By the time this blog will be posted I will have given a glimpse into my newfound friendship with Nazeb, the farmer from the local market, on social media and through the many stories I have shared with friends and family back home and on the race. He was the first local I truly interacted with beyond a courteous ‘ciao’ or a thankful ‘hvala ti’, and he has made a major impact on my time here in Bosnia and how I view ATL (Ask The Lord for those that are lost on the meaning of the well known acronym between racers!).
If you haven’t yet heard my tale, then keep on reading, because I tell you all the details of our initial meeting and some other favorite moments from my time speaking with Nazeb. If you have heard the story then also keep on reading, because who doesn’t love a good story?
It was our third day in Bosnia. We had left the mountainside of Jahorina where the ’84 Winter Olympics had been held and had settled into our apartment up the hill from old town in Sarajevo after a speedy taxi ride. (There are no traffic laws here and as delicately put by Miss Amber Mannion, “He was turning those corners on two wheels!”…but I digress.) It was our first full day and our first true day of ATL ministry, so naturally we were all curious as to what He had in store for us.
After making our way down the hill and into Old Town we split off into groups of two, as to not intimidate people, and started making our way through the city I was already in awe of. Cassie and I started walking through a market nestled in an alleyway off the main strip. We walked passed storefronts overflowing with head coverings on our left and rosaries on the right; praying for direction from Him with every step we took. After a few attempts at failed conversation (due to language barriers, not for lack of trying!) and sympathetic smiles shared with the shop keepers, we came out on the other end of the alleyway shops to find that the buildings stacked high upon one another and the bustling streets were still there.
To the right we went, making our way down the broken brick sidewalk towards ‘who knows what’! After only a moment of walking we noticed a local market across the street. Directly in the middle of grey concrete walls, black asphalt roads, and a crisp blue sky we saw a medley of vibrant hues: red, orange, yellow, pink, purple, and green. You can understand that after spending five months in Asia, where saturated colors cover every inch of the country, we took note of the beauty (and bit of comfort) and were drawn in by the pure brightness oozing from the booths that created a maze.
Neither one of us had intentions of purchasing any of the nuts, fruits, or vegetables our eyes danced over, but eventually we stopped at a booth hosted by a gingerly man when Cassie said she wanted to buy some cherries. He immediately began speaking to us in Bosnian (not knowing we only knew a few small phrases and certainly not enough to converse about his spread of cherries) and in my broken attempts to ask prices he simply handed us cherries and strawberries, as to ‘test’ his goods; and oh boy, they definitely deserved the nickname ‘goods’! While Cassie paid her four marks for an overflowing brown bag of sweet cherries, I noticed a man in the booth next to the one we stood in front of looking at us with a smile plastered across his face. I smiled back, and then we were making our way out onto the busy street once again. We decided to go back into the market to simply gawk at the rest of the produce that deserved to be painted then scarfed up right away, before walking aimlessly once again. When we got to the other end of the booths I looked to Cassie and said that I wanted to go back and talk to the smiling man, that I felt like we should at least go say hello, and possibly see why he was so happy. My initial guess was that he simply enjoyed the humor of watching two American girls attempt to make their way through a local market with almost no Bosnian language under their tongues, but I was wrong. So wonderfully wrong!
My plan was simple. I would ‘con’ him into a conversation with me by shopping his fruit stand. Genius really. I picked up fuzzy purple, orange peaches and sniffed them (this was a little self serving as I hadn’t realized how much I missed the sweet scent of a peach until I walked into this market), remarking on my happiness with guffaws and ‘oh my!’s at how delicious they seemed simply by scent. He continued to smile and chuckled a bit at my animation. I asked him his name, if this was his booth, how long he had worked here, and so on. He told us that he understood English, but was not very good at speaking it so we continued to talk with him in yes or no questions. I decided to buy two peaches and he bagged them up for me, but when I used my very little dictionary of Bosnian to ask how much, kolico koshta, he waved his hand to gesture nothing. I tried to reason with him that I wanted to pay for these delicious peaches, but he was not going to budge on gifting me. (Be on the look out for a ‘How God Speaks to Me’ blog in the very near future to understand why this gesture meant quite a lot to me!)
I thanked him profusely and continued to chat with him and Cassie when a woman walked up delivering his lunch. A pizza box and two other smaller boxes appeared at the corner of his fruit stand, he spoke to her in Bosnian, paid her, and then excitedly gestured for us to come around to the back of his fruit stand. We very quickly ‘ATLed’ it, got God’s thumbs up, and scurried to the other side! He opened up the top of the pizza box, presenting a delectable pie of melted cheese, Andouille sausage, juicy tomatoes, and raw mushrooms. He gestured for us to take a slice (or two!) and we dined at my new favorite “restaurant” with one of my new favorite people. Our conversation continued on and we ended up making plans to have coffee with him the next morning at ‘big seven’, or seven am, the next day. We finished our slices of heaven, I mean…pizza, and as we said our goodbye’s for the day he cut the mysterious box in half (there were Nutella crepes inside!!!), placed it in a bag to take with us, handed me another sweet piece of fruit to add to my paper bag of furry peaches, and smiled a bright smile at us. We had made a new friend, and I know that God was smiling down as His children had connected with one another in a time and place that none would have expected them to.
Since our pizza lunch Cassie and I have had coffee at ‘big seven’ with Nazeb at a local café and talked with him about his life in Sarajevo, on the farm, and behind his fruit stand.
Vanessa, Cassie, and I met with Nazeb to have dinner one evening and rode into the mountains to a park with air so fresh you’ll swear you hadn’t truly taken in a breathe of clean air until then. Swans necked and swam in the clear water that filled the ponds, our laughter echoed off the pine trees, and fireflies came out to play in the dark reminding me of summers spent with my grandparents. The meal was entirely fulfilling as we dined on rich meat, heavy potatoes smothered in butter, sweet vegetables, crisp salads, earthy espresso, and conversation to last a lifetime. As we had walked through the park I had said I love all food, would eat anything, and wanted to be surprised; so Nazeb did just that and surprised us with our own plate of two Nutella crepes each! I asked him how often he ate these crepes and he said EVERYDAY; now if you’re looking for a hero to write about, look no further! We made our way back to town and when I thought the evening had ended and began to say my goodbye, he looked confused and gestured for us to follow him. He took us to yet another restaurant and treated us to another round of espresso and fulfilled my goal of having gelato each day here in Bosnia. (Side Note: I met my goals! Proud of me?) We were stuffed and I was entirely thankful he drove us home because I was sure I would keel over if I had to walk up the steep hills after all that delectable food. We said ‘dobra veche’ (goodnight) to our friend and promised to see him again.
I would visit him each day and eventually he put me to work behind the fruit stand! On and evening visit (when it isn’t so busy at the markale) he had me step behind the wooden counter, stocked with plump fruits ready to be sold, and let me ‘run the show’. I did my best weighing the fruits for locals and asking them what they wanted, but wound up looking back to Nazeb for assistance! Although I don’t foresee a life as a fruit vendor in my future, my first customer was an American girl from North Dakota and she told me my English was ‘very good’, so I can at least pass for a Bosnian if not fruit farmer.
I tell you all of these moments not to just share a glimpse into what my time in Bosnia was like, but to show what life ATLing is like. It has no plan, no rhyme or reason; it is just living a life uninterrupted. Letting any moment that strikes you, take you. I would have never become friends with Nazeb had I not been open to the concept of God working in whatever tricky way He was, I wouldn’t have been observant to the smiling man at the booth next door, and I may have missed out on my experiences and new friendship with the famer had I not been ready for what God had waiting behind a swinging fruit stand door for me. I leave you with this thought: be open, be prepared, and be ready to be interrupted from your daily life by whatever God has waiting around the corner for you, you may just end up with a new friend…or job.
