Amara Stupac, Cernica, Bosnia & Herzegovina
Black Friday Relay
Author: Amara Stupac
The politically enforced spectacle of housing two schools under a single roof is the first ‘decoration’ of Mostar’s systematization. Despite the leadership’s zealous defense of the city’s prominent position on Google’s tourist scale, a lingering bitterness persists among the citizens. Alongside this extraordinary educational arrangement, Mostar distinguishes itself with the coexistence of duplicate electricity companies, post offices, water supply systems, and healthcare centers. However, amidst this extravagant abundance, we must acknowledge the commendable existence of only one Ministry of Internal Affairs. The rich selection of public institutions contributes to opulent divisions within both the city and society: the city divided by the Boulevard of the National Revolution, and society is divided by last names and residential addresses.
Having long been acquainted with the intriguing query: “Whose house are you from?”, the citizens swiftly embraced the understanding of their ancestral roots, contributing ever so greatly to the divisions of blood cells, which, however, do not consider one’s surname and address, but rather the appropriate group of venous fluid. Divisions become evident when individuals make an emergency assistance call. The initial inquiry, after dialing the local emergency number 124, politely asks for the caller’s address. Over time, users develop a habit of relying on automatic replies, such as: “Excuse me, can the Emergency Service come to Carina (east of the Boulevard)?”
The youth, however, find little comfort in the notion of “where one sleeps.” Their education, upbringing, and societal divisions awkwardly confine their thirst for knowledge and understanding of the “other and diversity.” They remain tethered to their own “stalls,” with their subconscious fixated towards venturing across the Boulevard. Their meticulously molded minds serve as a protective shield for the riders of political apocalypses. Furthermore, a peculiar way of indulgence comes in the act of ordering a cup of black caffeinated liquid. It requires a keen awareness of when to summon the Bosnian term “kafa” or the Croatian term “kava,” or to boldly request “a shorter one,” referring to espresso, a word that is everyone’s.
I myself have experienced a situation where I ordered a kafa, and the waiter took it upon themself to “properly” inform me that they only have kava. Naturally, I got up and left. I can say that I have never set foot in that central establishment again.
However, a miracle happened. In Mostar, Mepas Mall moved in with pride. A marketing-framed tower whose address is importance fails to find its way into the heart. By opening its doors to new fashion experiences, it simultaneously became a new, now somewhat familiar, gathering spot. Situated west of the Boulevard with architecturally clever placement of hospitality establishments and fashion trends reminiscent of the “West,” it has attracted the people of Mostar to indulge in its offerings, including the powerful marketing chain, Zara.
By passing through the glass walls of this shopping center, we enter a zone duty-free of divisions. Leaving behind the “blood cells” on the other side of the wall, the only significant divisions become the size of our wallets. To transform the harsh reality into something surreal, Mepas introduces a shared holiday under the banner of discounts, “Black Friday.” Prices adorn the tapestry of soulful satisfaction, while the mental boundaries are shifted by clothing sizes. Like any holiday, this one also has its time limitations, a period where excitement builds up until the moment our wallets are empty. Collaboration regarding colors and sizes in front of the fitting rooms reaches politically incorrect sustainability, transcending national divisions. Women, men, young, and old diligently assist each other in choosing the best clothing items, nurturing their own sense of visualization.
Leaving the stores, with wallets lightened to thin air, you take a seat at the first available table. Caffeine is ordered, in whichever language, because recovery and return of energy for the journey home are imminent. Often, during a break, eyes wander to another table only to encounter an intriguing gaze, followed by a shy smile, and shortly after follows an inquiry for a phone number.
Despite being potentially dangerous for an individual’s financial situation, Mepas has shown that, amidst the chaos of divisions, the majority of citizens of Mostar find solace in its haven of liberalism. Over time, they have extended this zone to various other hospitality establishments throughout the city. For the young folks, Mepas has opened an invisible ramp onto the Boulevard, granting them the power to embrace their personal reasoning through newly encountered emotional and physical experiences, despite the paradoxical confines of lawful unlawfulness, defying societal divisions.