Amara Stupac, Cernica, Bosnia & Herzegovina
The Genie of the Lamp
Author: Amara Stupac
The love for Mostar, deeply intertwined with its Neretva River, constitutes the very soul of every Mostar resident. It cannot be acquired or bought; rather, it is passed down from within, residing in the warmest chambers of a mother’s heartbeat.
The unwavering flow of the Neretva River courses through the veins of its people. Cloaked in emerald splendor, the river is adorned with swift currents, turning challenging bends into a mysterious enchantment for the most skilled swimmers. Esteemed by the locals, the river conceals the seal of courage within its depths.
Frequently, while seated on Ploča, our attention would be drawn to a charming girl across the river at Mejdan. This sets the stage for the customary display of prowess, all in the anticipation of sharing a meaningful glance. It could be a bold headfirst dive, skillfully avoiding the awkwardness of jumping while standing, or entering the water from the beach and progressing towards Sinija (a low-lying round table) —a distinctive rock in the midst of the Neretva, aptly named for its unique appearance.
Demonstrating our prowess, we execute another headfirst dive, swiftly followed by a determined swim to the opposite side. Just as one is about to emerge from the water after this theatrical display, they swiftly remove their towels from the beach. It leaves you in a moment of uncertainty—whether to shed a tear or burst into laughter. These are genuine Mostar girls, elusive and unattainable. We know it, for we have mothers waiting at home. Ah, the “happy times.”
The Neretva transcends being a mere river; it has bestowed upon us responsibilities and instilled in us the importance of community values, particularly in preserving neighborhood beaches. It recognizes that when the blistering sun intensifies, we find comfort in its embrace. “Seeking shade? Then invest the effort and labor.” Mostar’s beaches stand as evidence of our deep comprehension of the natural world.
Humanity and nature collaborate to offer citizens respite from the heat. Nature bestows the gift, and guided by its principles, humans build and maintain it. No individual can shoulder the burden alone. Everyone has contributed in accordance with their means and abilities.
Guided by the river‘s wisdom, we accomplished remarkable feats. In a specific area, using stones, sand, and reinforced with concrete for stability, we formed a cove, giving rise to Ploča Beach. Later, through collective effort, we established a safe swimming area for children. Utilizing smaller rocks, we created a barrier beneath the cove where the river’s flow would bring water, filtered through the rock crevices, and forming a natural pool. It is within this tranquil pool that generations honed the skill of swimming.
However, the shadows of war descended, leaving Ploča Beach abandoned. Laughter turned to tears, and the echoes of war silenced its once vibrant voice. The adventures, sealed away by the rock, now stand preserved, preventing them from slipping into oblivion.
With the cessation of the war, a new era unfolded —the age of pools and “bricks” (mobile phones). The youth succumbed to technologically driven trends, and the rich traditions of the Neretva dwindled into a faint reflection. Its memories, akin to a benevolent genie, were encapsulated within a lamp. That is, until one day, when a group of young men rubbed the lamp. As I’ve mentioned, the love for the Neretva is woven into our genetic code. The young men, embodying the essence of the Neretva, sought solace on Ploča, tending to its war scars and reliving older memories. All for one and one for all, united for Ploča. A joint endeavor liberated the genie from the lamp, and the emerald realm was adorned with laughter and camaraderie once again.
I contemplate, “Are these individuals genuine?” In an era marked by nepotism and a lack of regard for the past, the veterans of Neretva breathe new life into Ploča. The young men, born in the age of “bricks,” unintentionally embody the lively spirit flowing through their veins—the very essence of the untamed Neretva. They are restoring Ploča to its former splendor. Memories resurface, 30 years after the war’s conclusion—a span of time that encompasses most of their lives. Among them, a handful of Neretva cowboys infuse fresh vitality into an age-old narrative. Their endeavors were not just for themselves but for all of us. Despite seeking assistance from the authorities, the city turned a deaf ear. Politicians don’t frequent Ploča; they prefer destinations abroad. However, the scent of the Neretva drifts through the air, carrying the message to the world: “Ploča is undergoing revitalization; those willing to help, lend a hand.”
Funds for materials swiftly arrive, and the now well-coordinated group diligently orchestrates the rebirth with their own hands. As I observe them, tears stream down my face. Their joy knows no bounds as they infuse Ploča with the laughter of Mostar’s jokes. The brilliance of Ploča sparkles, and a new poster spreads throughout the city: “Summer in Cernica.” Indeed, despite the authorities turning a blind eye, the newly established local project, “Spaces to Activate and Rejuvenate,” did not. Ploča not only reclaims its former glory but dazzles in a new light.