Banja Luka // Ferhadija Mosque and a Rhythm Section
© Tarik Jasarevic // Shutterstock.com
It all makes for a pretty eclectic mix, and yes, that pun is most definitely intended. A mixture of soul, jazz, funk and rock and roll blared out of the Thursday morning speakers of the cafe, energetic frontmen singing about sexual exploits and other activities that go on all night long. Outside, an elderly couple, him in a brown coat and her in a faded salmon pink one, amble by, movements perfectly in sync but moving at something slightly above a snail’s pace.
Behind them, the almost chalk-white but probably off-white minaret of the Ferhat Pasha Mosque, part of a larger whole, an aesthetic mosaic that makes this one of the prettiest mosques in Bosnia and Herzegovina. Think of the ground that covers. It has a decidedly un-pretty history, but positivity only here. The music has broken down in the most danceable of ways. A group of three girls walk, two perfectly in step while one is slightly out. It isn’t raining, but it might as well be. The vocalist implores me to get my body grooving, but I’m more than happy enough where I am, thank you very much. Honestly, I’m just happy it isn’t Naxi Radio.
The mosque’s dome // © Wikimedia Commons
The mosque was rebuilt following the war and opened in 2016, faithfully restored to its original form, although the use of the word ‘faithfully’ might be in bad taste. It was destroyed in 1993, ending 414 years of service to the town of Banja Luka. It won't be a great shock to learn that it was commissioned by Ferhad Pasha Sokolović, a Bosnian-born boy who was abducted as part of the Ottoman Empire’s devshirme system and sent to learn under the janissaries, before returning to his home to run the joint. He developed Banja Luka along the way, taking a disparate village and creating a city in its stead. The story says that Ferhad Pasha used funds raised in the ransoming of Austrian prisoner Count Wolf Engelhard von Ausperg to build the mosque, which is somewhat ironic.
Ferhad Pasha Sokolović eventually became the first governor of the Bosnia Eyalet, although it wouldn’t be accurate to start talking about development under his watch. Things developed, sure, but Ferhad Pasha Sokolović fit the mould for an Ottoman leader at the time, and his focus was generally on the next conquest. That eventually became Gvozdansko Castle in modern Croatia, taken in 1578. Ferhad Pasha died a decade later in Buda, and his body was returned to Banja Luka, where he was laid to rest for all eternity.
414 years after it was built, Ferhad Pasha’s mosque was destroyed in a mindless act of violence. In an attempt to rid Banja Luka of its Islamic legacy, the soldiers tasked with its destruction obliterated the shining glory of the man responsible for bringing the Serbs to this part of the world.
© Giovanni Vale // Shutterstock.com
The cars all seem to be moving in one direction and people in the other. There is probably some sort of insightful comment hidden in there, a lament about the way in which technology has taken over from the head, heart, sinew and bone of humanity, but I’m not aware enough to make it. Besides, the beats are just too strong, the rhythm section in perfect harmony. Right here, right now, the naive simplicity of tapping my foot is more important to me than deciphering human failings and a future in which robots will use their robot fingers to pierce milk and mouth.
It is difficult to choose what to focus on when it comes to the Ferhat Pasha Mosque. The minaret is the obvious choice, the analogical finger to what comes next (no, that isn’t another Terminator 2 reference), but the intricate patterns that adorn the central fountain make a compelling argument for themselves. Carmine red and sapphire blue, accentuated by the off-white base. The main building of the mosque itself isn’t far behind, both in position and in aesthetics, a blocky structure with bracing arches and a wedding cake feel to it that culminates in the simple roof. The white is milky grey, although the term ‘milky grey’ makes me feel a little sick.
There are a surprisingly large number of cyclists going past the mosque this morning. Why surprising? I remain stubbornly patronising when it comes to certain subjects, and cycling in the cities of Bosnia and Herzegovina is one of them. Why wouldn’t there be cyclists on a Thursday morning in the middle of Banja Luka? Sure, the traffic, but still. The centre of town is flat, there is plenty of space. Let cyclists be cyclists, John, please. A stark sign advertising a male hair salon is put out, although the notice gives no more information than the simple description and an arrow pointing the way. The rhythm section is still doing its thing.
