In 1992, a war breaks out in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Motivated by ethnic and religious differences, the conflict affected the households of millions of people. Zlata Filipović, an eleven-year-old girl living in Sarajevo, records the changing pace of her life in her diary. What starts as the ordinary hobby of a carefree teenager soon turns into a terrifying and poignant account of the horrors of the war. The skiing trips, MTV charts, and chats with her friends are supplanted by shelling, and hiding in dark cellars. Zlata’ s Diary, published in 1993 (translated into Slovak in 1994), has become an international bestseller, with Zlata referred to as the Anne Frank of Sarajevo. The very form of the diary enabled Zlata to record her immediate emotions and worries as the world she had known disappeared in front of her eyes. The personal and the public intermingle, and the reader is provided with a first-hand account of the war conflict.
Fifteen years later, Vesna Maric, who is only four years older than Zlata, revisits her recollections of the conflict in her memoir Bluebird, published by Granta this year. The book opens with Vesna’s memory of TV footage depicting demonstrations in Sarajevo; suddenly, a young student is shot by a sniper and becomes the first official victim of the war. Those who expect to find other bloody accounts of the war will be, however, disappointed. Unlike Zlata Filipović, who remained in Bosnia until December 1993, Vesna fled her hometown Mostar soon after the war started.The memoir thus consists primarily of her experiences as a refugee struggling in a new environment. Maric provides hardly any background information or historical-political context for the war; therefore, some readers might feel a little bit lost at the beginning. At first sight, this lack of context may seem like a defect, weakening the message of the book by not depicting the core of the conflict. Yet Maric’s strength lies elsewhere.
Instead of presenting a mere chronological retelling of her personal experience, Bluebird consists of short episodic narratives which introduce Vesna’s fellow refugees and her new English acquaintances. At the age of sixteen, Vesna and her older sister boarded a charity bus heading for Penrith in the UK for safety. The four-day journey itself represented a remarkable spectacle exposing her tragicomic co-passengers: Dragan, “a factory manager and an amateur poet” (p. 30), who fell in love with a lady who never left her house; the 52-year-old Gordana, resembling Xena, the Warrior Princess, who announces that she is pregnant; the doctor’s wife who keeps smoking despite her heart problems; and the interpreter Esma who goes mad during the journey. Piteous moments are followed by grotesque ones, as the women fight for charity fur coats in a church or dress themselves in their finest clothes, thus contradicting the usual bedraggled image of refugees.
To be labelled as a refugee and to live as one is definitely not easy. Deprived of her home, her family, her language, the feeling of security, and even the diacritics in her surname, Vesna has to start anew. Slowly, she integrates into English society and finds new friends; her life finally becomes filled with casual activities – smoking, drinking, dating, studying… From time to time, letters from her father and friends or visits from other refugees remind her of the atrocities happening in her homeland.
After four years of waiting, Vesna is finally granted official refugee status. The news is received with relief; despite the fact that Hull (the city that she moved in) “will in future be voted the worst place to live” (p. 212), she likes her new home and her new life. The idea of living in Bosnia again is frightening. Yet as soon as she obtains her new papers, Vesna embarks on the journey home. Coming home is probably the most touching chapter of her memoir. Switching suddenly to second person narration, Vesna describes how it feels to come back home after the definition of home has been forcibly reedited. “It is difficult to grip on the time that has passed. Everything has been frozen in your memory since you left and now everything is different.” (p. 219) And the old slippers under her bed, symbolically, do not fit anymore.
Bluebird offers a remarkable reading, delightful and humorous despite its gloomy subject matters. At the same time, it succeeds in planting some pressing questions in one’s mind.
This ambitious anthology published by New Internationalist unites the writings of twenty three authors coming from fourteen different countries. Some of them, like the Pulitzer Prize-winning writer Jhumpa Lahiri or the internationally acclaimed Chimamanda Ngozi Adichie, are probably well known by readers all over the world. Some names might be new but are nonetheless equally talented. Despite such a wide range of authors whose stories, naturally, discuss diverse topics, the whole collection speaks with one voice. It is a powerful voice that cannot be overlooked nor ignored.
One of the most impressive stories included in the collection is Kelemo’s Woman written by the Nigerian writer Molara Wood. It presents a moving story of Iriola, whose life is determined by her lover’s political activism. The story challenges our notions of fidelity and self-esteem when one is faced with the question of survival. The title of the story stresses Iriola’s position right from the beginning – she is deprived of her name, i.e., of her identity. She is defined as an obedient companion of her dominant partner who is actively involved in the present political turmoil of their country. As Iriola says: “My role in the struggle ahead was mapped out for me. I knew the drill. I would support as the loyal partner to the courageous, self-sacrificing activist.” (p. 22)
Molara Wood employs vivid imagery in order to create impressive parallels between the country and Iriola – both fighting for survival. The opening scene depicts Iriola’s and Kelemo’s lovemaking which is interrupted by the sound of Newsflash announcing the coup d’état. The private and the public mingle uncompromisingly; the intimate sphere is violated once again. The deformed and blurred images of deserted towns occupied by soldiers, produced by the old television set, reflect Iriola’s fatigue. For four years she has been living a “dicey, precarious life” to which she was “vicariously sentenced” (p. 20).
Yet, there are moments when Iriola wonders how it would feel to be her own woman. Recalling her mother’s deathbed wish, she decides to take her life in her own hands. The price to be paid for her liberation and independence is, however, too high. Since it cannot be achieved without a humiliating submission to other men, Iriola’s victory at the end is rather pyrrhic.
Similarly, Growing My Hair Again written by Chika Unigwepresents a story of another strong and intelligent woman. Following the murder of her abusive husband, Nneka has to take part in a mourning ritual overlooked by her domineering mother-in-law. Yet the procedure, requiring an ostentatious emotional involvement, contrasts deeply with her true feelings. The marriage, in which Nneka had to submit to her violent husband and suppress her personality, belongs to the past now and she savors her newly-gained freedom. The subdued emotions finally erupt in an uncontrollable explosion of laughter which marks the beginning of a new era in her life.
A large number of the narratives depicts human struggles for survival in difficult financial times: Ovo Adagha’s story Homeless provides a touching portrayal of a family that is forced to move into a slum. A demolition deprives them even of their dilapidated shack and leaves the family helplessly on the street. In Leng Lui is for Pretty Lady Elaine Chiew introduces the life story of Alina, who is working as an amah for a rich Honk Kong couple. Separated from her family, Alina has to cope with her abusive employers. Since the loss of the job is out of question, she is not able to defend herself and thus has to cope with their inappropriate behaviour.
Other stories discuss issues of alienation (both cultural and personal), identity, maturity, initiation, or assimilation. It is quite interesting that most of the stories are written as first person narratives, thus manifesting the oral traditions of these countries and contributing to the mysterious effects of storytelling.
Despite the unique experiences and cross-cultural differences among the involved countries, the anthology succeeds in eliminating the borders between them by joining the narrative voices in unison.The introductory words of Ovo Adagha and Molara Wood support this intention: “[…] regardless of our differences or the disparities of our stories, we are united by our humanity.” It is obvious that the stories in the collection have been chosen with great care, and they will surely resonate in the reader’s mind long after the reading is finished.
Ing. arch. Viktor Šabík - Genius Loci Kehan DeSousa's literary workshop Ľubomír Feldek, Tina Čorná and Igor Hochel - Time, Memory and Storytelling Noemi Najbauer on Memory and John Donne Agata Strzadala on memory in Polish cities Agniezska Golda-Derejczyk - Memory in selected visual narratives
The Dept. of English and American Studies has launched a new academic journal in 2009. The name of the journal speaks in multiple ways. Its Latin opens up in an interpretation full of oxymorons. On the one hand, as a dead language, which no one in the world speaks anymore, on the other hand as the language that still surfaces in a number of disciplines and is traditionally associated with scholarship and science.
The word ars delineates the scope of the journal. It is our aim to discuss the questions of art, the way it forms and deforms our experience, our perception of the world, our position in the world. Art here is understood in a broader and more traditional sense as a skill, stratagem, craft or science and therefore allows for the fusion of discussions from various scholarly disciplines.
The journal is open to contributions of scholars across various disciplines; we would like to establish a platform where the linguists could interact with historians, literary scholars with art historians, philosophers with mathematicians.There would not be art without creativity and that is also the quality we assume that each individual paper will strive for -- to become intellectually stimulating and illuminating.
The word aeterna has been always linked to Art. The works of art not only transgress any time – subjective, seasonal, or mechanical. They have the ability to dislocate their viewers and percipients from a time flow and in that touch the eternity.
Therefore discussions, analyses, and interpretations of works of art and other cultural products generate a discourse where the world is dealt with as an eternal idea, which comes to existence in myriad forms through the culture, people, and politics or education.
Some hints at what to expect in November during our Art in Memory, Memory in Art project (for more info check out the section EVENTS) - November 9-13, 2009
The selected films all explore the topic of the week - MEMORY.
film: ATONEMENT (2007)
Fledgling writer Briony Tallis, as a 13-year-old, irrevocably changes the course of several lives when she accuses her older sister's lover of a crime he did not commit. Based on the British romance novel by Ian McEwan.
film: THE REMAINS OF THE DAY (1993)
A butler who sacrificed body and soul to service in the years post World War II realizes too late how misguided his loyalty has been.
film: THE WOODSMAN (2004) A pedophile returns to his hometown after 12 years in prison and attempts to start a new life.
In: EUROLINGUA & EUROLITTERARIA 2009. - Liberec: Technická univerzita v Liberci, 2009. - ISBN 978-80-7372-544-0. - (2009), s. 361-365.
Simona Hevešiová
Abstract:
In 2004, the Repertory Theatre in Birmingham produced a play called Behzti (Dishonour) written by a Sikh playwright Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti. The staging of the play resulted in massive demonstrations and violent protests of the Sikh community who considered the content of the play offensive and inappropriate and these eventually led to the play’s cancellation. The paper seeks to demonstrate how religious and ethnic sensibilities clash with the freedom of speech and how our postmodern, multicultural world manifests its readiness to celebrate cultural diversity. Moreover, it provides a glimpse of an ethnically and religiously unburdened interpretation.
The notoriously known hysterical reception of Salman Rushdie’s novel The Satanic Verses, manifested (apart from other things) by the burning of the book, the issuance of fatwa that forced Rushdie into hiding and the death of its Japanese translator,exposed the sensibilities of literary representation. These disquieting protests and perturbations only confirmed that imaginative literature is not free from political, religious or ethnic tensions and is far from being viewed as a space for creative expression of the artist. In words of James Procter: The emphatic rejection of The Satanic Verses, by the very communities it appeared to represent, highlighted the crisis of representation which has been a recurring feature of the reception of black and British Asian fiction since 1980s (Procter, p. 102). Hanif Kureishi, a British-born writer of Pakistani origin, has been, for example, frequently criticized by members of the Asian community for their negative portrayals in his fiction. His texts often defied the stereotypical representations, being full of drugs, sex, homosexuality and other atypical or inappropriate behavior; but Kureishi vehemently refused to be forced into the role of a spokesperson.
Similarly, Monica Ali’s novel Brick Lane inspired comparable reactions within the Bangladeshi minority living in Britain when the book was about to be adapted into a film version in 2006. There were protests and threats of blocking the filming because the Bangladeshi community felt their depiction in the book is unjust and negativistic. The director Peter Florence commented that [i]t's not remotely comparable with the reaction to The Satanic Verses, but there is the same feeling of people who haven't read the book insisting that it does not say what they believe should be said, or that it does say what they regard as unspeakable (Kennedy, 2006). Again, the way and the form of literary representation of an ethnic minority were questioned since they were in sharp contrast with its conceptions. The most problematic parts of the book were probably Ali’s references to verbal and physical attacks between local (i.e. Bangladeshi) political camps which resulted in an absurd hate politics igniting xenophobic passions.
Tumults over a fictitious work were flared also in December 2004 when the second play by a British-born Sikh playwright Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti called Behzti (Dishonour) has been produced by the Birmingham Repertory Theatre. This time, however, riots and physical violence came into play and the situation escalated to such an extent that further performances of the play had to be canceled and the writer went into hiding (hence the obvious parallel with Rushdie’s case which lead to the label Behzti affair). The Sikhs marked the play as offensive to their religion and faith since it situated insulting actions and abominable behavior to a sacred place, i.e. to a Gurdwara (Sikh temple). Talks between the theatre and local Sikh representatives were initiated; yet apart from the fact that no results were achieved, even the very meaning of the attempted dialogue was misunderstood by the parties involved. While the Sikhs referred to the meetings as to negotiations that were supposed to lead to changes in the offensive content, the theatre preferred the words consultations or conversations (Grillo, 2007, p. 18). So what exactly made the play so debatable?
The play opens with a prologue that displays a rather complicated mother-daughter relationship. The eccentric Balbir Kaur, a physically disabled widow in her late fifties, is exposed in full vulnerability in front of her 33-year-old daughter Min who takes care of her. The exchange, spiced up by coarse language and rude remarks, makes it clear that they are getting ready to attend some religious ceremony in a Sikh temple. While Min is looking forward to participate in the religious celebrations that she had not attended since she was a little girl, she does not seem to know at first that her mother, who is in her own words not bothered with the holy things written in the book (Bhatti, 2004, p. 30), has other plans with her. Balbir wants Min to speak to Mr. Sandhu, the Chairman of the Gurdwara’s Renovation Committee and a person of authority, who is believed to possess a list of the most respectable Sikh men, i.e. potential husbands for Min. Min is tied to her mother who is not able to take care of herself and thus neglects her personal life. Balbir’s decision to find a husband for her is, as she herself proclaims in the play, intended to show her daughter life outside their house and secure her future.
The remaining parts of the play are then situated in Gurdwara, a sacred place for the Sikhs where celebrations of the birthday of Guru Nanak are taking place. Balbir and Min are accompanied by Elvis, Balbir’s non-Sikh home carer, so the text also contains some instructive passages introducing basic aspects of the religion as Min is relating them to him. Nevertheless, it is obvious right from the opening scene in Gurdwara that not all Sikhs come to the temple to pray and find comfort in god. We are introduced to Balbir’s old friends Polly and Teetee who steal shoes from the shoe rack in the temple and call other people hypocrites while both of them pretend not to know anything about the terrible deeds that happen in Mr. Sandhu’s office; later on Polly attempts to seduce Elvis who is in love with Min.
Balbir informs them that Min is going to talk to Mr. Sandhu in order to find a husband; Teetee’s question if she is sure that that is what she wants for her daughter foreshadows the dishonest practices of Mr. Sandhu, yet Balbir is totally ignorant of them (as is the reader/spectator at this point). When Min is thrown into his office, the existence of the famous list of potential husbands is denied since it functions only as a lure for young women to visit Mr. Sandhu’s office without him being suspected of doing anything amoral. Min discovers, as Mr. Sandhu (emotionally struck by her resemblance to her dead father) admits it to her, that her father Tej had a homosexual affair with him. The accidental discovery by little Min many years ago distressed her father to such an extent that he jumped out of a train and ended his life. For this reason, Mr. Sandhu blames Min for Tej’s death. The scene then ends with Mr. Sandhu raping Min whose screams merge with music from the worship area (another detail that the Sikh representatives objected to).
As it turns out Mr. Sandhu’s practices are a public secret; no one, however, dares to protest since he is a powerful and rich man, able to influence other people’s lives – both in a positive and negative way. As Mr. Sandhu himself remarked: Whatever things look like, there is always another story, always the truth underneath the show. After a while we get used to the disappointment (Bhatti, 2004, p. 108). It is Teetee who tells Balbir the truth in the end. Unable to grasp the grim consequences of her fatal decision, Balbir murders Mr. Sandhu in an act of desperation and thus completes the long list of detestable acts committed in the Gurdwara.
In fact, the play might have astonished even a non-Sikh readership since the scope of disgraceful, inappropriate or shocking subject matters (or whatever we call them) was rather wide (if not too wide) – ranging from stealing, drug addiction, homosexuality, hypocrisy, violence, verbal abuse to rape, suicide and murder. To some people the play may appear as overloaded with negative images and behavior which are de facto all attributed to the Sikh community and that was precisely the stumbling block. Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti explains this strategy in the foreword to the play:
I find myself drawn to that which is beneath the surface of triumph. All that is anonymous and quiet, raging, despairing, human, inhumane, absurd and comical… I believe it is necessary for any community to keep evaluating its progress, to connect with its pain and to its past (Bhatti, 2004, p. 17, emphasis added).
As Ralph D. Grillo remarks Sikh representatives were prepared to accept much of the play’s content, provided that changes were made to the setting and use of symbols (2007, p. 22). As for the setting, a suggestion was made to situate the events of the play to a community center instead of a temple; the severest objection was raised to the inappropriate juxtaposition of terrible deeds and sacred symbols (ibid., p. 7). In this context, Samuel Beckett’ s short story First Love may come to one’ s mind as a comparable example. Beckett’s story which succeeded to violate several aspects of the Western cultural code depicts fragments from a nameless man’s life who is coping with what is perceived as his first love. There is a scene in the story where the man, sitting on the toilet, struggles with constipation. At the same time, he is looking at an almanac with the picture of Jesus:
At such times I never read, any more than at other times, never gave way to revery or meditation, just gazed dully at the almanac hanging from a nail before my eyes, with its chromo of a bearded stipling in the midst of sheep, Jesus no doubt, parted the cheeks with both hands and strained, heave! ho! heave! ho! (Beckett, 1974, p. 15).
Clearly, by referring to these disparate images in one sentence and placing Jesus into a rather unusual context (to use a milder term) Beckett desecrated the sacred. James Joyce’s masterpiece Ulysses also contains similar juxtapositions, the sacred and the secular being confronted in a very direct way which was perceived by some recipients as offending. Bhatti’s explanation for the provocative content of her play is as follows:
I believe that drama should be provocative and relevant. I wrote Behzti because I passionately oppose injustice and hypocrisy. And because writing drama allows me to create characters, stories, a world in which I, as an artist, can play and entertain and generate debate (Bhatti, 2004, p. 18).
Yes, Behzti definitely did generate debate. The debate was, however, somewhat misdirected from the author’s intention and the message of the text which were veiled by the passionate talks about the external events rather than the play itself. The discussion was more or less reduced to questions of incommensurability and incompatibility of religious and secular values in a multiethnic, multicultural, multi-faith society and to the rights and limits of freedom of speech and the protection of religious sensibilities (Grillo, 2007, p. 6). Unavoidably, the interpretation of the text having been influenced by all these issues drifted away from a disinterested reading (if that is possible at all). A solely literary examination of the play’s events may, however, uncover a story with a very straightforward message.
Apart from or rather beyond the religious and cultural context, Behzti tells a simple story anyone can relate to. If Gurpreet Bhatti were not regarded as a spokesperson for the Sikh community (which she is not), another, more human dimension of the play would emerge. Behzti discusses questions of authority and abuse of power, hypocrisy, injustice and pretence – notions which are not attributed culturally or religiously. It portrays people living in pitiful and depressing conditions that are dependent on and rely on those having the possibilities to help them. But were the helping hand is expected, none is offered; instead, Mr. Sandhu keeps misusing his position and authority for years because he lives in a society where material goods, well-being and the fear of authority predominate over honesty, truthfulness and self-respect and where hypocrisy is tolerated. The religious dimension into which the play was placed can be easily transformed to any other context where power and authority play a role. Behzti presents a universal warning. And perhaps those who are affronted by the menace of dialogue and discussion, need to be offended (Bhatti, 2004, p. 18).
Bibliography:
Beckett, S. First Love and Other Stories. New York: Grove Press, 1974.
Donkervoet, G. The Controversy that is Gurpreet Kaur Bhatti. Available at: http://www.sas.upenn.edu
Grillo, R.D. Licence to offend? The Behzti affair. Ethnicities, 2007, Vol. 7, No. 1, pp. 5-29
Kennedy, M. In a sense, if you come under fire from those conservative people, you must be doing something right, 2006. Available at: http://www.guardian.co.uk/uk/2006/jul/28/bookscomment.books
Procter, J. New Ethnicities, the Novel, and the Burdens of Representation. In A Concise Companion to Contemporary British Fiction. English, J.F. (ed.). Oxford: Blackwell Publishing, 2006, pp. 101-120.
