Silly Questions
Have you ever wondered about the tiny people inside the camera recording the embraces of clouds? Or why the wind grabs a bat’s wing when it wants to fly? I know it sounds silly, but the child in me is still looking for answers. In truth, I have learned some strange words in the meantime. Experts use them to sound clever. Still, the questions have mostly remained the same, and there are still so many that I hardly have time to ask them all. Of course, this never stopped me from trying. Thinking up questions has long been my favourite activity. I have truly mastered this art. And it is an art to know how to ask something that will produce an unusual answer. This is precisely why already in primary school I dove headfirst into the wonderful world of natural sciences. There were unexplored depths there, even for the simplest of questions. For example, “Why does an apple fall from the tree?” Here, I simply answer, “What else would it do?” But that is not enough. To satisfy my curiosity, I need much more. This was different from history and geography, where the questions were usually complicated. But the answers were short and clear. For example, “When was the French Revolution?” Somehow, this never interested me, it seemed quite dry and irrelevant. In time, I found that some answers can be both interesting and complicated, but also completely clear and precise. Needless to say, I fell in love with mathematics, which always provided me with such answers. Completely taken up by this, I would often think, “How lovely it would be to make a living asking questions and searching for answers?” When I enrolled in secondary school, I initially resisted applying to the Petnica Research Station programme, much like I initially resisted all the best decisions in my life. I ultimately caved under pressure and a year later, I sent in my application. A few months after that, I was at the seminar. I was experiencing engagement with science first-hand. And I found that being a scientist was my dream job. Now, you may think this means it was easy for me to choose what interested me the most. I must say it was not like that at all. I’d always been interested in questions, not just in sorting them into their proper boxes. How can someone give a complete answer to the question “Why does time flow forward?” without consulting a range of different disciplines. So, when it came to choosing what to study at university, I was facing a dilemma. I was considering all the myriad options. I am currently enrolled in a master’s programme in theoretical mathematics. My curiosity often takes me into physics, computer science, philosophy…
Walking the Earth
The most answerable person, the one most often providing answers to my many questions was my father. However, his view differed quite a bit from what interested me. He was rather practical. “How does an umbrella work?” matters if you can take it apart, fiddle with it, fix it. And he can fix anything. Including cars, hair dryers, reservoirs, cookers, phones, vacuum cleaners… I used to watch him fixing things when I was little. Later on, I picked up on lots of little tricks. I learned how many different devices worked. This was a completely different type of answer, the kind that “holds water”. With time, I learned to appreciate it. I also learned that answers can have real life consequences. Their purpose is not just to put a stop to a question. “Can you hold the ladder while I climb up?” requires responsibility, not just a simple “yes”. Being grounded in reality, this is something I will always be grateful to him for. In me, this grew into a bent for engineering that regularly crops up when I have to solve a problem. It has only become reinforced through my programming escapades. In primary school, I used to think programmers simply type in predetermined text with maybe some minor changes. It seemed terribly boring to me then. As with all my best life decisions, I initially resisted trying it. However, in secondary school, I had a phenomenal teacher. Thanks to him, I came to understand that it was a combination of mathematics and creativity, two things I liked very much. I still enjoy making tools that solve all manner of problems. I am excited by the current development of artificial intelligence, it’s a new toy that needs trying out.
One Step Forward, One Step Back
How did I end up at the Centre for Nonviolent Action (CNA)? Yes, that is what I ask myself every night as I go to bed. Still, it’s not a question that keeps me up at night. For a long time, I was beset by such questions. This series of events came as a relief. But to explain it all, I have to start from the beginning… Skin steamed in the sun under damp shirts. An uncut row of grape vines stopped moving. Boredom to the tune of pruning shears had to be tamed. This family activity was, therefore, most often made bearable by my mother telling us stories from her youth. Thus, we heard about Tito and the Pioneers. “You went on excursions across the whole of Yugoslavia?” I’d throw in an obvious question. “Of course, why wouldn’t we?” I thought that answer was simple enough, but I felt a disquiet in the background. As if something was hiding in the gaps between the words. Some spectre lying in wait, ready to jump out and devour little children like me. I did not fear these monsters, but I also didn’t know how to make them go away. With time, I reconciled myself to obvious answers. I decided there was nothing more profound to be heard. I focused on thinking through questions that were recognised as complicated. I filed the others away in a mental drawer. Even when the conversation at our family patron saint’s feast turned to war. Even when I would naively ask my father, “And did you kill anyone over there in Kosovo?” His answer, “I don’t know,” became complete to me, with nothing held back, no gaps. And somehow even logical. A lot of time passed before I understood that some answers don’t have the right question. That, simply, however you formulate the question, the answer would be meaningless. For example, one day my fried, and now colleague, Marija showed up. She had just returned from a peacebuilding training organised by CNA. I felt the change in her. In the way her gaze would trail off, the way her words would stick to silence. I didn’t know how to ask the question, but the answer was already there. At the end of our meeting, she tried to persuade me to apply to a similar training. The deadline was close. As with all my best life decisions, I initially resisted. In vain…
Final Fulfilment
My mother saw me off to that training, saying, “Son, are you going there to get beaten up?” I didn’t know where I was going, or what to tell her. I got into the car with Nino from Čačak, whom I’d never met before. On the way, we stopped at a petrol station between Preševo and Bujanovac to pick up Šejzi. This was the first time I had met an Albanian. He is now my favourite roommate. I hope we’ll get to room together again and talk long into the night. I have a feeling that without those ten days in Berovo, I would not have been able to bear what happened later. Blockades of the faculties. A very intense coexistence. Sadness. Helplessness. Paranoia. Anger. The situation demanded a deep understanding of communication. The actions we kept planning became the epitome of nonviolent struggle. A concept I had only encountered in CNA’s name. There was an open call for the Training of Trainers (ToT). Between meetings, sitting at a desk at my faculty in the night hours, I wrote out my application. I was accepted. A year went by in constant wandering, and the ToT was squeezed in between protests. How did I change over that year and a bit more? I don’t have an answer. And then, out of the blue, I got this job offer. As with all my best life decisions, I initially resisted accepting it. I came to the interview straight from the protests, gearing up to turn it down. I had prepared questions that refused to align with work duties. To my shock, they were all answered. Who needs a worker with more questions than answers? That was key. After a few turbulent e-mails from my side, I dared to give it a try. And so, here I am, as I had dreamed when I was little. Today, my job is to ask questions… I may not be a scientist… But maybe it’s better that way. Scientists in Serbia today mostly don’t ask questions. If they did, they would be on the streets with us. They would be fighting for answers and for justice. They would be demanding responsibility. All of this is me to my core. I have absorbed the struggle like a sponge. And how far like this? All the way.