www.DrazanGunjaca.net

SCENE
A military fortification between Croatia and Bosnia, early summer 1993. Within the fortification there is an impromptu prison, where Ante is kept confined, a rather small room, windowless, with a massive, rural wooden door and an untidy, worn-out floor. A central roof-supporting beam in the ceiling, typical of traditional small cottages in that area. No furniture. The closet seems to have once served as a storeroom. Some cardboard pieces scattered on the floor, an old sleeping bag in the corner, and that's all.

CHARACTERS
ANTE, Croat, history teacher, 50, prisoner
PRISONER, later HUSSEIN, Muslim, a member of the Bosnian Army, lawyer, 30, prisoner
MAJOR, Croatian Army officer
PRISON GUARD, a member of the Croatian Army
1st CROATIAN SOLDIER
2nd CROATIAN SOLDIER
SERB CAPTAIN, later CAPTAIN MITAR
SERGEANT, a member of the Serb Army
1st SERB SOLDIER
2nd SERB SOLDIER
PERO, Serb soldier
STEVO, Serb soldier
1st BOSNIAN SOLDIER
2nd BOSNIAN SOLDIER, later IBRO
3rd BOSNIAN SOLDIER, later MEHO
4th BOSNIAN SOLDIER, later SAMIR

ACT I

(Ante, in army fatigue with Serb signs, standing in the room, now serving as a prison, close to the opposite wall; the Major and the Guard appear at the door, wearing fatigue with Croatian army signs, bringing in a new prisoner who wears fatigue with Bosnian army signs, his hands tied on the back. The Guard unties the prisoner.)

ANTE:
Come in, kids, come in. You are late. The school class has already started. Come in and take your seat on the benches. Today we'll talk about the country of our fathers which used to be called Yugoslavia…
GUARD:
Just you pretend to be crazy, it won't change your lot.
MAJOR:
Teacher, we've brought you a roommate to make you company.
ANTE:
The new student may take a free seat. Well, let me continue. In that weird country of fables and illusions, situated in the craggy Balkans, your fathers thought they'd finally found the magic formula of coexistence…
GUARD:
Teacher, pretending that you are mad won't save your neck, I told you.
PRISONER:
What's wrong with him?
GUARD:
Who knows? He says that he's a history teacher, and Croat as we are, although we caught him in the Serb uniform and with Serb documents. Now he's pretending to be mad in the hope this will save him from the firing squad.
PRISONER:
Is he a teacher? Is he a Serb or a Croat?
MAJOR:
We'll see. Maybe both, maybe not. Who can tell?
GUARD:
Who the hell cares?

PRISONER:
You wouldn't kill one of yours, would you?
MAJOR:
We wouldn't.
PRISONER:
But you'd kill him?
GUARD:
Hopefully.
ANTE:
Please, order! You are interrupting me all the time. Well, coexistence and Yugoslavia. It was a good formula, but it had a flaw, or a virus which was activated after the death of the inventor of Yugoslavia: Marshall Josip Broz Tito. None of his many disciples, all luminaries, could fix the formula, or remove the flaw, as you like. So, my dear kids, Tito took the secret of coexistence to his grave. Many wanted desperately to continue his work, but to no avail. The more effort they were putting in modifying the formula, the worse course things were taking. True, some of the luminaries were applying his general recipe, but their approach to details proved wrong. They could never master the subtleties, so now…
GUARD:
To hell with Tito. Every day the same stuff all over again. Can't you play another record?
ANTE:
… we are faced with several basic questions. (He walks up to the wall and "writes" on it with his finger, as teachers do on school boards.) The first question is: was Tito aware of this system error? The second question: if he was, could he rectify it? The third: if he could he rectify it, why didn't he do it? And, finally, the fourth question: is it just the fate of these areas that none of the states here has lasted longer than the average human lifetime? At least in the past several centuries. Those before were not our states anyway, we just lived in them.
GUARD:
I'll answer your questions, teacher. First, Tito couldn't care less for these system errors of yours. Second, Tito was the biggest imposter in the history of the Balkans. He screwed whatever and whoever he could lay his hands on, most of all us Croats. Third, Croatia which we are now making will be for ever.
ANTE:
Now, my boy, you don't understand a thing. First, that formula was Tito's lifetime work, so he did value it highest. Second, of course he was the biggest impostor, as you call him, because politics is a maneuvering skill. Indeed, imposture is often a positive attitude in politics, I mean, as far as it is possible to talk positive about politics. It's a paradox, of course, but that's the way things are. And third, nothing's for ever in this world. Nothing. No state, no regime, no ruler… Nothing. It's all just a little piece of history which is following its own chartered paths where people are its most consumable commodity, serving only to record it. But in most cases they are no good even at that. If they could only be impartial chroniclers, perhaps such things wouldn't be happening to us…
GUARD:
What about Bleibourg, 1945? What about those several hundred thousand innocent Croatian civilians slaughtered there by Tito and his partisans?
ANTE:
A horrible crime, like all crimes are. There are no good crimes, all of them are condemnable, no matter who commits them. But I can assure you, son, that Tito was totally unaware of them. When he learned about them, he was shocked and haunted by them for the rest of his life. He could never forget those victims. Not all of the killed, especially not those in black uniforms, but he did mourn many of them, out of pure human sympathy. That's why he created all the conditions required for an independent Croatian state. True, not only for Croatia, he did it for other republics, too, although some of them are not happy with the drawn borders. But what can we do? Nobody is ideal. What is much more important is the fact that the historic errors do not count here in the Balkans, otherwise history here wouldn't exist. Although, when I come to think about it, who knows whether or not history exists here at all, since…
GUARD:
Tito was grieved over the killed Croats?! That's ridiculous! He wasn't even a Croat.
PRISONER:
He wasn't?! What was he then?
GUARD:
How could I know? Allegedly, he was a Russian undercover agent sent during World War II, because the real Tito had been killed earlier somewhere in Russia.
ANTE:
Son, he was surely a Croat, because what he did could be done by a Croat only.
GUARD:
I don't get you.
ANTE:
That's what history lessons are for. So let's go on…
MAJOR:
I am fed up with you both. (Turns to the Guard) Aren't you yourself sick and tired of arguing with him every day about Tito and Yugoslavia? That's enough! We go, and you, Hasso, make yourself comfortable with this teacher and his Tito. We'll have a word with you later on. Let's go!
GUARD:
I am truly sick and tired of him and Tito …
MAJOR (laughing):
Let's go.

(The Major and the Guard exeunt, Ante and the new Prisoner stay inside. For a while they are watching each other in silence.)

PRISONER:
Please spare me your Tito and Yugoslavia, will you? I am fed up with them.
ANTE:
Not nearly as much as I am.
PRISONER:
What?!
ANTE (sits on the floor, breathing tiredly, and leans against the wall):
My friend, it's two weeks now that I've been languishing here, and only five days ago did I start with Tito and history lectures. Since they brought me before the firing squad.
PRISONER (sitting beside him):
The firing squad?!
ANTE:
That's how it's called. In their case it means that two or three of them pop in here in this lair and simply pick you off. They have no time for any trials or show trials, any records or that sort of things, let alone taking you out for any ceremony up against the wall. This wall on which I am leant is perfectly all right for their needs. In this respect they are not demanding. So you see, you never know where you may come across such wonderful examples of modesty.
PRISONER:
What if they again decide to pick you off, what will you do then?
ANTE:
I'll try something else and hope for a miracle.
PRISONER:
You believe in miracles?
ANTE:
Of course, I do. For one, this country is full of miracles. All kinds of. Haven't you realized that by now? If you haven't, you soon will. True, the miracles happening here have mostly detrimental effects on the people concerned. But then, a small, tiny miracle may happen here and there, like the one with Tito, which may prolong your life for a day or two. For the time being, it's only such miracles I reckon with.
PRISONER:
How did Tito occur to you? He of all men?
ANTE:
He appeared to me.
PRISONER:
How come!
ANTE:
He appeared to me. You know, in the Christian religion there are appearances…
PRISONER:
I know, I know. My wife is a Catholic Croat. But why Tito? You won't say that he's become a saint meanwhile.
ANTE:
If he has turned saintly, it means that some dramatic changes have taken place in heaven. Be that as it may, just as they decided to pick me off, he put in his appearance, dressed in his Marshall uniform, quite close to me, and I started talking and talking about him. Altogether spontaneously. They were baffled, at a loss for a word, just staring at me. It's understandable, we were all growing and living at a time when he was a god on earth. He is still very much in our awareness. Anyway, they postponed my execution for some other day without Tito hanging about.
PRISONER:
So you're sticking close to him, the Marshall, aren't you?
ANTE:
What else is there left to me? As long it holds water. Besides, it's hard to kill those who go mad. People steer clear of them in both war and peace, not knowing how to cope wit their "madness".
PRISONER:
If madness is a precondition for not killing, this war will soon be over.
ANTE:
Oh no, you're mistaken. There are all kinds of madness. What you have in mind is the madness that has struck a good part of bipeds living here, the kind of madness they are not aware of, and yet carry it with pride. They have converted it into unquestionable national values. What I have in mind is the ordinary human madness, the one when people say that you've lost your marbles, the one you're yourself aware of in the beginning when it starts grinding you, hurting you.
PRISONER:
OK, you are not mad, but have you lost your marbles or not?
ANTE:
Well, it's a rather delicate question, if asked under these circumstances. You can't be a judge of your own madness, can you? Although in these lands it's become quite normal lately. But a judgment like this would require an impartial, competent observer, a kind of person it's hard to find round here, don't you think so?
PRISONER:
Humph, that's quite close to the truth. But what are the parameters of madness in war? In peacetime it's clear when somebody is ripe for a lunatic asylum, but in wartime it's a bit harder to tell. How can you know whether or not you've gone mad? Some worst madmen are running things here, aren't they? I mean, madmen assessed as such, if we stick to peacetime criteria. If you are considered mad, how far are they on the scale of madness? By the way, I am Hussein, but all people call me Husso. A lawyer. A Muslim, A Bosnian, a Bosniak, who knows what else I am.
ANTE:
I am Ante, and so they call me. A history teacher. A pensioner, but my pension benefits are no longer recognized nor paid. Today, I guess, everybody's got other fish to fry. Oh, yes, one more thing. I am a Croat. Or at least was one up to now, but these guys here refuse to believe it. They accept anything I ask except what prevents them from killing me.

(They shake hands.)

HUSSEIN:
So you didn't lie about being a teacher?
ANTE:
Well, you can't go crazy on a ground you are not familiar with, or else they catch you red-handed, although you may get an impression that most of them are utterly ignorant… (In that moment the door creaks.) Careful, they're coming back. (The door opens and only the Guard goes in.) Well, student, let's sum up. The old Yugoslavia, the one before World War II, went bust because of unsolved nationality issues, not because it was attacked by fascist powers, as is usually thought. It was, they say, a grave of our fraternized peoples, it was a community of…
GUARD:
Eh, my teacher, speaking of the graves, you won't live to to see yours.
HUSSEIN:
Why?
GUARD:
Because at the time of war the enemies are not buried. You don't have enough time to bury your own dead, let alone theirs.
HUSSEIN:
In these lands there are much more human bones on the surface than underground. So much indeed that they can't bury them all in between wars, even less so while a war is in progress. Fortunately, nature has been generous to us and given us plenty of pits to serve as gra…
GUARD:
What pits are you blabbering about?
HUSSEIN:
Those pits which are murky not because of their depth or darkness reigning down there, but because of those wretches who ended up in them.
GUARD:
So we've got another smart ass in here. I like such bunch. But right now I have no time for you and for your pits. I just wanted to tell you that there will be no lunch today. Problems with the supply lines. But that may make supper taste better, what do you think, professor?
ANTE:
Kids, the power of the spirit does not depend on food, it depends on…
GUARD:
Fine, so much the better, because supper may also be delayed, I was told. Maybe tomorrow, maybe not.
HUSSEIN:
All is "maybe" round here. Maybe you were born, maybe you weren't. Maybe you are alive, maybe you're not, maybe you are somewhere in between. Neither alive nor dead.
GUARD:
Maybe we'll kill you today and you'll be spared all these dilemmas. Until then, you go on elevating me spiritually, until the vitamins arrive. Maybe you won't need any vitamins either, what do you think? Maybe…

(The Guard exists, laughing.)

HUSSEIN:
He sees us dead already.
ANTE:
You can't blame him for being realistic, can you? In this respect, I can't say I am more farsighted than he is. Given the circumstances, you don't have to be farsighted to see the foreseeable future, do you?
HUSSEIN:
Humph! Maybe… Hell, I'm also stuck with 'maybe'.
ANTE:
What?
HUSSEIN:
Maybe we should mind what we are talking.
ANTE:
Why?
HUSSEIN:
Maybe they are eavesdropping. Maybe they've installed a hidden microphone somewhere…
ANTE:
Hidden… what? Ha, ha, ha! My young friend, I must admit that you're the first in some months who've made me laugh. You really think they care what we talk or what we think? Why should anyone care for what the heaven-bound passengers have to say? The time of departure depends on nothing else but the current mood of the masters of our failed lives. You see this red stain on the wall beside me? Congealed blood. Of a Serb, Simo was his name, whom they shot the other day, just like that. That morning they popped in, in high spirits, almost laughing, they greeted us, asked how we felt, if we had had a good night rest, and that sort of stuff, and then, just like that, in passing sort of, they fired a couple of bursts into Simo and left. After several hours others came and took the body out. Who knows where they threw it away. I hope that in the vicinity there are some of those pits you mentioned, or else wild beasts will tear him to pieces. For the time being, we don't exist, understand?
HUSSEIN:
Living corpses, is that what we are?
ANTE:
Yes, you can put it that way.
HUSSEIN:
Why then are they listening to you? I mean, your fooleries about Tito?
ANTE:
They are amused. Especially the Major. I guess he served in the former Yugoslav army, so he finds this talk rather funny. For now, but not for long. I can see that on their faces. When the Major is not around, when he's somewhere out in the field, the guys tend to get jittery and that thin red line is becoming tight to the point of breaking. And it breaks often, as it did in the case of poor Simo. Whoever they kill beside you, they kill a part of you, too. So it goes, piece by piece…
HUSSEIN:
What are we going to do?
ANTE:
What are we going to do? Nothing. What possibly can we do?
HUSSEIN:
I haven't killed anybody. My folks put on this uniform on me, but they gave me no gun. They needed my legal assistance…
ANTE:
Who needs legal assistance nowadays?
HUSSEIN:
Frankly, no one. Or everybody, as you like, but it's of no use to anybody. There is no law, no justice, so legal assistance is an absurd category. But, well, these folks of mine have established a kind of office for legal assistance to people, just to show that there is some functioning government. Then on my way back home, these folks of yours caught me, so here I am. Incidentally, the place where they caught me was supposed to be under the control of the Bosnian army. I have no idea how these guys chanced there instead. How did you wind up in the Serb uniform?
ANTE:
I am from Doboj, the town the Serbs have taken. To save my neck, a Serb neighbor and friend of mine gave me this uniform and a pass so that I could escape. I passed through three Serb sentinel posts and thought how happy I was to save my ass, only to be caught by these guys, "my folks", who are now about to kill me. Looks as though I didn't have to take so much trouble, I could have stayed where I was. A bullet kills you no matter who pulls the trigger.
HUSSEIN:
They seem to be coming back again. Can you hear some noise?
ANTE:
I'll pretend to be asleep. I am tired anyway, tired of them, Tito, Yugoslavia, everything.

(The door is opening and two Croatian soldiers appear, toting rifles.)

1st CROATIAN SOLDIER (in a raised voice):
Husso, up against the wall!
HUSSEIN:
What?!
2nd CROATIAN SOLDIER:
Post yourself against the wall. Now!
HUSSEIN:
Why?
1st CROATIAN SOLDIER:
Because I say so. Or you want me to paint you on the wall?

(Hussein places himself against the wall, pale, bewildered. The First Soldier raises the rifle and aims at his chest.)

HUSSEIN (starts singing aloud in a quavering voice ):
Comrade Tito, we swear to thee,
we won't betray you for no fee,
for no fee…
2nd CROATIAN SOLDIER:
This one, too, gone to hell with Tito.
1st CROATIAN SOLDIER:
He may sing to Tito, Stalin, Churchill, Roosewelt, or to all of them together, he'll soon join them anyway.

(Ante is suddenly "awakening", looks around pretending to be surprised, then jumps to his feet, stands by Hussein and sings with him.)

HUSSEIN and ANTE (together):
Comrade Tito, we swear to thee…
2nd CROATIAN SOLDIER:
This has become a real epidemic. How about leaving it to the Major to argue with them about Tito? After all, the Major once owed allegiance to Tito.
1st CROATIAN SOLDIER (lowers the rifle for a moment, watches the prisoners who are singing louder and louder. He shouts.):
That's enough! Stop singing! (They go on singing.) Stop, or I'll kill you both! (They don't stop, instead go on singing still louder) You damned, communist motherfuckers.
2. CROATIAN SOLDIER:
To hell with them. Let's get out of here.

(The soldiers leave. Hussein, white as a sheet, sinks to the sitting position leant against the wall, humming the same song. Ante sits beside him.)

ANTE (after a minute or two of silence):
It's over. Calm down!
HUSSEIN (sings quietly, completely at a loss):
Comrade Tito, they killed me,
they killed me…
ANTE (embracing him with one arm):
They haven't killed you. Calm down.
HUSSEIN (sobbing):
Dammit, I've gone nuts. (Holds his head cupped and cries quietly). They killed me. They killed me without firing a shot.
ANTE:
They killed us all some years ago, when all this started, but some need more time than others to realize that.
HUSSEIN:
A second or two before death, only Tito on my mind. Not my kids, not my wife, just Tito. Hey, I'm finished, it's obvious.
ANTE:
Humph, it's my fault. But you are alive, and that's something. Nothing special, given the circumstances, but still...
HUSSEIN:
I'm fed up. I'll kill myself. Rather than being slaughtered by these animals. I'll rather be my own executioner. (He gets up abruptly, takes a run and rams with his head into the next wall. Falls to the floor, his head bleeding. Tries to get up and rush to the wall again. Wobbly on his legs. Ante jumps to his side, prevents him. Hussein cries aloud.) Damn them all, all of them. Please, let me kill myself!
ANTE:
Calm down. That's how you feel when you come face to face with death for the first time. Calm down, it'll pass.
HUSSEIN:
The hell it will. But I wish they all went to hell, together with Yugoslavia and all the predecessor and successor states. Not even Gestapo was doing what these fucking bastards are doing…
ANTE:
Wrong. Gestapo was doing even worse, much worse things, but never mind.
HUSSEIN:
My wife is a Croat …
ANTE:
It's not her fault…
HUSSEIN:
I'm not blaming her, just stating a fact. Beasts, that's what they are, not human beings. Vermin. Bandits. Putting a man up against the wall, just like that, never asking who you are, what you feel, why…
ANTE (helps HUSSEIN down to the floor, where they resume their seat):
My son, jerks remain jerks whatever jacket you put on them, whatever names you give them. They first force you to lower yourself down to their level, then they kill you at that level where you can't compete with them. Understand? At their level you have no chance. So you must gather enough strength to keep the level…
HUSSEIN:
What fucking level are you talking about?! This is the lowest bottom, this is perfect dirt, there are no levels. This is…
ANTE:
Calm down. Somebody's coming.

(Steps are heard from the outside. Enter the Major and the Guard.)

MAJOR:
What was the problem, gentlemen? Again Tito? This time in duet, ha?
HUSSEIN:
Fuck off!
MAJOR:
What did you say?!
ANTE:
The boy is shocked, doesn't know what he's talking about.
GUARD:
We'll break the boy's neck and he'll be healed of the shock altogether.
HUSSEIN:
You can blow the boy's…

(The Guard starts up , moves on with the rifle raised to clobber Hussein down. Hussein guards his head with his hands. The Major grabs the Guard and holds him back from action.)

GUARD:
I'll kill him. I can't let this Muslim trash talk to me like that. I can't…
MAJOR:
Cool off. Get out to catch some fresh air! Now!

(The Guard exits, shaking with rage.)

MAJOR (sits on the floor, a little away from Hussein and Ante and lights his cigarette):
Hey, Husso, you must have gone mad or…
HUSSEIN:
I don't give a damn. You can do me no more harm.
MAJOR:
How do you mean that?
HUSSEIN:
You killed me. Now I care no more.
MAJOR:
You'll liven up again, don't you worry. Your mujahedins were taking me out for the firing squad ten times in thirty days they held me imprisoned. They killed me ten times. And here I am alive again. A strange thing how many times you can die in these lands.
HUSSEIN:
Mujahedins are not mine.
MAJOR:
They are not mine either for that matter, but they wear your uniform. Somebody's brought them to Bosnia.
ANTE:
You were also detained?
MAJOR:
Thirty days in a mujahedin camp. They beat the devil out of me. Finally, they exchanged me half-dead for some of their guys whom our guys happened to take prisoner. And so I happened to save my ass.

ANTE:
You served in the former Yugoslav Army?
MAJOR:
Yes.
ANTE:
How then can you kill innocent people?
MAJOR:
You obviously haven't learned yet that in war there are no innocent people. Especially not in our types of war. There are only friends in quotation marks and enemies without quotation marks. No innocents.
HUSSEIN:
What about my kids, whose enemies are they?
MAJOR:
They have the same enemies as mine.
HUSSEIN:
Well, whose enemies are your kids?
MAJOR:
A very good question. I had a son and a daughter, now I have only a daughter. A couple of months ago my son was killed in Mostar by a sniper, just a day before his scheduled departure to Croatia.
HUSSEIN:
You are serious?
MAJOR:
Serious?! Can it be more serious than having your 10-year old son killed by a psychopathic sniper?
HUSSEIN:
Sorry, you caught me unawares… That's terrible, it really is.
MAJOR:
Of course it is. Now, tell me, whose enemy was my son? He had to be someone's enemy, didn't he, otherwise why should the somebody kill him? Friends are not meant to be killed, are they? That's the general rule.
HUSSEIN:
Do you know who killed your son?
MAJOR:
Officially, it was a Muslim sniper. Unofficially, I don't care. Had God been merciful and made the sniper miss the target, that would have been something. As it is, however, does it really matter who…
ANTE:
My God, what are we doing to each other?
MAJOR:
Settling the past accounts…
ANTE:
And the future ones, too. Wasn't your son your future? What's left of it now?
MAJOR:
No idea. I refuse to think about it. I'm just a professional soldier…
ANTE:
who is unsuccessfully trying to escape the reality.
MAJOR:
… who is just carrying out orders, nothing more. I am not receiving instructions, guidelines, opinions, I am receiving orders where there is no room for discretion.
ANTE:
When will you start thinking about the future?
MAJOR:
When it's all over.
ANTE:
Then it's too late. You think about the future while it is in the making, not when it becomes a past.
MAJOR:
If that could bring my son back, I'd do the thinking day and night.
ANTE:
How many other sons will have to follow the path of your son because you've stopped thinking?
HUSSEIN:
Let's stop talking about sons, whoever they belong to. Right now something else is bothering me. There's no room here for discretion, you said. It means that you ordered those two men to kill me, didn't you?
MAJOR:
I didn't.
HUSSEIN:
So they did it at their own discretion?
MAJOR:
Well, you can put it that way. To give you a scare a bit. They didn't intend to kill you really.
HUSSEIN:
Are you sure? They could have killed me, couldn't they? Such things were happening, weren't they ?
MAJOR:
Frankly, they could have killed you.
HUSSEIN:
How can they act arbitrarily, if they are under your command?
MAJOR:
Don't be ridiculous. When I talk about military professionals, I mean commissioned officers, no them. And I also don't mean all officers, I mean those… Humph! I'd better not elaborate.
HUSSEIN:
But the officers' job is to ensure that a soldier acts as a soldier, not as an armed butcher.
MAJOR:
In ideal circumstances, yes. Also in decent history textbooks. The problem is the reality. Especially the kind of reality we have. You see, for a command to make sense it is necessary first and foremost that somebody obeys it, isn't it?
HUSSEIN:
I don't quite get it.
ANTE:
I get it, but still feel the same as you do.
HUSSEIN:
Then I haven't lost much.
MAJOR:
You've lost nothing, more or less.
ANTE:
We Croats are a strange sort, we really are. It is allegedly nine hundred years now that we've been waiting for our own state and we've learned nothing yet about diplomacy, negotiations, patience. Instead we take up arms outright, as if we'd come to colonize these areas only yesterday. As if time had stopped running all these nine hundred years.
MAJOR:
We had no choice.
ANTE:
Hey, there's no war in history in which the warring parties were not arguing that they had no choice. Of course you have no choice once you are attacked. But what was happening before that? Was there really no choice before that? Did we do our best to find it, or didn't we actually embrace it wholeheartedly once it came? True, the choice…
MAJOR:
…doesn't exist if the Serbs are your neighbors. Other peoples living in this part of the world showed some patience and diplomacy, but what really matters is how the most numerous people behaves, the Serbs in our case. If the others hadn't shown some sense of decency, they'd have started at least ten world wars by now. As it was, however, they managed to motivate the mankind only for the first world war, whereas their role in provoking the second was by far below the standard. They've been doing their best to make up for this failure which still makes them feel unhappy.
HUSSEIN:
Be fair and concede that you Croats immediately join them as soon as the Serbs screw up something, for fear that they'd feel lonely in their humane endeavors.
ANTE:
You can't leave your brother in the lurch, no matter how crazy he may be.
MAJOR:
Hey, Husso, are you making fun of both the Serbs and us Croats? Only twenty or so years ago you Muslims were either Serbs or Croats, never existed as a separate people, until Tito had one of his great ideas of granting you the status of a people. Only God and he know why he did it. But I'm sure that he didn't ask God for advice, at that time he considered himself greater than God. At any case, you Bosnian Muslims fairly share with the Serbs and us all the discussed propensities.
HUSSEIN:
In this respect I fully agree with you. I have no illusions about any peace-loving propensities of my folks.
MAJOR:
Let's leave this useless debate which will get us nowhere. I've come for something else. You see, we are going to redeploy one of these days, in other words, leave this location. Now, we can't drag you around with us, can we? So, what can we reasonably do? Exchange you. After all, you, Husso, you were caught for exchange. Two of our guys have been caught by your guys with whom we've already established a contact and in principle made a deal. Two for two.
HUSSEIN:
Where do you have number two? I mean, one more Muslim?
ANTE:
I have a feeling that I'll be no longer a Serb, not a Croat…
MAJOR (chuckling):
A Muslim. Exactly. Were you a teacher in Bosnia? You were. Were you also teaching Muslim students? You were. Are you familiar with their customs and habits? Of course, you are, at least those before the war. These new customs and habits haven't yet been adopted by all, so it shouldn't bother you too much. Fine, there we are, we have a self-proffered solution, as it were. You've been enough of a Serb and a Croat lately, and, as far as I can see, neither has made you happy, so why not try a Muslim option for a change? It may bring you more luck.
ANTE:
All these options carried one name – Yugoslavs.
MAJOR:
They are no more. Died out. Extinct species. Like dinosaurs. They were unable to adapt themselves to new climatic…
ANTE:
While a Yugoslav I could also be a Croat and nobody minded. Now that they've done away with the Yugoslavs, you can have any nationality you choose, but you have at least two other nationalities which are making deadly schemes about your head.
MAJOR:
Well, teacher, the time has come when you have to develop the skill of becoming a perfect and timely turncoat. Both perfect and timely. Any imperfection or delay may cost you dearly.
ANTE:
What the hell was wrong with the former state?
MAJOR:
Oh, don't start it all over again. A lot was wrong. For example, there was no democracy.
ANTE:
I agree, it was far from ideal, but can you call democracy what we now have?
MAJOR:
We now have a war for democracy. And a nation state, of course. Where one day democracy will flourish.
HUSSEIN:
When?
MAJOR:
Well, let me see. One day in a distant future when the children of my fiery soldiers and your mujahedins will be having school reunions together. With no knives flashing, of course. And if we happen to live again in the same state. You never know.
HUSSEIN:
And until then?
ANTE:
Until then we have to build joint schools and train teachers who will lead them to such reunions. Lead them to what until only yesterday was taken for granted, and is today science fiction. To reach that stage, we must first confront ourselves with our own faults. And finally learn that no future can be built on converting these faults into virtues, defeats into victories, things that we are so fond of doing. And also learn that we are not the center of the world. And more thing, we must stop writing history before it happens.
HUSSEIN:
Said nicely, but vainly, it seems to me.
MAJOR:
I agree with Husso. We are younger and more pragmatic.
ANTE:
The older you are, the wiser you are, the more sense of responsibility you have, both to yourself and to others. That's what these lands miss most nowadays.
MAJOR:
Well, teacher, you may be partly right, but things you believe in have also been trampled down by that same history of yours, rejected like scrap. Had your values been any good, they'd have survived. But fuck the history. It's an overrated discipline anyway, one which deals with the dead. It's of little or no use to the living, as you should know better. Nobody has learned any lesson from it, so why should we?
ANTE:
Historia est magistra vitae…
MAJOR:
Leave the old Romans and their sayings. They sound nice, but mean nothing. Certainly not this one. Had the world cared to learn from history, we wouldn't be having one war going on every day on this crazy planet, would we?
ANTE:
The fact that many fail to learn from history is not so much of a problem, the real problem is that history is abused by many. They distort it and misuse it to justify their goals.
MAJOR:
So much the worse. Not only that it's of no use, it's also damaging by its very existence. If it were not for history, those jerks wouldn't be able to claim all kinds of historic rights in order to start new wars, right? Well, they'd think up something else… But, men, let's stop this quibbling. Instead, if you believe in God, or Allah, or any other almighty resident of heaven, do call him for help in this tricky exchange. Now, teacher, we have a uniform of a Bosnian Army captain, which will make them very happy. I mean, for a private they get a captain. We generously leave it to you to choose your name. So let's hear it, and we'll put it in the exchange documents.
ANTE:
You've made arrangements already?
MAJOR:
Yes, teacher, in any war time is a decisive factor. We don't have it in abundance. The Serbs are advancing from north, in fact, they may burst in here any time from now on. Considering their numerical superiority, you and I may both wind up in the same position. Well, with this uniform on you, you may get away with it somehow, although I doubt it very much. Never mind. So, what'll be your name? Say it!
ANTE:
You know, it's not as easy as that. You usually get your name from others, your parents, for example…
MAJOR:
Do I look like a parent?
ANTE:
Not quite…
MAJOR:
Well then, get yourself a name by evening, because the exchange is likely to happen tomorrow already.
ANTE:
They'll kill me when they find out…
MAJOR:
Teacher, it depends on you what they will find out and what they will not. Here's Husso at your side, he can help you. You were singing for him, so he can sing for you when the time comes. I'm off, you think about it. One more thing, you can stop lecturing on Tito and Yugoslavia. I know the stuff by heart, the others are not interested, so you don't have to bother about it any more.
ANTE:
Many will have to bother about it for quite some time, whether they like it or not. For quite some time.
MAJOR (gets up and leaves):
If you say so.

(The Major exits and closes the door behind him.)

HUSSEIN:
What are we going to do now? You've become a Muslim. But better a living Muslim than a dead Croat.
ANTE:
I don't care what I'm going to be. I'm reduced to nothing anyway. But when your guys realize that I am not…
HUSSEIN:
We'll scrape through somehow. I'll be your witness. You won't be dead as long as I am alive.
ANTE:
Thank you, but what's the use of two dead men? Better one survived than none. I am getting old…
HUSSEIN:
Stop talking nonsense, sorry to be rude. Either both or none. Agreed?
ANTE:
Listen, son…
HUSSEIN:
You listen, I can't tell you what it meant to me when you stood by me up against the wall. Nobody ever risked his life for me, facing a gun barrel. So we go either both or none. Agreed?
ANTE:
Well, let it be the way you prefer it, although I have a hunch that this exchange will not end well, if it takes place at all.
HUSSEIN:
Why shouldn't it?
ANTE:
Because things here are changing from hour to hour, not to speak of a whole day. You must first live to see the next day and what it brings with it. A trivial problem for the rest of the world, isn't it?
HUSSEIN:
Let's try and think positive. As positive as possible. Don't give me that bland look. Let's take the exchange as a sure thing and prepare ourselves for it.
ANTE:
How shall I prepare myself?
HUSSEIN:
Well, you may not be quite up to date when it comes to this, humph, newspeak my folks have been developing lately. Neither am I, but I may teach you some basics. For a start, you wouldn't be well advised to greet them with good morning or good afternoon, or, God forbid, hello comrades…
ANTE:
How then?
HUSSEIN:
You greet them Selam aleikum.

ANTE:
What does that mean?!
HUSSEIN:
A normal Muslim greeting.
ANTE:
If it 's so normal, why didn't you use it before?
HUSSEIN:
Why didn't you use your greeting "Jesus be praised"?
ANTE:
We did. The believers did.
HUSSEIN:
So you see, we were discriminated, compared with you.
ANTE:
Did anybody forbid you to use that greeting?
HUSSEIN:
How the hell could I know? I never heard it before.
ANTE:
You mean, you were not seen much in the mosques?
HUSSEIN:
Not exactly. My old man was a communist, some low-ranking functionary in the local council… But it's of no fucking importance. We keep jumping from topic to topic, although we haven't got much time. Let's call it a crash course entitled "How to become a Muslim in a couple of hours?"
ANTE:
You think it's possible?
HUSSEIN:
Let's change the title and call it instead: "How to survive in war with Muslims?" All right? There's another greeting, much trickier, "Allah Akhbar".
ANTE:
Does it mean something?
HUSSEIN:
It does. Something like God is great, that is, Allah is great.
ANTE:
Can I then just say God, instead of Allah, if it's the same?
HUSSEIN:
You can't.
ANTE:
Why not? Where's the difference?
HUSSEIN:
In the language.
ANTE:
Which language have you started talking?
HUSSEIN:
I told you, these are just greetings, normal among all Muslims round the globe.
ANTE:
But why not praise God in your own language? Are you afraid that He won't understand you?
HUSSEIN:
Not so long time ago you were greeting your God in Latin, didn't you?
ANTE:
We did, until we established direct diplomatic relations with heaven in our own language, without Vatican's mediation.
HUSSEIN:
This war shows how close your relations with God really are.
ANTE:
The relations were disrupted during the communist era when Tito was assuming divine powers. Now that Tito is firmly in heaven, things are rapidly improving. Once the war is finished, we'll have more diplomatic and consular missions than Vatican. We Croats are a highly adaptable variety of homo sapiens. We planned it all carefully beforehand. True, the majority knew nothing about these plans…
HUSSEIN:
It seems to me that these plans of yours, whoever made them, will keep God happy for a very long time. But let's return to the greetings. Have you memorized them?
ANTE:
I haven't. Only Salem and Allah, not what follows after. Why is the adjunct to the other, to Allah, tricky, as you put it? Sounds quite normal in translation.
HUSSEIN:
The trick is that it doesn't sound so in the original, especially if uttered by the mujahedins, which is most often the case.
ANTE:
Aha, I see. Another bunch who are trigger-happy for the glory of God. How does Allah look at it, what do you think… Caution, somebody's coming.
(Steps are heard. The door opens. Enters the Guard carrying a uniform.)
GUARD:
Teacher, of with this Serb and on with this Muslim uniform. You've been promoted to the rank of captain. Pity we have no time to drink to this. From an ordinary Serb soldier to a Bosnian captain in one single day, quite a feat. Come on. Take it off, we haven't got too much time.

(Ante takes off the uniform he wears and puts on the one brought by the Guard.)

GUARD:
So you've become a Muslim officially. My sincere congratulations!
ANTE:
Thanks for your sincerity.
GUARD:
How do you feel as a Muslim?
ANTE:
Rotten. Just as I felt as a Croat and a Serb.
GUARD:
He, he, he! Suits you better than the Serb uniform. In it you'll be a handsomer corpse.
HUSSEIN:
Can you imagine anybody not looking like a corpse?
GUARD:
I can, but not the two of you.
HUSSEIN (to Ante in a subdued voice):
Who knows how he imagines others. Perhaps we haven't come out as bad as that after all.
GUARD:
What! What did you say?
HUSSEIN:
That sometimes it's better to be dead than alive.
GUARD:
If I'd been asked, you'd have been better off quite some while ago.
HUSSEIN:
Wouldn't you rather exchange us for your prisoners?
GUARD:
No. They should be liberated, while you and those who have captured them should be all killed. The way we are handling it is wrong. Why go all the trouble of taking prisoners, if we must hand you back sooner or later? That way the war will never be finished.

HUSSEIN:
But no war was ended with absolutely all the members of one party wiped out.
GUARD:
That's why we must have wars over and over again.
ANTE:
An advocate of final solutions, that's what he is…
GUARD:
Shut up! Both of you.

(The Guard takes the uniform cast off by Ante and leaves.)

HUSSEIN:
What a nervous fellow.
ANTE:
If it hadn't been for the Major, we'd be both in heaven by now. But let's return to those greetings., or rather, those adjuncts I just can't get right. Maybe I'd better be a Muslim atheist, how about that?
HUSSEIN:
An atheist working up to a captain? Don't be silly. As an atheist you wouldn't pass for a soldier, let alone a captain.
ANTE:
How about removing the chevrons and epaulets?
HUSSEIN:
How can you? My guys expect to get a captain. Besides, you see these pieces are sown firmly into the textile.
ANTE:
Hey, man, I'm bad even at the Catholic greetings and prayers, let alone yours.
HUSSEIN:
You think I'm good at them? A rank beginner, like most others, that's what I am. Adapt yourself, listen to what others babble and repeat after them. You know, nowadays religion is a highly priced means of survival. Forget what used to be. I, for example, didn't know that there was a mosque in town until the Serbs razed it to the ground.
ANTE:
Oh yes, they are a bit allergic to minarets, find them too tall…
HUSSEIN:
Then my folks remembered that there was a Serb Orthodox church in the same town.

ANTE:
And?
HUSSEIN:
And now neither side has any place where they can pray. Strange, indeed. The more need for religion and God, the less churches and mosques are left. The houses of God are flying up straight to heaven, mostly in late night hours, while the sinners stay on earth under the stars with their sins. And with the icons.
ANTE:
Icons?!
HUSSEIN:
Well, before pulling down and setting fire on a church, they first take from it the icons, statues and other valuables and sell them later back to the Serbs.
ANTE:
Fortunately, the folks in these areas have no firm principles, not even in destruction, so that there's always something left, one way or the other, for the next generations.
HUSSEIN:
We must think about the next generations. If we destroy everything, they'll have nothing to fight for among themselves when their time comes.
ANTE:
It's not funny at all.
HUSSEIN:
Who says it's funny? Truths have never been funny in the Balkans. When you arrive in heaven, ask those who were making fun of them. Anyway, it seems to me that these instructions won't yield any special results. When I come to think about it, you'd better keep your mouth shut when we meet those guys of mine. Pretend to be sick, mentally broken as a result of torture, or the like, and I'll do all the talking. Otherwise God and Allah combined won't be able to help us.
ANTE:
Good, I won't have to pretend that I've gone nuts. Hey, are you hearing something?
HUSSEIN:
What?!
ANTE:
Some shooting, can you hear it?
HUSSEIN:
No. My ears are ringing so much from that encounter with the wall that I can hardly hear you. Aha, now I can also hear something. Seems quite close.
ANTE:
Too close. And louder and louder.

(Shooting from the outside is heard more and more frequently, nearer and nearer, Ante and Hussein look at each other in bewilderment.)

ANTE:
Seems we are up shit creek this time.
HUSSEIN:
A moment earlier we were not surrounded with what one might call flourishing roses.
ANTE:
For some time now roses have stopped flourishing here. For whom? Who cares for them and their beauty any more? And who knows will they ever be blossoming again, and for whom? And what will they look like by then?

(Crash! Bang! Stronger and stronger blasts are heard from the outside.)

ANTE:
Not a single day have I managed to pass for a Muslim.
HUSSEIN:
If it can be of any comfort to you, I have managed to pass for one for thirty or so years now, and I still don't feel any better than you do.
ANTE:
I've already forgotten what comfort is supposed to be.
HUSSEIN:
I take comfort from the fact that in the end I've been given a chance to meet an exceptional person – you.
ANTE:
I'm also glad to have met you. What else is there left to the poor devils that we are but take comfort in what is there at hand? Adapting our criteria to the circumstances.
HUSSEIN:
In these circumstances there are no criteria at all.

(Bang! A powerful blast nearby shakes the wall, Ante and Hussein draw together automatically. Ante starts crossing himself.)

HUSSEIN:
So, my friend, you are joining the religious grassroots. What about Tito?

ANTE:
Tito was helpful with light firearms, with these big-caliber weapons only God in person can hope. So pray, you too.
HUSSEIN:
I don't know how to pray.
ANTE:
Say your prayers. The Muslim ones.
HUSSEIN:
Them I don't know.
ANTE:
What a Muslim you are, if you can't pray?
HUSSEIN:
Worse than you are. I know some greetings I've learned recently, I can make low bows, and that's all. You pray for both of us. Pray aloud, and I'll repeat after you. Better something than nothing.
ANTE:
So much about comfort.
HUSSEIN (yells):
Louder, I can't hear you.
ANTE (shouting amidst louder and louder blasts):
My dear Lord, the time has come for us, two poor mortals, to turn to you directly…
HUSSEIN (shouts):
What kind of prayer is that?
ANTE (shouts):
You know any better?
HUSSEIN (shouts):
I don't, but…
ANTE (shouts):
Then shut up and repeat after me. Well, Comrade God, pardon, my Lord, take mercy on these two servants of yours who against their will call your name…
HUSSEIN (shouts):
If you go on praying like this, we better kill ourselves.
ANTE (shouts):
Pardon, who against their own will have found themselves in dire straights… How can I pray if you keep interrupting me?
HUSSEIN (shouts):
You are a lousy believer. How about trying Allah? You've defected to the Muslims, haven't you? Here you don't have to pray, just kneel down, turn to the east and establish the contact.

ANTE (shouts):
What contact?
HUSSEIN (shouts)
Well, the contact with Him established through meditation. You pray to yourself, begging Him to spare our lives today. OK?
ANTE (shouts):
I don't mind. God is one, no matter how we call Him.

(HUSSEIN goes down on his knees, turns to the east, bows his head to the ground, while Ante is doing the same after him. Blasts outdoors are getting stronger and stronger.)

ANTE (shouts):
Contact with Allah failed.
HUSSEIN (shouts):
Why failed? You just have to pray sincerely…
ANTE (shouts):
I've never been more sincere in my whole life. You can't imagine how sincerely I pray not to be slaughtered by this gang coming next. But your religious education seems to be no good.
HUSSEIN (shouts):
Why?
ANTE (shouts):
I have doubts about your method of calling God for help. It seems to me that we'd be better advised to yell for His help at the top of our voices, rather than quietly pray. He can't hear us in this dreadful noise. How about returning to improvisation….
HUSSEIN (shouts):
You really are a lousy believer. No good, neither as a Muslim nor as a Catholic. Let's return to your God to see how it works. But we won't get far with your highbrow ways, so this time I pray and you repeat after me. OK? Well then, let's get started. Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name…
ANTE (shouts):
Hey! How do you know Our Father?
HUSSEIN (shouts):
My wife is a Croat, I told you. Did you ever interrupt your wife amidst her prayers?
ANTE (shouts):
She died, and she was not exactly pious.

HUSSEIN (shouts):
Lucky you. Sorry, a slip of tongue. Let's start again. Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name…
ANTE (shouts):
You've really learned the whole Our Father?!
HUSSEIN (shouts):
What kind of man you are! I studied in Zagreb, married a Croat girl, my children were baptized in a Catholic church, my wife's cousin is a Catholic priest… Well, my children were also going to the mosque…
ANTE (shouts):
So what are your children? Croats or Muslims?
HUSSEIN (shouts):
Both. Extraterrestrials.
ANTE (shouts):
Poor kids. For an ordinary mortal it is hard enough to be a distant relative of the other of the peoples living in these lands, let alone belong to both. Where are your wife and children now?
HUSSEIN (shouts):
Are you out of your mind? Will you pray or interrogate me?

(Bang! One more powerful blast close to the wall of the prison.)

ANTE and HUSSEIN (together):
Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name…