The Full Story: Why Bosnia? Sneako? And Balkans?
- Haris T
- Sep 1, 2024
- 7 min read
Updated: Aug 19
NOTE: the audio narration is not updated
Rewind to January 6, 2023 - almost two years ago. Trust me, the story will all add up by the end of this. I was in a Mosque nestled high in the Sarajevan peaks. I was 19, diving into my first major independent report in Bosnia with just a handful of subscribers and a minuscule audience. Unlike these days, I hadn't known anyone who knew the story of Bosnia, let alone visited the place.
I had walked myself up to the martyrs cemetery. It was frosty. The sun was dripping warmth like candle wax. A gold glow shone across the skyline. It reflected on the white tomb stones that surrounded me. After months of doing my research for the videos I had filmed, after speaking with survivors and mothers. The moment had taken me back. I sat down next to the graves and weeped. The weight of those that had sacrificed their greatest of sacrifices lay beneath me.
I had asked why? Why did this happen? How could it have happened. I was still young and inexperienced. I hadn't even seen a bullet hole before. Something in me shifted in those moments. I looked at these names and contemplated how those buried beneath had set out on their life mission during those 3 grueling years. They left behind a legacy. Their main priorities in their last days was how they could defend their families, their mosques and their culture. For many of us living in the west, we live for entertainment. Our mind occupied by entertainment.
What TV series to watch next, football, what desert we should splash our cash on. It felt very artificial to realise we are killing ourselves to death with entertainment. Drowning in comfortability. And from that moment onwards, I vowed to dedicate my life to documenting resistance and oppression in recent muslim history.
During and after the 1990s, the Muslim ummah underwent some of its darkest chapters. One after the other. Kosovo, Chechnya, Afghanistan, Iraq, Syria, Yemen, Libya, Myanmar, Sudan and the list continues.
After the sun had set, it was time for Salah. I heard the adhan called by what seemed to be a small child. I was bewildered. With a big grin on my face I rushed to the Mosque.
I walked into it to find nobody in the main hall. Until a sweet uncle taps on the window of the small room behind me. He signalled for me to come inside this small room. Because of the cold, the mosque in winter only heats up this small prayer room for salah. I sat down and the kid who had finished adhan sits next to me. The uncle begins to speak to me in Bosnian. I understood snippets of what he said. Later the brothers would tell me that this uncle and grandson always are together to open the mosque before prayers. The cutest duo. The uncle (Allah bless him) is so special. Such a beutiful humble soul. The brothers told me he would fast continously like Dawud A.S on consecutive days for several decades (I believe somewhere like 40 years). Even during communism.
Taken aback by the barakat in this small mosque. I made it my mission to hike up every aksam to pray here. I brought baklava for the congregation and we sat and talked for hours. These were the first Bosnians I ever properly conversed with. And it is here I happened to meet Mustafa Isakovic (renown Bosnian nasheed artists).
Till this day, I make it my obligation to visit this Mosque to say Salaam to my beloved uncle. I owe everything to them.
In this mosque, I interviewed Nedim Babić, a war child. After our discussion, he praised my work and left me with a profound question. A question that I couldn't forget, even if I wanted to. He tells me, "Haris, when you return to the UK, promise me one thing?"
I replied "of course, how can I help?" Maybe he wanted some financial help or maybe some networking? But his whole posture freezes and he says "promise me that you will tell the world the story of Bosnia, tell them what truly happened here because its like we were forgotten".
From that day onwards, whether I knew it or not, it was as if I had pressed "accept" on Nedim's side quest. It was truly as though I had unlocked a door to a path that I could not step away from. Documenting and revealing the trials of our ummah - whether it was Palestine or even Iraq. It all stemmed from my report in Bosnia.
leap forward two years to last Tuesday at 2:00 am, I received a call from some U.S. streamers who wanted me in Sarajevo for a documentary. But there was an issue. I was already caught up with filming my own personal mega documentary in the Sandzak (region between Montenegro and Serbia). There were no buses or taxis, nothing to get me to Sarajevo in time. I called one person after another, and in those moments, I felt the burden weighing down on me. I not only had to get my ass to Sarajevo within the next several hours but I also had to plan the entire itinerary and interviews for the next 3 days. Usually this takes me weeks in advance to organise. People don't usually give their availability hours before an interview. Because the crew were only in Sarajevo till Friday, I was racing with time.
I immediately began messaging every contact I knew who could make this story the most useful and beneficial. It was my only shot to present the story of Bosnia to a wider audience as I didn't think anybody else could do justice to the region. By now, I had visited Bosnia 6 times, guided groups around the country, compiled multiple reports and delivered lectures on the history.
So I knew I couldn't say no to this opportunity. Though it would have been much much easier for me to do so. I could have just said "nah, I'm sorry, I'm not in the country", turned my phone off and laid back and caught up on some sleep. I instead refused to sleep for another 12 hours until my feet were in Sarajevo. Eventually, thanks to a friend, I managed to find a taxi.
The car drive from Montenegro through to Serbia and then finally Bosnia was the most I had ever put my entire life into perspective. Every thought imaginable danced in my head as I lent my arm out of the car window. It was just me and the driver. The sun was at golden hour, glowing across the dashboard. What the heck was I about to do and how the heck did we get here. Yet strangely, I felt a sense of purpose once more, I was there not to meet Sneako, but to uphold a promise to an old friend.
For the next 3 days, I travelled with Sneako's small crew across the country. I know not many will be fans of Sneako, I get that and fully understand it. But for someone that came from an environment full of hedonism, you don't have to like him to admire his efforts here. The documentary (released on 27th August), is beautifully curated. He didn't have to dedicate an entire hour to genuinely understanding Bosnia, but he did.
With help from my community network, I organized every interview and location for Sneako (except the meal with Cheesur's dad). I even prepared questions for him to ask, ensuring the best possible interviews - from the Mothers at Srebrenica to Commander Harun of the 7th Muslim Brigade.
I wanted to celebrate my efforts in silence, let Allah reward me however he deems best. I'm simply grateful and actually honoured that I was chosen to plan how this documentary would look like. Sneako fully put his trust in my organisation.
As well as retelling the history and guiding, I even chipped in with filming. Massive chunks of the documentary were actually filmed by me, my camera and my trusty drone (gifted of course by my good friend Shaheer). The documentary simply could not be fully complete without it. It would likely have been Sneako roaming around Sarajevo's city centre, meeting fans, maybe some shisha, classic cevapi tasting and some cliché cultural practices. Never in my life would I ever imagine Sneako to be sitting and interviewing the commander of Sedma Brigada. Never. Absolutely never. People like Harun are unfortunately only known in Bosnia and the diaspora. Even mentioning Sneako and Harun's name in the same sentence is so surreal.
So when I think about what my contributions to this documentary were, I'm plagued by the inner urge to want to be credited for something that transcends far beyond me and even far beyond Sneako. I do not say this to make this article a good read or to slide in some humble brags. My intentions could never have been more faithful.
My friends were more "gassed" that I worked with Sneako than myself. For me, it was just another day at the office. I simply did not and still do not think much of it. I wasn't nervous, I wasn't overwhelmed and I wasn't amazed that I got to do what I did. It was my job. After all, It was what I had promised Bosnia and what I had promised Nedim all those years ago.
What comforts me is acknowledging that Allah had chosen me for a specific reason, to get a specific message across. whether it was through me or some one else. Even Adin Ross reacted to the documentary positively! To think I'd ever be in the same frame as him is unfathomable.
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