Contradictions

Sarajevo is a funny little city. A few contradictions in terms which I’ve noticed this week:

The place is buzzing. The main street is continually thronged with neighbours wandering up and down, spotting the talent and gossiping. Its bars and cafés are packed all day, every day. On weekday afternoons you can’t get a seat beside a window anywhere on the main streets. This seems to me entirely at odds with Bosnia’s poverty stricken economic situation: why does the nation look so leisured? Why aren’t they all out there somewhere ‘struggling’? The reason: the 46% unemployment rate. Almost a full half of the working population literally seem to have nowhere else to go and nothing better to do all day, every day. At least they seem to spend their time sociably.

Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH) has a 46% unemployment rate and is still struggling to overcome the economic and industrial destruction of the war. What seems a curiosity to me however is the certainty of this magic number: how can they calculate an exact unemployment rate, when there has been no census carried out since before the war. The authorities have very little idea of exactly how many people are in the country, where in the country they are (a highly significant issue in this federally divided state), what ethnicity they belong to, or which of the many governments they vote for.

As for the government, don't get me started. I refuse to even begin describing it here, but BiH is divded into state, federal republic, cantonal and local governments, all of which I suppose are a source of that all-important employment. You thought Belgium had it bad? Try a country smaller than Ireland which has 162 ministries. The political arrangements are so complicated that frequently there is no clearly defined hierarchy between ministries, governments, civil service departments or even the courts. And similar to the census, it seems to be more convenient for the sake of many interests not to have to clarify things.

The popular perception of BiH as a conservative Islamic society. Reports of the war, the atrocities carried out here, the post-conflict rebuilding efforts and the war crimes trials all described the effect of the conflict upon a particularly enclosed, modest, traditionalist community: of ostracisim and stigma and shame. Yet this simply doesn't seem bourne out once you're here. Take the female victims of the conflict for example, hundreds of whom have been exceptionally brave in testifying to the courts about their experiences without suffering rejection or shame. I can’t speak for rural areas, but in Sarajevo at least there is no such thing as conservatism: couples kiss on streets, beer and the rakia (plum brandy, local moonshine) are flowing, the nightlife goes on for six rather than two nights a week, and hem lines are short. Really short. Shorter than I would ever wear… certainly shorter than I’d wear in conjunction with the fake tan and the FMBs and the blond highlights. The style on a night out here is something quite shocking. Conservative, moi?

And last but not least: the contradiction of the beautiful women. They're stunning. On my first afternoon here, wandering around the streets while I tried to find a lonely traveller’s supper, the sheer beauty of the girls was startling. The heels, the hair, the dresses. The eyes. Those cheekbones could kill a man. And the contradiction? The women are so beautiful, and the men, well, are… not. I won’t offend any Balkan male sensibilities by going any further. But one-sidedness this marked is a contradiction. And going by the reactions of the (predominantly male) backpackers in the hostel, Sarajevo is a good place to be a guy.