Water is rationed,
and only comes on twice a day for a couple of hours. Consequently, there
are large containers dotted around the place, and the boiler is switched
off. I get up and stoically have a cold shower, which, despite the fact
that it will get to over 30 degrees outside later on, feels like it has
just been delivered from a glacier secreted in the back garden. Shivering
and dripping, I bump into Simon in the corridor who cheerfully greets me
with "Good Morning! Hot water's in the big green pot on the stove
if you want a bath..."
We wander down
to the river, past the sign warning that snipers are active for the next
hundred metres, and that the bomb shelter is another hundred metres back
the way we came, and sit at a corner cafe by the bridge where Simon nearly
got shot a few months back. When the bullet whizzed past his ear, fired
down from the lovely little cottage up on the hillside, nobody paid much
attention as it hadn't actually killed anyone... It was such an every day
occurrence that they had become completely accustomed to it, like noisy
children in a neighbour's garden.
Breakfast consists
of mushroom omlettes, with a salad garnish that would have brought people
flocking from all over the city not so long ago. Although they survived
the most appalling conditions, and fresh fruit and vegetables are now readily
available, the cummulative effects of depravation are starting to show,
and people are starting to get sick. Suicide and general mortality rates
are also rising.We pop into the office and pick up the Land Rover for a quick tour of the city. Having now disengaged the diff lock, it seems to be much more cooperative about only driving where we specifically ask it to, and feels a lot more stable at high speeds.
The extent of the
war damage is quite unbelievable - not a single house has escaped bullet,
mortar or rocket fire, and every street carries it's distintive pattern
of mortar bursts. However, everywhere you look there are signs of life
in amongst the smashed windows and blown away walls. Washing hangs on balconies
right beside gaping burned out holes that used to be the flat next door,
and one can't help but marvel at the adaptability of the people who lived
through it.We get to the suburb of Dobrinja that was the front line for 3 years, and during the height of the fighting there was an incoming large caliber round or mortar once per second. It shows. You simply can't believe that anyone could have survived, yet whole families had no choice but to stick it out and fight.
We come across the bonnet of an armoured car that features in Hermann's comic strip 'Sarajevo Tango', and can't resist getting out and posing for a group pic. Nearby is the graffiti 'Welcome To Sarajevo' that features in U2's video 'Miss Sarajevo', and the amazing sight of an Ilyushin jet that skidded off the runway into a minefield, and has been stuck there rotting away ever since.
We head back towards the city, with a running commentary on the way:
"That used to be the TV station..."
"That used to be the main Post Office..."
"That used to be the Telephone Exchange..."
Harris comes over to play with his new toys, and tells us another bit of incredible news... Not only did we slip though customs and a roadblock yesterday, but there was a small landslide that took out the road we travelled on about an hour after we passed... We are beginning to think that strange forces are at work here, and have started to treat our mascot Buzz Lightyear, who we picked up in a pack of batteries on the way, with new and increased respect. He goes with us everywhere, and his famous strapline "To Sarajevo, and beyond..." can often be heard. The alternative is that we are surfing on the leading edge of a powerful Dobbsian Luck Wave, and the wake of inverse luck is leaving a trail of havoc and destruction wherever we go. I'm also starting to get a little worried about Tim, who is developing cravings for cakes, and describes in great detail an Apple Danish he once bought from a passing backpacker in Peru.
The kit is unpacked and assembled. We have an SGI Iris server, an Apple Quicktake digital camera and a couple of notebooks. After a little surgery on a cable tester's power supply, we have a mini hub up and running, and have built a small network in my bedroom. While we're doing all this, the lads set about replacing all the oxygen in the room with cigarette smoke - a feat which I am to learn can even be achieved at outdoor cafes with a little help from the locals. The camera is excellent, and everyone is impressed by the quality of the pictures. It will be extremely useful for providing ongoing information about projects running down here and everyone wants to get their hands on it. They will have to wait though, as Tim has an idea for a project - something to do with calenders, local girls and automatic weapons...
Finally it's off down the road for dinner of beer and pizza, sitting outside watching all the white landcruisers, armoured land rovers, squat US Humvees etc., and seeing who can inhale 30 Malboro the fastest, then back inside before 23:00 when the coutrywide curfew begins.
Missing you, Tel...
The WoW Effect?
We 3...
JCB Over and out
Roger, Roger, What's the Vector, Victor?
Livin' on the Front Line
Sarajevo Tango: Simon, Adam and Tim
