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Acceptance speech - hnorary citizen of Sarajevo

When I met them, they were Lejla and Selma Pajavic, two teenage sisters who one day found me standing near Marshall Tito Street. On a whim they asked me to lunch. Of course I didn’t know the lunch was across Sniper’s Alley. But this was to be the first of many sprints across Sniper’s alley. That day, together with their parents, we shared a small, yet generous lunch. As they told stories I was mesmerized by their sense of humor, by their will to live. It felt like it came from the deepest place: pain mixed with a ferocious desire to survive this place. For this young American, it was a humbling three-hour lunch. From the moment I met Lejla and Selma I knew I was going to be staying in Sarajevo for longer than I expected. For, how can you leave when a friendship has been born? Thank you Lejla and Selma, and thanks to their gracious parents: Muniba and Hussein Pajevic. I want to thank Vlado Kajevic, Mr. Don Guido, who was like a soul bother the day I first met him, on the 7th floor of the UNIS towers telling a joke. Vlado has a knack for impeccable timing, both in his humor and his music, and for so many nights during the war his music was the antidote to the bombs outside. Of course, playing along side Vlado was Dani Pervan and Dutzo Dzihan and Alan Omerovic. Together they completed our small band of brothers in our office in the UNIS towers. I want to send out a big thank you to the Englishman Graeme Bint, the merry prankster of the Serious Road Trip. He is perhaps most responsible for me coming to Sarajevo in the first place. Today he lives in Australia, but a big part of him still resides in Sarajevo. Thank you to Jason Aplon and his wife Ivana Sirovic, who helped with many of the details of getting a hold of U2. A big thank-you to Bono and the rest of U2, a band that gave its heart to Sarajevo. It still defies all reason that they listened to a crazy kid from California with a ridiculous idea: to connect the outside world with the city of Sarajevo. But they did and it worked. And then they took another chance and allowed me to make Miss Sarajevo in their studio. And that worked. And then they wanted to play in Sarajevo. And it worked. Of course meeting U2 took a small miracle, a miracle helped along by various people. One of those persons is Senad Zaimovic from War Art. With great reluctance and a healthy dose of war-fueled cynicism he loaned me both his name and station letterhead, which gave instant credibility to this wild idea. I speak of Senad’s reservation to assist me only because it was a crucial step in making me even more determined to complete the mission. Thank you Senad, for your ongoing friendship and for believing in me, just enough. Thank you to Boris Siber, the man, the myth, better known as Shibee, a man who in the war was committed to fighting the notion of pity for Sarajevo and it’s citizens. He, like so many of those I have mentioned tonight was determined to keep the city’s urban soul alive. His art is in his purposeful comedy and joyful life. To Ciba and Amra Karisik, I cannot say thank you enough times. They now live in Canada, but were such an anchor in my experience in Sarajevo. They are truly like a brother and sister to me. Without them I would have left much sooner. Without them I may not be standing here today. And of course I must thank Miss Alma Catal, the undeniable shining spirit of the documentary Miss Sarajevo. The true Miss Sarajevo. The film has shown to tens of millions on television and in person I have shown this film in America and Europe to universities, conferences, and in theaters. And each and every time, when the film ends, the first question is “who is that girl, and is she okay?” Through her unbearable lightness of being, Alma has touched more people in the world than she can imagine. And she continues to do so today.

Finally I want to thank Leigh, my wife. Meeting her allowed me to love again, which really must be the point of surviving this life. She is here tonight, and introducing her to your city is very special for me.

In closing, I want to say that coming to Sarajevo has always felt like coming home, and now it is official. The bonds that have been created here are etched in my memory like a carving in a tree. They cannot be erased. One could argue that besides bringing a beautiful child into this world what I did in Sarajevo constitutes the most important deeds in my life. I say that with no regret, no melodramatic weight. I say it with great pride and humility.

I assume this award has been given on the merits of what I did for Sarajevo during its darkest hours. But let me state as clearly as I can: whatever I have given Sarajevo, it has returned to me many times over. So it is I who wants to say thank you. I would not be the person I am today without my experience in Sarajevo. Without the friends I made here. And for that I am both sad, sad because of what happened here, and grateful, for it is quite possibly the best thing that ever happened to me.

From the bottom of my heart, thank you Sarajevo. And God bless.