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Women in the Ottoman Balkans: Gender, Culture and History

Page 58

by Amila Buturovic


  and love) can best be described by comparing it with the articulation of suffering

  in sevdalinka, where the religious framework diminishes, and passion alone

  becomes a self-destructive element:

  Jesam li ti govorila, dragi:

  Haven’t I told you, my darling:

  “Ne ašikuj, ne veži sevdaha!”

  “Don’t court, don’t sing about love!”

  Od sevdaha goreg jada nejma,

  For there is no greater misery than love

  A žalosti od ašikovanja.

  And greater sorrow than serenading.46

  The description of Mara’s inner struggle, and the lack of any psychological

  features that would affect plot development, point to the influence of renaissance

  and baroque imagery in Luka Botić’s works. Botić relied not only on the tradition

  of folk art in Dalmatia and Ottoman Bosnia, but also on the history of Croatian

  and Italian literatures.47 The allegorical theme of the fallen maiden or son, and

  the notion of suffering in the desert or monastery, are typical of the baroque style

  generally, and of Croatian baroque in particular. Typical examples include Ivan

  Gundulić’s Suze sina razmetnoga [Tears of a prodigal son] (1622) and Ignjat

  Đurđević’s Mandaljena Pokornica [Mandaljena repentant] (1728). Being a

  romantic writer, however, Botić avoided baroque allegorical and metaphorical

  structures, using only the concept of suffering and the Christian notion of sin to

  portray Mara’s inner struggle between her love for Adel and the pain of seeking

  forgiveness from her family. Just as Adel’s tradition triumphs over his love and he

  marries Melka, Mara dies believing that her family will never forgive her:

  Glavom kreće nesretna djevojka: The miserable girl bows her head:

  Nek s’ ne mole Bogu da ozdravim, They should not pray to God

  for my recovery,

  No za dušu moju neka mole,

  But they should pray for my soul,

  Da Bog skine s moje duše grijeh, So that God shall absolve it of sin,

  I da skine kletvu roditeljsku!

  And from the curse of my parents!48

  Moreover, the Christian and patriotic concept of the feminine is visible not

  only in the notion of sin and suffering, but also in the description of the specific

  geographical location where the action takes place. Botić devotes the central space

  of the bazaar in Split to the love scene, as well as Adel’s attempts to approach the

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  Vornić family house. But his descriptions of the landscape mainly focus on the

  portrayal of the Split hinterland, especially the mountain of Mosor which has

  traditionally served as the poetic symbol of the town. Romantic descriptions of the

  mountains originate once again in the tradition of Croatian literature that brings

  into close relation the political notion of patriotism and femininity in the imagined

  mythological world of Arcadia, located in the real geographical environment:49

  Što zlo nije, pjesniku se smije

  All that isn’t ill-natured smiles at the poet

  I veselo igra oko njega,

  And merrily dances around him,

  Kao što mu se jutros na uranku

  Just as this morning, with the

  early-rising sun,

  Sva priroda od zemlje do neba

  All nature did, from the earth to the sky,

  Bajna, čarna, vilinska i rajska,

  Fabulous, miraculous, fairy-like

  and ethereal,

  I ponosna sa krasote svoje,

  And proud of her own beauty,

  U toj divnoj spljetskoj okolici.

  In those beautiful surroundings of Split.50

  Descriptions of meetings with nymphs originate not only in the Croatian

  literary tradition, but also in folk literature, since nymphs and experiences of

  nature are elements of the shared Mediterranean folk heritage.51 Moreover, Botić’s

  description of Marjan and the motif of the wandering poet point directly to the

  renaissance poet Petar Zoranić, whose travelogue Planine [Mountains] (1536) is

  considered the first Croatian novel. Botić’s imagined version of the real sixteenth-

  century century poet Franjo Boktulija wanders through the Split hinterlands and

  helps those who suffer, while Zoranić’s Zoran undertakes a journey from the coast

  to the mountains in order to meet Dejanira (after whom the mountain range of

  Dinara is named), a nymph who will free him from the suffering caused by his

  love. On his way to meet Dejanira he encounters many miraculous events, meets

  and talks with mythological shepherds, listens to stories of unhappy love, and

  finally encounters the nymph Hrvatica (meaning “Croatian female”) who will

  liberate him from love’s suffering and show him the true meaning of life: to care

  for the Croatian cultural heritage that has been neglected under Ottoman rule.

  Exile into Arcadia becomes a patriotic revelation of the importance of taking

  care of the “heritage”—or bašćina, as Zoranić names it. This not only has political

  meaning, but it also points to the need to preserve culture, literature, and language,

  which, according to him, remained neglected and therefore defenseless. Moreover,

  the shepherds in the idyllic landscapes of the mountains lament about wolves that

  kill their herds. The wolves are, of course, the Turks, since the metaphor also

  extends to people—especially the feminine aspect:

  Tvoji peharnici

  Your cup-bearers

  drže u uzi i tamnici,

  keep in chains and gaols,

  čiste divice,

  pure virgins,

  tvoje zaručnice,

  your betrothed,

  prez stida oskrvniše.

  shamelessly desecrated.52

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  Women in the ottoman Balkans

  Finally, in sharp contrast to the subtle sensuality of the sevdalinka, there is the

  open eroticism of the landscape, described as the struggle or intermingling of the

  masculine and feminine principles, characteristic not only of high art but also of

  folk poetry. In his own footnotes, Botić etymologically described the toponyms

  in these ballads, explaining their origins and meaning. He thus applied the same

  literary mode as was characteristic of his literary predecessors, but also explicitly

  eroticized the landscape of the mountains:

  Živa slika nebeskijeh vrata,

  Like a vivid image of the heavenly gates

  Rascvala se zora nad Mosorom,

  Dawn had blossomed upon Mosor,

  Vedra, mila, sjajna, plamenita,

  Serene, loving, radiant, and blazing,

  Prelila se po prostranom nebu

  She poured over the wide heavens

  Kao sunce u šarenu dugu.

  Like the sun onto a colourful rainbow.

  Suncu ne da pomoliti lica,

  She did not let the sun show his face,

  Hoće svoju ljepotu da kaže;

  It was her beauty she wanted to reveal;

  Al sunce, muško, preko nježne

  But the sun, a male, shed

  Svoje sv’jetle trake prebacuje

  His tender rays of light

  Po Suđurđu i starom Kozjaku

  Upon Suđurđ and ancient Kozjak

  I po surom goletnom Marjanu.

  And upon a barren and rugged Marjan.53

  In a Christian environment, it seems that the only final solution
for the love

  between a Muslim and a Christian is death and reconciliation with the social norms

  established by tradition. The love stories Pobratimstvo and Dilber-Hasan have

  different possible endings, again influenced by the folk mode but also by romantic

  and real-life encounters: abduction, escape, and conversion. These phenomena all

  exist in the ethnographic literature about Ottoman Muslim Bosnia, and they are

  related to the impossibility of attracting a loved one belonging to another faith or

  social upbringing. They all represent pressures on the older generation to allow

  the marriage to take place, an outcome that actually does happen after an initial

  period of disapproval. Antun Hangi has mentioned cases of abduction and escape

  even from the beginning of the twentieth century, providing a first-hand account

  of the persons who were involved in them. This proves that abduction was not

  necessarily a violent act or solely an act involving two people in love, but that it

  was pursued with the help of the community, and sought its approval:

  If parents forbid a daughter to marry a man whom she loves and whom

  she has, either publicly or secretly, courted for a long time, or to whom she

  has promised herself, she resorts to planning her own kidnapping, either

  personally with him, or through a reliable woman. On a particular day and at

  a particular hour, usually late at night, the girl goes to a spring with buckets,

  as if she were going to get some water. At the spring her sweetheart waits

  for her with a couple of his friends, and takes her to his home. … For a

  long time the girl’s parents remain angry with their new son-in-law and

  their disobeying daughter, and therefore for some time neither he nor she is

  Šolić, Women in ottoman Bosnia

  323

  allowed to appear before them. But finally the parents give in, and reconcile

  with them.54

  In Pobratimstvo, Ajkuna, an aristocratic Muslim girl, is in love with Radmilović

  Mile, a Serb from the Bosnian town of Trebinje captured by her father. Ajkuna

  is a very common name in Bosnian Muslim ballads, and its use is functional—

  referring to the established stylistic pattern of the ballads—rather than referring to

  a real historical personality. Likewise in Petar Bačić, Kumrija is the name of one

  of the servants, and this is also a very common name in Bosnian Muslim ballads.

  Moreover, the poetical exaggeration in the description of the landscape of Skadar

  is more fictional than real, serving as a lyrical framework for her escape with her

  loved one:

  Na pendžeru bi s’ Ajka naslonjala, Ajka would lean on a window-sill,

  Gledala bi sunce na zahodu

  She would watch the sunset,

  Gledala bi Bojanu pod Skadrom, She would watch Bojana under Skadar,

  Kako Skadar u njoj s’ ogledava

  How Skadar reflects itself in her

  Sa svojijem vitijem munaram

  With its slender minarets

  I hiljadu bijelijeh kula.

  And a thousand white towers.55

  Ajkuna escapes with Mijo and follows him on his way back to Trebinje.

  Ajkuna’s escape, however, does not resemble a true secret escape, but a long

  ritual of farewell (common in Bosnian Muslim ballads) typical for the bride who

  leaves her house in order to join her future husband and continue her life with his

  family. Ajkuna dresses herself in her most beautiful garments and adorns her hair.

  Moreover, she says farewell to her mother and ponders upon her previous life,

  recalling memories of the past and capturing particular details of the place where

  she spent her childhood and youth.

  In Dilber-Hasan, from a desperate and romantic need for escape, abduction

  turns into a violent act—that of getting Sofa, a Serbian beauty living in Ottoman

  Sarajevo. As Botić describes it, Sarajevo is close to its representation in historical

  texts and quite romantic, as seen through the eyes of an outsider and a poet. In

  contrast to Bijedna Mara and Christian Split, Sarajevo is described as more lively,

  mainly through witty and humorous dialogues, without the ideological literary

  framework common in the history of Croatian literature. The notion of song

  becomes here the central concept and link between Hasan, a talented coffeeshop

  owner who entertains his guest with his love ballads and humorous songs, and a

  girl from Laatinluk, the Christian part of the town. Hasan bets that he can attract

  Sofa with his singing, even though the local Muslims try to persuade him that love

  between a Serbian woman and a Muslim man is not possible. Hasan also befriends

  a young Serb named Pavel who, being a singer as well, admires his musical talent.

  Hasan becomes a metonym for the Christian perception of Ottoman culture:

  like Adel and in contrast to the Christian female character he is sensual, open,

  artistic, and courageous in publicly announcing his love. As was the case with

  Mara in the context of Catholic Split, in Ottoman Sarajevo Sofa falls in love with

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  Hasan under the spell of the sevdalinka sung under her window and the ballads

  featuring unhappy love also performed by Hasan. She feels their power and magic

  touching her inner self. Just as in Catholic Split, songs in Ottoman Sarajevo have

  a tremendous and fateful communicative power, representing the moment in a

  girl’s life when she decides to leave the family house for an insecure future:

  And that evening Hasan and Pavao came under her window and sang only

  that tender song about Abdul and Fatima. But inside herself, Sofa felt the

  fate of that song. Alas, where is now her first innocent and blessed peace

  in the laps of her brothers and her parents, whom she now wants to leave

  forever?56

  Sofa tries to resist her passion because—like Mara—she fears God. Moreover,

  she is aware of the social and traditional sanctions against inter-religious

  marriages. However, she overcomes her passive role as the sufferer and agrees

  with Hasan’s idea of escape as the only possible solution to overcome the cultural

  codes and regulations:

  If Hasan had converted, he could not have stayed in Sarajevo because of

  the Turks. And nor could Sofa, in the embrace of a Turk, because of her

  parents. … Hasan sang about numerous cases in which two lovers escaped

  to Dalmatia, and he, miserable except for his love and his songs, did not

  have any other guide in life. Sofa resisted the idea of escape, but only

  with tears and sighs; and the more she gave in to that reckless and terrible

  thought from day to day, the more the poor girl sighed and wept in her sick

  heart. Would she not have been more confident if she had not heard the sad,

  unhappy tale of Fatima and Abdul?57

  The plan turns out to be unsuccessful and culminates in tragedy, because Hasan’s

  rival Avdaga unexpectedly kidnaps the girl and hides her in a house outside of

  Sarajevo. The act of kidnapping follows, from a narrative and thematic point

  of view, the typical pattern of traditional folk poetry and beliefs. It features a

  character who assumes a disguise and contains stereotypical, orientalist elements

  such as the racist caricature of an “Arab” servant who has a monstrous smile;
r />   his appearance brings out the latent religious fear of the superstitious kidnapped

  girl:

  What a beautiful prayer then, full of fear and hope, humility and faith

  poured from that soul! … At that moment the door creaked and the Arab’s

  head appeared: his face was black and shiny, his eyes two sparkles, his lips

  turned out, his nose curved, his hair ragged, and his teeth small and white.

  It was as if the girl saw the devil himself in that image.

  The two different notions of abduction, one linked to sevdalinka and the other

  to the exoticized, orientalist vision of Bosnia, point to the tragic conflict at the

  base of Botić’s work: no matter how much the two cultures influence each other

  in terms of everyday life, they remain two opposite traditions. Dilber-Hasan

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  325

  ends tragically, like all of Botić’s works. Hasan is killed, and Sofa marries Pavel

  in accordance with Hasan’s wish. Botić’s experiments with establishing links

  beyond traditional norms prove to be unsuccessful.

  Tragic endings are not uncommon in literature dealing with inter-ethnic and

  inter-religious love affairs. John McBratney has discussed such endings in the

  context of Rudyard Kipling’s fiction of miscegenation, where the author “revealed

  the same ambivalence about the hybrid as his Anglo-Indian contemporaries: a

  fascination with the transgressive allure of ‘miscegenation’ combined with a

  profound fear of the instability brought about by racial mixture.”59 McBratney

  argues that the instability does not necessarily originate simply from the the fear

  of the biological degeneration of the white race in contact with other races (as was

  claimed by the late eighteenth- and nineteenth-century racial theories he discusses),

  but also from the fear that the new “hybrid” race could seriously endanger and

  subvert British imperial rule in India. Thus the British (and in some instances

  also Indian) imperial structure imposed sanctions against miscegenation, and

  sabotaged inter-racial couples’ attempts to create for themselves a “felicitous” or

  “casteless” space, “an enclave in which the distinctions that normally divide white

  from black are temporarily suspended.”60 Applying this analysis to Botić’s poems,

 

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