Polyparty-ism - Search for Common Ground

114
the fishmonger's in the Bit Pazar, and
who still lives today in his house in the
narrow lane by the Nationalities'
Theatre), where he learned that whistle
which he handed down to us, since he
was the first to use it. Tanas gives a
wide smile and says: I think we took it
from some guys who were selling nuts
in the Stara Charshija. They used it first,
then it became our "property." And we
used to gather to that call: in front of the
cinema Napredok or the sweetshop
Bash Pelivan, at times in front of the
maple tree, where there is an emergency
ward now. Then we had to go to the
river banks or to one of the cinemas:
Bratstvo, the puppet theater, Mladina,
Balkan, Kultura. Or we went to play
soccer, to Kale, or to the cleaning of the
livestock market in Chair. Tanas and
Aco, Dzhavid and Edip, Dime and
Vase, Sefer and Uska, Ljube, they
would all come, later on the younger
ones came too. But, we didn't even
have to go that far: it seems incredible
now, but our first ever "soccer stadium"
and field was the area around Isa Beg
mosque. And that was right at the old,
eternal graveyard which still exists
today. There was enough green space
around them for a real soccer match.
Our main soccer master, then, was
Mustafa. (He worked for some editorial
board at Nova Makedonija for a while,
then he left to live abroad.) Out came
Avram and Stevo, Sem and Milosh,
Erol and Copola. From all that space,
now only the small, yellow house
belonging to the producer Ivan
Mitevski-Copola-remains). But the
thing which is especially unforgettable
from that time is that our mothers
observed our childish soccer game sitting
on little stools in front of the houses
in the alley, chatting in the summer
evenings.
The movies Vera Cruz and Mother,
listen to my song, the comedies with
Toto and Fernandel we used to watch in
the cinema Bratstvo. The Nationalities'
Theatre and the unforgettable library
Cvetan Dimov were in the same building.
The cinema and theatre halls were
used for different events: folklore
ensembles performed, and right before
the earthquake theatre amateurs performed
the play Kuzman Kapidan. The
library was a special delight: we started
discovering a new kind of literature different
from the one on offer in primary
school: Zilahi, Zola….
We went to the river bank via
Dukjandzhik and Topaana, then we
would cross to the right side of Vardar.
We would get to the beach in Madzhar
Maalo near the iron bridge between
Krnjevo and Karadak Maalo, the old
military hospital and the then wooden
bridge.
In front of the good, old cinema
Napredok there was an unforgettable
sight: a fat Roma man was standing at
the entrance door dressed in a complete
general's uniform: with a general's hat
and a general's coat. It was as if we were
going into a majestic theatre or palace.
And once inside, of course the movies
Mangala, Forever thirsty, or Hercules.
By day in the old town: crowds,
shouting, yelling. Life. Woodwork
shops, tanners, carpenters, tailors, shoemakers,
slipper-makers, painters' shops,
blanket-makers, coppersmiths, nut-sellers,
kebab shops, clock repairmen,
smithies, fur makers…
Sometimes we would all go to
Merkez with our fathers. They would
drink brandy with olives, we would
drink Gazoza.
Yes, the old town is a meeting
place, life, eternal change and
exchange. Not a wasteland and separation.
So sitting in that fashion with my
friends, we realize that we are still the
same, and yet many things have
changed.
The old town, April 2003.
About ten years ago it was full to
the brim with young people, nowadays
even the old ones avoid it. It is empty
after 5 in the afternoon.
But those of us who have felt the
dust of its cobblestones, its narcotic
scents all blended into one, know for
sure it will never die. On the contrary,
it will always exist. However, people
today have the right to be concerned.
And how can someone not admire
the words of Abdula Ramadan, of
Albanian nationality, one of my peers,
with whom I am having a conversation
in the Bezisten:
"Tell me, how is the old town supposed
to go on living, when people are
out of work, when nothing in it works,
without crafts, with bad lighting, without
enough hygiene" he says. "The old
town makes the nation, without people
it resembles a graveyard. The old town
is the face of the world, it should be as
clean as our pride. And would you say
this is our pride? Up until now, we all
drank and ate together. Everything was
sweet, from the little, tasty peppers that
we ate, to the conversations we had.
And now we have come to see each
other as the wolf and the sheep. Of
course, nothing good can come out of
that. Just look at how many craftsmen
stay on in the old town. I have worked
in tea houses my whole life. I still can't
get over the fact that nowadays young
people, the students, don't visit the old
town anymore. I want them to come
here again, even if they don't have
enough money: does it matter if it is
paid or not? The most important thing
is to revive the old town."
I part with Ramadan promising him
that I will go visit him in his tea house
in the Bezisten next week.
He mentioned the craftsmen and
artisans. It is true, there are very few
left. Well, let's start with the legendary
craftsman of the old town, Master
Zhelo. He is found right next to the
Bezisten. There is a sign saying:
"Goldsmith Zhelo, Asani Z. Xheladin."
He is one of the best, the leading master
of his trade, but what can he do on his
own in the Stara Charshija, when buyers
and passersby are more and more
rare. And such examples of survival in
the old town can be counted on one
hand: hatmaker, painter, shoemaker, tinsmith…
In the store that was once upon a
time under the ownership of Tuna, now
an exchange office, I look for my
friend, Master Suljo, one of the best former
modern designers who existed in
the old town and the city. Once, on our
old street from before the earthquake in
Skopje, only one wall separated us from
master Suljo's family. His younger
brother Erol, who left for Turkey a few
years ago, is my age. All of a sudden,
due to bad conditions and empty streets
in the old town, Suljo had to rename his
store several times. (It is situated across
from the House of Crafts.) First it was
a design salon, then a textile store, an
exchange office…. He usually takes me
to Galerija 7 for tea. Good old Galerija
7. Since I didn't find him in the
exchange office, I went to Galerija. I
Meetings, not divisions, June 2003