Occupied, battled over, and besieged throughout history, it has not been uncommon to find Sarajevo filled with soldiers. In 2002, I learned to recognize different countries’ peacekeeping patrols throughout town by their camouflage: Americans had big-patterned, patchy camo, Germans had tiny dots and a gold-brown hue to theirs, and someone—maybe a Bulgarian?—had geometric shapes on a beige background.
By now, though, SFOR (the stabilization force that NATO put in place) is long gone, and I haven’t seen a single gun in town. What’s more, the camouflage jackets that were once everybody’s ragged work clothes are fading out, and the camouflage patterns that had found their way onto dresses and slacks in trendy store windows are no more. Every once in a while, a young guy in the national military uniform makes his way into town from the mountain barracks nearby, but that’s it for camo in Sarajevo.
Have the battle-strategy brains of this city disappeared with the military trappings? Sarajevo’s young up-and-comers are definitely more commerce-minded than before, but I see remnants of the arts of delicate offense and steady defense in one city square, painted with a giant chess board and stocked with oversize pieces. In rain, snow, or sunshine, old men have been gathering here to battle daily for at least ten years. And yesterday, when I couldn’t see the board, they called me over to a space they’d cleared at the corner, so I could watch the fight, too.