...in the meanwhile, in Sarajevo
Rain, mist, temperature differing from 13 degrees to 27 degrees. Sweaty, damp, but also cold and chilling. The city has improved, much more restored since I have left. Almost normal. Both the city and I have changed more or less, I guess. Or better- I have changed for sure. Whether the city and the country have changed since I first arrived, or from, let's say 1997- I am not sure. The visible wounds that were there in 2004, seem to have healed, though.
No real celebrations after the arrest of Dr. Dabic, Karadzic. Walked past a Muslim graveyard yesterday, where where fallen war heroes lie to rest. One of the buried defenders of the city, a Muslim, was called Karadzic. So what is in a name?
The arrest opened wounds, my friends tell- it brought back memories they have hidden away for a long time; memories they wished they had forgotten. His arrest is worth the return of the memories, they say, with almost zealous conviction as if they have to convince themselves. His arrest will not change anything, they say. And I believe them- it won't bring back anything. But it will bring justice. As that should be done.
On my strolls through town, I walked into Paddy Ashdown, the former High Representative to BiH. Today I read his thoughts on BiH. I am afraid I subscribe to them.