1. A
lbeit seldom committed to seri-
ous observation or study, one of
the better known existent forms
of urban phenomena among all city
dwellers is the so-called “cursed store”,
i.e. the one piece of commercial real-es-
tate in a neighbourhood where a busi-
ness cannot manage to simply take root
and where a new type of commercial en-
terprise seems to set up shop once
every other week, only to meet with its
inevitable fail-
ure. Like
e p h e m e r a l
p h o e n i x e s ,
these accursed
premises seem
to host ill-fated
business ven-
tures that come
and go: all the
while dying, all
the while being
reborn – never
purely existing.
As a mod-
ern spiralling
city, Belgrade is
no exception in
that such phe-
nomena occur
within its bor-
ders. However,
the “cursed
store” to be found here possesses a few
noteworthy peculiarities for which it can
be classified apart from those of a simi-
lar species in other urban environments:
Firstly, as with any of these busi-
ness locales, a number of variations
exist upon a general theme as to what
shall ever so briefly take hold of the
premises themselves, and, though not
limited solely to them, the following
forms should be considered as most
prevalent: a tobacconist or news vendor,
a 24 hour mini-market, a tanning salon,
a pizza joint, a sandwich shop, a store
which sells goods allegedly from Greece
or India, a copy centre, a betting parlour,
an exchange office, a clothing store
(usually for children, or for cheap
jeans/shoes/purses), a store that sells
Chinese goods (which is run by actual
immigrants from China), a similar store
that sells exactly the same items (though
not usually by Chinese people) and pro-
fesses itself to be an “Everything below
120 Dinars” store (note: this price and
name generally changes along with the
rate inflation), a gold dealer, a stationary
store, a pharmacy, a café, a club, a
restaurant, a jewellery store, a beauty
salon, a flower shop, a pet supply store
(rare occurrence), a cake shop, or, per-
haps, even a bank.
Secondly, while these stores do
come and go, some fair far better than
others. Although, with such a great num-
ber of them in so many different areas,
it is hard to discern as to whether some
simply move on to another location or
whether they just shut their doors en-
tirely. What is becoming more and more
evident is that when some of these busi-
nesses do cease to exist, the premises
in which they had once been located are
not taken over by any new form of tran-
sient enterprise, rather they simply stay
vacant, or “shunned” from use.
When this does happen, it is fairly
common for a number of placards to be
seen pasted upon their empty or news-
paper covered windows. Usually, they
have a number of items written upon
them, but the three most prominent and
which can be fairly readily seen are
“POPIS”, “GODISNJI ODMOR” or
“LOKAL U
P R I P R E M I ” ;
m e a n i n g
roughly in Eng-
lish: “INVEN-
TORY”, “ON
HOLIDAY” or
“ P R E M I S E S
UNDERGOING
RENOVATION”
respectively.
While not as fre-
quent, there
may also be
other sheets of
paper plastered
upon a window,
noting that the
space is for rent
in a hand
scrawled note
and phone num-
ber, or that a no-
tarized, poorly printed A4 sheet of paper
states that the previous establishment
had not found it necessary to strictly fol-
low the tax code. Given their empty state
which sometimes has already persisted
for years, these signs do not usually rep-
resent anything more than the final
death throes of a once occupied space,
where nothing shall return in the fore-
seeable future, and where a solemn fate
of slow decay in silence shall reside.
Professing to be no expert on eco-
nomics or real-estate, I am unable to
provide the exact reason(s) of the tran-
sience of such business space or as to
why some lie untenanted, while others
Cursed Stores and Shunned
Premises
By Timothy Johnston

2. seem to find some temporary reprieve in
being occupied.
Some facts are certain and could
be numerically proven, provided that
the actual data could be found. The
foremost and most obvious of which is
that Belgrade currently hosts an over-
abundant supply of commercial real-es-
tate that cannot be taken advantage of
due to the poor economic climate, i.e.
the lack of money upon the part of all
parties except the minority of the far
better off. The severity of this surplus
has been compounded by the fact that
two large shopping malls have opened
in the past five years across the river in
New Belgrade (Delta City and the Usce
Shopping Center), which have drawn
commercial business away from the city
centre (still, it must be admitted that
they serve a different clientele than
those who would frequent smaller,
neighbourhood shops of the “cursed”
kind listed above). Another factor is that
the costs of new apartment
buildings/blocks are usually offset by in-
vestors constructing a large amount of
business space on the first floor, creat-
ing even more available and new
rentable premises – even without a
present need. In regard to this, it could
be suggested that one of the culprits is
that property taxes in Serbia remain
quite low; while this may actually be
quite good for the apartment or home
owner, it allows renters to set prices or
sit on vacant premises, waiting for the
right client to come along, who can pay
the asking price. It is of no surprise too
that consumers are also stretched thin
for cash, as prices continue to rise, and
their salaries and pensions meet infla-
tion with stagnation. Nevertheless, the
main reason could simply be that the
market is oversaturated for the de-
mand/consumer spending present:
there can be only a certain number of
convenience stores that serve a small
area, no matter what the population
density or disposable income is; per-
haps this amount has been met.
Whatever the cause for all the
rapid succession and failure of stores
such as these, the mere occurrence is
able to show the amount of instability in
the Serbian economy better than any
statistical data can. It is a sign of the
times and a symptom of something
greater, perhaps of even deeper eco-
nomic deterioration, as this phenome-
non of vacancy is not merely limited to
small scale business space. Huge
buildings throughout Serbia (especially
in Belgrade) can be found that sit in
want of occupants or development. For
instance, the hotel Metropol lies in a
state of semi-development, and a street
not far from it hosts a large apartment
building that has never seen a legal ten-
ant. Large underground shopping ven-
ues in the centre have sat for years with
newspaper covered windows, only
shortly hosting a modest sized super
market before its own foreseeable dis-
appearance. Even Knez Mihailova, the
main pedestrian zone of Belgrade, suf-
fers from a few “cursed stores” and
“shunned business premises”.
I claim no answer in stating how to
fix these affairs, these are purely my in-
terpretations. However, one certain sign
of economic progression and stability
would be the better sustained existence
of a few minor stores throughout the
city, in otherwise unoccupied locations.
Until this time, people can only wait and
hope that the store they originally set
out for upon leaving actually exists in its
location when they arrive.
Milovan Nikolic from Kursumlija is already for two
years trying to rent out his shop for free, but without
success. The shop is located in one of the busiest
streets in Kursumlija, a small town in the South of Ser-
bia. As agencies report, Milovan Nikolic (51) is without
regular employment and cannot pay the electricity bill.
Milovan announced that he is willing to rent his space
without compensation to someone that would be will-
ing to pay the electricity bill of around 800 dinars per
month. Unfortunately, for two years since he placed
the advertisement on the window of the shop, no one
even approached him to ask about it.

3. The Excuse
B
y the latter
end of the
19th century,
the great number of
wars that had been
waged throughout
Europe left a multi-
tude of disabled vet-
erans wandering the
streets of a modern-
izing and industrial-
ized continent.
Incapable of work,
they were relegated
to begging for their
daily bread, becom-
ing common fixtures
on every street cor-
ner. Many of them
turned to busking
through the cranking
of street organs and
so common was this
sight that a myth per-
sists even to this day
that only war veter-
ans who lacked (at
least) a limb, were
blind, or who suf-
fered from any such
incapacity, were offi-
cially allowed to pub-
lically play these
organs in Europe’s
cities, since they sin-
gularly were issued
such special permission (and even
the organs themselves) by the Victo-
rian governments of the time, in lieu
of a proper military pension.
This may or may not all be
balderdash. It is hard to believe that
a homeless veteran, lacking a leg,
eye or other such indispensible part
of his body would be able to afford
the expensive organ to grind. Fur-
thermore, those governments, which
were far less concerned about or ac-
tive in the general welfare of their cit-
izens than those of today, would
have not willingly issued a device
that would cost a significant amount
in modern money as to merely not
pay them a pittance for past military
service rendered. Sadly, organ grind-
ing was a considerable racket. Sens-
ing the opportunity for a profit, those
having the means and a better posi-
tion in society (the burgeoning upper
classes and organized criminals)
would buy and then “rent out” these
devices to the sick and disabled.
Thereafter, fees would be exacted
upon them, and they would crank the
organ, scraping by on change, until no-
longer needed for the purpose. In
many ways, this could be seen as
nothing more than exploiting the dis-
abled and destitute who would other-
wise have no means beyond simpler
forms of mendicancy to survive. In-
deed, organ grinding came to attract
the seamy side of society of organized
crime and came to be de-facto banned
in many countries by the late 1930s.
That having been stated, let us
forgo this history lesson to travel to
the modern day, to the center of Bel-
grade, to its great Republic Square.
While it had once partially been a
parking lot, the area now is host to a
number of trendy cafés whose out-
side seating and awnings sprawl
openly from the middle of April to the
end of October. In this favorable sea-
son, the attentive observer will com-
monly find a “family” of gypsies
sitting next to the comical digital
clock tower (a remnant of former
power, magnanimously left by the
equally absurdly corrupt Karić broth-
ers). The family usually consists of
two matriarchs, with several young
children – mostly girls – ranging ap-
proximately from five to thirteen
years of age. In regular intervals,
these children will go from table to
table of the same cafes mentioned
above with their grimy, unwashed
hand extended, seeking money. The
older women sit not far by, while the
children regularly return and report to
them, surrendering what money they
have collected. One may sit outside
in the café for hours at a time and
the children will pay no heed if they
have already sought money from the
same patron – they simply go
through the rounds, asking “Do you
have a dinar?” The waiters of the
café will not shun these children
away, nor shall police intervene; this
is not due to any heavy heart they
feel for them; rather, this “family” has
unofficially come to a paid under-
standing with the establishments’
owners, who most probably receive
some manner of kickback for grant-
ing the privilege.
Unfortunately, like in many other
cities suffering from the predicament
of contemporary penury, this is not
an uncommon sight in Belgrade:
poverty is rampant and beggars
commonplace. They plead, hand (or
in cases of more respectable older
gentlemen - hat) outstretched, im-
ploring others for some small change
or bills. Usually occupying their regu-
lar haunts, those who habitually pass
them shall be ever so familiar with
their locations and appearances: the
Boulevard of King Alexander is fre-
quented by a girl who carries a baby
and wears an eye patch made of
gauze and medical tape; further
down this same boulevard, a little
person can be seen who sits on a
cardboard slab and has an instant
rapport with many; a hunched over
woman, suffering from osteoporosis,
slowly strolls down the center of the
As much as I care to
know, I was born in
Farmington New Mex-
ico. For the greater part
of my life, I lived in
Waukegan, Illinois
(USA), which I still con-
sider my home town to
some extent. Many
reasons led me to live
abroad and as it hap-
pened I came to live in
Serbia in 2006 and
have not been home
once ever since.
In response to my pho-
tography or whatever
other work I may do, I
have very little answers
to provide. There is no
great scheme to what I
do or why, I merely try
to record what strikes
me in the best way
possible.
By Timothy Johnston

4. city and seems more appropriate for a
Rembrandt painting than outside a Nike
shop; and in Belgrade’s main thorough-
fare (Knez Mihailova), an old and hag-
gardly woman begs below the window
of a chic fashion shop, her countenance
out of place with the smiling advertise-
ments that promise bargains within.
Just as every instance is similar – all of
them possessing weatherworn faces
and hands, their cheeks somehow
sunken, with eyes radiated by dark cir-
cles – this account could go on with
similar descriptions of the same sad ar-
chetype.
Yet, as hard as it is to evade them,
it is just as difficult to avoid the regular
litany of gripes against these beggars
that come from the many mouths
(though not from every) of the more for-
tunate: “They are narcomaniacs! They
are begging because their children are
narcomaniacs! It is all a fraud; they are
all organized. It is a syndicate of beg-
gars. The children’s parents make
them beg even though they have
money and, if they do not collect
enough, they will beat them, or maim
them. He/She is not really disabled;
he/she could walk if he/she wanted.
They all give it to their boss who drives
a Mercedes and keeps it, so why
should I give anything? The European
Union is sending all its Gypsies to Ser-
bia! Why can’t the beggars go some-
where else? Why can’t the government
do something about them? They all
earn more money than I do!” and so
on The muttering of these accusa-
tions is often seen as an excuse, solv-
ing nothing, denying everything,
assuaging initial guilt or anger, auto-
matic and akin to the uttering of a
magic phrase to ward off a coming
curse. All the same, some truth does
ring in them: the frequency and con-
stant location of where the beggars
stay must demonstrate that they do
work in concert, and their presence
outside of the same cafés or shops is
an indication of greater collusion, much
like the duplicitous organ grinders of
the past.
Whatever truth there may be, it still
does not change the fact of the beg-
gars’ existence, nor the problems that
create them. Undeniably, due to their
constant presence, little could be said
that fortunes have improved for Bel-
grade’s beggars, even if they are se-
cretly rich or
part of a larger
union, whose
superiors drive
luxury cars.
While it may be
their job of
trickery, it is a
poor and un-
sightly one at
best, that
brings little
more than pity
and ridicule. In
short, they do
not deserve to
be kicked while
they are down,
especially with empty excuses.
There are no easy answers, espe-
cially in regard to helping the poor. Giv-
ing money to a beggar solves little, and
encourages the further act of begging.
This is especially true when children
are in consideration, as families will
come to see them as a source of in-
come and hinder their primary educa-
tion. Merely throwing money at a
problem, especially one such as
poverty, without addressing its causes
will not accomplish much; something
that can be seen in Europe’s past
decade of Roma Inclusion, which has
shown little in results despite its expen-
diture. Nonetheless, this does not
mean that denying charity is the better
solution of the two: begging is de-
testable, shameful and is only resorted
to in desperate situations – most of
those who do so are fraught and have
little other choice. It need not be re-
minded that the lines between poverty,
desperation and crime are thinly
blurred, and one should not treat their
fellow man like an outcast due to a lack
of money, rather they should be treated
as a fellow person; one who could as
easily be you.
Hubert H. Humphrey, the late Vice
President of Lyndon Baines Johnson
and onetime hopeful presidential failure
stated "...the moral test of government
is how that government treats those
who are in the dawn of life, the chil-
dren; those who are in the twilight of
life, the elderly; those who are in the
shadows of life; the sick, the needy and
the handicapped." While it may be ask-
ing too much from present govern-
ments to micromanage its poor,
especially when they generally has no
funds or interest to do so, it is not
purely up to the state to take care of its
citizens: the responsibility lies upon all
of us, as human beings who care for
one another, it is in our nature. After
all, poverty for the most part is simply a
matter of circumstance, and there is no
greater lottery in life as is one’s birth.
Samuel Johnson, who is noted to
have said, “A decent provision for the
poor is the true test of civilization.” By
all means, in this measure we are all
failing this test, not as a state, not as a
society, not as a people, but as a civi-
lization as a whole.
Column

5. Column Belgrade Undressed
Oranges for Christmas:
the Cultural Continuum
By Timothy Johnston
H
aving become
the longest rul-
ing British
monarch, Queen Victo-
ria (whose husband is
mistakenly attributed
with having helped pop-
ularize the Christmas
tree in England by im-
porting the custom from
his native Saxony) cele-
brated her Diamond Ju-
bilee in the June of
1897. On the morning of
her carriage promenade
throughout the greater
London area, children
and adults lined the
street to watch her pro-
cession. The event was
highly organized, reach-
ing a level of unseen ex-
penditure and
propaganda in the al-
ready beloved Queen’s
favour: according to
many accounts of the
time, the adults who
awaited her were given
a small package of to-
bacco or a meat pie,
while the children were
each given a small bag,
containing a bun, an or-
ange, a small pie and
(apparently in some
cases) a pocket-size
metal cross that was
specially minted to mark
the occasion. Child or
adult, all also received a cup of tea.
To beaming faces, the Queen waved
as she toured her way through the
city, and as the public enjoyed their
small, provided treats. In some re-
ports of the event, it was noted that
the children enjoyed the oranges
best, as they were a rarity, experi-
enced only on holidays - most usu-
ally at Christmas time.
“Do not believe in traditions be-
cause they have been handed down
for many generations.” - the Buddha
(attributed)
Moving on from this event in the
footnotes of history, I would like to
note the Christmas tradition of hang-
ing stockings:
For those who are not aware, a
Christmas tradition in the greater
Anglo-Saxon-Germanic world is for
children to place an empty stocking
(preferably hung on the mantelpiece
of a fire or near a doorway) on
Christmas Eve/St. Nicholas’ day in
hope that Santa Claus/Saint
Nicholas shall fill it in the night with
goodies galore. Naturally, there are
variations to this theme; for in-
stance, in Holland it is expected that
a child would fill one of their wooden
clogs with straw or carrots as a gift
and thanks to Sinterklaas and his
weary horses. Notwithstanding the
idiosyncrasies of its form and de-
tails, one generally understands the
nature of this holiday institution.
In my childhood days, I would
always find an orange in the toe-
depths of my large, red felt stocking
on every Christmas morning, under-
neath a few small, wrapped plastic
toys and a hollow, chocolate Santa
Claus. The fruit’s unending presence
never ceased to puzzle me in its pe-
culiarity, as oranges (and apples
which would occasionally accom-
pany them as a stocking Yuletide
treat) seemed readily available in
our house no matter what the sea-
son be. In fact, even though they sat
in my house year round in a wicker
bowl on an oversized kitchen china
closet, the annual orange never
failed to make its due holiday ap-
pearance in my youth. (Personally, I
had always hoped for a pomegran-
ate, as they were far more unique to
me, since I seldom saw them any-
where else except Christmas time,
and their squirting and seeds posed
a challenge for me in their consump-
tion.) This annual phenomena was
due in no small part to my grand-
mother, who raised me.
My grandmother was born in
1933. While her younger, mindful
years were spent as the eldest child
of three in the latter days of the
great depression, her mother – my
great grandmother - had already
lived through the better part of the
hardship it had brought. With her im-
mediate family, she lived in what is
now the decayed rust belt of the
once prosperous, industrialized
areas of South-west Michigan and
North-western Indiana (contempo-
rary to the famed novelist and A
Christmas Story author Jean Shep-
ard). As a child and as was ex-
pected at the time, she would
receive a bounty of fruit on Christ-
mas. Not normal fruits though,
rather candied or dried fruits of all
varieties, with nuts, and other ex-
ceptional citrus and brightly coloured
curiosities from warmer, southern
climates, such as nectarines or
clementines, and even bananas. For
As much as I care to
know, I was born in
Farmington New Mex-
ico. For the greater
part of my life, I lived
in Waukegan, Illinois
(USA), which I still
consider my home
town to some extent.
Many reasons led me
to live abroad and as
it happened I came to
live in Serbia in 2006
and have not been
home once ever
since.
In response to my
photography or what-
ever other work I may
do, I have very little
answers to provide.
There is no great
scheme to what I do
or why, I merely try to
record what strikes
me in the best way
possible.

6. her and the rest of her siblings, they
were the odd treat rarely experienced.
After all, these were the days when it
was not common to find regional deli-
cacies lining supermarket shelves. Or-
anges (and fruit like them) require
optimal climates to grow (the tempera-
ture of their
orchards
can never
fall below
15.5 C / 60
F, far afield
from the
temperate
lands of the
Midwest).
And while
refrigerated
train wag-
ons did
exist, many
were not
able to af-
ford the sim-
ple luxuries
they could
carry. In
short, until
more pros-
perous and modern times, large con-
sumption of these goods was not
commercially feasible. No, unlike today,
these fruits were expensive and re-
served for special occasions such as
Christmas. For this reason, just as
those single oranges had been special
to the children of London some forty
years before, they were also special to
my young grandmother.
Even as their rarity and price less-
ened over time, the orange’s impor-
tance as a Christmas treat did not
shed. This tradition my grandmother
passed on to me from her own child-
hood, and I even find myself frequently
giving pomegranates to friends for
Christmas today (“A snack and a chal-
lenge,” I say “makes the perfect gift.”).
This is but a small example of how hu-
manity’s traditions, customs and rituals
continue to survive in the face of a
changing world and the circumstance
of culture and history that surrounds
them. Truly, such traditions/customs
serve as a window into the past, illumi-
nating what had once been life and
what was considered valuable in the
light of what we live in today; they are
the remnants of what has been in what
is becoming and perhaps the shadows
of what is to be. As stated by the In-
dian philosopher and disregarded
prophet Jiddu Krishnarmurti:
All tradition is merely the past.
Returning to the subject of Christ-
mas, as a Christian country, Serbia nat-
urally has a number of customs in its
plethora which are observed at this
time. One of the most prominent is the
badnjak (a hefty log or trunk of a tree,
most commonly taken from an oak).
Much like the famed Yule log of Ger-
manic-Scandinavian origin, the head of
the Serbian household is obligated to
go into the forest to find and cut the
badnjak on Christmas Eve (badnje
vece in Serbian, observed on the 6th of
January, according to the old Julian
calendar). The tree is then to be hauled
to a church in order to be blessed, and
then back home again, where its
branches are shorn off. Later, accom-
panied by a handful of grain, it is
thrown into the hearth or made into a
large, open-air fire, burning into Christ-
mas day.
In Belgrade, ever more the heart of
Serbia as provincials flee to the city in
search of a future, most are not in the
position to randomly fell an entire tree.
Hence, many rather take down a few
twigs and oak leaves (where available),
or buy such sprigs from omnipresent
street vendors. As opposed to burning
them, the leaves of oak trees are fes-
tooned around houses and apartments
as decorations, adorned with bright red
berries from evergreens. However,
keeping with the overall tradition, Bel-
grade parishioners will go to church in
the evening on Christmas Eve, where
an Orthodox priest ignites a branch of
an oak to start a bonfire closely out-
side, in which all attending proceed to
toss their own Badnjak which they have
brought with them.
Another tradition is that of Božićna
pšenica (Christmas wheat), something
shared in Hungary, Croatia and through-
out the region as a whole: seeds of
wheat are placed in a small pot filed
with dirt, allowed to
germinate into
shoots, and a candle
is firmly placed in the
centre. The candle is
to be lit upon Christ-
mas. Again, while
easy to make this ar-
ticle, they can com-
monly be found
throughout Belgrade,
usually sold by
young women wear-
ing semi-fur hoods in
thick Chinese made
coats.
If traditions are
remnants of greater
former beliefs that
persist to this day,
these customs sym-
bolize the prominent
place that agriculture
has held in Serbian society (at least,
until the postmodern age). The Christ-
mas wheat is a simple symbol of the
eventual return of spring in the dead
dark of winter, and the promise of a
new harvest and life (a warm candle
among fresh green grass, as opposed
to snow and the cold). Similarly, the
burning of the Badnjak is a magical
protective supplication; by means of
the fire’s heat, it wards off the ever
present death of winter and ushers
along the return of spring. The burning
of grain, however, is a small sacrifice in
assurance of a good harvest in the
coming growing year.
While these traditions may not
carry the same weight now in modern
post-agricultural society which they had
once possessed in the past, their origin
is still quite clear: for most of human-
ity’s history, the individual was depend-
ent upon their own work to feed
themselves and their family and com-
munity. For farmers, the success of an
early spring, good growing season, and
eventual harvest was of the greatest
concern (winter, of course, abhorred
outside of the celebration).
A similar change in meaning can
be seen in the familiar Christmas tree.
Like in many other cultures, although
not a native tradition, it has been im-
ported and adopted as a holiday cus-
tom (in Serbia’s case, for New Year’s
Column

7. Eve). This is not that abnormal, as
there is a common spiritual belief that
holds trees sacred or divine, in which
they generally symbolize a return to life
after death, since not many living be-
ings can seemingly die every year in
the winter, only to return afresh the next
spring (if the reader challenges me on
this point, I encourage them to disrobe
to all but their undergarments in No-
vember, step outside, and wait there
until March). In that, the sacredness of
trees is shared among most Indo-Euro-
pean cultures. It is no subsequent sur-
prise then that Christmas customs
involving trees are mutually common
among them: In Germanic culture, the
evergreen is cherished for its ability to
stay alive throughout the winter, and is
chopped down and adorned in celebra-
tion, placed prominently in the main
room of the house. Equal ceremonies
to that of the Serbian Badnjak are to be
found in Bulgaria (Budnik ¬– from the
common Slavic word origin implying the
future or to stay awake), in Croatia
(Badnjak – the exact same word), and
in Albania (Buzm). These traditions vary
from country to country: in Bulgaria the
Budnik is filled with a chrism of wine,
cooking oil, and incense before its igni-
tion; in Croatia the Lord’s Prayer is said
upon cutting the Badnjak and it is
anointed with wine and grain; and in Al-
bania the Buzm is taken into the house,
while a family member shouts out all
the good, delicious things it will bring -
afterwards it is burned in the fire with a
portion of food and wine in its honor.
None of these traditions though can
even hold a candle to Catalonia’s,
where their log is named “Tió de
Nadal”, more popularly referred to as
“Caga tió” (shit log). In the weeks lead-
ing up to Christmas, every evening it is
ceremoniously wrapped in a blanket,
and fed. On Christmas Eve or Day (de-
pending upon the family or region), one
end is set into the fireplace and the
other is beaten with a stick in order for it
to figuratively “shit out” presents. All the
while, a litany of taunts is yelled at it by
children, encouraging it to defecate
things like cottage cheese, nuts, and
nougat.
Whatever the specifics, for what-
ever the particular tradition, it can be
plainly seen that once trees and their
place in Christmas was an intimate, im-
portant affair. Furthermore, it is clear
that this custom supersedes national
and cultural boundaries, calling upon a
shared and forgotten prehistoric belief in
our common humanity. The individual
once took great spiritual meaning from
the mere cutting, burning, and treatment
of the ordinary log or tree. Yet, to the ur-
banite, the rituals surrounding these
Christmas traditions may seem a bit
comical, remote, or antiquated at best.
This is not to say that religious or cul-
tural feeling around such events is lost -
if this were the case, they would not be
observed at all - but how could senti-
ment possibly be the same? According
to UN estimates, over half the world’s
population lives in urban environments
and, bearing in mind that these tradi-
tions were created in the small agricul-
tural communities of our ancestors,
these rituals and charms have lost their
original importance and have emerged
anew in the modern age, just as hu-
mankind has lost part of its roots.
“Tradition is the illusion of perma-
nence” –Woody Allen (Deconstructing
Harry)
In his book The Myth of the Eternal
Return, the philosopher Mircea Eliade,
stated that “there is always the struggle
against Time, the hope to be freed from
the weight of 'dead Time,' of the Time
that crushes and kills." In that, I would
like to suggest that one way in which
such loss is avoided is the evocation of
tradition, ritual, and custom. They are
elicited as small self-contained seg-
ments of our history to maintain an
order; a link with the past to conserve
what was or is found revered, to pre-
serve what is considered sacred to a
culture and a society as a whole. How-
ever, as noble the cause may be, this
preservation is ultimately faulty; hu-
manity cannot hold onto the past, no
matter how much it tries. Time is too
powerful a force and, as history moves
on, humanity is no more than a collec-
tion of driftwood floating upon its
waves, clinging onto and colliding into
what passes it by.
Yet, traditions we do have in our
nature, and as they and our other cus-
toms progress through time, they also
take on new meanings in their evolu-
tion. Traditions may lend an embodied
view into the past, but the present re-
flects straight back into them, just as
they reflect into us.
Time moves so fast, and the world
has changed very quickly in the last
century. Certain Anglo-Saxon Christ-
mas traditions have permutated all
through the world, being exported along
with a globalized view of prosperity.
Now Christmas trees are as common in
Japan or India alike, as much as they
are in the American movies which origi-
nally brought them there. Conversely,
Serbians (and the other countries and
nations of Eastern Europe) have con-
servatively latched onto their historic
cultural customs and traditions in
search of what it means to be “a peo-
ple”, after emerging from the Cold War
without a solid or certain national iden-
tity. Yet, seeking their modern identity in
the traditions (or institutions) that as-
sisted them persevere years of subju-
gation has not yet answered, nor can it
give the answer to “Who are we?”
This is cultural continuum in constant
permutation, influencing and being in-
fluenced by every age. Just as the
Christmas tree went from pagan sym-
bol, to mark the birth of a new religion’s
saviour, to a mass marketed good of
plastic and aluminium in a globalized
and neo-liberal world, the traditions of
today shall mutate to meet the beliefs
of tomorrow, but they shall bring some
reflection of the past with them.
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