Police Scars

I arranged to eat at the hotel and it happened to coincide with the local (Llok) police dinner. Twenty eight upholders of Croatian law and order drinking heartedly, cigarettes aplenty and cars outside ready to drive home in the early hours with no chance of getting stopped. The black leather jackets added that practical justice feeling. I'd better behave myself.

But it was much more than that. During the 1990's war all Croatians left Llok before it was occupied and the police force relocated to Jakob 30 miles away near Osekja. This was a reaffirmation of friendship between those two local police forces forged in those desperate times. Grace lasted for a couple of minutes and was said by all with great solemnity, followed by a minutes silence for fallen comrades.

I had cycled through Vukovar earlier that day, past the artillery scarred water tower, past the monument to those who fell in the war. Relatives still tend the graves. The flowers are all fresh and the feelings still raw.

So the policemen laughed and drank, hugged each other and danced as one but the occasion had a tragic undertone.

p.s. There was a traditional band at the dinner singing 'typical country songs'. It was composed of Croatians, Serbians, a Romanian and a Slovak, So despite past conflicts the countries still interlink, day to day practicalities take over from emnity. I asked what the songs were about. My host said "Oh things like: My wife has gone off with another man, or Our love will last forever". It sounded like Mexican Marriarchi with words by Dolly Parton. Wherever you go we are all singing about the same things

The guitar-like instruments is called a Tambura and sounds rather like a mandolin