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On my immigration journey, the most common question people ask me out of curiosity is: “Where are you from?” Such a long name for such a small country, I say to myself every time someone asks me that question. I was raised in one part of the geographical location of the former Yugoslavia that some people named Bosnia and Herzegovina, or BiH. A long name, indeed, for a country with a population of less than half of New York City’s. 

With a history as complicated as its name, Bosnia and Herzegovina could be described through the history and life of the city I come from, the city of Mostar. Mostar in the Bosnian language means “a bridge keeper.” Spanning the beautifully clear Neretva River, the Old Bridge that Mostar got its name from represents one of the most-visited landmarks in the entire Balkan region. It is listed as a UNESCO World Heritage site, but there is so much more than just a bridge.

With a population of only 100,000 people, Mostar has a rich history. In this small city, you can find evidence of the Roman occupation, 500 years of Ottoman rule, an Austro-Hungarian period of around 100 years, the period of communism under Yugoslavia, and a small period of independent Bosnia and Herzegovina. Just in my family, you can find all major religions and Bosnian natives who mixed with each of these peoples who came from all over the world to rule. With every ruler, we would accept part of the new culture and somehow incorporate it into our daily lives. Family-written history in some houses is so strong that even today, we know by surnames who originally came from the Balkan states.

The city is very small, and you can’t go anywhere without someone recognizing you. At one point during the daytime, you can sit by the Neretva River and hear church bells at the same time the imam sings the call to prayer at the mosque. As you walk along the river, you will not find stores with huge refrigerators. Oh no, there is no frozen food; everything you eat is from a local farm. If you live in a building on one of those narrow cobblestone streets, you can smell Grandma’s kitchen.

In the old part of the city, you can find all of the ancient crafts. There is a main street in the old part of the city where you can hear the rhythmic sounds of different copper vessels being hammered by the copper craftsmen. 

The most beautiful thing about Mostar is that through the history of that location, it always had the greatest diversity in the region. I cannot describe to you how beautiful it is to play egg tapping two times a year, depending on which date you celebrate Easter, and to see those iftar lights of Ramadan when people prepare food in the middle of the street for all the Muslims who fast. 

And let me mention the culture of coffee. Mostar has no Starbucks. Coffee never comes in any kind of paper, plastic, or otherwise disposable cup. It is meant to be savored, preferably in the company of friends.

And I must also mention Sevdah poetry, a romantic music genre typical of the Mostar region that reminds me of ćejf. There is no word in English that can translate the word ćejf, but if I had to describe it to you, I would say it is a combination of joy and happiness—what Mostar was for me during my teenage years.

When I left Mostar, I could not imagine that I would ever again find that combination of feelings. But here I am, writing these words while sitting on the crossroads of 42nd Street and Ninth Avenue, drinking Turkish coffee in a non-disposable cup and still teaching myself to listen to the sounds of New York City. A mixture of sounds in which I can hear all the world if I listen carefully enough.

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Adna Zujo Lakisic, born in Mostar, Bosnia and Herzegovina, studied civil engineering, computers, and software development. She writes: “I immigrated to the U.S. almost five years ago. In my free time, I hang out with my dogs, who are also immigrants, and I read books.” At the Tompkins Square branch of the New York Public Library, Adna Zujo Lakisic studies with Lead Instructor Terry Sheehan.