A Palestinian in Sarajevo
Anthony is interning with Peace Catalyst International in Bosnia and Herzegovina (PCI-BiH) in Spring 2025 as part of his master’s studies in Peace, Trauma, and Religion at Vrije University in Amsterdam.
For the past 6 months living in The Netherlands, I have felt like I escaped the reality of the world. However, as soon as I landed in Bosnia and Herzegovina I landed into reality once again. Yet, what surprised me was the division within the city. I wondered why there were inverted Russian flags all over town. As soon as I opened my mouth to ask, my new colleague Mirela said, “Welcome to Republika Srpska” (predominantly Serbian Orthodox). I realized that all of my reading and understanding wasn’t enough to prepare me for this. Soon, we got to the Federation (mainly Bosniak Muslim and Croatian Catholic). I saw the flags of Bosnia, and all I could think of was the roads that lead from one Palestinian city to another filled with Israeli flags. The term “nationalism” comes to mind.
As soon as I visited the old city of Sarajevo, the Ottoman streets, the call to prayer from the mosques, the smell of coffee, and the markets reminded me of home. I can now understand why Sarajevo is called the Jerusalem of Europe. However, this city feels more holy. Many questions arose. Is coexistence possible? Have people forgotten the war? Were Bosnians able to forgive? How did they do this? Yet as time passed, these questions were answered. After having conversations with different peace builders and random people I met on the streets and in parks, I realized that everyone has a very distinct point of view on these questions. Their scars remain, just like the bullet holes in the buildings. The pain of grenades and death are covered by resin-filled red roses all over town. Their hope was shown in graffiti on the walls that said “Hoćel’ ta promjena” (a change will come). The lament of the Srebrenica genocide is shown as a flower that will remain in their walls and hearts. The beautiful views of Sarajevo are ones that overlook a city with cemeteries in every corner. Their ability to portray pain through art shows the meaning of “sumud” (steadfastness) or “otpornost” (resilience). Although today Bosnia is portrayed as an example of coexistence, their stigmata is clear. The wounds from the war are visible not only in the buildings and destruction, but also in people’s hearts.
I had the pleasure to be invited to the commemoration of the Heliodrom concentration camp with the organization Center for Nonviolent Action (CNA) in Mostar. This camp is where more than 10,000 people were detained and at least 77 were murdered. I joined war veterans from the Croatian, Serbian, and Bosniak side for Iftar and talks before the commemoration. I saw people hugging one another, laughing, and breaking bread together as they invited me to sit with them. Although the language barrier was visible, I felt welcomed by such great companionship and hospitality. After breaking fast, they invited me to go on a walk around the city of Mostar. One of the men who was sitting next to me said in English, “Do you know what just happened here?” “What?” I answered with confusion. He replied: “During the war, we all would’ve been shooting at one another.” They introduced themselves, saying what religion and nationality they were. Suddenly, I found myself walking with a Croatian Catholic ex-soldier, a Bosniak Muslim ex-colonel, and a Serbian Orthodox ex-general. I could not believe what I was witnessing. I froze for a minute, looking at them smiling and enjoying their time together. I flashed back to all the instances I encountered with Israeli soldiers at the numerous checkpoints in the West Bank, the streets of Jerusalem, and the streets of Bethlehem. How could you stand next to one another? I pondered quietly. How can you shake each other's hands? Is this normal?
The next morning while driving to the concentration camp, I saw the families of the people who had been murdered. Every group brought flowers and put them at the foot of the banner that listed the names of the victims. As every group was announced, the people did a small dua’a or spoke a prayer, depending on their religion. As the group of veterans approached, they gently put the flowers down and prayed. Seeing a group of war veterans raising their hands or making the sign of the cross on themselves was disturbing yet beautiful. Witnessing such reactions made me speechless. On the drive back they explained that even though during the war they were enemies, today they have learned to put their past aside and see humanity within one another.
When it comes to peacebuilding, the main difference between Bosnia and Palestine is that in Bosnia, peacebuilders have been actively bridging the gaps between broken communities, working towards coexisting, creating workshops for interreligious dialogue, and uniting communities to commemorate the death of people on all sides in Bosnia. In a conversation with Amra Pandžo, a Bosnian peace activist, she beautifully expressed peacebuilding in Bosnia and Herzegovina like this: “Look next to you. You see the trees - they are made of trunk, branches, and leaves. Without any of these, it wouldn’t be a tree. The only way for it to survive is by unity, sun, and water. The tree is dependent on the sun and the water for it to survive. In Bosnia we are this tree, and the sun and water represent our spirituality and lived religion. Without these, we wouldn’t be able to coexist.” I remembered her exact words in this beautiful metaphor, how people’s religion was their active source of resilience in the face of adversity and challenges. She highlighted the importance of unity within Bosnians, no matter whether they are Muslim, Christian Orthodox, Christian Catholic, or Jewish.
However, in Palestine this is not the case. We are only able to romanticize the story of coexisting and loving your neighbour. In Palestine, we have been deeply committed to pursuing justice, a prerequisite for peacebuilding. Although the peacebuilding work in Bosnia and Herzegovina is remarkable, in Palestine the idea of coexistence is far away. We will not be able to coexist peacefully during the continuous occupation and genocide of our people. Therefore, in Palestine we continue to pursue justice so that peace might become possible.
A prayer of lament.
As we continue to resist violence, destruction, humiliation, and hatred. We repent for what we have done to your holy word.
Your Values, we have destroyed,
Your word, we have distressed.
Your cry we have forgotten.
We have done what is unjust and evil,
We looked away and let the oppressors rob others of their humanity,
We have wronged the foreigner, the fatherless, and the widows.
In our utmost repentance, we have shed innocent blood in your Holy land.
Our hearts have been filled with aggression.
Let us remember that your word is power
Your love is endless
Your mercy is abundant
Your wisdom, a light in our darkness
Your grace, ointment to our wounded souls.
Your truth, a foundation upon which we rebuild the rubble we have supported.
Although, your land's stones have been turned into rubble.
We will do anything in our power to preserve the living stones in this land.
Those who mourn will be comforted
The Meek will inherit the land.
The Peacemakers will bring righteousness.
The persecuted will be blessed.
Amen.
Anthony Khair is interning with Peace Catalyst International in Bosnia and Herzegovina (PCI-BiH) in Spring 2025 as part of his master’s studies in Peace, Trauma, and Religion at Vrije University in Amsterdam. His ongoing work emphasizes international solidarity with majority-world countries, standing against systemic oppression, and promoting justice in diverse global contexts. Learn more about Anthony here.
