Yukoslavia Dissolved

      In this blogpost, it is my intention to look at the Balkan Wars and the dissipation of Yukoslavia from the point of view of a Bosniak. First, though, here's an overview concerning what happened then between the Serbs and Bosnia. Bosnia is a country in Europe, along with Croatia, Serbia, Slovenia, and Macedonia. These countries' geographies are not often recognized; people assume they are from the Middle East due to their names and cliches, but also primarily because of the Balkan Wars. In the 1990's, Bosniaks were Bosnians who were Muslim. Before the wars, Bosnia didn't have a clear majority people group. The two main peoples were Bosniaks and Serbs. This lack of majority became a strong cause for the conflicts that broke out in 1992 leading to the Balkan Wars. At that time, the Serbs were becoming increasingly powerful and proud under the rule of Milosevic. When Bosnia declared a partition of itself from Yukoslavia, the country both it and the Serbs took part in (as well as some others [Croatia]), the Serbs were worried that in the independent Bosnia, their majority would be ignored. For this reason, they attacked the Bosniaks in Bosnia, meaning to exterminate them from the country though something called "ethnic cleansing". In reality, the massacre caused by this was far from cleansing.

 Yukoslavia Before and After

     Here's an idea of what it might have been like to be a Bosniak at that time (and also just a story):
   

     Hello. My name is Ajla. I live in Bosnia, a country that used to be part of Yukoslavia. I am a Muslim and I am lucky to be alive. During the Balkan Wars that seperated Yukoslavia, some others I knew were not so fortunate. Me and my family lived in Srebrenica. On July of 1995, I lost my Uncle Abdulan, my brother, Ibro, and my father, Amel, to the Srebrinca massacre. Me and my mother, the only surviving members of our family, fled with some other women and men to Potocari, a nearby muslim city. There, we lived in an unjust combination of fear, grief, and instinct. I never recovered from the deaths of my family, but somehow I pushed those thoughts out of the front of my mind so that I could help my mother and I stay sane. In Potocari we were kept at a Dutch base. Not long into our living there, a suspicious number of Muslims vanished from the grounds. After asking around, we learned that 5,000 muslims had been exported from the base in exchange for 14 of the Dutch peacekeepers beings held captive by the Serbs. My mother and I were horrified. We decided to escape from the Dutch, afraid we would be amongst the next export. With us were four other Muslim women: Hana, Lamija, Enisa, and Esma.

 Ajla and Mother after Srebrenica Massacre

 

       After escaping the Dutch grounds, we were left homeless and without food or water. Lamija had decided to stay with the Dutch the day before we left, so now we were five. We decided to flee to Kladanj. On our way there Esma and Enisa, sisters, dropped from the group in Bratunac, on of the towns we stopped in. Hana, however continued with us faithfully. Sometimes we traveled with other Bosniak groups and other times we were seperated from them, but during the whole journey Hana, my mother and I stayed together. When we finally reached Kladanj, we were feverish and weak. We had eaten little the whole duration of our trek, so our skin sagged slightly in places where we had lost weight. Some of the people in Kladanj had not yet heard of the massacre in Srebrinca, but once we told them, they were very curious. Hana, my mother and I were not eager to impart much detail, having already removed ourselves from the genocide as much as we could. Still, we told them what we could.

     
      Until the wars ended and Bosnia was once more at peace, Hana, my mother and I worked as a unit to support ourselves. We had lost everything because of the Srebrenica Massacre and it wasn't easy getting back on our feet. A kindly woman named Basma took us in for the first few days we came to Kladanj, but it was painful living with her, kind as she was. She was too curious about Srebrenica. Besides, she could not feed the three of us for long. After leaving her abode, a woman named Dana hired us to work in her shoe-making factory when she met us by chance, having accidently spilled her tea on Hana while walking past us in the street. We worked there contently and rented living spaces from a man named Paul Hardt. He was from America and we thought him rather strange, but he was kind. His wive's name was Catherine Hardt and she was very kind as well. She spoke our language hesitantly, but she treated us as family, often reminding us to call her Kate. Both of them were very fond of talking about their God and a man named Jesus. Mother always pretended not to hear. I followed in example. Hana was the only one who showed any interest. When the war finally ended, we three did not celebrate with the crowds of Muslims parading about. No; we produced a dinner of our favorite dishes and had the Hardts over to thank them. I'm afraid the end of the war was more of a relief to us than a joy. Too many sorrows had passed our threshold for joy to come in easy.

       After the war, we supported the arrest of war criminals through our speech, but there was little else we could do. We were not living in either Croatia or Serbia, where the peoples resisted a hunt for the war criminals. Paul and Kate lowered our rent, the economy having loosened it's reigns. They didn't cease to visit us and give us favors, small and large, here and there. Hana and Kate had become close friends and Kate spoke our language fluently now. One day, Hana came back from the Hardts house, barely bigger than the one we rented, with something different about her. She could barely contain herself as she shared with my mother and I what had happened. She had converted to the religion the Hardt's believed in, Christianity. I was confused. My mother was angry. She did not show it bluntly, but she never treated Hana the same. She removed her in the same polite way as she did the Hardts. I could tell Hana was hurt, but she treated my mother the same. She was consistent despite my mother's inconsistency.

      It was the winter of 1997, and my mother did not come back from a trip to the post office. She had taken the city bus, as usual. We all investigated anxiously: Hana, the Hardts and I. It was not until a week later that the police notified us of my mother's death. She had died of a heart attack, as it was reported. No one knew exactly why. After that, I broke. I had prided myself in my ability to press on despite our losses, working harder every day, but now I could see that that was only a facade - a weak shield. Hana tried to console me and the Hardts spoke of God increasingly. Slowly their words gained interest to me. December 6th of 1997, however, I finally heard them for the first time. The God they spoke of was a better God than Allah. I wanted to know such a God and to love him. That day Kate prayed with me and I accepted the gift of salvation. I believe that was the day I was born. I also believe God used the separation of a country to save me, because that is who he is; he brings life out of death.
     

Sikhs, Film Music, and Oral History

      In the Documentary 1984 -- A Sikh Story, I learned about tragedies that happened in India amongst Sikhs in 1984. Sonia Deol, a modern day Sikh, explored these events in the documentary and brought to light through personal investigation the horrors and the truth of what happened. Jarnail Singh Bhindranwale, a leader of the Sikhs, took refuge in the Golden Temple (a center for Sikhs) with some other Sikhs. He was keeping weapons inside the temple and the government was becoming increasingly wary of him. They flushed him out early June and created further havoc in doing so. The temple itself was half destroyed and almost everyone who had been inside, incuding peaceful Sikhs, was killed. This was called Operation Blue Star. Following this event, two Sikhs assassinated the prime Minister, Indira Gandhi, because of the attack on the Golden Temple. Hindus everywhere retaliated by murdering Sikhs. Thousands of Sikhs were brutally dragged from their homes and killed. Thankfully, at least on the surface, the domino effect stopped there. 
      In two other documentaries, Movie Mahal #41--Laxmikant Pyaralal Part 2 and Songs and Memories, Sahira Kazmi, I learned about music and film in the 1980's. In the first documentary, two famous composers of Bollywood film were interviewed. They shared how music is their lives and dialogued the progression of music in Indian film and pop culture. They favor both old-time Indian music and the modern style of music in the west, but they don't use either. This is because the majority of their audience still relates to music between the two. These musical men, however, slowly infused more and more western influence into their music numbers. They wished Bollywood films infused music into their story the way films here do; the music plays in the background while the story continues in the foreground. In Bollywood, this was not the case. When music started up, you knew the characters would object themselves to the song, usually by singing it and dancing.
      In the second of the aforementioned two documentaries, Sahira Kazmi, the only female movie director in her day, described the film industry from her point of view. She had a hard time in the industry of film, because men were not used to being ordered around by women and because of her position, she had to. She also had a hard time because the limitations of films at the time were numerous and strict. However, Kazmi testifies to how this challenge was also good for her in some ways. Ultimately, what Sahira felt was her job to carry out through film, was to liberate and empower women from their humbled position. 

      The people Sonia Deol interviewed in the Sikhs documentary were all directly involved in either the Blue Star Operation or the massacre of the Sikhs. Primarily, she interviewed people who had lost  family members who were Sikhs, people inside the temple at the time of Operation Blue Star, and the man who gave the command for Operation Blue Star. Sonia, herself, was primarily the narrator behind the documentary. The man who commanded Operation Blue Star was a good balance for the documentary as he showed the viewpoint least often considered when the tragedy is inspected. He was probably also biased though and seemed to be in a state of denial. The Sikhs directly influenced by the death and fear of the events surrounding Operation Blue Star are biased as well, but their bias is one of pure experience and pain. They show how innocent people are victimized by mass prejudice and hasty decisions. Sonia is probably very personally biased, but she holds herself together well. She is a Sikh, so for her, the conflicts are grounded in her faith, making it hard for her to be impartial. On the whole, however, this documentary was very informative and revealed to me yet again how corrupted human nature is. 
      In the last two documentaries, the interviews were very personal and focused more on the person being interviewed than any general time trends or events. The first one gave a feel for history, but only in the world of music. It was informative on the making of Bollywood music and how the people behind it don't always get to choose how to carry out their work. It also informed the audience of past composers with such skill, they could create a song in eight minutes. Overall, the documentary was somewhat boring, but it also gave insight into the lives and people behind Bollywood film. 
      Finally, in the documentary interviewing Sahira Kazmi, it was interesting to hear from a woman's perspective in a field primarily consisting of men at the time. She was also biased in this way however, seeing herself is independent from other producers and directors because of her gender. The interviewer's questions are very directional, but because they are based on already existing elements of Kazmi's life, they don't lead the interview into deception. Kazmi liked to talk about her love for family and her childhood, sneaking off to the cinema with her siblings. She also seemed to like explaining her job and the way it worked in the present. She may have been more bored by talking about how her gender makes her position unique because that has grown old to her. 
      From these three documentaries, I learned bit's and pieces of knowledge which have surely added to my jigsaw puzzle of learning. It was interesting and grievous to hear how brutally the Sikhs in 1984 were killed for the crime of two under their religion. Even more intriguing and lamentable, however, was that Sikhs truly believe they are following the truth, and yet they aren't. It was saddening to see such devout people and to know that they were and are far from the truth. I would like to learn more about the Sikh religion and their teachings.
      In the second documentary, I was most intrigued by the relationship between Laxmikant and Pyaralal. They spent so much time together, eventually they almost seemed to have a telepathic relationship with regards to music. There was nothing in that documentary, however, which spurned any further interest. 
      In the third documentary, I was intrigued by the limits on Indian cinema. It was also interesting simply to sort of get to know a random person. I would like to find out more about Indian cinema restrictions and the person of Sahira Kazmi.
   

  Sahira Kazmi

      

1980's or the 1950's? Back to the Future

      

       Right now, it's 2015. This is the year Marty McFly and Doc, from the 1985 movie Back to the Future, went in their time machine. Yes, it is; It's strange to watch a movie from the past about the past's past. In the first Back to the Future movie, Marty didn't go to 2015, but he went to 1955. Through such a point of view, you can see the way the 80's saw the 50's, and not just how we see them. You can also see the differences between the 80's and the 50's and contrast them with today.

      The most obvious of differences between these three decades (50's, 80's, and the 2010's) is fashion - at least, it is the easiest to identify. The 80's were... interesting. Imagine blue eyeshadow, tacky vests, and baggy blue jeans. Better yet, imagine bell bottoms. These were the 80's. It wasn't all neon colors and frizzy hair, though. People liked all sorts of colors, not just the bright ones, and just as our fashion fads and styles vary now, so they did then. 

      The 50's were sweet and charming. Girls didn't really wear pants. Instead, they wore charming knee length dresses or blouses with skirts. They wore sweet little heels of pastel and neutral colors and makeup that was subtle yet charming. The boys were pretty classy. They wore their plaid jackets and their pleated dress pants along with a pair of nice dress shoes. Their hair was nicely slicked back and they had a feel of efficiency to them.

      Today, almost all girls wear pants. Maybe some of us wear skirts and dresses occasionally too, but the common thing is to wear pants. We like our skinny jeans and we like our short shorts. When we wear skirts, they're usually a bit up above the knee paired with a pretty blouse tucked in. We really have a million styles though. I suppose living in the now makes it hard to identify what makes our decade different. Well, we like graphic t-shirts. We like leggings. We like oversized cardigans in winter and undersized shirts in summer (belly shirts, that is). I, myself, like few of these variables, however they are the present within popculture. 

  Cultural and social differences between these three decades are harder to identify. They can be found in a general sense, however. If the film, was accurate, then I am somewhat accurate; if not, I'm not sure where I am. The 80's were all about swagger. People, primarily the youth, had a strong sense of independence about them and seemed as if they might break out into a music number any moment.

One strong example of this street-kid aura is how Marty, from Back to the Future, gets places by holding onto the backs of vehicles while riding a skateboard. At the time, I suppose the 80's kids were cool. It's interesting to look at them now, however, because they seem so tacky. This may be partially due to the fact they are our parent's generation. 

 

      The 50's [to me] said "let's have fun". They were preppy, but exciting; charming, but still real life. Their was a social order and bullying wasn't all too uncommon. It may have been a survival of the fittest sort of regimen. The pretty girls were, well... as in every era, liked. The biggest difference, however, between now and then is that the dumb jock stereotype still had a lot of power back then. They have much less now, at least in my experience.

      How about now? The present just seems like a blender of concepts to me. Because I am not significantly involved in it's pop culture, I can see there is more to the present than our pop culture. I will try to describe it, though. People are doing something unusual today to "fit in". They are trying to be different. At the same time that they're trying to be different, however, they are falling into clumpy categories. Some that come to mind are hipsters, sporty but funny people, and sweet prepsters. Of course, however, people can't be stereotyped too readily, especially when one is up close.

      How did the 80's see the 50's? How do we see the 50's? How do we see the 80's? The main difference between our perception of the 50's and the 80's perception of the 50's is not literal distance of time, but distance of familiarity. The 80's generation had parents from the 50's. They experienced second-hand fifties. The same thing goes for us about the 80's. Teens don't usually want to be just like their parents and judge them more than most people. Most likely, they attach that dislike to their perception of anything closely related to their parents. Therefore, we both see our parent's generation as a bit tacky - a bit ridiculous. The 50's, however, are not so infused within our lives to lose all interest. True; our grandparents came from the 50's, but we don't live with them every single day. The 50's are different enough and unknown enough to still hold appeal.