Primijetila sam to djevojče od kad se pojavila na sceni. Gotovo su prošle dvije decenije od tada. Bila je drugačija od ostalih, bila je svoja. Osvježenje u bari zvanoj estrada. Osvojio me taj unutrašnji bunt, ta pozitivna drskost, samopouzdanje s pokrićem. Snažnim pokrićem. Bio joj je dovoljan samo taj prekrasni, baršunasti alt, ali to je bio tek početak njenih aduta. Pisala je lijepe, kvalitetne stihove za svoje pjesme. Čarobno svirala klavir. Kantautorica, jedna od rijetkih na našim protorima. Prolazile godine. Muzika se sve češće iz umjetnosti pretvarala u svoju suprotnost. Trčalo se za komercijalnim, jeftinim pjesmuljcima kratkog daha, ali dobre prođe kod publike, sa sve manje zahtjeva i ukusa. Pitala sam se hoće li Donna uletjeti u zamku, početi snimati ono na šta se masa “palila”, na glupave i bezvrijedne tekstove koji se uglavnom svode na provode, opijanja, aluzije na seks. Riječju, ono što je počelo žariti i paliti, što je donosilo brzu zaradu a ostavljalo gorak okus u ušima i dušama onih koji vole muziku kao umjetnost. Nije uletjela, ostala je dosljedna sebi. Muzika joj nije bila biznis. Muzika je bila i ostala njen život, njeno sve. A onda sam slučajno na nekom internetskom portalu vidjela fotografije na kojima je djelovala mršavo, iscrpljeno, slabo. Da budem jasna, nikada ranije se nismo čule, kamoli vidjele, znala sam je jedino s TV-a i čestih pregleda njenih YouTube snimaka. Idi, idi moja vilo i Vremena za nas slušala sam bezbroj puta. I ostale njene izvedbe, no, ove dvije su me “kupile” za sva vremena. Iskreno, pogled na fotografije me štrecnuo, pa i uplašio. Da nije anoreksija ili…? Dalje nisam išla, nisam smjela. Pomislila sam da je to ipak profesionalna deformacija, pa ipak je iza mene trideset devet godina ljekarskog staža. Nažalost, vrlo brzo nakon toga saznala sam istinu. Sama Donna je obznanila da boluje od raka. U već poodmakloj fazi, s metastazama. Otvorila je stranicu na Facebooku i redovno obavještavala fanove o toku svoje bolesti, što radi i danas.
Godinama sam razmišljala o ljudima koji se nađu oči u oči s tom bolešću. Činilo mi se prestrašnim čak i misliti o svom užasu spoznaje, o trenutku saznanja, o osjećaju bespomoćnosti i potpune izgubljenosti, o strahu koji paralizira i dušu i tijelo i misli, strahu koji ledi krv u žilama, dezorijentisanosti i gubljenju kompasa, orijentira, osjećaju zatvaranja zidova oko sebe, o mraku, potpunom crnilu i bezizlazu. I onda ponovo zasvijetli Donna, ona prkosna, ponosna, buntovna i pozitivno drska djevojka, javno pokazuje i dokazuje da se slomiti ne da! Ni s rakom ne želi kompromis. Ni sa strahom. Ničim negativnim. Opredjeljuje se za borbu. Za dalji rad. U radu je spas. I u pozitivnim mislima. I djelima. Uz sve aktivnosti Donna počinje pisati knjigu. I to sam saznala putem njene Facebook stranice. Ja pišem od osnovne škole, tridesetak godina objavljujem romane, priče, drame, putopise, pjesmice i bajke za djecu neopterećena pitanjima hoće li to još neko čitati. Jednostavno, to je moja potreba. I nisam se zaustavljala. Nikad do ovog jula. Jula koji je bio neuobičajeno, neugodno topao, vreo, pa je godišnji odmor protjecao, a neko mi mrtvilo, gotovo letargija, obuzelo i tijelo i dušu. A onda dobijem rukopis SOBA ZA NIKOGA, pročitam na dušak pa zastanem. Začuđena, sretna, sjetna, uplašena, s neizrecivim poštovanjem. Začuđena – jer je ovo mnogo više nego što sam očekivala, sretna zbog spoznaje da neko ko je i čovjek i umjetnik na nekom drugom planu umije ovako lijepo pisati, uplašena što neću umjeti iskazati sve što je ova knjiga u meni pobudila, s poštovanjem – jer je sadržaj vrijedan poštovanja, sjetna što bitka nije završena. Očekivala sam tešku, mučnu, tužnu ispovijed teško bolesne mlade žene koju ću čitati s naporom i u suzama. Pa sam ostala iznenađena kad sam shvatila da je bolest za nju bila tek inicijalni momenat da krene u avanturu pisanja. Riječ – avantura – koristim u afirmativnom smislu, uostalom, svaka je umjetnost svojevrsna avantura.
Donna tačno zna šta reći i kako to reći. Gotovo da nema sfere života o kojoj ne piše, porodici, prijateljstvu, ljubavi i neljubavi, dobroti, bolesti, smrti, vjeri, oprostu i mnogim sitnicama koje život znače. A sve je protkano onom elementarnom dobrotom koja čovjeka čovjekom čini. Gdje je tu njena bolest? Ona je tek lajt motiv oko koga se priča tka, lagano, profinjeno, pažljivo kao što su vrsne tkalje nekad davno u tišini svojih soba najljepša i najtananija platna tkale. Magično poput čarobnjaka nas vodi kroz sopstveni svijet, upoznaje s čitavom lepezom likova i događaja. Fascinantna je lakoća s kojom istresa svoju dušu bez straha, bez stida, bez potrebe da nešto zaniječe, od nečeg se ogradi, od nekog zatraži aboliciju. I uz sve to da svoju priču potpuno liši svake, pa i najmanje patetike. Više je patetike u ovom mom osvrtu, nego u cijeloj njenoj knjizi. Ona se s neopisivom lakoćom i sva u zanosu igra riječima, niže ih kao što je nekad nizala bobke različitih, a prelijepih boja u unikatne niske. To nije knjiga za ovaj trenutak, ovaj prostor, ovu godinu. Sveprostorna je i svevremenska. S užitkom će je čitati svi, a onima koji se nađu u dubokom životnom tjesnacu, u potpunom mraku, u osjećaju bespomoćnosti i beznađa i straha bit će spoznaja da izlaza uvijek ima, bit će maleno svjetlo koje će ih voditi ka njemu, koje će im pomoći osoviti se na svoje noge i zakoračiti, u početku klecajući, ali će sa svakim novim korakom biti sigurniji. S istinskim poštovanjem prema ovoj knjizi, preporučujem je svima, starima i mladima, zdravima i bolesnima, radosnima i tužnima, jakima i slabima. Sve su to promjenjive kategorije, knjiga je konstanta. Upoznajte autoricu da biste upoznali sebe.
Respect, Donna!
U Travniku, 28. 7. 2015.
Nura Bazdulj-Hubijar
Nearly two decades have passed since I noticed that young woman when she appeared on the scene. She was different from the others, in her own way. She was a refreshment in a pond called show business. She won me over with her inner rebellion, positive audacity, and confidence with coverage. Strong coverage. All she needed was that beautiful, velvety alto, but it was only the beginning of her strong points. She wrote beautiful, quality lyrics for her songs. She played the piano magically. A singer and songwriter, one of the few in the region. Years passed. Music was increasingly turning from the art into its opposite. Everyone wanted commercial, low-cost, short-lived songs that the audience will love, with less and less requirements and taste. I wondered if Donna would fall into the trap, start recording what the majority of people loved, the foolish and worthless texts which are mainly reduced to going out, drinking and sexual references. In a word, something that would be a temporary hit, which brings a quick buck and leaves a bitter taste in the ears and souls of those who love music as art. She did not fall into the trap, she remained true to herself. Music was not business to her. Music was and still is her life, her everything. Then I happened to see some photos on the Internet in which she looked thin and exhausted, weak. Let me be clear, we have never talked to each other, let alone seen each other, I only knew her from TV and frequent views of her YouTube videos. “Go, go my fairy” and “Time for us”, I’ve listened to these songs countless times. And her other performances as well, but these two were enough to „buy” me for a lifetime. Honestly, when I saw the photos I was startled, even scared. Is it anorexia or…? I did not go any further, I did not dare. I thought that this is only an occupational hazard; I have had thirty-nine years of medical experience after all. Unfortunately, soon after that, I found out the truth. Donna herself announced that she was suffering from cancer. At an advanced stage, with metastases. She made a page on Facebook and regularly informed her fans about the course of her disease, which she has been doing to this day.
For years, I have been thinking about the people who find themselves face to face with this disease. It seemed so horrible to even think about the horror of knowing this, about the moment of cognition, feeling of helplessness and complete bewilderment, the terror which paralyzes body and soul and mind, the bloodcurdling fear, disorientation and loss of orientation, sense of closure of the walls that surround us, the darkness, complete blackness and helplessness. Then again, Donna lights up, that defiant, proud, rebellious and positively brash girl who publicly shows and proves that she will not be broken! She does not even want to make a compromise with cancer. Not with the fear. Nothing negative. She chooses to fight. To keep working. Work saves us. And the positive thoughts. And good deeds. Along with all other activities, Donna started writing a book. And I found out about that through her Facebook page. I have been writing since elementary school and, for thirty years, I have been publishing novels, stories, plays, travelogues, poems and fairy tales for children unburdened with questions if someone will read them. Simply, it was my need. And I have not stopped. Never, until this July. July which was unusually, uncomfortably warm, hot, so that as the vacation was going by, certain dullness and lethargy almost overtook my body and soul. And then, I got the manuscript “ROOM FOR NOBODY”. I read it in one breath and paused. I was surprised, happy, wistful, frightened, and I felt inexpressible reverence. Surprised, because this was much more than I expected, happy to know that someone who was a good person and an artist, but one of a different kind, can write so beautifully, scared that I will not be able to express what this book awakened in me, full of respect, because the content is worthy of respect and wistful, because the battle is not over yet. I expected a difficult, anguished, sad confession of a seriously ill young woman, one which I would read with difficulty and in tears. So, I was astonished when I realized that, for her, the disease was only an initial moment to start the adventure of writing. I use the word adventure in the affirmative sense, because, after all, every form of art is a kind of adventure.
Donna knows exactly what to say and how to say it. There is almost no sphere of life which she does not write about, from family, friendship, love and the lack of love, goodness, disease, death, faith, forgiveness to many other little things that mean life. And everything is interwoven with the basic goodness that makes a man a man. Where is her illness in all that? It is only a leitmotif around which the story spins slowly, subtly, carefully, just like some great weavers used to weave the most beautiful and the most delicate linen in the quiet of their rooms, a long time ago. Magically, like a wizard, she guides us through her own world and introduces us with an array of characters and events. Fascinating is the ease with which she spills her soul without fear, without shame, without having to deny something, to guard herself from something, or to request the abolition. And with all that, her story is completely deprived of any, even slightest pathos. There is more pathos in my review, than in this entire book. She ecstatically plays with her words with indescribable ease, and she strings them as she used to string beads of various beautiful colours into a unique thread. It is not a book for this moment, this place or this year. It is spaceless and timeless. Everyone will read it with pleasure, and those who find themselves in a deep strait of life, in total darkness, in the sense of helplessness and hopelessness and fear, will realize that there is always a way out, and that there will be a small light which will lead them to it and which will help them to get up on their feet and step forward, tottering in the beginning, but with every step they’ll be safer. With genuine respect for this book, I recommend it to everyone, old and young, healthy and sick, joyful and sad, strong and weak. These are all variable categories, but the book is a constant. Discover the author to discover yourself.
Respect, Donna!
Travnik, 28 July, 2015,
Nura Bazdulj Hubijar
SOBA ZA NIKOGA 