Julienne Bušić u memoarima otkrila jednu od najuznemirujućih spoznaja koju je shvatila izlaskom iz zatvora

“Poslijepodne zna ono što je jutro samo sumnjalo”, Robert Frost.

Zvonko Bušić vjerovao je kako dobre stvari trebaju biti dostupne svima. Ono za što je živio, radio i vjerovao, za što je podnio žrtvu, objavljeno je u knjizi “Zdravo oko”, koja je dostupna na Amazonu. pod nazivom “All Visible Things”. Poglavlje po poglavlje, kap krvi po kap krvi i život dan po dan objavljujemo svaka dva tjedna u 33 dijela – samo s jednim ciljem! Trajat će!

Starost

U mom zatvorskom iskustvu jedna od najuznemirujućih spoznaja bila je činjenica da vrijeme nije stalo dok sam bila utamničena, što sam shvatila tek kad sam izašla iz zatvora. Svojih 13 zatvorskih godina nekako sam bila shvatila ne kao protok vremena, nego kao nešto odvojeno od vremena, kao da su se uobičajeni životni procesi zaledili i nastavit će se kad se vratim u „normalan“ život. Prva naznaka da to nije istina bila je riječ „gospođa“ umjesto „gospođice“, kojom me je oslovio konobar u jednom restoranu. To je bilo porazno. U zatvor sam otišla kao djevojka, a iz njega izišla kao sredovječna žena. Što se dogodilo?

Stoga ne čudi da su Zvonka njegova iskustva nakon 32 godine utamničenja mnogo više uznemirila. Pola svog života proveo je u zatvoru, u njega ušao kao mlad muškarac, a iz njega izišao kao osoba poodmakle dobi. Tijek tipičnog života uključuje sva iskustva mladosti, potragu za vlastitim mjestom u svijetu, razočaranja mladenačke ljubavi, oslobođenje od roditeljskog nadzora, obrazovanje, stvaranje identiteta. Zatim dolaze srednje godine, stabilnost poslovne karijere, kupnja prve kuće, jedno dijete, pa drugo, odgovornosti podizanja djece u odrasle osobe koje će doprinijeti društvu u kojem žive, i sve je to prirodni tijek koji vodi do itekako zaslužene starosti u kojoj je čovjek okružen plodovima svog rada – unuci trčkaraju oko kuće, a partner s kojim je podijelio taj dugi lanac tipičnih životnih događaja sjedi uz njega, u ovoj fazi možda u stolcu za ljuljanje.

Zvonko je, naprotiv, preskočio sve što uobičajeno dolazi nakon mladosti: postupno sazrijevanje i starenje, uspone i padove svakidašnjeg života, donošenje odluka, odgovornosti, brojna iskustva srednjih godina, koje je u cijelosti proveo u zatvoru, prilagođavanje promjenama u svijetu općenito, tehnologiji, običajima, načinu života, i najednom se na „slobodi“ pojavio kao starac, prema općim mjerilima. Nekako je mislio da to neće biti važno, da će mu snaga koju je stekao u zatvoru, i ona tjelesna i ona mentalna, omogućiti da prkosi dobnim ograničenjima s kojima bi se „normalan“ čovjek suočio. To je počeo dokazivati najprije tjelesnim naporima.

Prvo što je zahtijevao, samo nekoliko dana nakon izlaska iz zatvora, bilo je da u dvorište postavimo prečku za zgibove. Bio je naviknut svakodnevno raditi zgibove, dvjesto i više njih, desetljećima iz dana u dan, i odlučio je nastaviti vježbati kako je to činio u zatvoru. To mu je osiguravalo neposrednu rutinu koja mu je u početku bila prijeko potrebna. Svako je jutro izlazio u dvorište u kožnim rukavicama za vježbanje i izvodio setove zgibova jedan za drugim dok mu mišići ne bi nabrekli i žile iskočile.

„Mogao bi biti na naslovnici časopisa za bodybuildere!“ – ponosno sam mu rekla. To je moj muškarac! A ima 62 godine! Dičio se svojom discipliniranošću i činjenicom da je u zatvoru mogao napraviti više zgibova od 20 godina mlađih muškaraca. Uvijek si je postavljao visoke ciljeve i stalno se trudio postići ih. S vremenom je ta rigorozna rutina malo oslabila jer je bio zasut telefonskim pozivima, neočekivanim posjetima, pozivima na svakojaka mjesta, zahtjevima za intervjue. Gotovo ih je uvijek prihvaćao, smatrajući da je, sada kad se vratio u Hrvatsku, njegova „dužnost“ podijeliti svoja iskustva i vizije budućnosti, premda je brzo shvatio da ga to umara i crpi mu snagu, kako tjelesnu, tako i mentalnu.

Često je znao reći da ljudi ne shvaćaju da je on naviknut na život mirnog razmišljanja u ćeliji veličine 8 x 8, s knjigama kao jedinim društvom. A ipak nastavio je prihvaćati raznorazne pozive, jer nije želio razočarati ljude ili iznevjeriti njihova visoka očekivanja. Jednostavna činjenica da se vratio u svijet koji ne prepoznaje i s kojim se ne može povezati, isprva mu, nama, nije bila jasna. Zar ne može samo nastaviti život kojim je živio prije zatvora? Jednostavno nastaviti gdje je stao? Teoretski je to bilo moguće, ali u praksi ne.

Uzmimo za primjer nešto tako očito kao što je tehnologija. Kada je ušao u zatvor, mobiteli još nisu postojali, a još manje računala, web-kamere, automobili koji govore. Zamislite pretrpanost podražajima kada se iz zatvora vratio kao šezdesetdvogodišnji muškarac čije je posljednje, najbolje sjećanje na modernu tehnologiju bio telefon s brojčanikom na okretanje. Iako je gajio određenu antipatiju prema svakom tehnološkom „napretku“, smatrajući ga još jednim sredstvom za atomizaciju društva u bezdušne, beživotne odjeljke pripojene na strojeve, shvatio je da mora naučiti barem osnove.

Prvi korak bio je mobitel. Isprva ga je zbunjivao i frustrirao. Može učiniti toliko mnogo stvari, nezamislivih stvari, fotografirati, reproducirati glazbu i snimati, trenutačno slati poruke u sve dijelove svijeta. Zvonko je teško shvaćao neumjerenost novih informacija. Za njega je to bilo ogromno preopterećenje. Vidiš, da sam mlađi, odmah bih ovo dokučio, znao mi je reći prčkajući po mobitelu. Da sam barem izašao deset godina ranije, mogao bih gotovo sve! To je stalno ponavljao, da je barem izašao deset godina ranije. Silno ga je mučila spoznaja da planovi koje je imao, njegove nakane da pridonese društvu možda neće biti ostvarivi djelomice i zbog jednostavne, ali neizbježne činjenice da je sad starija osoba ograničena vremenom, snagom i ponajprije ožiljcima duga i okrutna zatočenja.

Jednostavno moraš odrediti prioritete, rekla bih mu kad bi se iscrpljen vratio kući nakon tri, četiri, ponekad pet sastanaka ili obveza zaredom. Ne možeš nastaviti ovakvim tempom! On je to znao, ali je svejedno pokušavao, često se dovodeći do ruba snage. Osim toga, kako mi je rekao, imao je potrebu „potrošiti se” za neki viši cilj, „izgorjeti”, biti „od koristi”. Zbog brojnih sastanaka, putovanja na sve strane i beskonačnih razgovora o smjeru u kojem Hrvatska ide i kako taj smjer promijeniti, Zvonkova se krhka rutina s vremenom narušila. Nije mogao redovito vježbati, nije redovito spavao, i bio je razapet na sve strane. Odlična tjelesna kondicija koju je sačuvao u zatvoru počela je patiti kao i njegovo duševno stanje. Da sam barem…

Smijali smo se tomu kako smo kao mladi mogli otputovati u tren oka, ubaciti nekoliko stvarčica u torbu i krenuti. Ponekad bismo sve ostavili iza sebe i kao nomadi krenuli u novu pustolovinu. Ali sad smo oboje bili „stari” i kad god bismo negdje odlazili, postojao je dug popis stvari bez kojih on nije mogao: razni lijekovi koje je uzimao (zbog oštećenja živaca u nogama i stalne nesanice), ručni masažer koji mu je svake noći bio potreban za ublažavanje bolova u nogama kako bi uopće mogao zaspati, punjači za mobitel, žice za brijaći aparat, krema za sunčanje kojom će ljeti namazati tjeme budući da je izgubio većinu kose, i tako dalje. Već i puki izlazak iz kuće bio je prava kušnja i njega je to silno mučilo, ti kritični znakovi godina. Prošli su dani naše mladosti, čelična zdravlja, vitalnosti, lakoumnosti, posvemašnjeg prepuštanja s kojim smo živjeli.

Da je barem u zatvoru iskusio normalni tijek događaja, korak po korak, prijelaz u „slobodu” bio bi mu mnogo lakši. Ta me situacija podsjetila na čuvenu priču Washingtona Irvinga o Ripu Van Winkleu, smještenu u vrijeme Američkog rata za nezavisnost. Rip od nekih neznanaca u planinama popije tajanstvenu tekućinu i probudi se 20 godina kasnije u svijetu koji ne može prepoznati – čini se da je jutro, njegova puška je zahrđala i istrunula, a brada narasla pola metra. Vraća se u svoje selo, ali shvaća da u njemu ne prepoznaje baš nikoga. Raspitujući se naokolo, doznaje da mu je žena umrla, a bliski prijatelji ili poginuli u ratu ili nekamo odselili. Upada u nevolju istoga trena kada izjavi da je vjeran podanik britanskoga kralja Georgea III., ne znajući da se Amerika izborila za neovisnost i da je portret Georgea III. u gradskoj krčmi zamijenio portret Georgea Washingtona, „oca nacije”.

Rip se još više uzruja kada naleti na još jednog muškarca po imenu Rip Van Winkle, premda mu je to zapravo sin, sad odrastao čovjek. Kakva noćna mora! Zvonko je bio Rip našega doba kojeg nije bilo ne 20, nego 32 godine. Taj osjećaj dislociranosti, izgubljenosti u prostoru i vremenu, osjećaj da je mladić zarobljen u tijelu i umu starca zasutog podražajima i informacijama, stalno ga je mučio i oni koji su ga pokušali „analizirati” zaboravljaju ili ne znaju uvažiti taj presudan čimbenik. Zvonko je u svojim svakodnevnim aktivnostima djelovao „normalan”, govorio je suvislo, često i briljantno, funkcionirao naizgled jednako dobro, a ponekad i bolje od većine ljudi koji žive tipičnim, običnim životima, ali i nadalje ostaje činjenica da ni na kojoj razini nije bio, niti je ikad mogao biti kao drugi.

Ljudima je to bilo nemoguće objasniti, iako su očajnički željeli shvatiti. Nakon što se po tko zna koji put suočio s poteškoćom pokušaja da objasni svoje duševno stanje, Zvonko je na kraju zaključio da je drugima jednostavno nemoguće prenijeti iskustva – dubinu njegove boli, parametre njegove patnje mogao je shvatiti samo onaj tko je dijelio njegovo iskustvo. Solženjicin je došao do istog zaključka kad se nakon godina provedenih u gulagu vratio u „slobodu”. „Da sam barem mogao razgovarati s njim!”, često je znao reći Zvonko. Imali bismo toliko mnogo tema! Mogli bismo jedan drugome pomoći!

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Zvonko believed that good things should be shared with everyone. What he lived, worked for and believed in, what he sacrificed for, is presented in his book “All Visible Things”, which is available on Amazon. Chapter by chapter, drop of blood by drop of blood, and life day by day in 33 parts – with only one goal! He will live on…

Old Age

One of the most upsetting things about my prison experience was realizing, when I got out, that time had not stopped while I was incarcerated. I had somehow seen those thirteen years not as a progression in time but as something separate from time, as though all the regular life processes had been frozen and would be resumed when I was returned to “normal” life. The first indication I got that this was not true was when a waiter in a restaurant called me “ma’am” instead of “miss”. It was shattering. I had gone in a girl and come out a middle-aged woman. What had happened? It’s not surprising, then, that Zvonko’s experiences after thirty-two years were much more unsettling for him. He had gone in a young man and come out a senior citizen.

The course of a typical life includes all the experiences of youth, the search for a place in the world, the heartbreaks of young love, breaking free of parental control, an education, establishing an identity… Then comes middle age, the stability of a career, buying your first house, having one child, and then another, the responsibilities of raising those children to become contributing adults in society… All this is a natural progression leading to a well-deserved old age, surrounded by the fruits of one’s labor, grandchildren running around the house, one’s partner, with whom one has shared this long chain of typical life events, at one’s side, perhaps at this point in a wheelchair…

Zvonko, on the other hand, skipped everything that normally came after youth, the gradual maturing and aging, the ups and downs of everyday existence, the decision-making, the responsibilities, the many changes and experiences of middle age (which he spent entirely in prison), and finally emerging into the “free” world suddenly, an old man in generally understood terms. He somehow thought it would not matter, that the strength, both mental and physical, he had gained in prison would provide him with tools to defy the age limitations a “normal” man would face. He began with the physical. The first thing he insisted upon only a few days after his release was that a pull up bar be installed in the front yard. He was used to doing daily pull ups, up to and exceeding 200, every day for decades, and he was determined that his physical schedule in prison would continue. It provided him with an immediate routine that was critical in the beginning. Every morning he would be in the yard with his leather workout gloves, doing set after set until his muscles bulged and the veins protruded. He could have been on the cover of a bodybuilding magazine! I told him with pride. He was my man! And he, 62 years old! He was proud of his discipline and the fact that he had been able to do more pull-ups in prison than men twenty years younger.

In time, the rigorous routine slackened as he was besieged by phone calls, unexpected visits, invitations to go here and there, interview requests…He almost always accepted, believing it was his “duty” now that he had returned, to share his experiences and visions for the future, although he realized quickly that it tired him and depleted his strength, both physical and mental. What people do not realize, he would often say, is that he was used to a life of quiet contemplation in an 8×8 cell, with books as his only companions! Yet he continued, unable to disappoint people or fail to meet their high expectations.

The simple fact that he had returned to a world he did not recognize and could not relate to was not immediately clear to him, to us. Could he not just resume the life he had led prior to prison? Just pick up where he had left off? In theory it was possible, but practically it was not. Take technology, for example. When he entered prison, there was no such thing as a cell phone, let alone computers, webcams, talking cars… Imagine the overload of stimuli when he returned as a 62-year-old whose last best memory of modern technology was the rotary phone.

Although he had a certain amount of antipathy toward all the technological “progress”, considering it yet another means to atomize society into soulless, lifeless compartments hooked to machines, he realized he needed to learn at least the basics. The first step was a cell phone. It confused him at first, and frustrated him. It could do so many inconceivable things, like take pictures, play music and record, send messages to all parts of the world instantaneously. He had trouble taking in the excess of new information. It was a massive overload of stimuli. See, if I were younger, I would figure this out right away, he would tell me. If only I had gotten out ten years earlier, I’d have been able to do almost everything! That was a constant refrain, if only he had gotten out ten years earlier…

It affected him greatly, the knowledge that the plans he had, the vision of what he wanted to do, how he wanted to contribute, might not be attainable, in part due to the simple yet inescapable fact that he was now a senior citizen with limitations: time, strength, and most of all, the scars of a long and brutal imprisonment. You have to set priorities, I would tell him after he would return home exhausted after 3, 4, sometimes 5 meetings or engagements in a row. You can’t keep up this schedule! He knew that, but he tried nonetheless, often to total exhaustion. Besides, as he told me, he had the need to “spend” himself for a higher goal, to “burn himself up”. It was his nature and it could not be changed.

In time, due to the many meetings, the endless conversations about the direction in which Croatia was heading and how to change it, the traveling here and there, Zvonko’s fragile routine was shattered. He was unable to exercise regularly, had no firm sleep pattern, and found himself pulled in all directions. The excellent shape he had maintained in prison began to suffer and so did his state of mind. If only… We would laugh about how, when we were young, we had been able to travel at the blink of an eye, just throw a few things in a small bag and off we’d go. Sometimes we’d leave everything behind and take off, like nomads, for our next adventure. But now we were both “old”, and whenever we went somewhere, he’d have a long list of items he could not do without. The various medications he took (for nerve damage in the legs and constant insomnia); the big, hand-held massager he needed each night to calm those nerves before he could sleep; the cell phone cords, the razor cords; sunscreen in the summer for the top of his head (since he had lost most of his hair), and on and on and on. It was an ordeal just getting out of the house, and it bothered him a lot, these critical accoutrements of age. Gone were the days of our youth, the strapping health, vitality, the total abandon with which we lived, the recklessness… If only he had experienced in prison that normal progression of events, step by step, it would have been a much easier transition to “freedom”.

The situation reminded me of the legendary Rip van Winkle tale by Washington Irving, set at the time of the American Revolutionary War. Rip drinks a mysterious liquid from some strangers in the mountains, and wakes up again after 20 years to a world with which he cannot identify. It seems to be morning, his gun is rotted and rusty, and his beard has grown a foot long. He returns to his village where he finds that he recognizes no one at all. Asking around, he discovers that his wife has died, and that his close friends have also either died in a war or gone somewhere else. He immediately gets into trouble when he proclaims himself a loyal subject of British King George III, not knowing that the American Revolution has taken place and that George III’s portrait on the town inn has been replaced by that of George Washington, the First Father of America. Rip is also disturbed to find another man called Rip Van Winkle (though this is in fact his son, who has now grown up). What a nightmare!

Zvonko was the equivalent of a present-day Rip, who had been gone not twenty, but thirty-two years. This sense of dislocation, of being lost in space and time, a youngster imprisoned in an old mind and body, overwhelmed with stimuli and information, was immense, and people who have attempted to “analyze” him forget or are unable to appreciate this critical factor. He seemed “normal” in his everyday activities, he spoke coherently, often brilliantly, appeared to function just as well and sometimes better than most who had lived typical, ordinary lives, but the fact remained that he was not like others on any level, and could never be. And it was impossible to explain this to people, although they desperately wished to understand. Zvonko had finally concluded, after having been confronted time and again with the difficulty, even inability, of others to identify or at the very least empathize with his situation and state of mind, that it is impossible to transmit experiences to others. Only by having the same experiences could they ever understand the depth of his anguish, the parameters of his suffering. Solzhenitsyn had reached the same conclusion upon returning to “freedom” after his years in the gulags. If only I could have talked to him! Zvonko often said. We would have had so much to discuss! We could have helped each other!

Ključne riječi #Julienne Bušić #Zdravo oko #Zvonko Bušić