Sarajevo // Actually It’s Darkness

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It took me 13 years to start learning Bosnian. Thirteen. Insert your own ‘lucky for some’ quip here, as I have neither the energy nor the vacuum of shame to do it myself. 13 years is a long time. It isn’t even as if there was a false start or two. I didn’t make the effort, because I am a slovenly man.

But, after 13 years, for some reason, I decided to start. A trial lesson exposed the mistakes I had picked up over the decade-plus. Individual lessons chipped away at those errors. The past tense became clear, although there is no shortage of irony in that. I did all I could to avoid plurals. We are the things we learn. My lessons became punctuated by minor breakdowns and frustration as I desperately grabbed for the words to talk about the narcissism of social media, the mistreatment of the Roma, the perils of traffic. I should have been learning the rules. I still should.

When I’m in small towns, I feel very comfortable speaking Bosnian. Drop me in Lukavac, and my interactions will all be conducted in Bosnian. When I arrive at the bus stations of Gračanica, Čapljina, Bosanska Krupa or Goražde, I will ask questions in Bosnian, give answers in Bosnian, ask for advice in Bosnian, conduct my business in Bosnian. Yes, it is pigeon Bosnian, but it is Bosnian. My grammar is all over the place, I use the wrong words in the wrong places, but it is all in Bosnian. It gets better with every day.

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But that is the easy part. Taxi drivers don’t expect progress. Receptionists are impressed that someone from Wales has taken the time to pick up a thing or two. Ordering food and drink has essentially become a muscle memory. Koji pivo imaš? Ne, ne želim Tuborg, imaš li nešto odavde? Dobro, mogu li dobiti Preminger, molim. Hvala. Jedno espresso molim, i mogu li platiti odmah? Imam bus uskoro, hvala. In, out. Ti pričaš dobro. Učim polako.

Lessons are different. Progress isn’t just desired, it is expected. Taking on information is the baseline of it. Still haven’t taken on the accusative? Try harder. We did that ages ago. Don’t know the personal pronouns in the genitive case? That was the last book! How have you not worked this out yet?

I can sit here on my darling balcony and give myself the excuse that it is hard. Tvoj jezik je težak. But is it? Learning anything is hard if you are happy to use that as a crutch. The real culprit is laziness. When I started learning Bosnian, my familiarity with aspects of the language made me feel like I was making progress. Now, they hold me back from actually learning anything. Once a ladder, now a crutch.

My person is a language teacher. A damn good one, for that matter. We sometimes text in Bosnian, we occasionally speak in Bosnian. I want to learn the language for myself, but I also want to learn it for her. Yet here I am, all nominative everything. Moja djevojka je briljantna, ali ne mogu naučiti ni akuzativ. I don’t know what I’m scared of. I must be scared of something, quite, quite special.

I remember seeing that song on Top of the Pops. I loved it. I still do.

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If every minute that I had spent stuck in a circus was spent learning a language, I’d have so much more to say. Not so fast, Franky boy, I’m learning a language, and my tongue is more tied than ever. Learning a language reveals just how little you have to say and how short you fall in trying to say even that. The words eventually came, but you had left.

But learn, I do. Two lessons a week, some good, some bad. Sometimes I leave them with a renewed sense of optimism in the margins of my brain. Other times, I leave with a feeling of uselessness. You told me that one day I will be able to express myself in Bosnian because I am smart. I am not smart. I only give the impression of intelligence. Don’t be fooled by the glasses.

At the very least, learning Bosnian has made me keenly aware of how committed I am to being myself. That, and that alone, should be celebrated. Učim polako, but the most important lessons remain ignored. You can’t keep making the same mistakes. Sisyphus isn’t happy.