| When a popstar with teased hair and painted nails becomes the first DJ to play in Bosnia since the civil war, he takes great care to make sure he doesn't come across as a smug voyeur having a cheap holiday in someone else's misery. And he finds himself touched by the warmth of the people who have suffered so much. BY BOY GEORGE My room, kindly provided by the Dutch division, was an oblong cell with a single bed and a steel locker, sweetly adorned with a vase of blooms, a basket of fruit and an ironing board. But to my horror, there was no sink or toilet! I grimaced when I was told that those facilities were located in an adjacent building and were communal. I was about to spend the weekend in an army camp (ooh missus) in Bosnia, where I was due to DJ. Having to share a bathroom with a bunch of hunky soldiers posed a problem when I wanted to apply my make-up or was desperate to spend a penny. I just couldn't work up the nerve to face the camouflage crew in full drag and war- paint. It was pleasure enough to be the first DJ to play in Bosnia since the civil war. The trip was doubly trippy because I was staying in SFOR's army barracks, which is home to Nato's Stabilisation Force. I must be honest, the idea of spending the weekend with 2,000 soldiers appealed to every cell in my queer body, but I was also interested in seeing Bosnia and finding out how the people were dealing with the aftermath of the civil war. After arriving in Zagreb, we were supposed to be picked up in a Czech military helicopter to continue our journey to the city of Banja Luka, but there was some military drama elsewhere and we had to jump into a jeep. Never mind. I got to drive for two hours through Croatia and it was green, lush and quite beautiful. I don't really know what I expected, but the sun was shining and it felt and looked as calm as any other European country. At the checkpoint which separates Croatia and Bosnia, I was screamed at by a guard for filming, but our hosts - two plain-clothes soldiers - waved their IDs and we were ushered through with a smile. The reality only hit me when we arrived at SFOR's base, which is centered in a huge disused steel factory and protected by high walls, sandbag bunkers, barbed wire and muscular soldiers with machine guns.Being surrounded by soldiers was button-pushing, intimidating and a reminder that I have serious issues with authority. You couldn't imagine a more bizarre contrast if you tried. I can't help feeling that the army is full of people who crave order, and while I could use a bit myself, I am as resistant to it as oil to water. I got some strange looks as I sauntered the camp. I had to hide behind my Dior sunglasses just to stop my eyes from popping out of my head! I was chaperoned by a Hollywood-handsome Canadian officer called Malcolm Day - he was swiftly nicknamed "Doris" - and I got to meet a couple of generals. I felt like Marilyn Monroe in Korea. It wasn't all gay fantasy, however. An important part of my trip was to visit Oxygen Radio, which airs my dance radio show, Clubversive. The station is broadcast from SFOR's barracks and was the brainchild of Captain David Bailey, who recruited and trained locals to run it. The idea is to unite teenagers from the various ethnic communities through music and live phone-ins. So far, it has been a huge success. One of the saddest moments of my time in Bosnia was visiting a local village that was obliterated during the conflict. There, over coffee, I chatted to a group of women who had lost loved ones and were trying to raise money to build a community centre. Outside the city of Banja Luka, which seemed thriving, you really see the effects of war. Most of the villages are being slowly rebuilt but there is no water supply to many homes and there is a deep sadness and warmth in the eyes of those who have returned to pick up the pieces. Everyone I met thanked me for coming, and it was touching, but I was terribly nervous of coming across as some smug voyeur having a cheap holiday in someone else's misery. At a press conference held in the centre of Banja Luka, I sensed a distinct air of suspicion and defensiveness. I felt as though I was being scanned for signs of pop star arrogance and my teased-up hair and painted nails were clearly a source of amusement. The room was packed but only three people asked questions. One of the most telling was, "Do you think you'll be considered a bad guy for coming here rather than going to one of the bigger cities?" I made it clear that I wasn't vaguely territorial. Then, after another long silence from the press, I asked if there were any drag queens in Bosnia. My queer question made it on to the Six O'Clock News and when a solitary drag queen approached me in the DJ booth and squeezed my hand, I felt a real sense of triumph. I could see that turning up in all her finery had taken real strength and I wanted to cry. I asked if there was any kind of gay scene and was told that although there were plenty of gays and lesbians, there were no official clubs and that they keep their desires among themselves. Bosnia is clearly testosterone heavy and it was obvious that the crowd would have preferred a more pounding set. I decided to give them a funky, swishy one and left it to my DJ friend, Tomislav, who I invited along to provide the butch flavour. One of the local DJs attempted to advise me on music policy, but I felt it was important to take a camp stance. In that respect, playing in Bosnia is the same as playing in Brighton. The only real difference is that there is a refreshing sense that music can create huge change. One of the most rousing tunes of the night was Freedom by Amanda Ghost, with its verse - "Sometimes I feel like a motherless child" - and its chanting chorus of "Freedom, freedom, freedom". Arms were raised and pure joy filled the room. The women I spoke to were smart and open, and I feel that the weight of lasting peace is on their shoulders. If male equals war, then female symbolises peace. They were a hip crowd, brimming with style and attitude and they clearly have no desire to be patronised. I urge other DJs and performers to take time to visit Bosnia and the rest of Yugoslavia. But don't swan in thinking you're a funky Mother Teresa or you'll be treated with the contempt you deserve. |
 |
 |
 |
 |