What a day to forget my camera!

What a day to forget my camera! Last Thursday was the 6th anniversary of the assassination of Serbian President Zoran Dzidzic. As I mentioned in a previous post, Dzindzic became president after the ousting of Milosevic, and was widely regarded as the “hope and change” president. He was assassinated by nationalist gangsters, and the nation mourned.

Last week I participated in the commemoration of Dzindzic’s death. Hundreds of people gathered at 11am to begin the commemorative march, which began near the place where he was killed. Many more people joined as the crowd walked through the streets, past the main square, Trg Rebuplika, and stopped first to meet current president Tadic. Tadic then took the lead, and the crowd proceeded to walk through the city, finally coming to a halt at around 1pm at the cemetery where Dzindzic is buried. There the group filed, one-by-one, past Dzindzic’s grave, each laying a flower upon the site. This process took several hours, but still the crowd was orderly. By the time it was my turn, the spot was completely covered with flowers. It was beautiful…both the hundreds of flowers and the fact that so many people turned out from every possible walk of life.

I had regarded Dzindzic’s death as a shadow over the hopefulness of the people that maybe they were emerging from the darkness of the Milosevic years. Yet seeing so many gathered to commemorate him what he represented made me both sad for the opportunity that was lost with his death and that so many people still feel his loss so strongly, but at the same time, happy in a sense because I think that people are ready and waiting for another leader like him.

I was unsure of what to expect when I showed up for this march. I had some fear of reprisal or of some kind of disruptive, sporadic violence, and my American colleague and I were silent for much of the time, wanting to avoid calling attention to ourselves. Yet this huge crowd, with everyone from dreadlocked hippy-types to young hip teens to stylish middle-aged women to feminist activists and older communist era loyalists, was peaceful, respectful, and reverent. The path of the march was blocked to traffic, and a combination of police and volunteers walked the edges of the crowd, but not in a threatening way.

I was also reminded how interesting Orthodox cemeteries are. Many of the gravesites have tiny photos of the dead on the headstone. Families of the dead are responsible for the upkeep of the site, so some are well kept while some are overgrown. It is traditional to leave flowers at the graves (in even numbers – which by the way, means that a dozen roses are NEVER an appropriate gift) and to light these small yellow beeswax candles with a prayer. Also often left at the sites are favorite things the person enjoyed in life, so that there are such things as cigarettes, beer, snack chips, and other such things frequently left at the sites. Then, as one leaves the graveyard, it is traditional to wash one’s hands before leaving, as if symbolically washing death away.

Aside from being able to be a part of this amazing event, because the path of the march traversed the city from end-to-end, I was able to take in so much of the city! And it was a beautiful early spring day! Rain was forecast, but the sun shone for most of the time. Overall, it was a very moving day, I was nearly moved to tears several times. I am so glad to have been able to witness all of it.