
Frenzied, Zesty, Voracious: A Writing Exchange Between Caracas and Sarajevo

Narrative Witness: Caracas & Sarajevo
Sarajevo is so far from us. I will never go there, it is so far away. Maybe I should get myself a map and fold it in order to bring Caracas closer to Sarajevo. — Fedosy Santaella, “The Trees of Sarajevo”
Last summer, 22 writers and photographers built a 5,478-mile bridge out of words and images, stretched between Caracas, Venezuela, and Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina. As part of the International Writing Program (IWP)’s inaugural Narrative Witness collaboration, the participants met for videoconference workshops every week. They wrote in Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian, Spanish, and English, and two translators worked lightning fast so that all the work could be read and discussed in English. In February 2015, IWP created a digital collection of their fiction, essays, poetry, and photographs. It’s available here.
The collection is beautiful and major. It’s expansive in its range of styles and subjects, and it will expand you. Here is art mattering in the world.
Below is the story of this unprecedented collaboration, told by a handful of the writers, facilitators, and translators who participated. Some parts will sound familiar to anyone who has opened their writing and themselves to critique. The vulnerability of workshop, the joy in other people’s work, and the anxiety and relief of publication are, more or less, the same everywhere. Other parts speak to the idiosyncrasy of personality and place. Altogether, this is a story of two cities far apart, both familiar with unrest, protest, violence, and hope, both home to writers who are ready to witness and to listen from across an ocean.
Writing and Translating in Caracas and Sarajevo
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant:
Let me attempt to illustrate the state of Bosnia-Herzegovina (BiH) art and culture in general with an example – for two years now, The National Museum of Bosnia and Herzegovina in Sarajevo has a massive sign on its entrance, which states in red capital letters: “Muzej je zatvoren / The museum is closed.”
“CARACAS” Photo by Julio César Mesa
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
I lived in Sarajevo for a few years – I’m from Croatia, but moved to Barcelona just before we started the project. Sarajevo is a relatively small, vibrant city with a lot of talented people either living there or passing through. The arty atmosphere and a touch of cosmopolitanism were the reasons I started writing on a more regular basis. I’m not sure I’d be writing right now if I hadn’t lived there. The experience made me more confident and ready to take risks. There are quite a few opportunities for a young writer, I think, although it’s still a smallish ‘underground’ circle. There’s another side of the coin – it’s virtually impossible to publish or get into established circles – if that’s what you care for. Sarajevo has a great potential to become an arts centre, and its time will soon come.
Mirza Puric, Translator, Sarajevo:
As for what it’s like being a translator in this town, I suppose it’s like being a translator anywhere else. Only incomparably worse. It’s got to be a bit like playing in a Rick Astley cover band — nobody cares.
The First Meeting
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor:
Our Caracas-Sarajevo group of writers and photographers started meeting in early summer 2014 in the wake of historic flooding in Bosnia and Herzegovina and protests in both countries. Many people had died in the protests in Venezuela. Early on in our exchange, Ricardo Ramírez Requena submitted a diary of that period; his “Plaza Venezuela: February Days” opens our collection. Photographer Efrén Hernández Arias contributed an image to accompany Ricardo’s piece—that of a fountain in the same plaza on a bright day.
We first met “in person” via an online video session. The Sarajevo group gathered in twos and threes around laptops in apartments. Most of the Caracas folk met together in a classroom. We made introductions in English. I remember jokes, warmth, technical difficulties in Caracas, and at least one cigarette being smoked in Sarajevo.
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
The only thing I remember is being really suspicious of how it would work out, and doubting whether it would be of any actual help to my writing. Lack of enthusiasm and scepticism are a part of my charm. They are also very common in our part of the world (the Balkans).
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
To be honest, I do not remember a lot of what was said on the day of our first meeting because enthusiasm often tends to overwhelm my listening skills. I do remember two types of feelings though. The first is the excitement about finally starting the project and meeting these new people countries away with whom I will be working and creating and who will hopefully become my friends. The second feeling was a strong desire to create an amazing piece of literature, the best one I have written so far, which I will be proud to share with my colleagues and readers.
The Workshop
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor
IWP built a website for our workshops. Participants considered the theme “narrative witness” and produced the work they felt most important to them. On the writing side, three or four people submitted pieces each week, working in fiction or nonfiction and in the language of their choice. The stories were then sent to our translators, who quickly (heroically) turned around rough drafts in English. We posted both the translations and the original texts for online critique.
We held workshop discussions in English. I’ve recently gone back and reread some of our comment threads, and they show our group to be passionate, rigorous, and committed to literature. My own creative and intellectual life has deepened considerably as a result of my experience with these colleagues. Perhaps due to conditions in both countries, our work seemed to have particular significance.
What was the best moment for you?
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
When I received the critiques for the first version of my “Child of Stone,” I realised that my story was lacking in more aspects than I expected. It took me quite a while (and three versions of the story) to be satisfied with my approach to certain scenes. But then I finally found the right words and it was a fantastic moment.
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
When I got my first feedback. I was feeling nervous because I’d only written a couple of stories before and was unsure about my topic – I felt mine was a bit trivial in comparison to others’. However, my fellow writers liked it and it was a big boost to my confidence.
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor
I’m not sure at what point I began to realize the pieces seemed to be speaking to each other. I believe I had a moment of recognition after reading Sonia Chocrón’s short story “Molar,” which deals with a mother, daughter, and street kids in the midst of a water shortage. It ends, in translation, with the poignant, and earned, line, “It was hot. Very hot.” (“Hacía calor. Mucho calor.”) Interestingly, in that same group of stories was Marina Alagić-Bowder’s nonfiction piece “The Cow in the Bathroom,” which knits together fragments of memory from wartime, and recent-day, Sarajevo. In that piece, too, was the specter of water shortage. A dark apartment. Someone filling a toilet tank from a bucket. One of the Caracas writers, Humberto Valdivieso, commented on Marina’s piece, identifying water in Venezuela as “one of the boundaries of…exclusion.”
Other themes that crop up in the body of work include violence, abuse, war, and love of all kinds. The range of artistic approaches to these subjects is wide. Marauding motorcycle gangs make appearances in José Tomás Angola Heredia’s surreal short story “Quiet, Bicho, Quiet” and in Fedosy Santaella’s meditative essay “The Trees of Sarajevo.” Nermana Česko’s “Chair on My Eye” tells the tale of a wife suffering from breast cancer in an abusive relationship; the story is narrated by the floor in their home. Dijala Hasanbegović’s “A Lexicon of Great Historical Moments” deals with abuse in a family and is a lyrical, first-person piece that uses children’s jokes to mark change and the passage of time.
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
What was the most difficult moment for you?
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
As always, polishing. And publishing. I go back and forth between not seeing anything wrong with it (‘this is exactly as it should be’) and wanting to change everything. The latter normally occurs after it’s been published and nothing can be done anymore. So, after the initial excitement about the Narrative Witness publication, I just stared at my story on the screen feeling completely and utterly horrified.
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
I think the most difficult moment during this workshop is the one I always go through. At some point during the writing process, a decision has to be made – to change / erase something most of my colleagues find lacking or week, or to keep it because I find it purposeful and necessary.
How did the workshop help you develop as a writer?
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
We’re all well aware reading is an important tool of a writer, but there is something special in having an opportunity to read work of contemporary, not fully established writers from the other side of the world. To get to observe how a story evolves. It’s raw. It’s real. More importantly, you begin to understand your own process better. It also makes it easier for you to change perspectives.
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
Feedback is priceless. I can safely say that SWW made me the writer I am today and will help me grow in the future as well. Through the NW project, I had an opportunity to get feedback from people who were born and raised in a different set of circumstances and who might not read the same sentence the way I do. Comments given from a different perspective are invaluable to me in my wish to write about universal topics to which people from culturally and linguistically diverse backgrounds can relate.
Tell me about another participant’s writing that resonated with you.
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor
An essay that may be emblematic of our exchange is Fedosy Santaella’s “The Trees of Sarajevo.” The piece is an effort by the writer to connect the unraveling of his own city with the past unraveling of another. It opens,
“Sarajevo is so far from us. I will never go there, it is so far away. Maybe I should get myself a map and fold it in order to bring Caracas closer to Sarajevo. A poem by Montejo dreams of Iceland. I have taken to dreaming of Sarajevo.”
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Translation
IWP:
The participants wrote in Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian, Spanish, and English; in order to provide as inclusive a workshop experience as possible, translators in Caracas and Sarajevo worked to translate the workshop contributions week by week.
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor:
As we were a multilingual group, at least half of us at any given time were commenting on an English translation of an author’s original story (unless that author chose to write in English). Because the original version was also posted, the other half of the group could provide critiques of the author’s actual text, shedding more light on it for the rest of us. We could also discuss issues related to translation in general. Hensli Rahn Solórzano’s short story “La Guaira 1989,” for example, contains quite a bit of Venezuelan slang. Our hope for the authors was that, even in receiving feedback on English translations of their work, they would be able to find the responses constructive and trace issues we spotted back to their original texts.
Mirza Puric, Translator, Sarajevo
Working with a group of authors of different levels of proficiency, each with her own style, poetics, interests, etc. is not something you do every day — in fact, most translators never get such an opportunity — and I feel quite privileged to have done it twice thanks to SWW [The Sarajevo Writers’ Workshop]. Translators are creatures of carefully honed habit. What I do when I get something substantial to work on is I read it a few times, make tons of notes, identify potential problem spots, then read everything I can get my hands on about the author, the place and time the plot is set in, any actual persons and events the text mentions, cultural practices, flora and fauna, etc. It takes me weeks, sometimes months, to actually translate a single line. The way this project was designed meant I had to abandon my usual modus operandi. Draft translations had to be produced literally overnight, and instead of extensive research I had to rely on the authors’ comments (hardly ever directed at me, which made everything all the more interesting) and Stacy Mattingly’s perspicacious, sharp-eyed editing to tart them up and produce the finals. It was great breaking the mould; that’s how you grow professionally.
What was it like knowing that your work would be read in translation?
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
My two stories are originally written in English. I just write them down in the language I hear them. I tried switching languages a few times, but the flow of words would stop and the characters would disappear. However, I did originally want to write a story in Bosnian, since I am a BiH writer after all and the exchange itself is rich with multilingualism.
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
My story was actually written in English. I started writing in my mother tongue quite late. It was poetry that was quite personal, so it helped that I was writing in a foreign language. That way the emotions in a poem would be mine, but not completely. It provided me with a detachment. I still write in both English and Croatian, and often go back and forth between them until I decide which language suits a certain piece best.
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
What was it like getting feedback on your work in English?
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant:
Given that most of our workshops in Sarajevo are held in English, critiques are given in English and many of us write in English as well, I did not feel any difference in that respect. I am so grateful though that we all have a common language we can express our thoughts in and assist our colleagues’ creative processes.
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
I’ve been a part of Sarajevo Writers Workshop since 2012. The workshop functions in both English and B/C/S languages, so I’m used to it. When you think about it, it’s a bit funny because almost none of the writers or photographers speak English as their mother tongue. I especially loved our email threads, there was a lot of mixing languages.
What did you learn about Sarajevo/Caracas?
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
Simply said, I learned how awesome my colleagues in Venezuela are. I was able to feel and see their strong spirits, talent and passion transformed into words and photography. What amazed me are not so much the similarities or differences when it comes to historical and political contexts, but those connections on a purely artistic level. Even though continents and cultures apart, we all wanted to create pieces of art which transcend all our previous works and which are the closest things to perfection a human can achieve – without ever reaching it.
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Zerina Zahirović, Sarajevo participant:
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Impact
IWP:
At the project’s conclusion, Mattingly and Herman worked with the participants and with the translators to finalize each piece. Mattingly edited and led the curation of an online showcase of the collected work; IWP Distance Learning intern Skylar Alexander designed a new IWP website to house the showcase and supported the curation process. The new site, Collections from the IWP, proudly presents Narrative Witness: A Caracas-Sarajevo Collaboration as our inaugural showcase and will host future collections of work generated through IWP programming.
Stacy Mattingly, Narrative Witness writing workshop facilitator, collection editor
Following the workshop, the writers revised their drafts, and once again, we submitted these to the translators. The translation process was a long and careful one. We are hugely indebted to Mirza Purić, Mariela Matos Smith, Daniel Narváez, and Beverly Pérez Rego. They worked with meticulous attention. All the translators are tied to the communities in their respective cities; we hope this gave them a unique stake in the project and a sense of belonging.
In fact, one of the most meaningful aspects of the exchange has been the felt respect, appreciation, and relationship at the heart of our work together. I knew the Sarajevo participants beforehand, as I’d founded the Sarajevo Writers’ Workshop in 2012; but seeing the way the two communities built a substantive, artistic dialogue and relationships across borders—and that via translation and a third, common language—has been transformative for me. Recently, Fedosy Santaella posted this comment for us online: “Translation is the esence [sic] of peace.”
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
There are two (related) things I can safely say I experienced during this exchange: I grew as a writer and I gained knowledge of these tiny, but immensely important details which bring a piece of writing to a whole new level. This is something, I believe, that will always serve me well and help me improve my writing skills. On a more personal note, I am lucky and honoured to have many friends now in Caracas and Iowa as well.
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
The Future
What’s next for you?
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Matea Simic:
Last November, I started an online magazine for literature and culture, called nema (ne-ma.net). There aren’t many similar projects in the Balkans and its goal is to become a platform for new voices; to give an opportunity to young aspiring writers to be read. Right now, nema is gathering momentum and I’m excited to see how it will develop. In the next month or so, I plan to add an English language section to it and make it more open and, hopefully, widely read.
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
The next thing for me is finishing my first novel. It is quite a project for me, both frustrating and exuberant, especially when I find myself ‘arguing’ with my characters because they do not want to live the way I planned for them. But I do get to laugh with them a lot too.
IWP:
The IWP plans to coordinate three exchanges between writers and artists in 2015 and 2016. Our next Narrative Witness exchange will bring photographers and writers together in two international cities in late spring of 2015. We hope their experiences of creative community and cultural exchange will inspire new collaborations, and new friendships.
What advice would you give to someone who is going to participate in the next Narrative Witness exchange?
Matea Simic, Sarajevo participant:
Read all of the first drafts of all the stories. Then read the second and the third and so on. Comment on all of them. It will help your colleagues, but, equally important, it will help you. Don’t fear criticism. Always remember that it’s your story in the end – but be ready to take risks.
Fedosy Santaella, Caracas participant:
Kulović Selma, Sarajevo Participant
My advice would be to listen well to everything others have to say about your work and read all comments several times – the feedback given is going to be one of your best tools for creating an amazing piece of art. Save the comments if you wish and read them again when you are writing something new. As I have previously mentioned, you will get comments from your colleagues who do not necessarily share your perspective on things and those are the best comments of them all.
Humberto Valdivieso, Caracas participant:
Translations of Fedosy Santaella and Humberto Valdivieso are by Natalia Castells-Esquivel. Translations of Zerina Zahirović are by Mirza Puric. Responses from IWP are by Susannah Shive, IWP Distance Learning Coordinator. Narrative Witness is under the auspices of IWP’s Distance Learning Program.
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