Month: June 2008

Today’s New York Times had Eliot’s obituary in it. This is sad news in Mudville indeed. He was a wonderful man, with a kind and grumpy heart, a real curmudgeon. He was a writer of some fame, having worked in Hollywood as a screenwriter in the 40s and 50s and then being blacklisted during the McCarthy era. He made a great comeback, though, with his seminal work ‘Eight Men Out’, which was made into a film. He was a good man, an excellent neighbor, and a fixture in the Somewheresville scene. He wrangled with the best minds in the town over coffee and breakfast at first the Cinnamon Twist and then The Farmer’s Wife. His mushroom hunting skills garnered shopping bags of morels and chanterelles, and he was known for his baked chicken with walnuts. The little town I live in has grown considerable smaller in the 24 hours since his departure from this plane of existence. As a writer he leaves behind a prolific testimony: 12 novels, countless screenplays, teleplays, and numerous cameo appearances in John Sayles’ (with whom he shared a deep friendship) films.

Farewell Eliot…Be well, do good work, and take the rest of the day off…

Johnnyboy

The day has been hot, but I was busy nonetheless. My boss, Janet, and I went into Mostar this morning at around 8:30am accompanied by our able and friendly translator/assistant/friend, Vesna. Actually she’s Janet’s translator, my friend. She certainly does the work of three people! First we stopped by the Roma encampment by the Neretva River to see how they were faring, and how many have left. The city is planning a large apartment complex on the site where they have built their ramshackle homes, so many of them have moved away, either to less controversial accommodations, or out of town altogether. Some are still there, but those are the ones that actually have a deed of sorts for the property. We visited for a while and I was able to take a few pictures, and we planned on coming back later with food and diapers.

Then we stopped at the Social Services office and Janet made an appointment for a later meeting. After that we stopped by the office of the local Roma president and spoke with him about some of the families that needed homes. He showed us the city approved plans for a Roma community housing complex near the river that is currently being built. It all looks very good on paper, but I will believe it when I see it. Historically these people are maligned and shoved to the bottom of the heap, and after the war they are subject to even more ?justified? prejudiced. The Roma chief was a very nice man, though; small, wiry, and smart. Not the stereotype I was expecting. He made a good subject for the camera as well, and eager to be normal in a society that sees him as a fringe dweller.

Next we had a lunch visit with the founder of the local sobriety ‘Klub’ (not AA at all) and argued with her as to if we could start an AA meeting in Mostar…Actually Janet played the consummate diplomat, I merely listened. The upshot is that everyone is territorial of their little powers here and anyone coming in and asking to help out can be considered a threat to their self-imposed hierarchy. That is not to say that this woman has not worked miracles in her time, but her responses were all ‘no’, ‘nope’, and ‘uh-uh’ until finally Janet’s diplomacy worked and we received a ‘Maybe you can help…I’ll look into it’. At least it’s a small change from the negative.

After that we drove to the supermarket and bought a 25kg bag of flour, some eggs, vegetable oil, fruit, and vegetables and took them back to the the Roma camp. We were well received and there were more of them there, having just come back from begging in the city. We stayed for a little bit and I really think I took some remarkable photos. Once again, I’ll wait until I get home to post some, but these are portfolio material, definitely.

To get an idea of their living conditions, imagine a garbage landfill, with a small road running through it. Tar paper and plywood shantys, old cars, and squalor, abject poverty, and disease running rampant. That’s Roma life. So the nice office where I visited the local president was not indicative of reality.

25km away lies Me?ugorje, pride of the Croatian Catholic Church, run by the Franciscans, crammed with ‘pilgrims’ from around the world wanting to see a miracle or two or at least grow closer to their God. They certainly spend the money to do so. I hope they find it, I really do, because there are people in the world who could really use a miracle or two in their lives.

…and I wanted to be humbled…

Johnnyboy