A Man Made of Deceit and Lies

When I recently spoke on this platform about the 'ethical problems of the polemical narrative' (https://www.facebook.com/abdulah.sidran.3/posts/526745240815612?pnref=story), many of my readers understood that in the background, in the unsaid, as prototypes for the chosen topic, stand quite concrete public figures with whom I socialized in certain phases of my rather long life.

Among the unspoken names was that of the mayor of Tuzla, Jasmin Imamović, a law graduate with literary ambitions and a contender for the vacant position of president of the devastated SDP BiH. I 'befriended' him and occasionally socialized with him for about ten years, and that socializing could be so close that I – sometimes unintentionally, and against my own will – learned about or witnessed certain events and behaviors that discredit him thoroughly and in every respect, both as a private person and as a public figure. With such knowledge, a normal person and writer has nothing to do but kick it into the container of unpleasant memories. Ugh! Ugh! Ugh!

But when, after some time, due to circumstances, what happened to me happens to that 'normal person and writer' – that I become a victim of malicious machinations and slander by that former friend of mine, when that same 'friend' hires and unleashes a dozen journalistic mercenaries on me to repeat lies for years that will defend his problematic and charlatan position – what should one do? Should one start pulling out the disgusting content from the trash can of unpleasant memories and knowledge and present it to the public?

It is a known fact to the citizens of Tuzla that their pre-war, wartime, and post-war municipal secretary, and current mayor Jasmin Imamović, is one of the first people from Tuzla who, almost immediately after the aggression against BiH began, in May/June 1992, stole the apartment of a fellow citizen of non-Bosniak nationality. The court case regarding this 'matter' has reached Strasbourg, and its outcome is not uncertain. (See: http://tuzlalive.ba/dani-2012-godine-nacelnik-jasmin-imamo…/) If I had known about this fact in time, I would not have even shaken hands with the person in question, let alone built a friendship!

Naturally, if someone is prepared to engage in stealing other people's apartments in wartime circumstances – then even the biggest lies are a trifle to him. For three full years, he has been knowingly and deliberately lying – and paying journalists to multiply and spread his lie! – that the conflict between us was caused by my 'anger' because my novel 'Otkup sirove kože' was eliminated from the competition for the MS award in 2012. He is lying like a dog! I protested against the voluntaristic way of 'working' and the complete legal and procedural disorder of matters related to that award three years earlier, in 2008/2009! upon learning of the shameful elimination of the brilliant novel 'Vječnik' by the Bosnian writer Nedžad Ibrišimović from the competition for the MS award. The polemic about this in the daily newspaper 'Oslobođenje' lasted for two months, in December 2008 and January 2009. No novel of mine existed, nor did I know it would exist!

Naturally, if someone builds and nurtures all his connections and friendships solely out of his own careerist motives, calculations, and ambitions – as J. Imamović has always done – then these are not real friendships. A corrupt partner in such a relationship cannot even know when one of his 'friendships' began or ended. Thus, Imamović also does not know that the end of our friendship began much earlier, after my repeatedly expressed requests to be spared verbal harassment in the form of constant boasting about his own womanizing exploits proved futile! It was unbearable! The maniacal braggart did not hesitate to mention the names of some members of his jury for the MS literary award among the names of his 'victims'! If only there had been any narrative charm, elegance, or humor in it! But nothing: squinting eyes and a tongue that sometimes licks the lip while spewing filth over it.

If you think this is the end and that it cannot get any uglier than this – you are mistaken. Unfortunately. He boasted to me one afternoon in my apartment in Sarajevo, at Marsela Šnajdera street 9 – that he had recently 'handled' the daughter of one of our mutual friends.

I leave it to you to find a name for such human material.

(Dnevni avaz, 3.9.2015)