Latić-Hulusić to Izetbegović openly: You remind me of rust that eats everything from the inside

By: Nejra Latić-Hulusić/ thebosniatimes.ba

Bosnian director and journalist Nejra Latić-Hulusić, after the latest 'Asim' affair that shook the political public, addressed the head of SDA, Bakir Izetbegović, in an open letter on the portal The Bosnia Times. Read her letter below: 

I don't know how to address you. Fortunately, I don't have to address you as "Esteemed Member of the Presidency of Bosnia and Herzegovina" because you are no longer one, and when you were, out of respect for every blade of grass in this country, I always addressed you that way in conversations, whether I was filming or not.

I can't bring myself to say Mr. Izetbegović either, because out of respect for the love your father, President Izetbegović, felt for Bosnia, I resent addressing you by his surname.

I would address you by your first name, Bakir, but your name means sharp, studious, and early riser. I don't know when you wake up, but I've noticed you're always late to react to everything. I don't know what you study, but leadership and the foundations of democracy seem to have bypassed your studies.

Not even in a fit of madness, let alone during one of the greatest political and moral crises shaking our country and your party after the recording of your closest associates trading influence and buying votes came to light, should you utter something that belongs in the complaint books of unimaginative caterers: "Like in a restaurant, if you are satisfied, tell everyone, if you are dissatisfied, tell only us. If there is a problem, then you clean it up within the house first"!

I will address you as "a human of the color of corrosion that gnaws at this country." Please don't take offense, but that's how I see you. I am of a similar color myself, but all other reddish things remind me of either sunrise or sunset, only when I see you, you remind me of rust that eats everything from the inside.

Since there is no way to convey dissatisfaction to you in private because you have surrounded yourself with an army of sycophants and cowards, forgive me for not being able to follow your catering quip, so I must still speak out publicly about my dissatisfaction. I don't know where your complaint book is kept; in a cafe, it's above the bar, and since this is a country, I can't imagine where such a thing would be.

It has now been revealed in the case of the Sarajevo mayor elections, and it has been reasonably suspected on multiple occasions before, at least for the last five years, you have been manipulating local, general, intra-party elections, as well as administrative and supervisory boards.

Therefore, it can be safely said that you have privatized this country. Since you have repeatedly declared every well-intentioned and ill-intentioned critic (it is obvious you are unable to distinguish them) of your party a traitor to the country and an apostate of faith, it seems to me that you equate this country with your party. Given that you have taken power upon yourself multiple times, willingly, by force, through manipulation, and with whispers known only to you – I consider you responsible for the complaint book of this state. Your book is quite empty because you have stolen it from us, and anyone who tries to write in it is belittled and banished.

With regret, I would like to note that I have been dissatisfied for twenty years with the way you are leading this country. Weekly, you serve us stale and reheated stories about fictitious enemies while the real ones plunder us. Either surrender or defend yourself once and for all. Your menu has been tiresome for years, consisting of stale threats that you import from our neighbors or from your partners in government. For twenty years, you have not managed to achieve peace.

You skillfully keep inter-ethnic conflicts simmering, which give us stomach aches, while you and your followers, and your partners from the other two sides, enrich yourselves and invent jobs in state institutions that you tear away from our livers. If you haven't been able to achieve a stable country all these years, admit your defeat and give up. Let someone else try to cook. Stop feeding us lies on the bread you throw into the arena while you entertain yourselves.

Stop cooking us soup from the bones of those we lost in the fight so that you could place your cronies in an empty land. If you had any shame, you would lie down in Potočari and bury yourself, you wouldn't be the last person we see there on July 11th, and the first we see off with loud sirens from your entourage. Every time attention is drawn to the theft within the ranks you lead, you force this soup down our throats to silence us. Clean your restaurant of the cockroaches that have defiled and eaten everything. If you cannot carry out pest control for reasons known only to you, at least don't try to convince us that cockroaches are dear fellows.

Change the name of the restaurant. Your restaurant has long given a false impression of what is served inside. It's like calling a ćevapi place "Neretva."

One expects to eat trout inside, not ćevapi. It no longer makes sense for you to be called democratic or action. Since you started implementing democracy, most people here are either starving or emigrating, certainly not ruling. You have stifled every action that has been initiated. From the Party of Democratic Action, only the Party remains for you. Write that at the entrance, so we know what to expect.

Fill the restaurant with culture, not culture with caterers. It cannot be upside down. Your culture is not "empty," as they think in your party. It is full to the brim with your deputies who are ready to sell their every creed for your favor. Under your patronage, almost no film is released annually, but on the other hand, a new recording of scandals involving your followers, intoxicated by you or Chivas, is premiered weekly. You are mentally killing us sober ones, who don't stand on our knees in front of your party's offices waiting for someone to throw us a pittance on a handkerchief, and indeed, your proud lackeys are about to attack us physically.

These same lackeys call you "stupid Bake" behind your back at coffee meetings. You pay them handsomely to play funeral marches for our demise. I don't know how you don't see that it's not a good idea for electricians from strong currents, whose diplomas you bought with dates like February thirtieth, to conduct the orchestra.

Honor to those who understand fuses on power lines, but they cannot be the first violins. They constantly create short circuits.

And now, praise. I praise your persistence in arrogantly ignoring all criticism, not to say pleas. I am writing to you in this catering jargon because I no longer know what language to address you in. By no means think that I have accepted your metaphor from the beginning of the story.

Perhaps you feel that way, perhaps your idolaters have convinced you that "The State is You!", and you have convinced yourself that it is all a catering establishment. Perhaps your tongue is right because you feast on Bosnia as if it were a restaurant.

But you are mistaken, human of the color of corrosion. Bosnia and Herzegovina is my country, it is not your restaurant!

Peace,

Nejra from culture