spent an especially pleasant and productive time around the Kottbusser Tor. What was East Berlin has been transformed. Potsdamer Platz looks like Portland's Pearl District on steroids, but with a decided lack of trees. Maybe they will come.

The Berlin Holocaust Memorial is located near Potsdamer Platz. From the distance it looks like a big cemetery with hundreds and hundreds of mausoleums covering gently rolling concrete hills. Closer, you see that the mausoleum shapes are concrete rectangular blocks, row after row and column after column of blocks, lining narrow paved paths that criss cross the entire memorial. I walked into the memorial and followed one path then another, turning right and left. The paths themselves rise and fall, and the blocks are of different heights. As you walk deeper into the memorial you go through sections where the blocks on either side of the paths rise to twice your height, blocking much of the sky and the rest of the world. Walking along the paths I felt like I could be walking in the narrow streets of an old section of a small town or village. At times it felt vaguely claustrophobic and maze-like. But, unlike the events the Memorial was designed to commemorate, there was always a way out. At no point could you not see how the path you were on would bring you out of the memorial and onto a street. It was linear and ordered. Even in the deepest center, where the way out looked far away, you knew that by walking - logically - in a straight line you would be out in the safe and regular world in a moment.

Newly rebuilt Pariser Platz at the at the top of Under den Linden is massive, maybe 75 yards wide. Walking into the square from the Brandenburg Gate you look out at the broad avenue leading east. The square is lined with new buildings on each side, maybe eight to ten stories high, and my reaction upon walking into the square, stopping, and looking around was that they hadn't gotten it right. I thought if looked boxy and not especially inspiring, more like a downtown street of DC than a grand European plaza.

It was wonderful being in Berlin again. Mainly I wandered and revisited scenes from my youth. I took a long long walk through the big forests in the western section of the city. The terrain is flat, and the paths are mainly of hard packed sand, so they make for comfortable walking through the lovely woods. Being able to stroll through a gay neighborhood was a treat as well, and I visited several gay bars, cafes, and other venues. I chatted with people, but the couple of friends I'd kept in contact with had long since disappeared. At some point during this visit I found myself thinking I could live here again. Maybe it will happen.

The day I traveled from Sarajevo to Berlin was the day they went at the US embassy in Belgrade. It was all over the news in Berlin. It is distressing to see such a display of nationalism, Serb nationalism in this case. It is clear that most Serbs feel that an essential part of their country has been ripped away. I suppose many people who came out that day were expressing genuine anger and sadness about losing a territory that they have learned to consider as central to their national identity. But it seems so easy and so dangerous for love of one's country to morph into nationalism. And evil leaders are so quick to use nationalism to gain and keep power, and then use that power to do terrible things. It seems important to me to name the problem accurately. Serb nationalism, Croat nationalism, and Bosniak nationalism all contributed to the horror of the war, and they continue to block political and economic progress in the region and especially in Bosnia. But Serb nationalism led to especially grievous actions and widespread death and destruction and to genocide, and not so long ago. The Republic of Serbia in Bosnia and Serbia itself refuse to produce Karadzic and Mladic, and until they do it is hard to believe that the leaders of the Serbs understand that renouncing nationalism and embracing reconciliation is the way to a peaceful and prosperous future. Who knows how many of those who think of themselves as Serbs believe this. Walking around Berlin, which most Americans probably identify as the center of Nazi Germany, I couldn't help but thinking how the Germans have confronted their past and are serious about learning from the past. But that came about after Germany had been essentially destroyed by the Russian army and the US and British Air Forces. The Germans did not necessarily choose to confront their past; they were conquered and forced to do so. National Socialism was nationalism at its most extreme. Today, many Serbs probably endorse a more moderate form. It would be a wonderful thing if new leaders would emerge from the RS and from Serbia; leaders who would help the population understand the difference between loving one's country and using that love to justify terrible things. It would also be a wonderful thing if Croat and Bosniak leaders in Bosnia would put more energy into reconciliation and collaboration instead of hiding behind their own nationalistic rhetoric to maintain their fiefdoms of power.
Kosovo Independence Day -- February 18, 2008

It was cold Sunday, the day Kosovo declared independence. The high in Sarajevo was about 15 Fahrenheit, and according to news reports Prishtina was about the same. I don't think people were apprehensive here, but there was a sense of heightened awareness in the days leading up to Sunday, as it become clear that independence would be declared. Our Faculty cancelled classes at the satellite program in Prishtina for the week, but I think it was mainly out of a sense that students would be way too distracted by the political situation to concentrate on lectures. People here shrugged when we talked about whether the declaration would trigger any backlash for BH. There was a short article in the paper the other day that quoted the president of Republika Srpska (RS, the Serb part of Bosnia) as saying that independence for Kosovo might put ideas in "some people's heads" (not his apparently) that the RS should be able to do something similar, that is, secede from BH. A few independent extremist groups in RS called for just that. But right now it seems unlikely that things will heat up here. I think people believe the whole region will slowly proceed toward European integration, which will lead to continued stability and better economic conditions.

I spent the afternoon at the apartment of a man who runs a local NGO. He invited me for lunch with his family, and then we spent the afternoon working on a grant proposal. We checked out the news coverage from time to time. On the station from the RS my friend explained that commentators were complaining that Bosnian, Croat, and international stations were going to provide live coverage of the declaration. After the declaration we watched shots of the celebrations in Prishtina.

On the tram ride back from my friend's I saw a parade of cars decked with Kosovo flags speeding down the street, the drivers honking their horns, hollering, and waving the flag in the cold air. I checked out the tube when I got home. CNN had ongoing coverage from Prishtina, and one local Sarajevo station and one Croatian station did as well. Other stations had regular programming. The station from the RS was showing an episode of Everybody Loves Raymond.
Demonstrations -- February 13, 2008

Marshall Tito street and Alipasina form one of the main intersections in the Centar district of Sarajevo. On the southeast corner of this block sits the 16th century Alipasina Mosque. Immediately to the east of the mosque is the Presidential Palace. To the south of the Palace there's the Presidential Park, a city block of pretty fir trees, paths, and benches. The Sarajevo Canton headquarters is located to the west of the Park. The Palace and the Canton headquarters are from the Austro Hungarian period, and each has been restored since the war. Both have a solid tasteful Central European look to them. Collectively, the mosque, the two government buildings, and the park form a lovely and quiet corner of the busy Centar district. As you enter the park from the east, you see it and the government buildings, and you feel like you could be in Vienna. You walk to the northwest, onto the grounds of the mosque, and you know you're not in Vienna anymore.

This afternoon the front of the Canton office building, facing the park, was trashed. Broken windows and yellow and red stains from eggs and tomatoes marked its white façade. Earlier in the day, on my way to lunch with a friend, I had noticed from two blocks away that the park was a sea of Sarajevans. They were protesting a spate of violent crimes in the city and the cantonal government's lack of response to these crimes, protesting the general perceived nonresponsiveness of the government of the canton, and though not as clearly articulated, protesting the perceived incompetence and corruption of the cantonal, federation, and national governments in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Sarajevans are, it seems, fed up.

My friend had been at the demonstration before we met, and after lunch we went back to the demonstration site and encountered the mess in front of the Canton offices. Eggshells, tomatoes, and rocks - lots of rocks - littered the sidewalk in front of the building. Every window on this side of the building had been busted. The crowd had thinned, but it looked like the big street, Obala Kulina Bana, between this part of town and Skenderia across the river, was blocked by demonstrators. Police in riot gear stood around looking bored as they watched passersby. My friend said he thought the demonstration had really shown the government something today, and he took a picture of the front entrance of the cantonal offices. Then he asked me to take picture of him in front of the entrance. Just after I snapped the shot, he saw a cop he knew, and they started to chat about the demo.

Sarajevans want a functioning government and a functioning state. They want economic opportunities that don't exist for many, with an unemployment rate anywhere from 20% to 40%. People complain too about the extreme nationalist rhetoric of the political parties in power. But nationalistic appeals about security hit home in BH, even almost fifteen years after the war and the siege. People remember being the targets of genocide, even if it's named something else. I wondered about the intersection of security fears, nationalistic politicians, perceived corruption and government ineffectiveness, and large demonstrations such as today's. This was the second such demonstration in less than a week. Sarajevans are fed up. I wondered what it would take to create a system that would reflect the culture and values and needs and strengths of this city and this country. Possibly a good start would be less interference from outsiders about the details of how things should work, and more direct support in building a viable economy.

And in Belgrade a news item that 2000 people, many of them students, protested foot dragging by the prime minister, Vojislav Kostunica, on signing an agreement that will further the process towards EU membership. Kostunica and others espouse a Serb nationalist line, and they are pissed off that Kosovo is about to declare independence. So they're making noises about whether Serbia should join the EU, or instead, chart a more independent course that would involve closer ties to Russia. The demonstrators in Belgrade demanded that Kostunica move forward towards EU membership and, crucially, they demanded that Serbia comply with the International War Tribunal for the Former Yugoslavia - which basically means handing over Ratko Mladic and Radovan Karadjic, who along with former President Milosevic planned and carried out the ethnic cleansing campaign in Bosnia. The demonstrators even called Kostunica the new Milosevic. Also in Serbia, voters recently re-elected the more moderate candidate for president and rejected the candidate who was a close associate of Milosevic and whose platform was one of radical nationalism.

So things are happening in the Balkans. If the region can get through whatever crisis results from Kosova's declaration of independence, then the prognosis is probably positive.
New Visions -- January 18, 2008

I've been fortunate to learn something about a noteworthy NGO in Bosnia called New Visions for Youth. There's a link to its website below. This small and underfunded organization works with youth living in orphanages in BH. The aim is to teach self-advocacy skills that will help them be more successful as they transition from living in the orphanage to living in the community and becoming more self-supporting. Remarkably, this NGO was started by residents of orphanages themselves, and it continues to be staffed largely by residents and former residents. Those who founded New Visions for Youth were probably 10 to 12 years old when the war broke out in BH, and they survived three years of one of the most devastating conflicts of the late 20th century. Despite the adversities they faced, these young people went on to help themselves and to help others in similar circumstances. As social workers we often talk about the importance of resilience. I can't think of better examples.
http://www.newvisionbosnia.com/index.php etc.
No title -- January 17, 2008

It's hard to believe I've already been in Sarajevo for four months. That's almost half of my total time here. If only I could slow down the clock and the calendar. Sure, I miss family and friends, but the thought of having to leave Sarajevo already gives me a tinge of sadness. Still five months left though, so I try to keep focused on making the most of that time.

Making the most of the time in a sabbatical-like way of course. I know a big part of the joy of living here has to do with the pace of my life. I work, to be sure. But a typical day is filled with much more than work. Mornings are taken up with tea, reading, and email, followed by yoga and a trip to the gym. Mornings are unhurried.

My apartment is comfortable and warm. From my living room window I look down on a busy side street called Jadranska. Jadranska dead ends into a small square filled with fir trees. The street itself is narrow and busy. It leads to a big parking garage across from my building, and cars are always driving up and down the street. And because the street can barely accommodate two car widths, there's lots of jockeying for position, with cars backing up and pulling over and drivers impatiently tooting their horns. A tram stop is located on the big street, Obala Kulina Bana, where Jadranska ends, about a block from my building. A constant stream of pedestrians meander up and down the street - cars are parked on the sidewalks on both sides - dodging cars on their way to or from work, or to or from one of the dozen coffee shops that are within a minute of my front door. The river runs alongside Obala Kulina Bana, and I have a glimpse of a river view. Across the river, another street leads away from my building and up into the hills to the south. A block south of the river, this narrow street displays a neat little zig that gives the view a cool Central European flavor. Especially on a foggy day or night I look across the river and can imagine a character from John LeCarre drifting out of sight into the fog as the street zigs slightly to the left. A few hundred feet from the river bank the hills rise steeply up to the high ridge that looks out over Sarajevo from the south. Houses line the hillside up to a point, but much of my view of these mountains is forested, with occasional rock outcroppings.

The gym is three blocks from my building. I've been going regularly for a good three months now, four, five, even six days a week. It is in a building that houses a youth rec center, a couple of cafes, and an internet café. The gym is on two levels, with most of the weight machines on the first floor and aerobic equipment on the second. Locker rooms are in the basement. The clientele is predominantly Sarajevans with a few internationals, mainly men, mainly beefy Bosnian men, who, I sometimes think, aren't quite sure what to make of this skinny American guy. But they are friendly and helpful, and as my language skills have slowly (slowly slowly) improved I've been able to engage in snippets of conversations. It turns out the guy who manages the place has a son who lives in Spokane. Most have heard of Portland, due to the Trail Blazers. The NBA is big in the Balkans. The cigarette thing can still throw me, for instance, the other day when one guy came downstairs to the locker room right after his workout and asked me if I had a match. I didn't but someone else did, and he started puffing away in the locker room.

After the gym and a shower I have lunch, usually at home. Then it's time to hit one of the coffee shops for a cappuccino. My favorite is across the street from my building. It's an art gallery as well as a coffee shop. The shop is small, crammed with sculptures and photos, and the walls are lined with paintings. I bought one canvas of a Sarajevo street corner in grays and blues. I was attracted by a feeling that I often have walking in the city - it has an elegant feel to it, slightly shabby after a half century of benign socialist neglect, and it still shows often brutal evidence of the war. There are several other coffee shops I like, but this one feels like my regular. When I go in to work at the Faculty of Criminal Sciences I simply dial 251 and order a capp. Someone brings it up to my office within five minutes.

Just had to interrupt the writing for my weekly massage. The masseuse is also a physical therapist, and he usually comes on Thursday afternoons. He's medium height and very strong, pretty quiet, but not shy about recommending ways to avoid injury when working out or working on the computer. He has a couple of part time jobs, at a residential facility for seniors and at a school for kids with physical disabilities. He has a massage practice on the side, and he has great skills. I have problems with my right shoulder, elbow, and wrist, and his work on these has had a big impact.

After a cappuccino I usually begin work, maybe around 2 pm. Some days however, I have to go to the market, because I usually eat at home. My favorite place is a large open air market at the beginning of Marshall Tito Street. It has a real "I think we're not in Kansas" feel to it. You walk by tables crammed with fresh fruits and veggies, beans, eggs, spices, herbs, everything you could want. The stall keepers greet you with "Izvolite," roughly, "What would you like?" or "Please." I usually stroll through once to see who has the best spinach, which I eat tons of. If the spinach looks good, the rest of the produce is usually good too. I sometimes find myself longing for the packs of ready washed spinach at Whole Foods, because here, you get the whole plant, leaves, stems, and roots, with a dab of soil thrown in. Washing a week's worth of spinach can take a while, but I find it pleasant enough.

Twice a week I have language lessons, and happily, the instructor comes to my apartment for the two-hour class. We spend time chatting in Bosnian, although chatting is a generous way to describe my conversational skills. I will usually have tried to translate a newspaper or magazine article before class, and we spend a half hour or so on that. And I have a book called Colloquial Croatian, and we might spend time going over exercises in that. I am building vocabulary, and I am making progress in being able to express myself. But understanding what others are saying is still tough. I try to spend at least an hour each day watching Bosnian, Croatian, or Serbian TV just to improve my comprehension. I do understand more and more words that are spoken, but I often don't get the meaning of what's being said. Still, I am determined to become as proficient as possible while I am here. So, I'll guess I'll continue to watch shows like the Croatian version of "Weakest Link."

Usually I eat dinner at home because the vegetarian options are limited at most restaurants. Thanks to SKYPE, my partner and I talk on the phone almost every evening, about 7 pm my time, 10 am his time in San Francisco. After dinner I take a walk, usually following the same route. I head out my building, take a right, and then another right on to Marshall Tito. It's lined with shops and restaurants and banks, and almost always the sidewalks are filled with strolling Sarajevans. This part of town looks very Central European, with architecture from the Austro Hungarian period. At the end of Marshall Tito, an eternal flame burns, and to the right a long pedestrian zone called Ferhadija begins. It is the happening place in town, where everyone goes to stroll and people watch. Cafes and restaurants and street vendors line Ferhadija. It widens into a sort of square in two spots, one directly in front of the big Catholic cathedral. One fairly modest mosque and a second much grander one, with the loveliest enclosed courtyard, are located a bit further down. The Austro Hungarian architecture also gives way to Turkish, and Ferhadija leads you into a different world. Ferhadija ends at the heart of the Turkish quarter, an old old square with another mosque and lined with tiny cafes, shops, and souvenir stands. Narrow ancient-looking streets lead off the square. This is my turnaround point, and usually I retrace my steps back to my comfortable fourth floor walk up in Jadranska street.
http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sarajevo
Burning Issues -- November 23, 2007

Suddenly but not so suddenly the burning issue of the day is no longer how can I get better internet service but rather whether there will be a war. What seemed unthinkable last week now seems not likely, but within the realm of possibility. It's troubling when everyday people in everyday conversations say matter of factly that they believe another war is possible. Not probable at this point, but possible.

I just spent the afternoon with the director of a local NGO. He's a smart, funny, reasonable man who is passionate about his work. He has a wife and a daughter, and he is just the kind of man that I instinctively liked and trusted when I first met him. The last person I believe would get caught up in the histrionics of the media and the nationalist politicians. We spent the afternoon putting together a program description for his agency to be used in future grant applications. It was slow going, because tension arose as we worked to articulate issues such as vision, mission, and goals. I tried hard not to impose my ideas on the document, but it was a struggle at times due in part to the language differences. But we did make progress, and he said he was pleased when we stopped. Then as I was packing away my things he asked about my dinner the previous evening at the US Ambassador's residence, at his Thanksgiving Dinner. He asked if the US embassy folks thought there would be war. He himself had thought it inconceivable until the past few nights, when the TV news programs were filled with, to put it bluntly, the nationalistic crap of politicians from the different entities within Bosnia. He said for the first time he considered a renewed civil war to be possible. He was making plans for how to get out if war started.

I have to admit the conversation threw me a little. Walking through the streets felt different than it had the day before. I couldn't help glancing up at the hills to the south, where the Bosnian Serb artillery positions had been during the seige of Sarajevo. I knew the US Embassy would pull us Fulbrighters out of the country at the first sign of real trouble, but what about the people left behind? After several months here, they were no longer abstractions or images on a TV screen. Later during a language lesson, I asked my instructor what his thoughts were about the situation. Among other things, he said that, although he loves his country he sometimes feels cursed for having been born in the Balkans.

And then equally suddenly, a few days later, it was announced that the European Union and Bosnia and Herzegovina had initialed the Agreement for Stabilization and Association, an important step towards eventual accession of BH into the EU. Talk of war vanished. People had theories, but the link between the initialing and possible war was not immediately apparent. What had happened? Had the EU caved into local politicians regarding what was required for the initialing to take place? Had the EU called in the locals and read them the riot act? Like I say, people had theories. But the holidays were approaching, and Marshall Tito Street, Sarajevo's main street, was filled with colorful lights and decorated store windows. It's hard to describe the feeling of an entire city breathing a collective sigh of relief.
A Visit to a Residential Drug Treatment Program -- October 21, 2007

Sarajevo

Samir is the director of a local NGO called UGI PROI. I asked him what the acronym stands for and he laughed and said it includes their entire mission - community, whole person approach, drug treatment - all the program elements are in there, but it doesn't lend itself to a direct translation into English. It was a cold and damp Sunday morning, and we were driving out to a program of the agency that is very close to Samir's heart, a residential drug treatment center for young men. It is located about 30 miles northwest of Sarajevo, in the Bosnian mountains. A young woman named Jasmina, who had previously worked for UGI PROI and who might do PR work for the program, was also in the car.

As we drove out of the city, I saw sections I had never seen before, especially a newish section of Sarajevo that looks more prosperous and tidy than the western approach with which I was familiar. We drove along a modern freeway for 10 or 15 miles, until it reverted to a two-lane road. The landscape soon gave way to green hills and villages lining the steep mountainsides. Most Bosnian freestanding homes are constructed of cinder-block-like material that is brick red. Many have a coat of stucco over the cinder blocks and are painted yellow, pale brown, or other pastels. Many others don't have the stucco, and the brick colored cinder blocks form the facades. The houses are usually boxy and two storey, and most roofs are made of red tile.

The rural landscape did not last for long, however, and we were soon passing through built-up areas again. Abruptly Samir took a right turn off the highway and pulled into the parking lot of an upscale-looking restaurant. "Our drug treatment center," he announced. Then he grabbed my arm and laughed and said he was just joking. At the end of the parking lot, a dirt track led off to the right, and we followed it around a few curves and back onto a paved narrow back road. Suddenly the landscape became more rural again, and we climbed the narrow winding road up into the hills, through a village, for about 15 minutes. The scenery reminded me of Switzerland, farms, fields, woods, and streams.

We pulled into a muddy driveway and drove past a two-storey farmhouse and parked. This was the drug treatment center. I asked how it came to be located in such a remote location, and Samir told me his agency solicited donations of land several years back. They received offers closer to Sarajevo, but as is often the case in Bosnia since the war, the title to the land was not clear on those properties, and finally a man offered this piece of property. It was remote, but that could be seen as an advantage for a drug treatment center. The property was gorgeous, a green central European plot of land with gardens (fallow now in the cold), orchards, and stands of trees. Surrounding us were steep mountains that were probably a thousand feet or so higher than the hilltop on which we were standing. Most of the trees were beginning to turn. A light mist was turning into sleet.

We toured the property, which included a building that housed the administrative office, a bedroom for overnight staff, a dining area, and a kitchen under construction. Another building had the functioning small kitchen and living area, and three sleeping rooms, each with bunk beds for six residents. Currently, 15 residents were in treatment, ranging from age 20 to 40, with most being in their early 20s. Six or seven residents were at work on a building as we drove up. It would house workshops for vocational training. Usually, Samir said, Sunday was a day when no one worked. But the residents wanted to work today to make progress on the building before the big snows began, probably in early November. There was also a stable where, until a week earlier, a cow was kept, along with sheep and goats, and a pen for rabbits.

The program is staffed by a program director who works 8 to 4:30, five days a week, and two residential counselors each have 7-day shifts. So two staff work on site during the weekdays, and one counselor is always on site. One of the residential counselors, Iso, and the program director, Alen, were there when we visited. Samir, Jasmina, and I went into the administrative building and climbed the stairs up to the office area. As per Bosnian custom, we removed our shoes and put on slippers before entering the office. It was heated by a small coal stove, and the staff bedroom led off to one side of the office. Samir described to Iso and Alen my background and why I was in Bosnia, and why I had come out to the program today. We are talking about the possibility of developing an evaluation plan for the program, because Samir wants to pursue funding to ensure the long term viability of the program. I was interested in learning about services and supports available to Bosnian youth and young adults, and I had offered to talk with Samir about possible first steps in thinking about an evaluation. I introduced myself in Bosnian, basically exhausting my repertoire of the conversational language. Iso had to ask me several times what my name was, because the "j" sound from English is not found in Bosnian. They have similar sounds, one of which is a very hard "dch" (or so it sounds to me) and another is a softer "zh" as in "azure." When I pronounced it the third time he just shook his head and laughed and said something which Samir translated as asking why I pronounced it like that.

We spent about an hour talking about the program, its philosophy, goals, and program elements. The program follows a model developed by an agency called Daytop, out of New York. Apparently Daytop programs are found all around the world. Program elements focus on four areas: behavioral, emotional/psychological, vocational, and spiritual. The UGI PROI program, Samir explained, emphasizes the first and second, but also addresses the third and fourth. The program centers on a behavior management system and group and individual counseling. Interestingly for me, when I asked about providing positive feedback ("kudos") as part of the behavior management, Samir said that this only happens with respect to group achievements, not individual ones. He added though, that there are other ways that individual receive positive feedback, such as with birthday celebrations. All through his description of the program I kept wanting to ask "But, why don't you?? What if you??" and so on. But I didn't ask.

After hearing about the program, it was time for lunch. I hadn't been sure what we were doing for lunch, and the announcement that we would be eating communally raised the issue that I always find touchy in Bosnia. But, I said, I am a vegetarian. This brought silence. Some times it seems that the staple diet of Bosnia is coffee, cigarettes, and meat. I knew this going in, and I am increasingly able to not notice the smoke in most cafes, restaurants, and offices. I enjoy a cup of the strong strong coffee once a day, and cafes and restaurants offer sparkling water and mint tea as well. But eating meat would be a hard thing for me to do, even though I know I am perceived, probably, as being ungracious when it is offered. I've thought about saying I don't eat meat for religious reasons, but that would be a lie. So, to date, I've simply said I am vegetarian. Today, lunch was goulash, or stew with meat (Samir mentioned that the late cow was being well used), potatoes, carrots, etc. But not something that would lend itself to my selecting out what I would eat. I said something about not being that hungry (true enough), but then one of the staff asked if I eat eggs and cheese. Sure I said, and the awkward moment was over. I wonder though about how that interaction was perceived by the Bosnians.

Lunch was spread out on three long tables, with Jasmina, Samir, and me seated near the staff, and the residents scattered around us. The atmosphere was relaxed with joking and laughing, and Samir translated some of the jokes. The men cook all their own meals, and the ones who were responsible for cooking and bringing out the food were attentive in making sure that the guests were pleased. I was able to compliment the cook in half Bosnian, half English, and thank him, for the eggs and cheese.

Lunch at the program involves one resident reading a short entry from his diary. Before this happened, Samir asked if any of the residents spoke enough English to translate. One young man volunteered to do so. I nodded to him in thanks after the reading, and he nodded with a smile in return. There was cake for dessert, and most of the residents went off to enjoy the two-hour free period that occurs every midday. On the way out the door, Samir showed me the cigarette holder that was attached to the wall beside the door. Under each resident's name there was a holder for ten cigarettes, the daily ration. Apparently this can be increased or decreased as part of the behavior management system.

As we were leaving, we stopped by a group of residents hanging out on a covered patio, enjoying an afternoon smoke. We thanked them for having us, and one of them asked me who I was. I explained as much as I could in Bosnian (not much besides being a professor of social work visiting from the US) and Samir translated the rest, about maybe doing an evaluation of the program. Right before we left, another resident said something that Samir translated as "We're committed to this place, don't forget that."
Arrival! -- October 05, 2007

On September 18 I arrived in Sarajevo by bus from the Croatian coastal city of Dubrovnik. The bus ride took about eight hours and went through beautiful rugged mountains. Near the coast, the landscape reflects the semi-arid climate, with low trees and scrubs covering the rocky hillsides. As you travel north into Bosnia and approach Sarajevo, the landscape becomes lush, with farms, forests, and rivers. The outskirts of the city include uninspiring sections of socialist-era architecture and newer postwar buildings. However, the center is an amazing mix of nineteenth- and early twentieth-century central European buildings from the Austro Hungarian period, along with an exotic and bustling Turkish quarter from the earlier Ottoman period. Bosnia, and Sarajevo in particular, have been at the crossroads of cultures for centuries. It is a city with Muslim mosques, Catholic churches, Orthodox churches, and synagogues, all within close proximity of each other.

After a week in a hotel I found and moved into a lovely renovated apartment in the city center. I met with the Dean and other members of the Faculty of Criminal Sciences at the University of Sarajevo, where I am fortunate to have a nine-month Fulbright lecture award. At the Faculty, I have a comfortable office with a window, and the members of the Faculty have made me feel very welcome. My role as a visiting professor has yet to be defined precisely, which apparently is not unusual for a Fulbright lecture award. Although I presented a proposal in my application for what I would like to teach, it is common for there to be a settling-in period during which the faculty gets to know me, and vice versa. In the meantime I am using the time to catch up on reading and writing and getting to know the city.

Last week I attended a three-day conference on organized crime and terrorism and their effects on civil society in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The conference took place here in Sarajevo, at the Bosniak Institute, a beautiful facility whose heart is a sixteenth-century Turkish building that was originally a public bathhouse. Although the conference theme was not exactly in my area (i.e., juvenile delinquency and related issues), the presentations and keynote addresses covered much content that helped me understand better the broad social, political, and cultural conditions in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Twelve years after the Dayton Peace Accords, much progress has been made in rebuilding the country and in developing stable political and economic structures. However, the Dayton agreement divided the country into two entities - a Bosnian Serb section and a federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina (with Herzegovina being the section of Bosnia that has been, historically, predominantly Croat). This division was institutionalized into the country's constitution, and questions remain about the long term viability of the country. The "entity system" strongly influences the country's ability to build a civil society and maintain the rule of law. These themes arose again and again at the conference. Local residents spoke movingly about the ongoing struggles involved in defining what it means to be Bosnian. Officially, there is no such category. Officially, one must declare oneself to be Bosniak (i.e., Muslim), Croat, or Serb, for example, on job applications. People spoke of having been born a Yugoslav and of having pride in that identity. Now, they are required to declare their official identity in ethnic terms that are closely tied to religion. In addition to such existential challenges, the economy of Bosnia and Herzegovina is among the weakest in Europe, with a low per capita income and high unemployment.

Sarajevo itself has historically been a city committed to multicultural harmony, and it has always been relatively secular. It is a beautiful city, surrounded on three sides by high mountains, with a river bisecting it. It is also a café society to an extent that surpasses Portland or Seattle. Coffee shops are everywhere, and practically everything is done over coffee. A fifteen-minute walk east along the river brings you into rural countryside surrounded by incredible mountains. Many Olympic venues from the 1984 Games are up in those hills. Unfortunately, the closest hills, those to the south, have yet to be de-mined, so they are off limits to hiking except with an experienced guide. Given its history and its present, I think Sarajevo will be a fascinating place to spend nine months as a social work educator and researcher.

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James Nash in SarajevoInternational Happenings - School of Social Work

James Nash in Sarajevo
International Happenings - School of Social Work