… Fortuntely or unfortunately we travel less and less. The West receives us, that’s true, but no longer as guests and only under the condition that we emigrate for good. As our people in Serbia say: ” The donkey is not invited to a wedding to dance, but to carry water.”
The West needs our intellect, education, our talents and our fresh blood. From a business perspective, it doesn’t pay to educate their own children when they can buy the best educated people for a pittance. Their children will continue their trade and will buy new brains on the market of educated slaves. This is why today it is easier and simplier to obtain an immigration visa than a tourist visa. Who are we, indeed, to travel for pleasure when the majority of Americans visit Europe in their late years, after they’ve retired and saved for such a trip? Who are we to be already there?!
We are found guilty long before our guilt has been proved. Every visit to foreign consulates pushes us deeper and deeperinto this imaginary guilt. They look at us above spectacles, these rigid vice – consuls, and ask for more certificates and documents and guarantees and proofs and all sorts of ID stuff!
Serbia has always been known for , even during its rare periods of prosperity, forcing a feeling of gulit on its children. In this it really has no equal. We are giulty, above all, because we were born, because we cry when it doesn’t suit our parents and because we don’t let them sleep.
We are gulity to our teachers because we don’t know math and multiplications, we are guilty to our professors because we don’t know the date when Carthage fell or we are guilty to our wives because we don’t spend enough time at home and to our lovers because we do. We are gulity to our children because we are not successful as other parents who provide their children with everything they wish.
There was a time when we were guilty because we were not in the League of Communists, and later we were gulity for this same thing to former communists; we were guilty because of our clear conscience after thex had changed roles and developed amnesia. We were guilty to the East because we cheered the West , and to the West because we remained forevevr in the East, We are guilty for all the wars initiated by the East and the West; we are gulity because we have managed somehow to survive and because we unwillingly we have become the crown witnesses who remain them of their misdeeds and betrayals. We now hold the greatest collection of guilt in the history of humanity, and we are guilty even to our brothers in suffering – the Jews, who, before us, had been privileged to be the most guilty in the world!
… I don’t travel outside the boundaries that thrive more and more rapidly. When I lived in the world, I longed, like others, for Serbia – and now I have it in enormous quantities, I sip it slowly through a straw like long forgotten drink – raspberry with soda. WHo wants to see me, he/she knows where to find me. – Last post: Serbia.
And indeed, what is there for me, in that world?
What is it for me, and what am I to it?
While waiting for Visa, I would have to lurk all night in front of an embassyy, to drink coffee from a thermos and to bring a folding chair. Even if they granted me a visa to go to the world, What would I travel with? For the price of an air ticket I can drink one litre of Banat Riesling per day, for more than half a year. And where’s the money for the gifts I am expected to buy, as custom commands, to my relatives and friends?
Here, the best gift possible is is to bring one kilogram of coffee (not roasted), one kilogram of sugar (cubes), bottle of homemade brandy, two bars of soap and candies for children.
Let it be noted that for me the world no longer exists. Even Serbia has barely managed to please me. I thought that this was punishment, but it appears to be THE BEST REWARD: It is, indeed, a great privilege today to drink spring water and not bottled or carbonated one; to listen actors and singer live and not on CDs, records and cassettes; to pick sweet cherries from a tree and not eating them from vacuum jars; to dring freshly drawn milkrather than from a tetra pack; to wait for an egg to be hatched, still warm, and not to eat ham and eggs in an aluminium – phosphorescent snack bar where the origin of the chicken is suspicious; to have grilled minced meat with chopped onion instead of a sticky tasteless hamburger; to view masterpieces of Byzantine painting directly, and not as reproductions; and finally, which is no less important, to take in the smell of geniue women with milky skin, who radiate an authentic sensuality and eroticism, and not dried skin with ‘screaming’ parfumes that differ only in their price.
Should I lay down more reasons for my choosing to live in Serbia, as opposed to somewhere else, or are these sufficient?
A guide to the Serbian Mentality, Momo Kapor, Serbian journalist, author and painter