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
2 comments:
I think I speak for everyone when I say that this was very well written. I really enjoy the way you write Leah. It not only tells, it illustrates.
Hi Leah!
I just learned how to post a comment! Ok, never mind that...
Patti and I continue to enjoy learning from what you experience. Most poignantly, your experience at Auschwitz (sp?). When in Germany I visited Dachau and believe I have had somewhat the same experience as you. Truely amazing the depth of human depravity!
Glad you're feeling better. We look forward to seeing you upon your return. Hope you can take a bit of time for Patti and I.
Bob & Patti (the better half)
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