.mirha.

 

she’s so bosnian. lives on coffee and cigarettes. we had a wonderful time. walked through town. giggled. enjoyed dinner of coffee and popcorn. ended our night watching throngs of men and women congregating outside of the big mosque downtown. it is the biggest and oldest mosque in sarajevo, and during ramadan, is filled to the brim with covered women and barefoot gentlemen.

we are so different, but i think it’s the very reason we mesh so well.

“girls. we don’t trust each other. i have opened my heart up to many girls in friendships and they just use me and walk away. i would do anything for them. buy them the dress they wanted in the shop. take them for coffee. buy gas in their car. they acted like they were my friend, but all of a sudden are gone. once a woman finds a man here, they don’t care about friends anymore. they just do what they have to do to keep him.”

i asked her if she thought any of this behavior was because of growing up during the war. she paused for what seemed like eons before answering.

“yes, maybe. we grew up not knowing who to trust. who was good or bad. who would hurt us. we didn’t have many friends during our childhood, because it was taken from us. how do we know who to trust now? we don’t. so each of us has to look out for ourself. that is why cigarettes are my friend.”

she said these rules don’t apply to our friendship because “you are different from bosnian girls. i think you are too trusting. you think everyone here is like you, kenzie, but they’re not. you have to watch out for yourself. (part of this comment was prompted by her learning of the apple pelting adventure. she told me she’d teach them to never mess with me. cute, but i didn’t go for it.) i’ve stopped trusting girls, but now i have you.”

in this country, it’s interesting to me the acceptance or rejection that comes with being who i am. an american. a foreigner. a christian. a single woman. a photojournalist. responses are, i think, impossible to predict. i’m finding that this pushes me further to learn who i am and what i believe.

 

 

goodbye for now. i love you.