Drinking Coffee in Bosnia: Listening to Stories of Wartime Violence and Rape

Abstract

Welcome to Bosnia ‘This young man, our waiter, graduated from the Faculty of Business and Economics with a high distinction and has now worked as a waiter for the past, — how many years, Jovan?’ A young man with deep dark eyes, timidly responded, ‘Four, five years or so.’ ‘You see, Olivera, this is our Bosnia; the country which employs its best students to work as tradespersons, waitresses, salespersons, carpenters,’ half-jokingly, half-sarcastically a well-known long term feminist activist, Dragana, told me while gently tapping Jovan on his shoulder. Although sarcasm is not unusual for Bosnians but rather represents ‘some kind of “Bosnian way” of dealing with or reacting to the war’2, the two had obviously known each other for a long time. This brief exchange between the two of them was the first thing I would hear upon my arrival to Tarnovo.3 Dragana picked me up from the bus station and took me straight to the kafana (pub) for a coffee to be made by Jovan, a graduate economist turned waiter. Going to the kafana is the most expected and natural thing to do in Bosnia and Herzegovina (Bosnia), since drinking coffee with friends and guests is an important ritual to obey, a part of the country’s cultural tradition. Coffee in Bosnia is not about drinking; it is the journey of listening and talking to your friends and family, about socialising and taking time to be together. Bosnians do not have coffee in a rush; they take time to ćeif it4 by gradually drinking small sips of coffee, the breaks serving to allow opportunity to converse and enjoy its aroma.5 Born into this tradition, I was prepared to take time and listen to Dragana’s stories.