Maja Knezović, Cim, Bosnia & Herzegovina
The Wheel of Folklore Turns Around
Author: Maja Knezović
One day during recess in the sixth grade, my entire group and I engaged in conversations centered around a specific teacher, playfully imitating him and even competing to see who could do the best impersonation. Then, out of the blue, Sanja began sharing an anecdote from folklore dance training, and everyone burst into laughter. I couldn’t help but roll my eyes slightly, thinking to myself, “Can’t they go even half an hour without bringing up their folklore dance training?” Personally, I failed to find anything captivating about it. The costumes looked comical and outdated, and everything simply felt far from being cool. I struggled to grasp how and when it had come to pass that nearly all of my friends had started attending those training sessions.
Later, at dinner, I shared the day’s events with my mother. In response, she offered me some advice, admitting that it seemed a bit strange and amusing to see young children dressed in such costumes. However, she pointed out that my entire team was involved in these activities. They were constantly going places, and it would be foolish for me to be left out. She reassured me that in a few years, I would remember the beautiful moments we shared, rarely recalling the challenging or odd aspects. Ultimately, she suggested that I attend a couple of training sessions to see if I liked it, and if not, I could always quit.
Another month went by, and I still couldn’t envision myself donning that costume. Everything about it still seemed strange to me. Then, on a winter afternoon that felt more like spring, I arranged to go for a walk with Sanja and Marijana. Just as I reached their doorstep, Sanja emerged from her house and exclaimed, “We completely forgot about tonight’s training! We have to hurry. Come on, join us; we’ll finish quickly.” Intrigued, I decided to accompany them. I must admit, curiosity got the better of me, and I wanted to discover what made these trainings so captivating.
As we arrived at the training location, I noticed almost all of our team members had gathered there. They would meet twice a week, dedicating two hours to practicing the very dances that I had once found funny. I stood at the sidelines, quietly observing the training unfold. Surprisingly, it didn’t appear as strange as I had initially imagined. Without the costumes, it resembled an ordinary dance practice. What’s more, everyone appeared to be enjoying themselves even more than they had ever before during recess at school, and I found myself bursting into laughter countless times that evening, thoroughly enjoying the experience. In that moment, my mother’s words resurfaced in my mind, and I made the decision to give folklore a chance. I still remember how Marijana hugged me tightly when I shared the news of my decision to join them.
Over the course of the next two and a half years, we formed a regular routine of attending training sessions twice a week, traveling to and from those sessions together. I can vividly recall that first spring, when training was an integral part of our lives, as if it were only a few months ago. We would always gather at the same spot in Smrčenjaci and make a stop at the same local store along the way to purchase some sweets. Later on, during the demanding training sessions, we would burn off those calories and work up a sweat. It’s interesting to note that on occasion, I found myself cherishing the journey to the training sessions even more than the sessions themselves, despite my growing passion for folklore dance.
During that period, we learned a multitude of dances, ranging from the lively Linđo and Trusa to the enchanting Posavina and even Serbian folk dances. But what truly stood out to me were the costumes. Those skirts, petticoats, and dresses left a profoundly different impression on me compared to when I first wore them. They seemed to embody a rare blend of tradition and an aspiration for timelessness. The craftsmanship was exquisite, rendering them seemingly invincible and everlasting. The amount of effort put into their creation was evident, and the moment of donning them felt like the culmination of that dedication. And the final touch, the vibrant red bows adorning our braided hair, brought me immense joy, as I found it amusing how such a simple detail could have such a delightful impact.
In the summer, those heavy, thick materials presented a unique challenge to wear, but any discomfort would fade away the moment we stepped onto the stage. The sound of our feet moving across the wooden floorboards would create a special melody, accompanied by the applause of the audience.
One of my most cherished memories is our performance at the grand opening of the Cim Stadium. It was a stage bigger than any we had ever performed on before, with a much larger audience in attendance. I must admit, I felt a twinge of nervousness. However, as soon as the enchanting track Ero from the Other World began playing, that nervousness transformed into pure adrenaline. I don’t think I’ve ever danced better—or at least it felt that way, given the extraordinary circumstances.
We often embarked on journeys to showcase our diligent practice elsewhere, but the most beautiful trip we took together was to Subotica. I instantly fell in love with that picturesque place in northern Serbia and its warm-hearted residents. We frequently hosted other folklore dancers in Mostar as well, forming close bonds. We would sleep over at each other’s homes, sharing laughter and stories. On one memorable occasion, when our friends from Subotica visited, my parents, sister, and I all squeezed into one room, generously leaving the other room for our guests. That experience, like few others in my life thus far, taught me the values of community and sharing, as well as the profound happiness and pride that come with being part of a close-knit community.
With the transition to high school, the team underwent some changes, which is quite normal at that stage of life when different interests emerge. Gradually, I found myself no longer attending folklore dance practice. The magic that had enchanted me two and a half years ago seemed to have faded, and I made the decision to preserve those memories in the best way possible. It felt like the right time to bid farewell to that chapter of my life and confidently embrace the challenges and responsibilities of high school, which brought along a new level of intensity and stress.
I often contemplate what would have unfolded if I hadn’t accidentally joined my friends for that training session on that fateful day. Since then, I’ve embraced the notion that it’s preferable to take action and potentially experience regrets than to endlessly speculate about what might have transpired. Ultimately, it is through this mindset that I have created lasting memories and formed meaningful friendships, wouldn’t you agree?