When we are dragged into the pits of oblivion, the darkness chews at our skin. The stars are scraped away by the slithering shadows, and the moon is swallowed by the dank sea. Your eyes are blind, tripping over your own steps. However, when least expected, an orange glow heaves, consuming the void around you. There’s a lit candle, and when you finally decide to pick it up, you can see again.
I was feeling poetic…
The bottomless void represents the chaotic circumstance in Sarajevo, which is deteriorating the humanity of its residents. When you are blind in this darkness, you lose yourself. The characters in The Cellist of Sarajevo have demonstrated this, as we see them lose their way. They are overwhelmed by hatred, bitterness and despair. However, they manage to rebuild their humanity after listening to the cellist, who breaths purity and hope into his melody for Adagio in G Minor. The cello is a lit candle in a dark room. This was the central topic for my third group discussion.
“The wood glows rich and warm against the drab grey of shattered paving stones…” (Galloway 74).
Arrow’s internal conflict has been adequately discussed in my blog. She has abandoned her innocence and flooded her veins with violent adrenaline to battle the men on the hills. She has lost herself.
Interestingly, I noticed that the first and final chapters following Arrow begin with the same two sentences: “Arrow blinks. She has been waiting for a long time” (Galloway 9/253). This represents transformation. In the first chapter, she is waiting to kill soldiers as a spectre in an office tower. In the final chapter, she is waiting to be killed after listening to the cellist. Edin Karaman’s unit is pursuing Arrow after her abandonment, but she refrains from defending herself despite her capabilities. “They have found her because she has allowed them to. […] Twice she had Edin Karaman’s head in her sights, but she never pulled the trigger” (Galloway 254). While the unit breaches her apartment, she drops her façade as “Arrow,” and returns to “Alisa.” Her humanity has been restored, moments prior to her presumable demise.
“When the first notes sound they are, to her, inaudible. Sound has vanished from the world. She leans into the wall. She’s no longer there. Her mother is lifting her up, spinning her around and laughing. The warm tongue of a dog licks her arm. There’s a rush of air as a snowball flies past her face. She slips on someone else’s blood and lands on her side, a severed arm almost touching her nose. In a movie theatre, a boy she likes kisses her and puts his hand on her stomach. She exhales, and pulls the trigger” (Galloway 75).
The music generates personal memories that are clashing with Arrow’s present thoughts of negativity.
There is a darkness that corrupts Kenan’s soul. When Kenan journeys to obtain water, he carries six plastic water bottles attached together by rope tied around the handles. With the rope thrown over his shoulder, this eases transport. Kenan also carries the containers for his peculiarly stubborn neighbour, Mrs. Ristovski, but they are soda bottles that lack handles, which is awkward for Kenan’s expedition. She ignores his plea to change containers and refuses to use Kenan’s backup bottles. “He can’t understand why she insists on these particular containers, why she can’t switch to ones with handles. […] She’s been dealing with the water shortage for exactly the same amount of time that he has, but without having to make the trek down a hill, through town, across a bridge, up another hill and home again. If anyone should be set in his ways it’s him” (Galloway 118). Kenan’s frustration later seizes him, and he decides to abandon Ristovski’s bottles at the Ćumurija Bridge.
Following his decision, Kenan is overwhelmed by increasing bitterness after he witnesses a deal between a truck that hauls water and a privileged business man. There are businesses exploiting the devastation in Sarajevo by selling water and other goods at high prices. “All [Kenan] sees is the man in the track suit beside the Mercedes, and all he wants to do is put his hands around his throat” (Galloway 206). Kenan sprints towards the man, but he leaves in his Mercedes before Kenan could strike.
Kenan’s cowardice and willful spirit has evaporated. He has lost himself. However, his attitude changes after listening to the cellist. Kenan understands that Ristovski’s inconsideration is the result of a traumatic experience, similar to how his personality was plummeting from the stress of Sarajevo. He then returns to retrieve Ristovski’s containers at the Ćumurija Bridge.
The first and final chapters for Kenan begin identically as well: “Another day has just begun. Light strains its way into the apartment, where it finds Kenan in his kitchen, his hand reaching for the plastic jug containing his family’s final quatre-litre of water” (Galloway 21/241). In the first chapter, Kenan automatically activates his light switch while entering the bathroom. Although he did not expect any light, the lightbulb still shone for a curt duration before it died again. In the final chapter, Kenan repeats the ritual and the lightbulb surprisingly activates. This time, the electricity remains. This represents Kenan’s newfound optimism in his endless cycle of gathering water.
“The building behind the cellist repairs itself. The scars of bullets and shrapnel are covered by plaster and paint, and windows reassemble, clarify and sparkle as the sun reflects off glass. The cobblestones of the road set themselves straight. Around him people stand up taller, their faces put on weight and colour. Clothes gain lost thread, brighten, smooth out their wrinkles. Kenan watches as the city heals itself around him” (Galloway 209).
To Kenan, the cellist is rebuilding Sarajevo with his music. Kenan now sees his mission for water as a way to rebuild the city since it is sustaining his family.
Dragan’s situation is unique, since he never encountered the cellist, nor did he plunge into a bitter state. However, there are two changes that we see in Dragan in which he regains his humanity. In his first chapter, the opening line is, “There is no way to tell which version of a lie is the truth. Now, after all that has happened, Dragan knows that the Sarajevo he remembers, the city he grew up in and was proud and happy with, likely never existed” (Galloway 33). Sarajevo has now completely shattered and is lost in the abyss of Dragan’s memories. He is unable to even imagine the city intact.
Sarajevo is gone.
Fortunately, Dragan manages to engage in conversation with an optimistic Emina, a friend of his wife. She has seen the cellist on multiple occasions, which has inspired her to roam the chaotic streets and distribute pills that can assist anyone in need. Dragan receives the cellist’s gift of hope through Emina’s warmth. She revives Dragan’s memories of old Sarajevo, which influences him to rebuild the city. When a foreign news reporter arrives, Dragan risks his life to enter an intersection overlooked by a sniper, and drag a corpse behind a boxcar. The reporter is now unable to film the carcass. “I will not live in a city where dead bodies lie abandoned in the streets, and you will not tell the world I do” (Galloway 236).
The opening line to Dragan’s final chapter is not identical to the beginning of his first chapter, but it contrasts. “There is no way to tell which version of a lie is the truth. Is the real Sarajevo the one where people were happy, treated each other well, lived without conflict? Or is the real Sarajevo the one he sees today, where people are trying to kill each other, where bullets and bombs fly down from the hills and the buildings crumble to the ground?” (Galloway 247). Dragan then acknowledges that the Sarajevo he once knew is disintegrating, but it remains alive. “He knows which lie he will tell himself. The city he lives in is full of people who will someday go back to treating each other like humans. […] He will continue to walk the streets. Streets that will not have dead and discarded bodies lying in them. […] If he wishes to live, he must do what he can to prevent the world he wants to live in from fading away” (Galloway 248). Thus, Dragan crosses the street at a steady pace, completely disregarding the sniper that is overlooking it. In his mind, he is crossing the street in the old Sarajevo. The city will only collapse once the civilian’s spirits collapse. A city’s sustainability depends on the humanity of its people to rebuild it. This leads to Dragan’s second change.
Dragan preferred to evade conversation since he knew he would be reminded of what is missing in his life. “Dragan can barley bring himself to nod a polite hello to a stranger let alone talk to an old friend…” (Galloway 78). This is evident when he notices an old friend named Amil approaching. Dragan escapes the conversation by turning his back and glancing at a wall. However, Dragan’s revelation allows him to speak freely to people. At the end of the novel, Dragan passes an elderly man and says, “Good afternoon.”
“He remembers what he told Emina about the cellist, why he thinks he plays. To stop something from happening. To prevent a worsening. To do what he can” (Galloway 234).
Dragan contemplates the cellist’s motivations before he removes the corpse from the camera man. He understands that the cellist performs to prevent something from worsening. That potential worsening is the decay of the human spirit.
In moments of darkness, chaos and desperation, it is amazing how people can retain their optimism. They are liberated from violence, bitterness and disparity. It is impossible to grasp confidence or redemption from oblivion without a candle. In this case, the cello is a candle.
I will now leave you with a question, dear reader…
What else can be considered a candle?
SOURCES
“Judith Ermert’s Cello.” Dag van de Cello met Judith Ermert, Legatokortrijk. 5 March. <http://www.legatokortrijk.be/dag-van-de-cello/>.
Wannasuk, Rewat. “Red Lighted Candle.” Candle Photos, OLYMPUS IMAGING CORP. E-300, Pexels. 1 Dec. 2006. <https://www.pexels.com/photo/red-lighted-candle-220618/>.
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