The Place Then and Now: Sarajevo and Belgrade

In a place with a heavy recent past, silence may be care.

By Neil Solomon · 3 min read

Picture a couple named Paul and Anne. They are sitting at a table in a café in a city they have just moved to. Anne asks the waiter, in a cheerful voice, where he is from. His answer is short. Paul sees something pass across his face and thinks, I should have read more before we came.

I thought of that scene when I read two short notes from people living in Sarajevo and Belgrade. They are very different cities, and I do not want to blur them. But the two notes shared one idea: the past is close.

Two notes

Sarajevo. One person said the past is present there. It was a thoughtful remark, not a complaint. I take it to mean that history is not behind glass in a museum. It shows in conversation, in places people point to, and in what they choose not to say.

Belgrade. Another person advised knowing the history of the 1990s. The tone was alert. It sounded like friendly advice from someone who learned the hard way that a casual question can land heavily.

I will not say more about those years than the notes did. I was not given details, and I would not want to guess at them. What interests me is the human question. How does a newcomer, comfortable and curious, move through a place where recent history is still a living memory for the person serving their coffee?

My reading

I think the answer is a mix of reading and listening. Reading first, so you do not ask a question that hurts. Listening after, because the people who lived it will tell you the parts that no book does, if they choose to, and when they choose to.

I also think it helps to remember that the place is more than its worst years. A city can be heavy with memory and still be warm, funny and full of good food. Both are true at once. The newcomers who sounded most comfortable seemed to hold both.

One small scene

Anne says, "I asked something I should not have."

"He did not seem angry," says Paul.

"No. But I think I understand a little better why people go quiet."

I would add one more point. Newcomers sometimes take silence for coldness. In a place with a heavy recent past, silence may be care. It may mean the person is deciding whether you are someone to trust with the story. That takes time, and time is something retirees usually have. I think that is a quiet advantage of arriving later in life: we are not in a hurry to be told everything.