[ad_1]
So close to the city and so far from civilization, the life of Nedjo Bogunović from the village of Zapužana near Benkovac could be described in the simplest and most brief way. The distance from the city to the town, nine kilometers of road in one direction, is not an obstacle for this man to cross them by bicycle every day, even in the worst weather conditions, so that, at least for a short time, he feels he belongs to the society around him. To a society that does not know, does not feel, does not see and does not listen in what conditions its neighbors, fellow citizens or compatriots still live.
Just on that road, cycling back in the rain from Benkovac, the journalists met Nedja. In one bag a couple of things, in the other empty bottles and cans. After a few hundred meters of asphalt, he turned onto the bridge, which was already badly disturbed by the December rains, and then crossed the meadow where Nedja’s bike path had been trampled for a long time. There, at the end of the road, in solitude, is his house. As soon as he walked in, while deftly untying the rope on the makeshift wooden door, he said there was nothing he could offer reporters. Leaving his vehicle in the rain, he stopped for a moment without saying anything, but his gaze betrayed the discomfort with which he greeted the guests.
Before the war, Nedjo lived with his parents in the village of Podlug, on the other side of Benkovac. He worked, he says, in Zadar, until the war broke out. The circumstances of the war brought him to Serbia, while his parents stayed to guard the house.
– Mother and father stayed in Podlug, we all lived there until the war. They didn’t want to go into exile, they stayed here, while I ended up in Krusevac, Serbia. I was there for four years, staying in a shelter, and then I decided to come back too – says Nedjo with shyness and shyness.
During his stay in Krusevac, he did not do well. He worked for a living where he could and found work, he lived in a reception center and he had neither the chance nor the chance to get away from it all, to try somewhere alone. In four years, he says, it is as if he has staggered into place, neither forward nor backward, thinking more and more often how he wants to come back to his end.
– What can I say, I was not well in exile. Many people in that reception center, all the rooms in common, slept everywhere, as well as in other places that they were. You have nothing of your own, you have no where to start, you have no security, so I thought almost every day about how I would get back. After four years, it was like that, only I did not return to Podlug but to Zapužane, to my mother’s land.
For some, a thousand euros is not enough, Nedjo is satisfied with a thousand kunas
During his absence, his parents sold the property they owned, which Nedjo reluctantly talks about, so he came to the house he inherited from his mother. God knows what awaited him here too. Everything was devastated except for four walls and a concrete slab. A humanitarian organization, which was operating in this area at the time, put up an ordinary roof and windows without blinds, blinds, no protection. The rest, he says, I did. Although not much, long enough for him to live.
– Before I had water, I have it now, I just couldn’t bring electricity. Since we did not live at this address before the war, I did not exercise the right to a connection and had nowhere to pay for it. They told me that the connection is around 18,000 kuna, and these are funds that are difficult to set aside with a secure income, much less without it. I did not ask for social assistance, I was ashamed to go there to wait when I could do something, so it depended only on what I earned from my travel expenses. I did not choose, nor was it difficult for me to work, always accepting what no one else wanted. And so, year after year, time passes – says Nedjo conciliatory.
All those years, Nedjo wandered in his own darkness, living from today to tomorrow, contenting himself with not being hungry and being at home. He worked the garden by hand cultivating the land, growing vegetables for his own needs. Some time ago he realized the right to a pension and now, as he says, he has a thousand kuna a month.
– I’m single and that’s enough for me. What would people say? “I cover myself for as long as I am.” I plant a garden, buy the food I need from my pension, so I prepare what I can. I’m not used to luxury, but to coping, so everything is normal for me – says Nedjo, trying to cover that “ball of dough in his throat” that betrays his torment.
The interior of your home is the best indicator of the level of survival below the limit of modesty. A table and chairs, a long-worn wood stove, and a faulty electric stove that serves as a pantry and desk are all the inventory you own. There is no display case, no refrigerator, and no television to shorten your single days. There is no electricity, so there is none.
– I’ve been here since 1999, both then and today. It would be easier to have it, but what can I do? It is easier in summer when the day is longer, I work more outside in the garden and the night is easier, but winter is harsh and too long. I make dinner earlier, while it’s still visible outside, and then go to bed earlier, what else can I do in the dark?
In neighboring rooms, everything is equally deserted. Except for the closet and the bed, there is nothing left. Living in such conditions, everything would be superfluous for him. Put what you have on a wooden bench in the room because it’s just as cold as in the fridge, says Nedjo.
“I guess it’s a lifetime”
Despite all of the above, he points out, he never regretted the decision to return. He remains alone, his boss and nobody bothers him, he does not owe anyone and does not ask anyone for anything.
– Why would I regret it? I came here where I was born, where I belong. Whatever it is for me, I know that nobody will throw me out tomorrow, I’m at home. I waited for retirement, so I am calmer in my old age. I’m not saying that it wouldn’t be easier for me to have electricity, to be able to heat water in a boiler, to leave food in the refrigerator, or at least to sit longer at night watching a show on TV, but I know I can’t afford it, so I’m happy with that. what I have. While I can, I get on my bike and go into town, talk to someone to talk and that’s it. I have no one around, the town is almost deserted, few have returned, but it is a lifetime, I suppose in the end, as if it consoled me, says Nedjo.
As he welcomed journalists, this is how he will bid farewell to the year at the end, the 21st since he returned, without much hope and expectation that the next calendar will be better and brighter. And while others will complain about unfulfilled expectations, the virus that has stopped the gala receptions and glitter, the inability to turn that page of the calendar in luxury and luxury, Nedjo will not be burdened by his torments. For him these torments will be as strange as he is himself, and as he is, a stranger to those who do not know, do not see, do not hear and do not feel that today, among us, there are people who in the 21st century, more than two decades Living in the dark
(Srbi.hr)
Follow us through iOS and Android apps
[ad_2]
