sisters of sisyphus (april 17, 2017)

“Scheherazade”, 1917, Pyotr Konchalovsky (1876 – 1956)

Nothing in this world belongs to you, only the memories of threads you tried to hold on to and weave one day onto another, a Penelope work of stitching up your life’s fabric, which has to then be torn apart again, so that you would live another day.

Penelope’s weaving has to fall apart by night, while Scheherazade’s weaving has to hold through it, so the both women would live another day, on their own terms.

Penelope must eventually destroy all evidence and trace of her labor, in order to continue laboring, living. Scheherazade must leave her labor indefinitely unfinished in order to see a next day’s light. Not even happy Sisyphus faces such harsh prospects in his futile endeavor.

Neither women can ever finish, show for or own their work, let alone take pride in it, in order to continue to live. That is the meaning of their labor. Holding on to the meaningless, with unwavering faith in meaning.

“Penelope Unraveling Her Work at Night”, 1886, Dora Wheeler (1856 – 1940)

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Chimeras of sacred lies

Sacrilege is important to sacrifice as the “crime” within the sacred act that makes it sacred […] sacrifice contains its inverse as sacrilege within itself, and this is precisely what makes sacrifice holy and powerful, and possessed, as Hubert and Mauss say, with “havoc”. The death-space created by the killing of the victim is then also a no-space of extremes facing each other, the no-space impossibility of the immolated “gift of the taking of life,” the “space” of the limit, a timeless space of defacement […]
Michael Taussig, Defacement
News reports don’t change the world. Only facts change it, and those have already happened when we get the news.
Friedrich Dürrenmatt
kordic

murderer-saint, a post-aletheian chimera

How much impact will the fact that Croatia is now an EU member have on the last case at the International Criminal Tribunal for former Yugoslavia? Will the closing ICTY performance next Wednesday offer the same overturning spectacle as in the Gotovina case? Or will the six executors of Croatia’s nationalist project in Bosnia and Herzegovina in 1990s sit their full sentences out in prison after all?

Either outcomes will most likely be nauseating repetitions of the already seen parody, summarized recently in the following news item title: “The ICTY wraps up work, reconciliation nowhere in sight”. If the initial court judgement is upheld, their status of martyrs for the national cause will be cemented. If their appeal on the initial court judgment is upheld, and their sentences shortened, their status of martyrs for the national cause will, again, be cemented. The only difference will be whether they will be welcomed this, or some other year, with the same ecstasy of religious-nationalist folklore as Dario Kordić before them was, at the Croatia’s capital’s airport now named after their boss and patron, Franjo Tuđman.

These nauseating repetitions of war crimes verdicts negated by martyrdom for a national cause, historical facts negated by ecstatic religious-nationalist denials, unspeakable crimes negated by obstinate rejections of responsibility, spinning and reeling one after another for over two decades, found its grotesque climax last Wednesday, at the closing of the Mladić trial.

Shortly before the verdict presenting his crimes was fully read out, the ‘Butcher of Bosnia’ needed a toilet break. Like millions of us forever afflicted by this man in millions of our own ways and blown to four winds all over the planet over the decades, now glued to the live stream from the courtroom, I held my breath. He must have shat his pants and will either have a heart attack or swallow his own tongue, a thought crossed my mind. However, Mladić must have somehow regained his own truth in that toilet, for upon the return to the courtroom, he started shouting at the judges:

“Pure lie! Everything you said is a lie!”

Behold this moment in your mind.

In 2016, the word ‘post-truth’ became the word of the year. In 2016, we’re told, “We’ve entered a post-truth world and there’s no going back”. This malady is defined as “relating to or denoting circumstances in which objective facts are less influential in shaping public opinion than appeals to emotion and personal belief”. By now, in 2017, there seems to be a genuine global panic about the status of ‘objective facts’. There, apparently, are ‘circumstances’ that have shaken our certainties and shifted the rock of the ‘truth’ under the foundations of the world. The tremors are everywhere and are becoming more violent by the day. How did this happen? Who’s to blame? Why can’t ‘they’ just accept the facts? What will happen to ‘us’ next? The growing uncertainty is growing unbearable.

Welcome to the world of the survivors of the cataclysms of facts. Many of us have been living and trying to make sense of our daily lives along such restless fault lines long before you became transfixed by the global Donald Trump appeal. Because, admit it, you are transfixed, even as you try to resist by analyzing and debunking each of his belligerent tweets, actions, appearances, associations and influences, even his bodily gestures and facial expressions. Where does this demoniacal power of a charlatan to draw you in so deep come from? What is this macabre enchantment that imposes even on the free wills of us, the enlightened modern individualists, with such unsettling force to leave us exasperated as we start realizing that no amount of facts or truth thrown back at it can ever dispel it? Because no matter how many times you shout out that the emperor is butt naked, and even submit his nude photos into evidence, the more of his flaunting, ecstatic dicks will come flying in your face, and perhaps even accuse you of pornography as well. “Pure lie! Everything you said is a lie!” Welcome to the world of the survivors of the ICTY trials.

Now that we are finally on the same page, in the same realm of this powerful magic described by Michael Taussig as ‘the labor of the negative’, perhaps we can finally start hearing each other over the mountain of epistemic hierarchy that separates our imaginings of ‘Europe’ vs. ‘the Balkans’. The returning tide of xenophobias and chauvinisms in the ‘West’ does not seem to have that problem, readily incorporating the denialist references from the former Yugoslavia ever since the Breivik manifesto. The question is not how this current global state of ‘post-truth’ is possible, but how it is possible not to have seen it coming. After this Wednesday, and the closing of the ICTY in 2018, the question will not be just of how the truth fares over there, but also about whether you can see the reflection of your world in it, here.

blade-running

blade3

Scene from Blade Runner 2049

For an almost-worshiper of the 1982 Blade Runner, deciding on whether to go or not to go watch its sequel was a profound dilemma. What finally prompted me to swallow the fear of disappointment was a recent review in The New Inquiry. It appeared to me that it got the 1982 film rather wrong, and that, in turn, made me wonder if the sequel could really be that bad. I simply had to see it for myself.

But first, some caveats and severe spoiler alerts. Many other reviews of Blade Runner 2049 have already stated that the sequel will appeal to the fans of its predecessor, while it might leave other audiences unimpressed or even bored. I certainly fall within the former bunch; that is perhaps why my initial skepticism converted into awe of the sequel. And that is why I find the aforementioned review quite silly, if not even outright counterfeit. Blade Runner, you see, is not a western.

You see, the invisible and the un-named off-world from which the synthetic prodigal son Roy Batty (unrepeatable Rutger Hauer) returns to earth to violently demand more life is not an adventurous cowboy frontier, but a cosmic slave labor camp. Admittedly, it is perhaps a bold new expanse for the corporate, Tyrell-style cowboys. However, not for the replicants. They are not frontiersmen, they are slaves. Check the 1982 film’s opening – it literally states so.

Why is it then so difficult to make that connection, staring right back at us from the very first screen of the Blade Runner saga? Other recent reviews of the sequel have already made some exciting and wonderful readings of its archival and hypertextual qualities (here and here). Continuing that line of unpacking the references, let us think again about what it is that the mutinous labor slave Batty talks about when he says “attack ships on fire off the shoulder of Orion”. In the elaborate labyrinths of questions about memory, experience and identity that running the blade ultimately is, that line is not just a verbal image of cosmic melancholy, it is a lived experience of a dying slave running against the course of military-industrial shipping routes upon which the fantasy and the enterprise of the ever-expanding new frontiers depend. “Quite an experience to live in fear, isn’t it? That’s what it is to be a slave,” delivers Batty to Deckard while strangling him in pouring rain. In a social order anaesthetized to suffering by grotesque rationalizations of what is and what is not ‘a real human’, where embodied knowledge is reduced to measurements by technologies of the Voight-Kampff and Post-Traumatic Baseline tests, the only means left for transmitting this lived experience of being a slave seems to be an angry and violent disruption of that order. Another review of the 2017 sequel rightfully points to the fact that even the makers of the Blade Runner films do not dare go that far into their own references to the histories of slavery, forced labor and colonialism. Other reviews discuss the similar absences in terms of female characters.

But one could also argue for another angle to the reading of these absences. While failing to give diversity depth to the labyrinthine explorations of what it is to be ‘a real human’, the 2017 sequel certainly succeeds in visualizing to us what Bernard Stiegler describes as the ‘automatic society’ in which such diversities have been pacified and incorporated, calculated into its rationale. Thirty years into the future, the dangerously potent rage of Pris and Batty is absorbed into the technocorporate bureaucracy by allowing replicants to have “more life” – a sort of life – by living out a fantasy of a lower-middle class lifestyle. K. is not the solitary whiskey-gulping, melancholic Deckard, who, at times when he’s not “retiring” replicants, stares across the cityscape from the window of his abandoned high-rise, or muses on the piano packed with what appear to be old photographs for which we never know if they are real or fake memories. Deckard’s eye floating above and gazing upon LA in 2019 is ablaze with reflections of city’s lights glittering in the dark and clouds of fires spewed by towering chimneys. Thirty years later, lights, fires and chimneys are gone; we see an endless favela-like suburbscape immersed in twilight, and we see it through the gaze of a drone, because K. is asleep. He only wakes up to the voice of his boss.

K. is in that sense much closer to the original Philip K. Dick’s Deckard – a pathetic small-time bureaucrat with a job to kill, with which he earns just enough to purchase digital products for the virtual fantasy of domestic life with his hologram AI girlfriend, role-playing, or perhaps gaming would be a more precise word, an old-fashioned marriage: “Honey, I’m home!” It is the perfect circuit of the automatic society, replicated by violence normalized as work, for which its replicants, in turn, get paid only to be the consumers of its ever-replicating AI products.

“There is an order to things,” K. is told by his police chief (stellar Robin Wright). “The world is built on a wall that separates kind. Tell either side there’s no wall, you’ve bought a war, or a slaughter,” she explains. The paradox of the Wall is that it does not really care about the differences between the ‘kinds’, as long as they are all incorporated in its replication. This is the work ethics of the automatic society K. understands well, as he dodges other colleagues policemen, real humans, who shout “You skin-job!” insults at him in the police station corridors, or squirms his way through staircases of his ghetto-like apartment building, crammed with the homeless living in the hallways. One of them has written “skin-job” on K.’s door as well, but he is not unnerved by it. He at least has a door, which can be shut and locked, and behind which he can enjoy his nondescript food juxtaposed with a hologram of old-fashioned baked chicken and potato, and served by his AI girlfriend dressed in the 1950s housewife outfit. The pinnacle of joy in this domestic idyll is when K. presents her with an elongated black box. However, instead of a piece of jewelry one would expect, there’s an expensive new gadget inside, an upgrade which allows her hologram to become more mobile, more ‘real’, not confined to the mechanical projector on the ceiling of K.’s apartment. Thus ‘liberated’, she joins him on the terrace at the top of the building, ‘experiencing’ drops of rain on her digital skin for the first time in her self-learning AI algorithmic processing, while K. silently revels in her ‘excitement’. Just as much as the film leaves us haunted by the questions of what is and what is not real, it also leaves us wondering whether that scene is the most romantic, or perhaps the most grotesquely cynical one. The possibility that it is both at the same time, and that we can recognize and relate our own lives to it, punches a viewer right under the ribs.

Perhaps it is these scenes that so many reviews find redundant, complaining about the length of the film, parts of it where “nothing happens” and obscurity of its themes.  Yet these are the scenes – and their subtle yet breathtakingly efficient punches – that reveal a deeper, or perhaps it would be better to say overarching, background story of Blade Runner. It speaks of and visualizes to us very clearly what Bernard Stiegler discusses as grammatization of gesture, desire and affect, and proletarianization of life itself, not in some distant future, but in our present.

Siege: the other footnotes (IV)

market passage

July 2016

Bathing suit

A barefoot woman with short-cut hair walks along the street in a two-piece bathing suit and screeches like a crow. “I had a bath,” she shouts, shouts. “They’re peering like ants, from the houses, from the ass they peer.”

And she strides, almost happily. She filled my ears with her screeching. (Later we found out that it was in fact some young man.)

June 5th, 1993

***

Vesna

Professor of English language, who worked as interpreter at ‘Energoinvest’ before the war, went mad. The other day, she went down the market in a bikini, shouting: “I am Vesna. There will be more Vesnas!”

That was her message.

June 22nd, 1993

***

Street, my street

There goes the mad Vesna, singing and swinging her arms:

“Street, my street, my ass is not afraid of snipers. Where are you? Street, my street,” she sings with raucous voice.

“Sarajevo, this will pass,” she shouts, walking down the middle of the road, crossing the Brotherhood and Butchery Street* like a queen.

“Slowly but surely!”

She’s afraid of nothing. The whole world belongs to her.

July 5th, 1993

Jakov Jurišić, The School of Suffering

* In his Grbavica war diary, with this the author refers to the prewar Brotherhood and Unity Street. I grew up on it.

Siege: the other footnotes (III)

006

July 2016

I have forty-six years

And my Chetnik

And my Ustasha

And my Mujahideen, I have

Privately, of course

And a soundless footstep

And a swift sprint

Sprint with a silencer I have

 

Cornered into a water queue

Blinded by the European mercy

In the water queue I humbly

Wait

That mother Europe

Fuck her

Using howitzer of two-hundred-five millimeters

Of Anglo-French production naturally

Of Russian-Orthodox filling

By a Chetnik hand delivers me

Incandescent

Red-hot greeting

Здравствуј товариш

Good bye sir

Bonjour monsieur

I the Bosnian

I the sapped domestic horse

On the land Bosnian

Forgive your humanitarian aid

And lie to my grave

May God save me from your mercy

July 29th, 1993

Jakov Jurišić, The School of Suffering

fragment from the poem “Queuing for Water”

Turkey’s coup d’état in Bosnia

001

Sarajevo, July 16th, 2016

In the aftermath of the failed coup d’état in Turkey on July 15th, some countries in the Balkans witnessed an unprecedented outpour of uncritical support for the Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan and public cheering for the subsequent anti-democratic measures his regime imposed in the country. During one such public gathering, in the Old City of Sarajevo on July 16th, I was thrown off by the enthusiasm with which Erdoğan’s Bosnian supporters justified even the notion of death penalty for those suspected of participating in or supporting the coup. As one elderly man waving a Turkish flag told me cheerfully: “And if he decides to hang the traitors, I’ll travel to Istanbul myself, just to see them hanging in the streets.” 

Here offered is another kind of voice about the political reverberations of these recent events in the context of Bosnia and Herzegovina. It is unfortunate that it remains a largely solitary one.

***

Interview with Prof. Dr. Enver Kazaz, professor of South Slavic languages and literature at the University of Sarajevo, writer and literary critic

By Eldin Hadžović

“Turkophilia has crosslinked the Bosniak mental space”

Original text published on July 27th, 2016, by Novosti

Professor Kazaz, were you surprised by almost unanimous support of the Bosniak political establishment to the Turkish President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, after the failed military coup in that country – despite reports of brutal reprisals against the putschists – during which the Universal Declaration of Human Rights was abandoned?

Not by the support itself, since other lesser or bigger world power players showed support to the autocrat from Ankara, as much as by its content and tone. Ironically speaking, these semi-educated Bosniak politicians screamed so much that it appeared as if the coup attempt happened in their homes, their own bedrooms. Where does this kind of support and condescension come from? Certainly not out of their love of democracy. That is evident from their silence against murderous regime, for instance, in Saudi Arabia, where poets are condemned to death simply over a suspicion that they do not believe in God. This establishment, a political underbelly actually, is cooing that country as “Saudîja”. Democracy is important to them only as a means of increasing personal bank accounts contents. So, why were they screaming? Only to cozy up once again to Erdoğan, “the leader of all Muslims”, as he was titled by Bakir Izetbegović, and the one to whom Alija Izetbegović “bequeathed Bosnia” on his deathbed. Alija’s son furthermore exclaimed that Erdoğan is his brother, and “our leader”, and that “the people are defending democracy”, and “showed whom they want”. But the potentates were not the only ones screaming. The academic community did it too. For instance, the academician Esad Duraković, or a one Amina Šiljak-Jesenković, who presents herself as a turkologist, although that is difficult to substantiate with any scientific work. Duraković spoke as Erdoğan’s spokesperson, claiming that “the Zionists stand” behind the failed coup, while Šiljak-Jesenković accused Gülen as the instigator and leader, precisely as “The Sultan from the Bosphorus”, as Erdoğan is called by the Western liberal media. Nobody offered one single argument for their claims, only pure propaganda. No one uttered a single word about Erdoğan’s autocratic ruling style, about his attempt to alter the constitution to strengthen the presidential powers, about the complete abandonment of the Kemalist tradition and its secularism as the foundation of the contemporary Turkey, about the obvious attempt to force Islamism as the normative ideology for today’s Turkey, about the eradication of the Enlightenment and rationalist narratives acknowledged even in the late Ottoman Empire, as Orhan Pamuk writes brilliantly in his novel Istanbul. Everyone in this Bosniak talk of the failed military coup is silent about the mass arrests and purges conducted by the Erdoğan regime against people labelled as Gülenists, affecting scholars, judges, university deans, journalists and tens of thousands of people exposed to the state terror as in the darkest totalitarian regimes. The media, police and religious persecution is of such scope that one can talk about Erdoğan as an Islamic Stalinist. This dark side of Erdoğanism is completely invisible in the Bosniak public space, where political emotionalism and turkophile identification replace arguments and analysis, aiming to shape today’s Bosniaks as Erdoğan-type of Turks. I would say that Erdoğanism and the superficial emotionalist Turkophilia and Islamophilia, peppered with neo-Ottoman fantasies, are the key hallmarks of the discussion in the Bosniak political, academic, religious, and media elites. We certainly have to publicly condemn any kind of violence, and especially military coups, in order to protect democratic tenets. However, we also have to condemn the violence of a repressive state apparatus against people whose guilt has not been established. By unison cheering for Erdoğan, the Bosniak elite-wannabes are keeping their own people in mental slavery, not allowing it any kind of emancipation from his militant narratives.

During the war, the Serb and the Croat chauvinists offensively referred to the Bosniaks as the Turks, while the Muslim leaders – including Alija Izetbegović – insisted on the Bosniak identity, strongly rejecting the ‘Turks’ label. This has changed after the war, as we have seen many manifestations of ‘Turkification of Bosniaks’. Where does this aggressive Turkophilia among Bosniaks come from?

I am not quite convinced that Mr. Izetbegović had any kind of systematic politics, especially not the kind that would profile a modern form of a Bosniak national identity. On his deathbed, he bequeathed Bosnia to Erdoğan, as I already said. The only significant traits of his politics of the Bosniak national identity are anti-modernism and anti-communism, with Islam as the foundation of national identity. We are talking about a person who was bestowed the “Service to Islam” award in Saudi Arabia in 1994, and abandoned the 1992 “Platform of the Presidency of Bosnia and Herzegovina”, which defined the aims of the defense against aggression on Bosnia and Herzegovina and ideologically projected this country as a civil, secular and multi-ethnic society. Indeed, Bakir’s father did mutter something about the Bosniaks not being the Turks, as if that had to be pointed out at all, but he gladly formed Muslim military brigades. He had muttered it only to counter the aggressive chauvinistic Serb and Croat ideology, which used Ottomanophobia and Turkophobia as propaganda preparations for war crimes against the Bosniaks. Alija Izetbegović did not have a systematic politics, so he degraded state authorities and developed a whole system of parastatal institutions that provided logistics for the Army of Bosnia and Herzegovina. Put simply, his identity politics has been chaotic and random, a narrative and symbolic paronomasia, which his son now reduces to abject Erdoğanism and neo-Beylerbey ideological phantasm. That is why one needs to be very precise: Izetbegović Junior has no ideology other than the Erdoğanist phantasm. He is a bare pragmatic potentate. The aggressive Turkification of Bosniaks, of which you speak, to me seems as a base Erdoğanisation of the Bosniak elites, lost in their semi-education. Furthermore, this love between Erdoğan and Izetbegović is not followed up by economic cooperation. Bosnia and Herzegovina is a country where Turkey invests only pennyworth, while in Serbia and Romania it is more substantial.

Is it not ironic that the son of Alija Izetbegović leads this Turkification among the Bosniaks, which irresistibly resembles the Russophilia of the Serb nationalists?

Indeed, today’s victimized Bosniak elites take up their narrative model for national identity formation from the Serb chauvinistic elites. And this is a full-circle paradox: former victim copies the identity formation narrative model from its former executioner. Turkophilia has crosslinked the Bosniak mental space just like Russophilia with the Serb, as well as Teutonophilia with the Croat mental space. The mental war of these three ‘philias’ indicates that all three Bosnian-Herzegovinian ethnies are, in fact, entirely auto-colonizationary. They are simply not capable of moving beyond that, because their intellectual potential is equal to zero.

What does this say of the Bosniak national identity?

From that narrative paronomasia it is possible to extract processes of archaization, ghettoization, victimization, re-Islamization, clericalization, Arabization, Turkification, militarization, masculinization, de-Bosnization of today’s Bosniak national identity. However, describing all of these aspects would require far more space than foreseen for this conversation. It is important to point out that the Bosniak identity since the 19th century was shaped by processes of de-Ottomanization and incorporating traits of the European rationalism and Enlightenment. This is the paradox: today’s Bosniak elites are more archaic and conservative than those of the 19th century, the ones who Europeanized the Muslim ethnic community in Bosnia and Herzegovina of that time, and established the frame of its development into a nation.

Would you agree that, along these processes, the Bosniak nationalism became more aggressive, and manifesting itself increasingly like the nationalist-chauvinist hysteria in Belgrade and Zagreb of the early 1990s, or would you say that this potential always existed with the Bosniaks?

Every nationalism in the Balkans is aggressive and quickly turns into chauvinism. The moment it gains a more substantial power, and the Bosniaks today have in the territories where they rule, it becomes aggressive towards any form of otherness. The militancy of the Bosniak nationalism is most obvious in the way in which the media controlled by both Izetbegovićs persecute non-Bosniak intellectuals with substantial intellectual, literary and pro-Bosnian symbolic capital: Marko Vešović, Ivan Lovrenović, Miljenko Jergović, and, as of recently, Nenad Veličković.

The Faculty where you lecture, as well as the University of Sarajevo, plays a key role in these processes. Could you identify the main figures and their roles in these processes?

The Faculty of Philosophy shares the same fate of the collapsing values in the entire society. It needs to be pointed out, few honorable exceptions aside, that the symbolic imagination of the radical collective Bosniak identity is formed by the works of a considerable number of professors of the Faculty. In that sense, the University of Sarajevo and other Bosniak universities follow the same model as the Serb or the Croat universities in Bosnia and Herzegovina. The higher education in Bosnia and Herzegovina, just like the entire educational system in the country, is the factory of nationalist narratives, but also the important place of scholarly accountable critique, minute as it may be.

What is the role of the Islamic Community in this context?

After the despotic leadership of Mustafa Cerić, the biggest Bosniak social pest at the turn of the millennium, the new Grand Mufti Kavazović managed to largely de-politicize the Community. Yet he too ventures into the field of politics. The religious institutions in the South-Slavic regions like to appropriate the political power. Grand Mufti Kavazović was indeed the one who responded differently to this siren call of political religion that turns metaphysical God into a political flag. The religization of politics and ideologization of religion have abolished a metaphysical God in the local Orthodoxy, Catholicism and Islam. Why would any religious community renounce the alluring power of the political and ideological God and return to the metaphysical one?

The census results, published almost three years after the survey, show what we have long been aware of – that Bosnia and Herzegovina is no longer a multiethnic society, but rather a sum of three monoethnic environs. How do you explain that the Bosniak elites prefer to exult over “the Bosniak victory in the census” rather than to worry about the “ethnic purity” of Sarajevo?

I recently wrote about the death of multiethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina based on the census results. It shows that today’s tri-ethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina is a country with ethnically most homogenous territories in the world. The Bosniak, as well as the Croat and the Serb elites do not talk about that, they only try to claim ethnic territories based on the population percentages. That is why the Bosniak elite’s talk of “the Bosniak victory” in the census reveals an ideological background centered on the phantasm of ‘a greater state’. Meanwhile, the tri-ethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina emerges as the fulfillment of the war politics. To say with bitter irony, if anyone won in the census, it is Radovan Karadžić, the war criminal. Today Bosnia and Herzegovina exists in the fissure between the political elites’ aspirations to use peace and constitutional means to accomplish their war goals, making the joining of the EU impossible. That fissure is where the last remnants of the once multiethnic country are vanishing.

***

translated and posted with permissions

 

Siege: the other footnotes (II)

gospavin most

July 2016

“Gospava’s bridge

That is the bridge over Miljacka near the “Bristol” hotel. The bridge got its name after Gospava.

Gospava lost her son in the war. At night she often went to the bridge and called out the name of her son. His death affected her so much that she soon lost her mind. At first, nobody wanted to shoot at her. But on one day she was seen lying dead in the middle of the bridge. No one even tried to get her out and bury her. In a few days, dogs tore her apart.

December 8, 1992″

Jakov Jurišić, The School of Suffering