Though the past week has been a dizzy haze of sickness, I am slowly getting better and have managed to get some end-of-semester work done in the meantime (over a week ahead of time!—miracle of miracles).
Last weekend, half our Calvin group was in Croatia on the final group trip of the semester. Croatia was mild, if a bit damp; it seemed perpetually shrouded in a thick fog that only got deeper from Thursday to Saturday. I thought it was sort of appropriate though—this land of mystery, its face always half-covered—I don’t think any trip could ever reveal all that is Croatia.
We learned a lot. About patience. Tension. Neighborhood rivalries. Spite. Church corruption.
We drove through village after village—stopping to learn some cultural history here, some Balkan war history there. On Saturday, we explored Vukovar—the site of an 87-day siege during the Croatian War of Independence (Aug-Nov 1991). Located at the intersection of the Danube and the Vuka River, Vukovar straddles the border between Serbia and Croatia; by 1991, the city was already located in a Serb-dominated region, and the Croats didn’t really stand a chance.
For nearly three months, the city was pelted with artillery, gutted with bombs. When there was hardly a pile of bricks left standing, the Serbians succeeded in overrunning this Croatian stronghold……and hardly any civilian—Serb, Croat, Hungarian, Bosnian—was alive after they ran through. BBC reporters who arrived soon after found the streets flowing with blood and Serb paramilitaries chanting this taunt:
Slobodane, Slobodane, šalji nam salate, biće mesa, biće mesa, klaćemo Hrvate!
Slobodan [president of Serbia/Yugoslavia], Slobodan, send us some salad, [for] there will be meat, there will be meat, we will slaughter Croats!
Sick. It’s like a bunch of overgrown kids hurling insults across the fence, whipping out slingshots to back up their screams.
On our way out of the city, we stopped at the watertower which has become a symbol of the city, this battle, the war. Its pockmarked cement and brick front--poked through with twisted steel, marked with a thousand shells and bullet holes--is a standing remnant of war casualties…but it only hints at the deforming scars that still mar the social-political relations seething in this place. More on that later.
"Do not put your trust in princes, in mortal men, who cannot save." --Psalm 146:3
11.23.2008
11.12.2008
TRIPPIN
This semester has become a funny cadence of hurried homework and Budapest days interrupted by long measured weekends abroad. It is a good and crazy way to live...but the tempo hurries us on faster and faster and now I can hardly believe I have about one month left in Hungary. (Ah! That shocked me just to type it.)
Two weeks ago we were heading northeast out of Hungary on our way to the Ukraine (not exactly a tourist hotspot). Our group was in light spirits, buoyed by the rare sunny, sixty degree weather. I didn't sleep at all in the vans on this trip, so I have a mental film reel of vibrant fall trees, standing in straight and tall rows along dirt roads or stolidly alone in flat country fields...row upon row of heavy sprawling vineyards staining houses and fences and fields purple and burgundy and blood red...a thousand rippling waves of honey-colored sunshine on overripe fields...
I thought that if we flipped the world around a bit, and east became west and west became east, and that black stain of lingering communism hung over England and France instead, Ukraine would be the world's Switzerland or Monaco. It was gorgeous. But then again, part of me was glad about the lack of Americans and ski slopes.
We spent a lot of time with the Ukrainian people--attending a reformation day service, ambling through Gypsy villages hand-in-hand with dark-eyed children, tip-toeing through cemeteries laden with flowers and ribbons to honour the dead (All Saint's Day is huge here), sharing meals with the local pastor and his family, holding babies in a hospital orphanage. This trip shook and stirred and delighted and troubled me...and I am very grateful for it.
All of a sudden, it is the eve of our next trip--Croatia--and I am not nearly done thinking on this one. But I figure that's ok because all these thoughts and experiences keep mingling and layering up and enhancing each other...so finally when some of it spills onto my blog it will be that much richer and more complete.
As always, thank you for your prayers. God is good.
Two weeks ago we were heading northeast out of Hungary on our way to the Ukraine (not exactly a tourist hotspot). Our group was in light spirits, buoyed by the rare sunny, sixty degree weather. I didn't sleep at all in the vans on this trip, so I have a mental film reel of vibrant fall trees, standing in straight and tall rows along dirt roads or stolidly alone in flat country fields...row upon row of heavy sprawling vineyards staining houses and fences and fields purple and burgundy and blood red...a thousand rippling waves of honey-colored sunshine on overripe fields...
I thought that if we flipped the world around a bit, and east became west and west became east, and that black stain of lingering communism hung over England and France instead, Ukraine would be the world's Switzerland or Monaco. It was gorgeous. But then again, part of me was glad about the lack of Americans and ski slopes.
We spent a lot of time with the Ukrainian people--attending a reformation day service, ambling through Gypsy villages hand-in-hand with dark-eyed children, tip-toeing through cemeteries laden with flowers and ribbons to honour the dead (All Saint's Day is huge here), sharing meals with the local pastor and his family, holding babies in a hospital orphanage. This trip shook and stirred and delighted and troubled me...and I am very grateful for it.
All of a sudden, it is the eve of our next trip--Croatia--and I am not nearly done thinking on this one. But I figure that's ok because all these thoughts and experiences keep mingling and layering up and enhancing each other...so finally when some of it spills onto my blog it will be that much richer and more complete.
As always, thank you for your prayers. God is good.
11.04.2008
ELECTION DAY 2008
Good morning everyone. It is election day in the US, so all of you will be heading to the polls in a few hours to cast your vote for our future president and one of the most influential men in the world.
I cast my vote about a month ago so now I just sit back and watch. Our group will head out on the last tram to Prof. Corwin's tonight for an election party; because of the time difference, we're starting at midnight and staying until at least 3:00 a.m….but even then we'll only get the first wave of results, so its quite possible we'll be waiting until the sun comes up.
It's interesting to watch the election from outside the overcrowded, jostling American media sphere and to gauge the reaction of Europeans toward the election--the politicians, parties, process. There have been numerous mock elections conducted through magazines and media outlets across Europe and the vote has come out overwhelmingly in Obama's favor; indeed, most of the Hungarians we talk to hope for an Obama victory. So now we shall see what the American people decide.
In any case, I am thrilled to be an American today. Despite the media's overplay of party conflict, none of you will be threatened out of going to the polls; you don't have to fear overeager police brandishing tear gas and clubs or overzealous mobs wielding bombs and bats. Regardless of tonight's outcome, we don't have to fear the collapse of our government or dissolution of our constitution, and life will continue relatively normally after the results are confirmed this election day. Numerous social institutions will continue to freely advocate the cause of different social, ethnic, economic, and religious groups--including those you belong to--in the public sphere and American society as a whole will continue in this characteristic harmonious dissent.
At the end of the day, we'll all still stand behind the red, white, and blue. For all that, we can be thankful.
Cheers.
I cast my vote about a month ago so now I just sit back and watch. Our group will head out on the last tram to Prof. Corwin's tonight for an election party; because of the time difference, we're starting at midnight and staying until at least 3:00 a.m….but even then we'll only get the first wave of results, so its quite possible we'll be waiting until the sun comes up.
It's interesting to watch the election from outside the overcrowded, jostling American media sphere and to gauge the reaction of Europeans toward the election--the politicians, parties, process. There have been numerous mock elections conducted through magazines and media outlets across Europe and the vote has come out overwhelmingly in Obama's favor; indeed, most of the Hungarians we talk to hope for an Obama victory. So now we shall see what the American people decide.
In any case, I am thrilled to be an American today. Despite the media's overplay of party conflict, none of you will be threatened out of going to the polls; you don't have to fear overeager police brandishing tear gas and clubs or overzealous mobs wielding bombs and bats. Regardless of tonight's outcome, we don't have to fear the collapse of our government or dissolution of our constitution, and life will continue relatively normally after the results are confirmed this election day. Numerous social institutions will continue to freely advocate the cause of different social, ethnic, economic, and religious groups--including those you belong to--in the public sphere and American society as a whole will continue in this characteristic harmonious dissent.
At the end of the day, we'll all still stand behind the red, white, and blue. For all that, we can be thankful.
Cheers.
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