“Sarajevo… city with a broken destiny”: a moving article by Firas (Serge Merhi), Bambi’s late friend who inspired this blog, written in 1994

Bambi was deeply moved when she received an email from Jihane, Firas’ sister. The war in Lebanon made her think even more about her brother in heaven, wondering what his thoughts would have been about what is happening. As well, she thought about how upset her brother would have been to see their/our beloved birth country destroyed once again. Bambi thanked her and shared that the latter also crossed her mind.

This being said, below she will share with you one of Firas’ articles that his sister pulled out. It is one of her favourite pieces. You will see why below. First, and in bold, you can read the original French text. Second, you can read its English translation by Bambi with the assistance of the faithful Mr. Google translate.

May Jihane and her family members be all safe and sound. Bambi sends her (broken) heart to them. May Firas’ memory be eternal, today more than ever. May he watches over them and over his beloved Lebanon from heaven. Most importantly, may he keep uniting and inspiring us postmortem, just as he did during his short life among us.

“Sarajevo… ville au destin brisé

Sarajevo, une ville au destin brisé. Encore un rendez-vous manqué de convivialité et de pluralisme entre différentes ethnies. Toi qui ne voyais qu’un avenir plein de Lumière, ton ciel est aujourd’hui illuminé par celles de la haine. Tes toits aux tuiles rouges sont massacrés par les puissants souffles d’explosions. Tes enfants ont oublié à quoi ressemble une nuit de sommeil. 

Et comme si la douleur ne te suffisait point, ils t’ont aussi humiliée: tu as été trainée sans vergogne sur tous les écrans du monde et à la une des journaux. Ton âme malmenée et ton corps couvert de sang sont exhibés partout. Le message est clair, ils veulent montrer à des téléspectateurs et lecteurs qui ignorent le goût d’une nuit passée dans une cave humide à se demander si viendra un lendemain, que la folie peut frapper n’importe où, n’importe quand même au Coeur de l’Europe. Que la guerre n’est pas seulement le lot d’une Afrique affamée, d’une Asie pliant sous le poids d’une démographie galoppante ou d’une Amerique latine déchirée par les tiraillements idéologiques. 

Ils déploient au premier coup de feu – pourtant prévu – des caravanes d’aide humanitaire et des soldats de la paix baillonnés, qui finissent par être les otages muets de la violence. 

Ils envoient leurs représentants dans d’interminables ballets diplomatiques, font pression sur un tel, essaient de faire taire tel autre et font semblant de vouloir satisfaire tout le monde. Malheureusement, personne ne l’est et la violence reprend de plus belle, pour aboutir de nouveau sur une solution façonnée dans les grands salons des capitales de la décision. Au fond de toi, tu sais que le remède ne peut absolument pas venir des mains de ceux qui n’ont même pas le courage de dénoncer les coupables par leurs noms. 

De ceux qui par hypocrisie, ou de peur de froisser une ex-puissance pourtant agonisante, refusent de te prendre entre leurs puissants bras protecteurs. 

Seuls tes enfants qui, eux, ont goûté réellement aux malheurs qui se sont succédé à la porte, peuvent te sauver. Quand le moment viendra, ils le feront sans hesitation aucune, d’une main sûre et d’un pas rassurant. Sarajevo, sèche tes pleurs, demain tes mosquées et tes églises revivront, et le printemps sera au rendez-vous, celui que tes propres enfants t’offriront!

Un enfant de Beyrouth. 

Serge F. Merhi

Montreal, 15 Fevrier 1994”

“Sarajevo… city with a broken destiny

Sarajevo, a city with a broken destiny. Another meeting lacking conviviality and pluralism between different ethnic groups. You who only saw a future full of Light, your sky is today illuminated by those of hatred. Your red-tiled roofs are massacred by the powerful blasts of explosions. Your kids have forgotten what a night’s sleep feels like.

And as if the pain was not enough for you, they also humiliated you: you were shamelessly dragged on all the screens in the world and on the front pages of newspapers. Your battered soul and your blood-covered body are on display everywhere. The message is clear, they want to show viewers and readers who are unaware of the taste of a night spent in a damp cellar wondering if there will be tomorrow, that madness can strike anywhere, anytime, even in the heart of Europe. That war is not only the lot of a starving Africa, of an Asia bending under the weight of a galloping population or of a Latin America torn apart by ideological tensions.

At the first shot – although expected – they deploy humanitarian aid caravans and gagged peacekeepers, who end up being the mute hostages of violence.

They send their representatives into endless diplomatic ballets, put pressure on one person, try to silence another person and pretend to want to please everyone. Unfortunately, no one is and the violence resumes with a vengeance, leading once again to a solution shaped in the great salons of the decision-making capitals. Deep down, you know that the cure absolutely cannot come from the hands of those who do not even have the courage to denounce the culprits by name.

Of those who, out of hypocrisy, or for fear of offending a dying former power, refuse to take you in their powerful protective arms.

Only your children, who have truly tasted the misfortunes that followed one another at the door, can save you. When the time comes, they will do it without hesitation, with a sure hand and a reassuring step. Sarajevo, dry your tears, tomorrow your mosques and your churches will come back to life, and spring will be there, the one that your own children will offer you!

A child from Beirut.

Serge F. Merhi

Montreal, February 15, 1994”