Višegrad, Bosnia

I took a day trip to Višegrad with three people (S., K., and D.) from or connected with the organization I am interning with on Friday, June 29th. Although it was awhile ago, the trip is still vivid in my mind as it has had quite an impact on me, for various reasons. At first, I was a bit unsure of what exactly we were to be doing. I asked the social worker, J., on the beautiful 4 hour trip from Beograd to Višegrad, but she was not very clear. Finally, upon arrival, K. explained that we at a Health Clinic where people who are survivors of torture (many of whom are also refugees) were coming to get a free physical, psychological assessment, and medicines from them. Because the health-care system is so bad in Bosnia, and they are not even part of the system, they have to pay for doctor visits and medicines on their own – so this is a great opportunity for them.

When we arrived at the clinic, the parking lot was full, and there were people lined up outside the door and in the inside waiting area. We were greeted by a very friendly man, the director, and shown to a room where the work would be done. S. asked me if I wanted to talk with any of the people there. And, in fact, I did have was a long-awaited opportunity to speak with torture survivors. However, I knew that these people were waiting to see Katrina and D., and I was unsure of what my role would be in this situation. I knew that these individuals did not know English, and I did not feel comfortable having D. or S. interpret for me because I was afraid they did not know English well enough. I was frustrated that I did not know Serbian, and I felt it would be an injustice to the people there if I attempted to speak with them about sensitive topics without having a proper way to communicate. I know that torture is an extremely difficult topic and I did not want to make any of the people there feel like guinea pigs or barrage them with questions any way. So, I chose not to speak with any of them specifically. Instead of speaking with them, I sat with D. and observed her doing very brief psychological assessments on individuals, before they went to get a medical check-up and medicines.

I spent a few hours watching D. during these brief discussions, in a psychological evaluation slant. I was very interested in watching how each person acted and appeared. Every person had a story, and in-between people D. was able to tell me briefly what they had said. It was interesting to me how much I had actually picked-up from watching their non-verbal cues (which I would not have realized if D. had not shared some of their information with me). Nevertheless, I was reminded of just HOW important language is, and how ridiculous it is to expect to be able to do therapy in another language. Yes, there are interpreters, but SO much of therepy is language...every word used is of extreme importance.

After spending a few hours at the Clinic, S. took me to see the River Drina, which winds through Višegrad. Drina was unreal, a color of such amazing light emerald green that seemed to glow from within…I fell in-love with her energy. As we sat next to Drina, I imagined how I would paint her – and as I did so, I saw in my mind's eye the river filled with streams of blood. The town was filled with a sense of abandonment and torture. I asked S. what had happened in Višegrad during the war. Mind you, at the time I had absolutely no idea at the time. His face withdrew after a flash of disconcertment, and sat in quite thinking. Then he said it was too much to explain in English, and continued to say that before the war the town was mixed between Orthodox and Muslims, but now, there were no more Muslims, only Orthodox. When he said this, I knew he meant that the area had been ethnically cleansed of Muslim Bosnians, and I was left to guess as to how violent this “cleansing” had actually been. [Later, I was told that many mass grave had been found in the region of Višegrad; and many of the people who had fled to the Safe Zone of Srebrenica were from Višegrad. Drina had been very polluted during the war, and many bodies were dumped into it over that period of time.]

On the way back to Beograd, we stopped up in the mountains along the way. We hiked for a brief time, and I noticed that the rocks were an interesting blend of greens, reminding me a bit like Serpentine. The air smelled of pine, roses, warm rocks, wet dew, and lipo tree...it was very refreshing and serene, and reminded me a bit of a combination between Michigan and Oregan. We stopped for lunch at the “wood village” which was actually created to be the set in some famous Bosnian movie, but is now a tourist destination. Over lunch, they asked me what my traveling plans were - and I mentioned that I would be going to Sarajevo, Bosnia the following weekend. This started a very interesting conversation about how much Sarajevo had changed since the war. They discussed how, before the war, Sarajevo used to be very warm and welcoming to everyone; yet it was a very chic, hip city. Since the war, however, people were much more unfriendly and suspicious, and it just did not feel the same. I was almost offended by the way they spoke about Sarajevo (even though I had not yet been there), and said that it was not a suprise that Sarajevo would be a changed city - considering all that had happened there. The physician said that, yes, there was a war, but "that was years ago".

Then S., always one to have a song at the tip of his song for just the right occasion, started to sing "Woman in Chains" by Tears for Fears. I was floored by his insight. This song is one that has been deeply meaningful to me for the majority of my life; and it has reminded me of Bosnia for some time now. The lyrics are as follows:

You better love loving and you better behave
You better love loving and you better behave
Woman in chains
Woman in chains

Calls her man the great white hope
Says shes fine, shell always cope
Woman in chains
Woman in chains

Well I feel lying and waiting is a poor mans deal
And I feel hopelessly weighed down by your eyes of steel
Its a world gone crazy
Keeps woman in chains

Trades her soul as skin and bones
Sells the only thing she owns
Woman in chains
Woman in chains

Men of stone
Men of stone

Well I feel deep in your heart there are wounds time can't heal
And I feel somebody somewhere is trying to breathe
Well you know what I mean
Its a world gone crazy
Keeps woman in chains

Its under my skin but out of my hands
Ill tear it apart but I wont understand
I will not accept the greatness of man

Its a world gone crazy
Keeps woman in chains

So free her
So free her