Inner city: Danina Stefan revisits Sarajevo

‘My whole being would stand still, full of awe’

Sarajevo is my birth town. I spent a happy childhood there, and many years of peace and prosperity. That was until the war.

But, as they say, when one door closes another opens. If that horrible war hadn’t happened, I would never have come to England and made dear friends here; I would never have met my husband and given birth to my son. I would have never become a Quaker. That’s life, I suppose.

The war stopped years ago – at least, the one fought with weapons. Sadly, the one fought with words is still going on, dragging the country down in every way.

I still love Sarajevo and enjoy visiting. In spite of everything, it is a nice town. It’s now a popular tourist destination with a lot of history, an interesting mix of old eastern (Turkish) and western (Austrian) culture and architecture, and of course there are new, modern buildings. There is good food and friendly people. The beautiful surrounding mountains make it even more attractive.

My family and I went a few years ago and, as always when I go to my birth town, I experienced something new and profound. The apartment we were in had an interesting position: on one side there was an old catholic church and on the other, a mosque.

The church bells rang every quarter of an hour, reminding us how quickly time passes. Sometimes, during nights when I couldn’t sleep, I was able to find out the time just by listening to the bells. And every morning at seven o’clock they would ring the loudest and the longest, inviting us there for a prayer. Yet again, I was reminded how short my life is, and not to waste any moment of it on treacherous regrets and fears, hatred and resentment, and who knows what else.

On the other side of the flat, I would experience something else, which seemed to me equally important. From time to time we could hear the call to prayer, the song of the muezzin from the mosque. It was beautiful and devoted singing: slow, with pauses, and it brought me to a totally different state of mind. It slowed me down, making me stop whatever I was doing, and listen. And I mean really listen: not only to the sounds but also to the pauses, which led me to something else, something deeper – something mysterious, wondrous and mystical. My whole being would stand still, full of awe, feeling the silence in between the sounds. During those moments I would be carried away to another world, the world of peace and eternity.

I wish everybody could experience that. It’s a feeling that stands in contrast to all wars, and with it the world is a much better place. Those who hear it know that every moment of our lives is cherished and valued, and every life respected. I wish… I wish…

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