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Dijaspora

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High Ceiling | Photograph by Pran Kittivorapat

Dijaspora

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by Inaya Huric

The sun awakens me, illuminating Washington, D.C. from the eastern horizon. It rises over Baščaršija, the Ottoman-era old town of Sarajevo. I walk to Starbucks and order the usual treat: Iced Caramel Macchiato. On my promenade through the cobbled streets, I pass by coppersmiths and vendors while the aroma of dark Bosnian coffee and sweet Turkish delights tempt me.

I walk to the bus stop, sipping my coffee and jamming out to Faydee’s newest single. The bus arrives, and I pull out my vocabulary cards to study with my friends before class. As we walk into McLean High, I spot the coldest water fountain to fill up my bottle. I drink water from the magical fountains at Gazi Husrev-beg’s Mosque, which promises that I will return once again. My friends and I continue to the cafeteria to get a snack before the bell. I find myself on Ferhadija, a pedestrian street home to the grand Cathedral of Jesus’ Sacred Heart and the city marketplace where I buy local cheeses and smoked beef. Next, I walk through the blue hallway to Mrs. Billingsley’s class. Ferhadija leads me to the Eternal Flame on Marshal Tito Street representing the everlasting spirit and unity of diverse ethnic groups that call Sarajevo home. The school day progresses, and eventually it’s time for the longawaited pep rally. Students rush to the gym. Suddenly, the street begins to quake. Red smoke fills the air with a contagious euphoria. I meet with Anisha and Yasmin, and we enter wearing our ruby red senior shirts. My uncle picks me up and we join the fans walking to the Zeljeznicar vs. F.K. Sarajevo soccer derby in our brilliant sapphire jerseys. Handmade posters displaying our Highlander pride hang from the walls. As we approach the modest Grbavica Stadium, I see banners posted on its walls to cover the bullet holes that scar the building. The atmosphere is equally as vibrant at the football game against Langley High, our rival. Fans form a sea of blue in the stands, burning flares to represent the passionate fire burning in their hearts. This fire is present in all of us, connecting everyone in the stadium into one being. The rambunctious Highlander rumble overpowers the speakers. The announcer commences the anthem, but the music cannot be heard over the thousands of voices singing along: “When I see Zeljo’s Stadium, I see my pride, I will give my life, but I will not give you, because you are my life.” In this moment, one feels what it means to be passionate, to be part of something with greater meaning. Anything can happen. A penniless team with a destitute stadium in an impoverished city can survive solely on the hope that it will one day triumph. The sun sets on a victorious day. I carry my cities with me wherever I go like they’re in a locket around my neck. When I open it, my heart is made of Sarajevo and D.C. It gives me a dual perspective on life and reminds me who I am.

Caffeine on a Cold Day | Photograph by Alexandra Lagos

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