Doodse stilte, kilheid en leegte. Zomaar een greep uit de woorden die in me opkomen als ik terug denk aan ons bezoek aan Srebrenica. Op de foto’s is het al een beetje zichtbaar, maar je kan het pas echt beleven zodra je in het getergde stadje bent geweest. Deze keer ga  ik geen overdreven verhaal over vet voedsel en lekker bier vertellen, maar een samenvatting van een onvergetelijke dag uit ons leven.

Nadat we om half 10 wegrijden uit een zonnig Sarajevo in een gehuurde Skoda, arriveren we bijna 3 uur later in de omgeving van Srebrenica. Ik had de nobele taak om te navigeren, en Gerwin had hiervoor een speciale kaart gekocht. Erg noodzakelijk, maar helaas onbruikbaar. De eerste honderd kilometer gaan prima, totdat we een zijweg inslaan, om drie kwartier later weer bij hetzelfde kruispunt terug te komen na een hotsende tocht over een stoffige weg. Dorpen en wegen op de kaart betekenen niets. Een paar huizen, de meeste leeg, en vooral rode stofwegen zijn de realiteit. Na een bizarre tocht langs bordjes met ‘mijngevaar’, een ondefinieerbare  mijngroeve en veel zichtbare armoede, verschijnt eindelijk een geel bord met het geladen woord ‘Srebrenica’ erop.

Hangend met mijn camera uit het portierraampje probeer ik onze entree in deze spookstad in beeld te brengen. Zoals eerder vermeld, is er geen leven te bekennen. Op een zwerfhond na dan en wegschietende katten. Na een paar honderd meter bereiken we het centrum van Srebrenica. Nagestaard door een paar tandloze en wijdopen monden van oude mannen. Waarschijnlijk is het erg lang geleden dat men vijf jonge mensen in een drie maanden oude auto heeft gezien.

Stilte. Dat heerst er na de eerste indrukken van deze plek. Een plek die een gevoelige snaar raakt in onze geschiedenis. Een plek waar ruim 8000 mannelijke moslims bij elkaar werden gedreven en vervolgens werden vermoord in het bos. Toen heerste er ook een stilte, vijftien jaar na dato hangt deze er nog steeds. Ook uit de mond van de oude inwoners (ongeveer 6000 en voor de oorlog 36.000!!) komt weinig geluid. Praten wil men niet en zeker niet met vijf goed doorvoede Nederlanders die denken dat ze dit wel eventjes in beeld kunnen brengen.

Enkele kilometers verderop bereiken we een enorme begraafplaats. Een waslijst met namen en ontelbare grafpalen geven het drama van vijftien jaar geleden nog meer vorm. Hier is het ook weer de stilte die pijn doet aan je oren. Vogels mijden deze plaats. Het enige geluid komt van een kabbelende fontein, dat garant staat als monument.

Na enkele uren filmen, foto’s maken en een ontroerend interview met Abdullah, een emotionele Bosniac en eigenaar van het enige hotel in Srebrenica, keren we terug naar Sarajevo. Het is stil in de auto en achter de Servische heuvels zien we een bloedrode zon ondergaan.

Leendert, namens de Bosnie Groep

One of the stages

The 4th and 5th of may are important days in my country.

On the 4th we remember the victims in war since WWII. God be with them. The Netherlands are full of fires, roses and sad ceremonies. Now, when you read this, be quiet for 2 minutes….

Okey, time is up! I´s very important, but I won´t let you feel down by this post, so let´s talk about the 5th of may.

The day the Axis, sorry Germany, surrendered and dropped down their weapons in Holland. Officially they signed the papers in ´Hotel de Wereld´ in one of the most boring cities in Holland, Wageningen. Accidental I live there and my intern ship at local television broadcast is there as well…

At this beautiful day, Wageningen is the centre of The Netherlands for one day. Thousands of people come over here to celebrate our freedom and clap their hands for the old men who fight in the WWII and in all wars after those five horrible years. The old veterans are coming from Canada to Poland, it´s one big collection of grey, old and heavy medalled men. Very nice, but a little boring after the 34th car full of old waving people who I never saw before. But respect to them and I hope they will be here next year as well. Of course.

There are more than 15 stages also in Wageningen during these days with all kind of music and acts. I didn´t count the ´mobile-bars’ and Heineken/Grolsch/Brand/Amstel/Warsteiner (jeah German)/Bavaria logos. But believe me, they were all over the place. Not bad at all, only if you can’t enjoy it…

But now comes the hardest part to write about, I was inside a building the whole day… Isn’t it sad? Cause we had a live show especially about the festival and all what was happening, I was doomed to my chair behind the direction panel. To switch from camera to camera and feed to audio. The only positive thing was, I saw everything and didn’t miss a concert or act. And I didn’t have to use my elbows to hear the music the best way. Thanks to my headphones. Finally after 5 hours I was allowed to go outside. But not for party. For reporting.

It wasn’t safe anymore for our female reporter to go outside in the mess of people, beer, music and drunks/junks. So it was up to me. Walking with the mic with a amazing red windcap, headset and cameraman into the jungle of party and vomit.  Almost falling cause someone throwed his empty glass in front of my hesitant feet. Suddenly the editor is shouting into my ear. “You will be live in 10 seconds!” Shit, I didn’t prepare and all people around me were not be able to give a ‘sober’ interview. Shouting in my ear again. “5 seconds!”

This is what happened the next minutes. “Hello lady, are you enjoying the party?” Drunk blonde ‘lady’: “Heaaah?? What did you saaaay?? Why is that camera filming meeee??” In my langueage this sounds like a dick on a drum with a pigsound. “I was asking you, do you enjoy the party?” No comment. Okey, I’m laughing into the camera and try to tell something what is happening around me. A boy tries to steal my mic, an other guy tries to hit my cameraman. “As you all can see, dear people who are stupid to watch tv now on this moment, it’s a very nice party and we go back to the studio!” Pfff, my back is wet and I run to the safe studio.

Now you’re maybe thinking, poor guy did you miss whole party?

I like to say: “No comment”. But I already heared that the whole day from drunk people. One thing, I left the studio at 8 p.m. and went home at 2 a.m. I hope I don’t have to tell more what happened in the hours between them.

Just think what you should do.

Smoke.

How to get over a girlfriend…

(It wasn’t my girlfriend)

Call your friend, who broke up, at 6 p.m. Start at 7 p.m. with a bottle of beer and some fries and shoarma. That is really good, I still have the taste in my mouth. Eat as much pepper and other strong stuff. Spend mayonnaise. Don’t do the dishes. Smoke.

Invite an other friend, because you bought to much beer for two. Ask him for bringing some other liquid than beer. Be surprised when he brings a bottle of Bacardi Coconut, just thirty-seven percent . Say you never drink that before. Try it. Say that it feels like an angel who is pissing on your tongue. Close your eyes and it feels like you’re in heaven for a while. A heaven with palm trees, exotic beaches and blue sky. And free girls. Smoke.

We are Dutch. We can’t drink slow. So the bottle is empty in a short time, read 5 minutes. How? Keep on drinking your glass in one time. Give some nice speeches and fantasise about next holiday together. Take a nap. It really work out. Do you still feel your skin of your face. It’s warm and your eyes are red. No drop left, the bottle is empty to the bottom. Smoke.

It’s 9 p.m. Start talking about water pipes, porn sites, adventures with girls (no, not your ex) and parties where you just were a little tipsy. Not drunk. Always the same story. Do you feel hungry? We are hungry. Prepare some snacks and combine it again with too much mayonnaise. Drink all the beer what’s left in the fridge. Smoke.

Get invited by an other friend at 10.30 p.m. Say ‘yes’ immediately. Don’t worry about next day. It’s still too early. Jump on your bike and go. Don’t worry about direction, keep on cycling. Don’t fall. Falling is for the way back home later. Visit that friend who invite you, drink a bottle of red wine. Say to one of your friends he really look like he is drunk. He is, for sure. Send him home. Smoke.

Go with the rest of your friends to the Premier. A famous bar for people who like party, all kind of music and Heineken Ice Cold. Go inside. Try to move around drunk people, maybe they will hit you when you touch them. Buy some beer. Nap. Shit, my glass is empty already. Buy a new one. The same story again. Smoke.

Go outside because it’s to warm inside. Stay next to the door. Fuck, you forgot your cigarettes inside. Please your best friend for cigarette, he can’t give you one. He quit smoking for his ex-girlfriend. Shit what is happening to the world. Don’t worry about that after your other friend gave you a cigarette. Take a deep breath. Smoke.

It is in the middle of the night. 3 p.m. the bar is closing. Drunk people leaving the bar, they stand on your toes, smells like they haven’t a shower for three months. Leave also. Try to find your bike in a mess of bikes, people sitting on the ground throwing up, a guy who pie over his shoes and a lot of plastic glasses. Apparently my bike is still there. Try to unlock your bike. You can’t open it with the key of your house for sure. Smoke.

Cycle home with your best friend who lives near you. Try to drive straight. It’s hard. Try to remember the way and talk about what happened this night. Don’t hit your friend so you will fall on the ground. I did, sorry! So say sorry. Maybe we are a little tipsy, no not drunk. We are never drunk, of course. We can stand alcohol very well. Even if we are speaking with double tongue. Smoke.

Say good night to your friend. Give him a hug. Try to stay, don’t fall on the ground. Cycle home on your own. Open the door, no not with the key of your bike. Go to your bed. When you see your bed, fall in love with it. Jump. Smoke. Sleep.

I will thank the OC from AC Lincoln in the UK for choosing my blog as one of the best. I like to update my blog more than I did ever before.

Greetings,

Leendert de Keijzer

Watch out for this stuff...

The more underwear you show, the more popular you are. Especially for young teenager girls. I didn’t see that much bra’s and strings during a night out in my life before. What supposed to be a usual bar, it’s turning into an underwear catwalk.

The most stunning thing is that it seems they’re proud to show their most fat parts of their body. The young girls are ‘high-heeling’ from bar to bar with a tipsy, but proud smile on their face. They are everywhere. I can’t move without seeing uncovered underwear. It supposed to be covered, I’m sure, but it seems every girl failed.

Let me make clear, I like the covered parts of a girl. But that is because it is covered. You have to do something to see the covered parts, that supposed to be the game. It is the first time in my life that I like to fail to seduce a girl.

Maybe I should show them my XXXXL BjornBorg.