I have written a poem that illustrates the chaotic world of those will live in Sarajevo under siege. My creation came to life with the assistance of Photoshop in order to add a few aesthetics. It is told from the perspective of someone living in Sarajevo during the siege.
I must say, I am quite satisfied with the vivid imagery expressed in my poem. However, it is slightly complicated, therefore I will elaborate on some details.
The ongoing mayhem in Sarajevo is depicted as an endless tempest. The raindrops are mortar shells and the lightning bolts are snipers.
You’ll fall from the mists of the tempest and land among roses. This represents how death is the only release from the surrounding pandemonium.
The poem mentions that the storm can be waited out in shelter, but they will eventually have to leave in order to retrieve food and water. Once you leave the shelter, you will get wet, since you do not have a rain jacket. The only way to remain dry is to avoid the rain pellets, which of course is impossible. This represents the consistent and unavoidable danger in Sarajevo. There is no protection and you are always vulnerable.
Our city has become a silhouette beneath a greater hurricane. There is a thunderstorm in Sarajevo, but the entire land is caught in a hurricane. The hurricane represents the entire Yugoslavian Crisis, which is a political disaster that is powerful, catastrophic and irrepressible. With a single city caught in this enormous eruption, there is not much that the rest of the world can do.
As the hurricane continues to gnaw at the city, the storm worsens. The wind has become screams, water has become blood and snow has become ash.
This storm has no eye. To the citizens of Sarajevo, the hurricane has no eye, thus its annihilation will cease to ever calm. This also possesses a hidden meaning, since no eye indicates the lack of external overseers. It appears, to these citizens, that nobody has acknowledged their plea for aid.
My poem paints an image of vulnerability among chaotic obliteration. The devastation of the situation only increases without any external assistance. Every day, Sarajevo’s citizens must tread into this perilous storm to retrieve necessities such as food and water. However, there are two aspects about this tempest that are the most terrifying. You do not notice rain until you are wet, and you do not hear the sound of a lightning bolt until it strikes.
This question was inquired by Arrow, who was referring to the men on the hills. Although she brawls for the city’s defense, even she is unaware of her enemy’s motivations.
The Cellist of Sarajevo blossoms a chaotic world that is crumbling from merciless invaders. The novel captures life under siege rather than a history lesson of the war, but for me, this creates hollowness. It is clear that the men on the hills are corrupt, since it is never acceptable to take the lives of the innocent, but what awoke the ferocious mentality of these men? Who are they? How does murdering innocent civilians support their unknown cause? Why is Sarajevo seemingly helpless in its defense?
What is the bigger picture outside of Sarajevo?
I found my answers in an article published in 1994, during the events of the siege.
Yugoslavia, a multicultural society, encountered political tension that would divide the nation into individual states. Serbia became the most uptight over the presumable detachment, as Serbs residing in the newly autonomous states may be oppressed. Following Yugoslavia’s separation, Serbia embarked upon a mission of genocide in their neighboring factions, which was their approach to ethnic cleansing. Sarajevo was besieged by Bosnian Serbs who rebelled against the country and were supplied by Serbian forces.
A map of former Yugoslavia.
This explains the motivations of the men on the hills in The Cellist of Sarajevo. The Serbs believed that the citizens of Sarajevo despised them and would oppress them. Thus, they aspired to liberate Bosnia from the Bosnian Muslims and claim it as Serbian territory. This commenced the endless cycle of blind hate that I explained in my blog post about my overlooked messages from the novel.
The article unexpectedly fed more of my curiosity on a different topic. I was always intrigued regarding the absence of external forces in the story. America’s inaction is the most confusing, since the nation has frequently acted as an international police force. This was genocide, and America is often obligated to prevent crimes against humanity. In my Second Discussion Post, I briefly mentioned international support. The article explains the role adopted by the United States and how they could have taken larger action.
The lack of western support triggered criticism from the public. America, under the presidency of George Bush, knew that a civil war was about to erupt before Yugoslavia’s collapse. The Secretary of State, James Baker, cautioned Yugoslavian leaders of Serbia’s developing aggression. Other than this, the United States did not make much effort to prevent the inevitable civil war.
An image of Dubrovnik, Croatia. This was one of the first cities that the Serbs assaulted.
Serbia’s first target was Croatia, who was desperate for external aid. The Pentagon declined deployment of infantry or airstrikes to impede the Serbian forces before they got out of hand. I surmise this lack of action was to save American lives, equipment and money from being wasted on a conflict that does not concern the west.
Once the Serbians assaulted Bosnia, US airstrikes in the territory would have made it clear that the west would become involved if the Serbs continue. However, Washington was discouraged by the possibility that bombardments may destroy the Serbian positions in the mountains. This would have caused the rebels to march on the city, thus blocking imports of food. Therefore, in The Cellist of Sarajevo, we see the snipers hiding in the mountains without fear of an assault from above. But why was Bosnia unable to launch any airstrikes from their own arsenal?
Under the influence of America’s Secretary of State, James Baker, Europe embargoed all of the Yugoslavian nations. Baker’s intent was to reduce the arsenal of each nation in order to decrease the intensity of the conflict. Alas, this only weakened Serbia’s rivals. Since the Serbs were prepared for the war, this did not cause them much harm. President Bush rejected the idea of lifting the embargo, which was later proposed by the Pentagon. This explains Bosnia’s helpless position compared to the men on the hills.
I was surprised to learn that the Bosnian government did hope for American aid once George Bush was replaced by Bill Clinton in 1993. I was also surprised to learn that Clinton proposed a peace treaty that disappointed the government officials of Bosnia.
President Bill Clinton in Bosnia.
Bosnia anxiously waited as Clinton’s team developed a plan. The White House ultimately offered a peace treaty to the Bosnian Serbs. The treaty would give the Serbs 43% of the nation, the Bosnian Muslims 31%, and the Croats 21%. Since the Serbs were succeeding decisively, they refused to negotiate. This also made it evident to the Serbs that America will remain passive in the conflict. The Bosnian government was furious that the United States offered such a pointless treaty. President Clinton decided to temporarily ignore the issue, and passed it on to new officials.
What does the White House do now? National Security Adviser Anthony Lake, thought that perhaps the embargo could be lifted but Europe did not approve of this. They also refrained from an airstrike, as they did not want Serbia to act violently against them.
The Americans eventually labelled the crisis as a “European Problem.” Secretary of State, Warren Christopher, explained how the Jews never committed any atrocities towards the Germans during the Holocaust. However, the Bosnian Muslims have performed such actions towards the Serbs. Therefore, Washington decided not to pick sides.
After the Serbs launched 3,777 shells, and later launched a single mortar shell that murdered 68 citizens, Christopher decided to propose another peace treaty. The Serbs finally removed their forces from Sarajevo for a temporary cease-fire.
Simply put, the Americans did not wish to waste their military resources on a conflict that did not directly concern them. Rather, they hoped to solve the issue diplomatically. This explains the lack of American military support in The Cellist of Sarajevo.
What about the United Nations? Europe did supply peacekeepers, and in 1993, they established six safe areas in Bosnia that could harbor refugees. This was a delayed response, since the conflict had already been active for 2 years.
The contributions of the United Nations and America were never mentioned in The Cellist of Sarajevo. Perhaps they occurred after the events of the story (which indicates the slow response of the world), or maybe their contributions were ineffective. It is also possible that this demonstrates the heavily disrupted circulation of news in the city.
In The Cellist of Sarajevo, Kenan believes that, “what the world wants most is not to think of it at all” (Galloway 61). Clearly, he has good reason to think that.
Although complicated, it is now completely clear as to why western support is never seen in Steven Galloway’s novel. I believe that this is deliberate, as to show criticism to the western’s passiveness.
This article also explains the motivations of the men on the hills, and how they were able to overwhelm Sarajevo without much retaliation from Bosnia.
I have also realized that the Bosnian Conflict was a complicated issue. If Stephen Galloway’s novel elaborated on the historical background, it would have become a history textbook, and thus divert the reader from the story’s themes.
The Sarajevska Pivara. This is a genuine brewery in Sarajevo that is featured in the novel.
The pipes at the brewery can not be deactivated, therefore, the water is always gushing. It slithers down the pavement in an undrinkable stream.
The sight bothers Kenan, but he is aware that it is impossible to prevent. The least he can do is fill up his water bottles cautiously, praying that he won’t spill anything, thus contributing to the waste.
However, Kenan’s attention on the water is disrupted by two mortar shells that impact his region. He is undamaged, but stunned as he glares at the swarm of critical injuries. One lady lost her foot, and another man ended up with a mutilated ear. Fortunately, other civilians are tending to the causalities. They are lifting the wounded to cars, where they can be transported to safety. Kenan does nothing but observe the scene. He wishes that he could offer support, but instead returns to the brewery.
The wasted water from the brewery continues to bother Kenan. “He reaches out and puts his hands over the pipe. It’s easy to block, and the water stops, but all around him other pipes continue to flow. He’s soaked to the skin, and he knows that he can stand here with his hands on the pipe for a year and it will make no difference” (Galloway 164).
The gushing water symbolizes a larger idea. This idea explains Kenan’s reluctance for supporting the surrounding casualties. He does not see the relevance of helping.
Kenan perceives the water as life. In Sarajevo, life is wasted everywhere, just like the water. Blood keeps spilling, and spilling, and spilling. There is no way to prevent that. If you provide assistance to a casualty, that does not forestall the men on the hills from inducing more injuries. The other water pipes keep spilling.
Often the wounded individuals are permanently damaged, such as the woman without a foot. They are hurting and they will always hurt. It is easy to assist them, but it will never heal them. Blocking one water pipe is a simple task, but the water will flow again as soon as the hand is removed.
This is Kenan’s mindset. It is human nature to collaborate with each other and assist those in dire conditions. The key to success is cooperation. Among the pandemonium of war, when wounded civilians require aid, some people simply do not offer support. They are not fearful, they do not see the relevance of how their minor contribution will make any significant change.
It is a terrifying mindset, since it is stepping away from human instinct. Through this beautiful analogy, Steven Galloway has presented us with more psychological damage that is evoked through warfare.
However, Kenan had other motivations to temporarily avert the water’s flow. “Buildings are eviscerated, burned, gutted, streetcars destroyed, roads and bridges blasted away, and you can see that […]. But when people die they’re removed, taken to hospitals and graveyards, and before the bodies are healed or cold the spot where they were shattered is unrecognizable as a place where anything out of the ordinary happened. This is why the men on the hills are able to kill with impunity” (Galloway 164). The water is cleansing the scene, removing the blood and human residue. Kenan believes that this keeps the men on the hills from punishment. Without any evidence, nobody is preventing them and they do not feel the need to stop.
The water is life, and as life continues to flow in this city, they wash the death away. The civilians who are removing the wounded and carcasses erase any evidence of mortality. Therefore, the men on the hills only see a continuous flow of life. A continuous flow of targets.
This is Kenan’s mindset. He feels pressured to assist those in need, but he unconsciously believes that cleaning up the scene is covering a wound that must be shown. The ideal option to assisting these people is to tackle the source by allowing the men on the hills to visualize the aftermath of their massacre. It is unsettling to imagine a city that benefits from a mess of disembodied corpses, but this is Kenan’s mindset.
War drags people from their human nature and inflicts psychological damage in numerous ways. Steven Galloway is quite skilled at demonstrating this.
Life is precious in Sarajevo, but it is wasted. The blood keeps spilling.
Imagine that your daily routine is disrupted by witnessing a murder. The event would indubitably haunt you with disturbance for quite a while. Now, imagine that you reside in a bombarded city, with consistent death all around you.
Our society has sufficient access to our desired material goods. Imagine that we struggle to obtain our craved luxuries, but we are given a sudden opportunity to receive them.
Galloway constructed a world where people have grown apathetic to the consistent death around them. These people also lack luxuries, since they prioritize survival resources, which are vital and scarce. The Cellist of Sarajevo reveals these ideas in numerous ways, some of which I have already disclosed, but there is a particular demonstration that is presented in a hidden yet powerful fashion.
Dragan was unaware of the hat’s name, but he described it as a detective hat. Therefore, I imagined it as a deerstalker, which is famously donned by Sherlock Holmes.
While Dragan waits to cross at an intersection, he notices a man in a hat approaching from the other side. “The man wears a brown hat with a peak, a type of hat Dragan has never owned but has always thought looked good” (Galloway 133). While the man sprints across the street, he is impacted by the sniper. The hat soars from his head and settles in front of Dragan. The man, around three metres away, continues to breath a little longer, until the sniper fires at him again, rupturing his head.
Dragan’s acquaintance, Emina, was impacted by the sniper as well, and she was carried back to safety by strangers behind the boxcar. Before Dragan moves to assist his friend, he lifts the deceased man’s hat. “Dragan looks down and sees that the hat is in his hands. He doesn’t remember picking it up, has no idea why he’d do such a thing. He looks at the hat, runs his thumb along the brim, and then he leans down and sets it on the asphalt before turning to Emina” (Galloway 136).
After initially reading this passage, I was perplexed to its meaning. It would be rather difficult to own material that a deceased person wore moments prior to the explosion of their head. Nevertheless, Dragan ignored the carcass that was only three metres from him, his head collapsed. Dragan ignored the chaos that erupted while people brought Emina to safety. Dragan ignored his injured friend once she returned to the boxcar, ceasing to check her condition. He was blindly attracted by the hat.
Dragan is unconcerned by the surrounding pandemonium, and unconsciously settles for the hat. He is aware that his wounded companion deserves more attention, but his subconscious values luxurious goods over comforting an injured individual. This is an example of desensitization and desperation among the citizens caught in war.
If I were to uncover a piece of music that is completely unrelated to The Cellist of Sarajevo, would I still be able to draw connections? I accepted this challenge by analyzing a song that originated from an anime about the prohibition era. Ladies and gentlemen, I will connect the song, “Signal” by Toru Kitajima (TK), to The Cellist of Sarajevo.
A screenshot of TK from the music video for “Signal.”
The original song is in Japanese, but here is an English translation sung by “Esturd”. Keep in mind, the English singer altered the Japanese lyrics to suit the melody. My analysis is based on this altered version.
The song is used as the opening for an anime called, 91 Days. I have never seen the series, but it follows a child, named Angelo Lagusa, whose family were murdered by the mafia. Fueled by hate, the child avenges his family by slaughtering the mafia members who shattered his family. Interestingly, he commits these killings under a different identity, which is Avilio Bruno, presumably to repress the remorse of his actions.
Avilio Bruno
Does this remind you of anyone? A gasp escaped my throat when I discovered that the anime’s premise and the lyrics to its opening, parallels Arrow’s internal conflict
If I could choose a name, these emotions would be freedom
See how they are already changed
These lines explain liberation from remorse. The song references someone who appeases the guilt from their villainous actions by claiming that they committed them under a different identity. If they choose a name, their remorse would be relieved. This is a unique definition of emotional freedom that is identical to Arrow’s definition.
However, the term “freedom” may portray a different significance. Arrow, does not only avenge the merciless destruction of her city, but the death of her family. Arrow’s father, who was a policeman, was butchered by the men on the hills in one of the first frays to protect Sarajevo. The vengeance that she receives from killing the men on the hills may also be considered her emotional freedom.
After one failed attempt to eliminate the rival sniper who is assigned to assassinate the cellist, Arrow is upset. “When she doesn’t kill, she feels a loss that reveals a hostility within her that goes deeper than a lack of remorse. It’s almost a lust” (Galloway 110). It is clear that Arrow definitely feels a surge of freedom as she seizes vengeance one shot at a time. Killing is not Arrow’s desire but rather her duty. When she does not accomplish her duty, she feels a sense of failure
But what drives me to commit all these unforgivable sins
Now pauses before it melts away
May the meaning of that day, when I lay there drenched in blood,
Never be forgotten anymore
It is hate that feeds Arrow, but the novel concludes with the depletion of these furious emotions. After she disobeys the orders from Karaman’s unit, she becomes a priority on their hit list. Albeit, she refuses to kill them. “Twice she had Edin Karaman’s head in her sights, but she never pulled the trigger” (Galloway 254). The hatred that previously fueled Arrow pauses, but it completely melts away once her life sinks into the pits of death.
Arrow allows Karaman’s unit to breach the apartment and take her life. However, this is also the day that she returns to her former innocent identity, Alisa. This is the day that she will rest, drenched in blood. She wishes to be remembered as Alisa rather than Arrow. Thus, she prays that the meaning of this day will never be forgotten.
But if this hatefulness begins to fade, I’ll lose both your death and my resolve
So I will remain as this version of me, made up of all these rotting sins
[…]
Oh, hatefulness, won’t you stay by my side?
Don’t leave me till by my hand you’ve died
These lines return to Arrow’s malevolence prior to her demise. She is determined to bring death upon the men on the hills, thus her rancor and identity as Arrow must remain.
Now I yearn for company, but please leave me alone here
If you keep on smiling at me, then I’ll know that these scars won’t disappear
But I will do my best to never let them free
In The Cellist of Sarajevo, we never see Arrow engage in friendly conversation, and she approaches people with a cold barrier. When visiting her commander, Nermin Filipović, it is obvious that she is uncomfortable due to her silence and awkward interaction. “[Arrow speaks] looking him straight in the eyes, something she rarely does” (Galloway 69). When Filipović later dismisses Arrow from his command, they hug. “Despite remaining always at a distance, he has become the closest thing to a friend she has” (Galloway 190). She does not wish for people to befriend and connect with Arrow, since this is not her authentic character. If substantial people recognize her as Arrow, it will be a challenge to remove the identity. Thus, her “scars” of murder will remain eternally.
Eternal knife that carves a lasting signal into my bleeding memories
Even if the pain can all be wiped away by this compelling spiral,
That version of me that continues wandering begins to fade inside me, hiding!
This is the chorus of the song. The first line signifies the pain that continuously returns to Arrow. In my Third Discussion Post, I inserted a quote that reveals the girl’s memories while listening to the cellist. “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. […] 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 final line from this quote is crucial, as it exposes the guilt that will permanently remain within her memories.
The compelling spiral mentioned in the second line, represents the numbing of Arrow’s emotions as she adapts to her executions of massacre. “She thought about what it might be like to pull the trigger and have her bullet hit a living being instead of a piece of paper. She was mildly surprised to find that the thought didn’t horrify her, that she could probably do it, and she could probably live with it” (Galloway 70).
The final line describes the disappearance of Arrow’s former version of herself. “She’s aware, now, that the woman who sat in this office on that day and said she didn’t want to kill anyone was gone, […] she has lost sight of the person she was…” (Galloway 72).
None is all
These are three words that are repeated four times as closure for the piece. I perceive this as Arrow’s mindset to cope with her murderous persona, which I explain in my First Discussion Post. If Arrow fails to murder anyone from the adversarial group, then more people from Sarajevo will suffer. Thus, killing none (the men on the hills) is killing all (the residents of Sarajevo).
The lyrics of “Signal” bleed anguish. They represent a desperate ache for change, however, most lines are delivered in a whisper. The lyrics understand that the desired transformation is impractical.
This transformation is to be free from executing murder.
It’s rather fascinating that I was able to connect Arrow’s internal conflict with the opening to a Japanese television series. Not to mention that the protagonist to 91 Days correlates to our sniper as well. Clearly, many stories share the same ideas to create depth in their premise.
I stumbled upon an out-of-context interview with Steven Galloway, in which he reveals his motivations for writing The Cellist of Sarajevo. My Second Discussion Post discusses my speculations on Galloway’s messages in the novel. This interview, however, confirms his motivations, and I was rather surprised with the simple messages that I overlooked.
IT IS EASY TO HATE
Hey there, dear reader! It brings me great joy to see that you have ventured into my domain. It is time to rejoice your appearance, because I love you. ❤
Actually, I was lying. I hate you. You’re an asshole. Get off my blog now.
I confess, that was a preposterous introduction. However, those two previous sentences evoked different emotions. The first was presumably creepy, while the second spawned feelings of anger. In the interview, Galloway presented a contrast to people’s responses in moments of love and hate. Love is difficult to achieve, while hate is summoned unbelievably easily.
If you give an amorous expression towards someone, reciprocated emotions are never guaranteed. Not to mention, that an arbitrary and blunt, “I love you” is often returned with confusion or skepticism.
A statement that resembles distaste towards you, immediately triggers a reciprocated response. Often, the statement does not even need to be delivered directly. If you are informed that someone hates you, you automatically feel negativity towards that person.
This reminds me of a bizarre social experiment, where a man roamed the streets of Paris with a sign that read, “Free Hugs.” He was ignored by most people. However, when he changed the sign to “Free Slaps,” the crowd obeyed. Humans mistrust random emotions of affection, but they submit to requests for violence.
The emotions of hate can explode easily. Galloway intends to exhibit this from the men on the hills. In the interview, he says, “What happens in the world is that we let other people tell us who to hate. Including the people we end up hating. That is exactly what happened in Sarajevo. One group of people were told by their leadership that another group of people hated them.” The book reveals the group’s solution, which was to spill innocent blood.
The despised group returns that hatred as the need for resolve surfaces. Often, they respond the same way. This is evident when Arrow is recruited by Karaman’s unit, and she is instructed by her supervisor, Hasan, to assassinate a civilian. It is an elderly man that freely roams Grbavica, which is territory occupied by the men on the hills. When Arrow refuses to snipe the harmless man, Hasan argues that, “He’s one of them. They are his sons, he is their father, or grandfather, or uncle. They have killed our fathers and grandfathers and uncles. […] They’re rapid animals. Killing them does the world a favour” (Galloway 225).
This is the main motivator for civilian executions among this war. These innocent individuals have no business in war, but that is invisible to the rival group. The rivals have adopted a blind malice, as they despise their enemies without reason. They are told to hate them. That is all.
WHY SARAJEVO?
The new and improved Sarajevo after the war.
I have acknowledged that The Cellist of Sarajevo represents the harmless individuals who suffer during warfare. “We seem to completely ignore what war will do to people when war is not their business,” Galloway admits, “Journalists, politicians and soldiers […] they talk about infrastructure and how it will be destroyed and all that. We don’t talk about, you know, what it’s going to do to the guy that works at a bank or a bakery, when one day the electricity is off and the taps don’t bring water. Your bank card does not get money for you, and that one day lasts four years.” It is true that we ignore the annihilation of society’s regular routine, and the removal of necessities that we take for granted.
However, I never ignored the setting of the novel. Why did Steven Galloway choose Sarajevo? My previous posts mentioned my theory that this novel is a commemoration for a recent event that is widely disregarded. It shines light on an issue that is buried in the shadows. However, I learned that this is not the case.
Galloway aspired to recreate a modern siege. Therefore, the reader can become washed in the emotions of a contemporary world, rather than see this as a history lesson. The Cellist of Sarajevo reminds us that the atrocities of war continue, even in our developed society. Galloway clarifies that, “There’s a really short list of places to choose from in the first world that have undergone city sieges in the last thirty or forty years.” Describing war in the Middle East, for instance, does not apply, since they are third world countries. Sarajevo presented the ideal option to portray Galloway’s messages.
ART IS NOT A LUXURY
In my Grade 12 Interdisciplinary Studies (Link Crew) course, the class argued about the value of art. One incredibly intellectual student alleged that art is a luxury, and it is solely meant to entertain.
“Art is not a luxury item. This is how we view art and entertainment in the west,” Galloway explains, “When you’re under siege and in a war, and all sorts of situations that are dehumanizing, it’s more important, probably, to have things like music, and other artistic forms to remind you of the fact that you are not an animal. That you are not the dehumanized drone that the conditions are trying to make you into.”
My Third Discussion Post particularly focuses on the rejuvenating effect of music in regards to regaining humanity. However, I missed Galloway’s intention to explain that all art is not only a luxury, but a powerful tool.
It is easy to consider art a simple luxury. We seek artistic entertainment before falling asleep, while waiting on an airplane or while taking a shower. However, when lost in the misery of a broken heart, we frequently rely on music. When depleted, we find escape or reassurance from books and movies. Art is expression, medicine and communication that we can not convey in words.
The credible Oscar Wilde once said that, “All art is quite useless.” Although, Galloway believes that Wilde was incorrect. We must remember that arts provides stability for our emotional state through internal healing.
With a reference to a popular fable and a famous mythological figure, Steven Galloway glimpses into history in order to enhance the messages from The Cellist of Sarajevo. Once you learn the full story of these allusions, you’ll understand their clever integrations.
THE RATS OF HAMELIN
“The Pied Piper of Hamelin” is a popular folktale. The story recounts a rat-infested town known as Hamelin. A strange foreigner liberates the town from this infestation by playing the pipe. The rats are attracted to the melody, and they follow the piper out of Hamelin. The folktale is written in two variations: one that claims the rats were lead to a river, and the other a mountain.
After eliminating the rats from Hamelin, the piper lead the town’s children to their disappearance. This was the piper’s irate response to never receiving payment from Hamelin.
When Kenan is about to arrive at the brewery, a series of water trucks soar past. “A truck with an enormous plastic tank in the back passes him […] several others […] follow soon after. It is a pilgrimage, a parade, all of them rats of Hamelin” (Galloway 121).
Who is the piper in this context?
Kenan assumes that the water trucks are exiting the city to serve the defenders at the front lines. However, he later discovers that these trucks are hauling water from Sarajevo to other undeserved areas outside the region. The pipers are the business men who are profiting from the devastation in the city.
The water trucks (the rats of Hamelin) are lead by businessmen (the piper) to leave Sarajevo (Hamelin) and disappear into the unknown (the river or mountain).
ATLAS AND HIS WORLD
Contrary to popular belief, Atlas did not carry the Earth.
In Greek mythology, Atlas lead the Titans in an assault against the Olympian Gods. Following the Titans’ defeat, Zeus, the leader of the Olympian Gods, sentenced Atlas to permanently carry the heavens… or the sky.
Atlas is often described as hoisting the heavens (depicted as the shape of a sphere) on his shoulders. However, he is sometimes perceived as the guardian to the pillars that lift the sky, which are supposedly located in the Atlantic Ocean.
Galloway cleverly references Atlas after Kenan notices the business man profiting from the circumstance in Sarajevo. He initially drops his water and marches on to provoke the Mercedes man. Kenan then realizes that he must lug the water as well, to prevent it from being snatched. “He heaves up the water, its weight now a familiar burden. It seems unlikely to him that he will ever be free of it. So be it. He’ll carry the water on his back forever, like Atlas and his world, and that is fine” (Galloway 207). Kenan now perceives the water’s weight as comparable to the weight of the heavens. It is an endless and substantial burden that he can not ignore.
If Atlas discontinues his obligation, the heavens would fall. If the sky impacts the world, everything is destroyed. This is connected to Kenan’s water containers. Kenan’s family is his world, and if he loses his water bottles, his family would parish. Thus, Kenan’s world would collapse.
The Cellist of Sarajevo is comprised of much historical information, but few allusions. These allusions are vital, as they guarantee a fascinating perspective and abstract connections.
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…
The Cellist of Sarajevo is a protest against war. In my introductory post, I theorize that this novel is a commemoration for the awful siege of Sarajevo. Although it does not amply explain the historical background, it reminds us of the event’s existence and the innocent citizens who lived their lives in fear. The ruined city sparks personal memories by the novel’s characters, proving that nobody is immune to this circumstance. What if this were you? What if this were your city?
Besides the preceding message, what else does Steven Galloway intend to convey? Why did he make the literary decisions that we see in the novel? Are there any questions that Galloway asks? This was the basis for the second group discussion with my fellow The Cellist of Sarajevo readers.
We see the novel through the eyes of three characters. As stated in my Introductory Post, each character exhibits a different aspect and struggle of life under siege. However, my group discussed the absence of other potential perspectives, particularly from the men on the hills. Why does the novel never express the motivations or reflections from the adversary snipers? Our presumption is that Galloway strives to grasp a pure perspective from civilians caught in the war. The reader is intended to share the same perspective, therefore, the besieger’s motivations are never mentioned. They are depersonalized. We are only exposed to the blind and ominous hatred towards the men on the hills.
Here’s an image of the real men on the hills: The Army of Republika Srpska.
Galloway institutes the psychological devastation of people who are caught among warfare. Most Canadians, in our comfortable environment, are unaware of a person’s response when trapped in an atmosphere of impending death. In The Cellist of Sarajevo, Dragan informs his friend Emina that a rival sniper is nearby. Emina immediately becomes concerned as to whether the sniper assassinated anyone. “This strikes Dragan as odd. He isn’t indifferent to the deaths around him, but he can’t really say that he feels them so much that they would register on his face. He doesn’t think many other people do either” (Galloway 81). Furthermore, one of our group members recalled Arrow’s reaction to the distraught people at funerals during the siege. “She felt rage directed especially at those at the funeral who appeared most bereaved. How could they possibly feel so much grief? How could they not have reached the point months and months ago at which a person simply can’t feel any more pain?” (Galloway 138). The reader is subjected to a world with civilians that are desensitized and will presumably struggle to recover from the numb feeling. Galloway effectively displays the hollowed emotions engendered by war.
Refugees escaping Vietnam during the war.
Perhaps, The Cellist of Sarajevo suggests liberal views related to the struggle of refugees. If possible, the people of Sarajevo would escape the strife for the safety of another nation. The characters periodically reflect the underground passage that leads to Butmir, which was unoccupied free territory at the time. As the sole exit, the tunnel was generally inaccessible to the people, as it required a pass that only those of prominence could attain. Dragan in particular considers departing Sarajevo through the tunnels and living safely with his family in Italy. He visualizes life free from Sarajevo: “He’ll take a shower, the water steaming hot, and dry himself with a soft, clean towel. They’ll go out to a restaurant, and he’ll eat whatever he likes, and he’ll know that tomorrow he can do it all again. […] No one will be on the hills with guns pointed at [him], and after a while he won’t even think of this as a benefit, it will simply be an obvious thing, because that’s how life is supposed to be” (Galloway 183). But of course, Dragan can not leave Sarajevo. “There’s no tunnel pass in his pocket, and there never will be” (Galloway 184). Dragan’s vision parallels refugees who aspire to live the luxurious lifestyle that their neighbours take for granted. However, this opulent world is often unachievable, as refugees are consistently detained or rejected. The Cellist of Sarajevo provides a sympathetic glimpse at this yearning mindset.
Canadian peacekeepers operating during the Yugoslavian crisis.
When first reading The Cellist of Sarajevo, a question immediately ignited in my head: “Where’s the rest of the world?” I figured that other nations would attempt to prevent this ruthless execution of genocide. In particular, America assisted international conflicts such as Vietnam, Korea, Kuwait and so on. Shortly after the initiation of the Bosnian War, Kenan’s elderly neighbour, Mrs. Ristovski, anxiously rushed into his apartment. After she complained about her foreseen destruction of the war, Kenan retorted that, “It won’t last long […], the rest of Europe will do something to stop it from escalating” (Galloway 29). However, years later, Sarajevo is seemingly solitary in its defense against the men on the hills. Kenan thinks to himself, “He suspects that what the world wants most is not to think of it at all” (Galloway 61). I was later bewildered to discover that the world was involved. NATO, as well as the United Nations (including Canadian and American forces), operated to assuage the violent conditions by applying humanitarian aid and military support. In The Cellist of Sarajevo, there is no mention or appearance of external assistance. Perhaps Galloway is criticizing these operations, claiming that their involvement was meek in the siege of Sarajevo. Furthermore, this left my discussion group questioning the reliability of NATO and the United Nations for future conflicts.
The novel communicates other messages and sparks further questions, but these topics were the focus for my group discussion. Once our debate was adjourned, I was reminded of the effectiveness of subtext. When it comes to art, every decision and component has a purpose that connects to a hidden idea. Search between the lines, think outside the box, and you’ll unearth all sorts of gems.
A group of individuals and I glimpsed profoundly into the justification of murder and the mental proficiency required to pull the trigger of a rifle. Our discussion became existential to the extent that we were asking questions without answers. What defines heroic killing as opposed to unjustified murder? Who gets to decide when murder is justified? When is killing considered courageous or cowardly? When is morality considered irrelevant, and it is acceptable to take the lives of others?
I know some interesting people. Oh yeah, I should probably mention that our conversation was linked to The Cellist of Sarajevo. Our discussion contemplated the contradicting roles of Arrow and Kenan. What allows Arrow to pick up a firearm, while Kenan remains reluctant? We removed Dragan from the conversation since he is a sixty four-year-old man who is not suitable for the battlefield.
One major reason could be family. Kenan is responsible for gathering resources to support his wife and three children. “His family needs water, and he will get it for them” (Galloway 244). Kenan’s duty is to support his family, rather than enlist in the military. Contributing to the war would divert him from this pivotal obligation. Arrow, on the other hand, lives alone in an apartment. There is no family that relies on her.
Another reason is Arrow’s fascinating coping mechanism, which is to possess an alias. “Using her real name would make her no different from the men she kills. It would be a death greater than the end of her life. […] Her name is Arrow now” (Galloway 13). She isolates her identity, and kills as a different individual in her mind. Therefore, when the conflict finally concludes, she could return to Alisa, an innocent girl that does not loathe any human.
Furthermore, Arrow adopts a unique perspective upon her rivals. She tells her commander, Nermin Filipović, that, “I’ve never shot at a person, […] only at targets” (Galloway 70). Rather than butchering breathing meat and flesh, the girl forced herself to believe that she is firing at an inanimate piece of paper. This is another coping mechanism.
During our discussion we realized that there must be a bigger picture. The factor that divides the mentality of Arrow and Kenan must be more abstruse.
Number six of the ten commandants declares that, “thou shalt not kill.” However, as Canadian soldiers lined up to depart overseas in the First World War, priests confirmed that God had given them permission to kill. Regular society discourages murder, labeling it as immoral and worthy of punishment. However, in moments of national desperation and defense, government organizations declare morality irrelevant. Murder is then considered heroic and brave.
In The Cellist of Sarajevo, Kenan never enlists in the military in order to retain his innocence. He has been conditioned by the moral expectations of society. “If he ends up in the army, he knows that sooner or later he will have to kill someone. And as afraid as he is of dying, he’s more afraid of killing” (Galloway 51). Although Kenan despises the men on the hills for hunting the innocent and annihilating his city, he refuses to wet his hands in blood. During the discussion, I brought up my views on this perspective. Sometimes I contemplate my response if I were conscripted or pressured to battle in previous conflicts. The idea of ending a life, a complicated person with dreams, love and family, would have prevented me. Is it fair to label me, and Kenan, a coward due to our morality?
In previous events, those who never enlist in the military are considered cowardly. In the film Passchendaele by Paul Gross, a military major speaks to a large audience. He orders all boys of fighting age to stand, and then he says, “I ask you to look at the men who stand among you. Explain […] why they aren’t doing their part, for their King, their country, and their God.” In time of war, the government does not only pressure individuals to become lethal, but they publicly humiliate them.
Kenan would be perceived as craven under the expectations established by the military. They would argue that our morality, which we learned from society’s expectations, has repressed our survival instincts.
It is not unreasonable to recognize Kenan as a coward. When he first leaves his apartment to gather water, he collapses. “His legs are heavy, his hands cold. He doesn’t want to go. What he wants is to go back inside, crawl into bed and sleep until this war is over. […] The children […] must not see him like this. They must not know how afraid he is, how useless he is, how powerless he has become” (Galloway 26). A man in this condition does not seem like a promising soldier, but I believe Kenan is more emotionally durable than he considers himself to be. He manages to wander the streets of Sarajevo, with ghostly invaders prepared to assassinate him anywhere. That requires sufficient courage. Perhaps he has adapted to this particular circumstance of peril. It is also possible that he is comforted by the many other civilians who roam the city around him.
Taking an individual’s life is never an easy obligation, nor is it enjoyable (unless you are a weird psychopath, but that is a different story). Arrow spends the novel reflecting on the clash between her former innocence and current malignant state. How can Arrow bring herself to operate as a sniper? Identifying her as courageous is inadequate. Instead, we must ask, what makes her courageous?
Arrow is prompted by the warrior’s mindset: allowing your adversaries to live threatens the safety of your people. Arrow mentions to her commander, that she does not wish to kill people. Filipović replies with, “You’d be saving lives. Every one of those men on the hills will kill some of us. Given the chance, they will kill all of us” (Galloway 70). Later, Arrow is assigned to save the cellist’s life by killing a rival assassin. As she aligns the rifle’s crosshairs with the enemy sniper, she doubts her actions. The girl then notifies herself that, “There’s no reason not to kill him. A sniper of his ability has without doubt killed dozens, if not hundreds. Not just soldiers. Women crossing streets. Children in playgrounds. Old men in waterlines” (Galloway 154). War is a larger image of self defense and the protection of others.
In war, people are awarded medals for murder. In society, people are confined for manslaughter. Kenan and Arrow express diverging morals established by different communities. Kenan is not cowardly, he is conditioned by society’s morals. Arrow meets the expectations established by the government, and murders for the benefit of Sarajevo. During a future moment of genuine conflict, how many of us will be like Kenan, and how many of us will be like Arrow? Will the military pressure us to eradicate our morality?
I must say, I am quite satisfied with the vivid imagery expressed in my poem. However, it is slightly complicated, therefore I will elaborate on some details.
In my Grade 12 Interdisciplinary Studies (Link Crew) course, the class argued about the value of art. One incredibly intellectual student alleged that art is a luxury, and it is solely meant to entertain.
shoulders. However, he is sometimes perceived as the guardian to the pillars that lift the sky, which are supposedly located in the Atlantic Ocean.
Number six of the ten commandants declares that, “thou shalt not kill.” However, as Canadian soldiers lined up to depart overseas in the First World War, priests confirmed that God had given them permission to kill. Regular society discourages murder, labeling it as immoral and worthy of punishment. However, in moments of national desperation and defense, government organizations declare morality irrelevant. Murder is then considered heroic and brave.
Daily Director 
