Natalie Negron is a student at the College of Osteopathic Medicine. In 2014, she traveled to Poland, Serbia and Bosnia and Herzegovina through Dr. Gershman’s “Genocide” travel study course.
My parents always told me not to talk to strangers… especially strangers in foreign countries. But on my travel study trip to Sarajevo in Bosnia and Herzegovina almost two years ago, I decided to be bold and take a chance when I met a man in a red beanie, and I ended up having the best night of my life.
On the first night in town, two friends and I decided to take a midnight walk down the main street. We spent a few hours walking from shop to shop, taking in Sarajevo. Outside one of the gift shops, we stopped for some photos and were approached by an older man wearing a red beanie. He asked if we needed directions and inquired if we were from the U.S. We told him that we were students studying conflict and genocide in the region and began talking to him about the city.
After a few minutes, he asked us if we wanted to join him on his evening walk through town. Almost immediately, I looked over to my friends like a deer caught in headlights and was about to politely say that we should excuse ourselves. My mind raced as I thought of all the reasons why we shouldn’t go on a walk with a complete stranger.
But just when we were about to say no to this man, something stopped us. Yes, there were a hundred reasons why we shouldn’t follow him blindly, but on this particular night, we were feeling free and adventurous. There was something about this mysterious man that made us want to know more. And so we decided to put aside our anxieties and fears and joined him on his walk through town.
We followed him as he took us on a tour of a city so rich in history and culture. As we walked, he told us countless stories of Sarajevo and his experiences during the Bosnian genocide of the 1990s. He took us to the city library that had been destroyed by a massive fire and was later rebuilt into this beautiful landmark. He took us to the corner where the Archduke Franz Ferdinand was assassinated, which was actually just one street down from our hotel. From there, we walked with him to the other side of town to the Catholic Church where he sings with the choir on Sundays, to the prayer wall at a local mosque and to the brewery where he would get water for his family during the Siege of Sarajevo.
He told us stories of how difficult it was to get something as simple as water during the siege. How you could only walk down certain streets to avoid shootings. How you lived in constant fear. I couldn’t even fathom how that must have felt. For hours, we followed the man in the red beanie all across the city as he told us the stories of his past. With each story, I saw history come to life, and my curiosity grew more and more.
Strolling along the river, he quizzed us on Bosnian history, and even a little U.S. history, too. The more time we spent with him, the more this mysterious and still nameless man fascinated me. As we came upon a church, he began singing, “Hey now, Hey now, When the world comes in, They come, They come, To build a wall between us, We know they won’t win,” the lyrics to “Don’t Dream It’s Over” by Crowded House. In the moment, I enjoyed the comforting sound of his voice as it filled the silent night with music.
He continued singing as we made our way to our next destination on the tour of all tours. He turned what seemed to be like a dozen cobblestone street corners until he finally stopped at a marketplace. But this was no ordinary market ― this was where the Markale massacres of 1994 occurred, and it was here that we learned just how special our mysterious tour guide was.
He recounted the day of the first bombardment so long ago. He had just walked down a block from the market when the first bomb went off. With tears streaming down his face, he passed his hand over the engraved names of his lost friends on the memorial wall. His hand stopped over one name in particular, and he told us that this man’s parents were so distraught after the loss of their child and that he has to remind them that although they had lost one child, they still had another, a daughter, to live for. It was in that moment that I felt the full force of the pain in his story. My friends and I stood there silently crying with this man and remembering the dozens of lives lost that day.
By the end of the night, we arrived back at the same spot where we had first met him, and he finally shared his identity with us. His name was Josef, and he had been a member of the Bosnian Army during the siege. His team helped build the underground tunnels out of the city to smuggle in much needed supplies. Josef had experienced great loss in his life, and yet I was amazed that he was still able to smile and find happiness.
As I think back to that night, I’ve come to realize that Josef wasn’t just singing to sing. He was singing with a purpose. He was sending us a message with this song about the human spirit and perseverance. It was about never giving up even in the most difficult and tragic of circumstances.
Josef’s stories and the memories from that night will stay with me for the rest of my life. Sometimes, when I’m walking alone, I can hear his voice singing, and I am reminded of the man in the red beanie who changed my life.
Pictured from left to right: Andrew Jones (NSU graduate), Josef (“The Man in the Red Beanie”), Natalie Negron (NSU graduate), and Valentina Galeano (NSU graduate).
