IT'S been exactly a year since I traveled to Scotland and found a little piece of land under the sky where I can just be myself, met the most welcoming people and made friends. And friends for life!
COP26 brought many of us journalists to keep wanting to come back, especially those who have ties with the country. Now Bosnian ties are historical. Incredibly large number of Scots served in war-time Bosnia and Herzegovina, either as firefighters, United Nations Protection Force officers or humanitarians. They risked their lives to help my fellow citizens. Scotland lost one of the kindest humanitarians, Christine Witcutt (below), in 1993.
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Christine was a kind, caring woman renowned for helping others. And it was to be that passion which resulted in her death from a sniper’s bullet in Bosnia. Just before leaving on that fateful trip to Bosnia in the summer of 1993, the 53-year-old retired teacher from Netherton told the Wishaw Press the mission was a chance to show the people of that war-torn country the world cared about their plight. Driving a relief lorry along a notorious “sniper’s alley” out of Sarajevo, she was shot through the chest and died as she was being carried to a nearby post office for first aid. Someday, I want to make a documentary about Christine's life and her sacrifice. Her story must always be told.
Edinburgh Aid has built a Day Care Center for special needs children in Sarajevo and named it after her. I happened to learn all this on my first visit to Scotland where I met with Christine's son-in-law, David Hamilton, now Chief of Scottish Police Federation, but above all, one of the greatest and most selfless humanitarians Scotland has ever had. David served in Bosnia as well and lately has been to Ukraine to assist the refugees in their darkest moments. What an inspiration! The memory kept of the victims of Srebrenica genocide through the Remembering Srebrenica Scotland charity is one of David's greatest accomplishments especially now Bosnia goes through severe genocide denial and war crimes glorification. For this, Bosnians will always be thankful.
So, yes, I had to get back to Scotland. On this second visit to this wee bonnie land, I happen to get to know more of the country that has given me so much already. The moment I landed; my longtime friend Linda Graham drove me to the Western town of Portavadie.
I've sailed for the first time in Scotland and the weather was just incredible. I'd been warned of rain and cold weather by thousands of Scots on Twitter prior to my travel, but I just happened to wake up to sunshine, warmth and calm seas. At one moment I thought I was being pranked by my Scottish friends because I only packed winter clothes and no heels. But I guess I was just lucky.
We sailed from Portavadie to Tarbert where I was then taken to Skipness to see the old smokehouse and Skipness castle. Yes, I tried Scottish smoked salmon right at the source. The owners of the smokehouse were incredibly kind to take me on a tour around the production. The most incredible moment was seeing the Frontier castle right at the sunset. The 1200s history was right there in front of me and I could taste it. I sat there for a moment to breathe it all in and try to understand how lucky I was to be able to witness this, to be able to have people around me who would take me to these places and enrichen my understanding of the world we live in.
As a journalist and someone who travels a lot for work, I have seen the best and the worst of humanity. The Ukrainian refugee situation threw me right into the 90s when my mother ran with her three underage children over the border and I could not help but see my mom and my sisters' faces in all of them. I saw myself in every child that went through the Ukrainian-Polish border. As much as my colleague and I fought to be absolutely impartial in our reporting, we did cry at night. And we cried for a simple reason: we looked those people straight into the eye and lied that everything would be just fine, while we knew ourselves that they might never go back or see their loved ones they left behind. As many of us did. The best way to deal with this situation is just to be their voice and when the cameras are off - hug them and share their pain. Be human. Because we are human before we were ever journalists.
Scotland helps me heal and see the beauty of the world. Somehow the castle visit made me realize it will all be in the past like everything else that has ever been or existed and that we are all here just for a brief moment. I wish people would be kinder to each other.
We reached Glasgow the next day and the moment I entered the city, it seemed so familiar to me. I realised that's what the feeling of being home meant, the belonging. I realised I had only one day left in Scotland and that would be in Glasgow. It just happened to be on the day of the Supreme Court decision on the matter of Scottish referendum of independence. I heard the decision driving into the rainy city. The interpretation of the decision was very clear, but somehow surprising to someone who comes from the outside. You can't but ask yourself what democracy really is and what it really means, especially in the Western world, who should be a democratic "anchor" for the countries in transition, just like mine.
That same day I met with my closest friends David, Tina and Chris Leslie. I met Tina's daughter and was gifted with the Scottish flag to keep and hold. I wore it around my coat for the rest of the evening, I found it to be an incredible honor. And that's where things got a bit difficult for me. I was once more attacked on social media for keeping a flag that represents Scotland as it was a political matter.
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I'm really struggling to understand how honoring Scottish flag, an official internationally recognised flag, is a political stance? Why does it bother anyone? I know that when visitors are in my country and they take our flag, we honour them. It's the sign of respect. I'll probably have trouble understanding this issue. To me, it's really as simple as this: Scotland has given Bosnia and Herzegovina its best, it has given me friends and family, a place to call home and hell, I'll cherish it!
Now about Chris Leslie, the most incredible Scottish photographer who spent years in Bosnia documenting post-war sights, some of them I have not seen yet. His exhibition in Sarajevo was talked about for months and how it impacted the locals. Some found themselves overcoming the bitter end of injustices committed against the city decades after war. We ended up in a pub on Hope Street. I was so overwhelmed Glaswegians kept recognising me and offering Chris and I drinks. I knew I was traveling the next day, but it didn't stop me from meeting as many people and trying as many different kinds of whisky. Once again, I learnt about true human kindness, closeness, the Scottish dark sense of humor and why Scotland is on the top of my list of countries to visit. Wherever you turn, you see something new.
One thing for sure, this was another day in paradise. And I'll be coming back for more.
Thank you for making this Bosnian's life a wee bit richer, a wee bit brighter. Never change!
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