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Kon Dikhes? / Who Do You See? | Hedina Tahirović-Sijerčić, Lynn Hutchinson Lee

#romani #roma #romi #bosna #bosna i hercegovina #bosnia and herzegovina #art #romanichal #lynn hutchinson lee #canada #gurbeti

I go home. The door is open. No one is home. Mother! Father! No one responds. Sisters! Brother! No one answers. The house door is open. Perhaps they’ve gone to my uncle. I go and check. They’re not there. My family is gone. There’s no one. I re-enter my house I sit down. I prepare coffee and drink it alone. I see everything as it was: Soup on the stove, Roasted meat in a pan, Salad and baked bread on the low Turkish table I eat the soup prepared by my mother And go out the door The sun is scorching. Maybe they went to the Turbe. I pass through the upper part of the Quarter Leading to the Turbe. There are no Roma in the Quarter I pass by the homes Of Alija, Lafita, and Husica, Nura and Selma. I look inside, wanting to see Meha and Safija Sejdic Their cab sits in front of the entry. Smoke rises from the stovepipe They’re cooking for the grandchildren again But there are no Roma. I get up and proceed. On my left are garages and on their roofs, old auto parts and scrap iron. Water gushes from the taps Someone’s pipes are broken again. I walk slowly because I really want to observe the Quarter. Once more my gaze follows the houses, now to the right I pass the house where Bajro and Grozda Tahirovic lived. Now Refik and his family live there – Kosovar Roma. New Roma have come to the Quarter. I go on and come to the tiny house of old Muste and Zejfa A brother and sister who never married They know how to fight and swear like no one else on earth. They are the best. But there are no Roma. Between these two houses lies the way to the small home Of Bajro Pujpica and Ljubica Besic, Ema and Ramo Mrvica and Celo Tahirovic. I continue on. Here lives Bajro Tahirovic, and beside him Mejra and Tale, Hajra and Bugar Sejdic, Raba and Ramiz Besic, and the home of the family Hasanovic. But there are no Roma. The Quarter is empty. I go on, crying. I see the Turbe. Father’s car isn’t here. I leave behind the house that belongs to Iso and Hajra, and the son Kemo. They aren’t there either. I look down and among the shacks where Kaja and Paso lived, Cina and Musa, Tuna and Trajan with their children. So much garbage around the shacks! Ripped, old, dirty skirts and dresses, Filthy, tattered shoes, spoiled food and paper. Continuing on, I see a tent. A ripped, pathetic, poor man’s tent. Kaja sits before it, as usual. A fire burns In front of it, a piece of sheet metal And on the metal sits a Turkish pot black coffee inside. Good little Kaja. She kisses me. In the shade of the tent sleep five children I sit and drink coffee with Kaja. I want to ask about my family And where they have gone. Fear takes away my voice. Menacing sounds of aircraft above! I tremble with fright My blood freezes. Kaja and the children scatter. Grenades! Bombs! I awake startled in a foreign land. — Hedina Tahirović-Sijerčić, Dream 2, from "Dream 1, Dream 2"

#romani #roma #bosnia and herzegovina #bosna i hercegovina #bosna #hedina tahirović-sijerčić #poetry #writing #gurbeti

For 15 years now, I have lived between three cultures: Balkan, Western European ‚ and North American. My life experience as a Romni (Romani woman) living between those three worlds has been very rich. I have met Roma from countries all over the world – both domestic and refugees. I have met our Romnije (Romani women) all over the world, and especially our Romnije living in Bosnia, Germany, France, Italy and Belgium. The lives of all Romnije are the same – it doesn’t matter where they live. Our tradition and culture are too heavy and too powerful to change the suffering faced by our women throughout the history of our people. I am here to talk about Roma women from Bosnia and Herzegovina, about their problems and their situation in their families and in the larger society. But I cannot talk about this without informing you at the same time about the whole Roma situation in Bosnia and Herzegovina, and their position there which is ultimately reflected on the women.

#romani #roma #romi #gurbeti #bosnia and herzegovina #bosna #bosna i hercegovina #hedina tahirović-sijerčić #articles

Dream 1

I am in my Romany Quarter In Gorica, on Dajanli Osmanbega Street. I am happy. Ragged children around me, The happy, tattered, neighbourhood Romani children All around me. I am happy. I have many glittering candies Dirty little hands reach for them Warm black eyes yearn for them Pretty red mouths devour them All the Roma are in the Quarter No one works As usual. The surroundings are beautiful. Women’s bright Turkish pantaloons sweep by As do men’s old, colourful shirts Barefoot children running barely-clad, with warm Romany hearts, among the garbage, amid the poverty. Dirty, dusty, poor, bright, and happy. Many Roma sit on the ground, Conversing, laughing Inside, each listens to the music of his neighbour Suffocatingly loud Whose stereo is the loudest? I laugh. Girls dance, Youths watch. The old people drink coffee, sitting on the floor by the doorway Whiling the day away, Romany style. In front of Shecho ‘s house sit ten Roma They form a large circle seated on the ground. What are they doing? I approach and see a large pan between them Filled with roasted meat and freshly-baked bread. They tear the bread by hand, And eat red tomatoes, while quaffing down strong whisky, Together. Like true Roma. They see me and call out, "Sit down sister! Eat with us!" I sit and eat Along with them. I am happy. — Hedina Tahirović-Sijerčić, Dream 1, from "Dream 1, Dream 2"