Wednesday, 7 May 2025

The cellist of Sarajevo

 



On 6 May my friend, Elvis Ibragic, took me to visit Vijećnica, Sarajevo's City Hall and BiH National University Library. In 1992 the building was destroyed by mortar attacks from Serb forces and approximately 2 million books and a great number of its special collections and documents were consumed in the flames. 

Not long after, three grenades killed 26 people and wounded 108 while they were waiting for bread in Ferhadija street (Vaso Miskin). The spot is marked on the pavement by one of the Sarajevo 'roses' which have been engraved where these mortuary mortar shells landed. You have to take care to avoid walking on them.

Cellist Vedran Smajlović played in the destroyed Library and for 26 days played Tomaso Albinoni’s Adagio in G minor in Ferhadija Street. I was pleased to see that  the library's museum has this montage photo of him playing in the ruins, with  a cello placed in front of it. 

When he arrived  in London I took him to perform the adagio at Watford Girls Grammar School and he helped War Child raise money for our music projects. 

You can listen to the adagio at  https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=u99f9RAvwu4

We often hear the refrain ‘Never Again’, but sadly there is too much' again'. Here is someone who might, right now, if still alive, be playing the adagio in Gaza




Monday, 28 April 2025

From the Warsaw Ghetto to Gaza

 




Israel is starving Gaza, inflicting a ‘manmade and politically motivated’ famine (UNRWA) on its people. 3,000 trucks of food and medicine are blocked at the border. The WHO says its supplies are gone. Hospitals are running out of medicine. Children are dying. 

Israel has turned Gaza into a concentration camp and the response from political leaders in the so-called western democracies? Do and say nothing. In the case of my own UK government, say nothing while acting alongside the USA in support of the slaughter.

No change there.When there were concentration camps in Europe more than 80 years ago representatives of the British and US governments met in Bermuda in April, 1943, reluctantly responding to rising pressure to rescue European Jews.They decided to do nothing. Nothing. A UK Foreign Office memo prior to the conference stated that, “There is a possibility that the Germans or their satellites may change over from the policy of extermination to one of extrusion, and aim as they did before the war at embarrassing other countries by flooding them with alien immigrants.” In plain Engish, the UK government feared that the Nazi regime might halt the genocide, and iexpel European Jewry ‘flooding’ the allied countries.

As the conference commenced, the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising began. The fighters made a final appeal to the world, “The last 35,000 Jews in the ghetto at Warsaw have been condemned to execution. Warsaw is again echoing to volleys of musketry. The people are being murdered. Women and children defend themselves with naked arms. Save us!”

Similar messages are reaching us from Gaza, and I choose here to quote this from Asma Salama Abu Mansi, children’s literature writer, “In the shadow of war and destruction, which has lasted for so long, we stand on the edge, nearly falling into an abyss without bottom, often plunging into a sea of despair from which survival seems impossible. Does hope remain a choice, or does it become something imposed on the people of Gaza? Perhaps hope here is neither a luxury nor a desire, but rather a form of resistance, known only to Gazans, who lack the luxury of choice. They cling to whatever hope remains, as if it were the last straw that could save them from drowning in a sea of ashes. It is a force that renews itself with every moment, not because Gazans choose to be optimistic, but because we are compelled to survive.”

If you are unable to see the parallels between the past and the present, I leave you with these words from one of the leaders of the Warsaw Ghetto uprising, who was addressing the leaders of the Palestinian resistance.

To all leaders of Palestinian military, paramilitary and guerrilla organizations; to all soldiers of Palestinian militant groups: My name is Marek Edelman. I am a former Deputy Commander of the Jewish Military Organization in Poland and one of the leaders of the Warsaw Ghetto Uprising. In the memorable year of 1943 we fought for the survival of the Jewish community in Warsaw. We fought for mere life, not for territory, nor for a national identity. We fought with hopeless determination, but our weapons were never directed against the defenceless civilian population, we never killed women and children. In the world devoid of principles and values, despite a constant danger of death, we did remain faithful to these values and moral principles. We were isolated in our fight, and yet the powerful opposing army was not able to destroy these barely armed boys and girls. Our fight in Warsaw lasted several weeks, and later we fought in the partisan groups and in the Warsaw Uprising of 1944. Yet nowhere in the world can urban guerrilla force bring a conclusive victory, but it cannot be defeated by well-armed armies either. And this war will not bring any resolution. Blood will be spilled in vain and lives will be lost on both sides. We were never careless with life. We never sent our soldiers to certain death. Life is one for eternity. Nobody has the right to mindlessly take it away. It is high time for everybody to understand that … to the State of Israel, you have to radically change your attitude. You have to want peace in order to save the lives of hundreds or perhaps thousands of people, and to create a better future for your loved ones, for your children. I know from my own experience that the current unfolding of events depends on you, the Military Leaders.’ Marek Edelman, August 2002

"The earth constricts around us. It squeezes us into the final corridor, forcing us to shed our limbs just to pass through. The ground crushes us; oh, if only we were its wheat, to die and live again. And if only it were our mother, to show us mercy. We wish to be the stones that our dream will carry."  Palestinian poet, Mahmoud Darwish




Saturday, 12 April 2025

for Rhys







A LETTER TO MY GRANDSON, RHYS MATTEO

This is the letter I would like to give to you, but if I am  unable to do so, have attached a copy to my Will with the request that you receive it after my death.


TO: Rhys Douglas-Wilson

written on 10 May 2025

 

Dear Rhys

 

I am writing this to you as your grandfather - your dad's dad. I hope I am still alive when you read it so that we can meet. I have missed being able to get to know you, but if I am no longer alive I hope it will help you understand who I was.

 

I did meet you when you were a few months old, but your mother decided I could not be your grandfather and since that day I have little idea what has been happening in your life. I hope all is good and that you are well and happy. This is the only photo I have of you, with your dog, Whitney

 

I have not been too well in recent years; brain operation, heart surgery, stroke and heart valve infection. I spent a lot of my convalescent time thinking about you and about your dad, my son, who I love very much.

 

I was given a lot of support from my wife Anne and from your uncle Ben. He does not have an easy life but is very brave and positive. I hope you have the chance for a good relationship with him. 


Even after ten years I still do not know why Jonny has agreed with Maria to cut me out of his and your life. You will have to ask him. 

 

I am sure Maria is a great mum and I know that Renata is capable of giving you a lot of love.

 

When Maria 'sacked' me as your grandfather she told me that her  reason was that I had 'selfishly' taken Jonny into a 'war zone'.  This is UNTRUE as Jonny came to Mostar four years after the war there had ended. He came with Brian Eno and his stay there changed his life for the better **

 

She told others that, I chased 'hookers’ (prostitutes) in New Orleans. Again UNTRUE. She refers to a day in that city when I went to look for an elderly black guy I had met and to whom I had promised $20. After getting the money from a cash dispenser I told Maria and Jonny what I was going to do. Sadly he was not where I had met him and he never got the promised money.

 

So far as I know Jonny has never agreed with any of these allegations made about me and it remains a mystery to me as to why he has agreed to silence me.

 

Here is what your father wrote to me on 1 Jan 2013:

 

You make Maria so happy I think you complete something she missed out on.. and not in a needy way but in a really positive way. The money you gave us rescued us and made this life possible and now this baby will make our family even more. …I am so blessed and you are so responsible for my strength, Anne too. I know Anne will be exhausted and we completely understand if she cant make it but please express to her how much we love her and hope she is happy to be a grandmother.” 

 

And the last communication I received from Jonny was on 30 Jan 2015 when he wrote this:

 

just wanted to write to you to say that I love you and also to say that there really isn't an issue between you and me.”

 

I have no idea why your mother dislikes me and Anne. We both liked her and I can only guess that she experienced unhappiness with men in her past. 

 

I hope that you will be given your own copy of the book which I have dedicated to you. That you will then understand the truth about me. 'Left Field' can be read here:

 

Here is what I wrote four years after Left Field’s publication.

 

Finally I wrote about the grief involved when losing Jonny, a living son here (under a pseudonym) which concludes with a song, “In the Living Years" by Mike and The Mechanics.

 

I am not angry or bitter, but massively regretful and sad. I have so powerfully wanted to see you and get to know you. Perhaps we will still be able to.


I take this opportunity to send you, Jonny, Maria and Renata as much love as can be accepted from me. 

 

David    xxxx

 

 

PS I lived as long as I did because of the love and strength I received from my wife Anne and from the love and solidarity I once received from Jonny and have continued to receive from your uncle Ben, from my sisters, Liz and Joanna and from all my friends. Here is your father and uncle a few years ago! Jonny was so cute and I believe that in his soul he still is.

 

 

**

Someone who knew your dad well in Bosnia recently wrote the following to me when hearing I was writing to you.

Please try to talk about Jonny and his talent, his joy in Bosnia, in what ways it was different and more positive than his life in London. He used to say how he won a scholarship to a fancy Highgate school that was full of spoilt rich kids of war criminals and Russian despots. Kids that took coke and heroin at the age of 15. His coming to follow you in Bosnia saved him from a life of debauchery, selfishness and drugs. He was admired by famous musicians and producers who took him under their wing and tought him many production and post production skills. Talents and connections he used to get where he is now and which eventually led him on the path to meet Maria and make Rhys. It led him on a path to a different kind of education and enabled him to meet people who made a difference in our world of despair and war. Jonny is someone who each and every Bosnian and Croat he ever encountered admired enormously. He had an energy and conviction that was hard to ignore. That inspired people and this energy only came about because he had a father who led him on this path. It is so ridiculous that he cannot acknowledge that now.

 

                                                 - - -

‘You should remind yourself that what you love is mortal, that what you love is not your own. It is granted to you for the present while, and not irrevocably, nor for ever, but like a fig or a bunch of grapes in the appointed season; and if you long for it in the winter, you are a fool.’ Epictetus



 

 

 

Thursday, 10 April 2025

Left Field - Postscript

 

I recently added this postscript to the online edition of my memoir but, soon after completing it, was informed that the book is no longer available for sale. For this information I must thank a friend who tried to purchase a copy, not my publisher, or more precisely, my ex-publisher.  Left Field was published in 2016 by Unbound and distributed by Penquin. Unbound declared itself bankrupt in March 2025. It was sold to its own executives!. Its founding personnel seem to have had no trouble setting up a new company with the name 'Boundless', while Unbound authors have been left driftless.  

I feel very sorry for those writers who had been raising funding for their books and now find themselves in publishing limbo. Fortunately for me I put Left  Field online a couple of years ago after I had my first suspicions about Unbound. They sent me six-monthly royalty statements which were incomprehensible to decipher and never included royalties. 

If you were to ask me how many books were sold I have no idea. When I was invited to speak about my book at WOMAD, Unbound failed to turn up with any books, which was equivalent to being invited to perform a music set there and your roadies arrive without your guitar or PA system!. Fortunately Dubioza Kolektiv were there that year and gave an impromptu gig after my abbreviated talk. So farewell Unbound and good luck to any authors who are hoping to publish with Boundless. But you can now read my memoir for free here and on Audible.  

My publishers are now Riversmeet who were introduced to me by fellow writer, Jan Woolf, and who are everything that Unbound proved not to be. They are interested in 'focussing on high quality writing, performance and teaching which engages with contemporary issues by linking the past to the present.' I regard them as both publisher and friend. 


 The intervening years since Left Field's publication have been ones of personal and political hope and of personal and political despair. In other words, nothing out of the ordinary.

Not surprisingly for someone in my eighth decade, these have been years when close friends have left this planet while I remain clinging to its edges, aware of Leonard Cohen’s words to Marianne Ihlen that, “I am so close behind you that if you stretch out your hand, I think you can reach mine.”

My  operation for a subdural haematoma  which I wrote about in Left Field was followed two years later by a heart valve operation, then a stroke caused by a strepsis infection of my new valve. More recently I have had epileptic seizures and now write without a glass of wine or beer as my prompt!  I used my hospital stays to campaign for an NHS that has now saved my life three times.

 


I'm proud that the unfairly much-vilified Jeremy Corbyn visited me when I was in St Barts Hospital. The worst insult he has had to endure has been accusations of ‘anti-semitism’ when he has been at the forefront of anti-racism struggles for decades. I last saw him three years ago when I joined him in Cable Street at a demonstration to mark the 85th anniversary of the battle to stop fascism in this country.

With that in mind, I helped organise a letter in his support signed by Ken Loach, Brian Eno, Nigel Kennedy, Alexei Sayle and thousands of others, I consider Corbyn to be our El Pepe. 

His visit to my bedside was organised by Alice Kilroy whose death has left my grip on the planet more enfeebled. She was a wonderful friend and visited me in hospital more times  than anyone outside my immediate family. I miss her. Here she is with the banner she made for my 70th birthday. It says: "70 years young/ The cops have not caught me yet/ No point  braking now"

Before she died in February 2020, Alice asked me to take over her work as one of the contributors to People's Campaign for Corbyn Facebook.  You can view all these blogs on my website at www.davidwilson.org.uk


Thanks to Jan Woolf I have got to know Ken Livingstone, the other politician accused of anti-semitism because of his defence of Palestine. On 20th April 2024 Jan organised a 'Thanks Ken Livingstone' celebration. Family and friends gathered to honour his life and legacy as Mayor of London. We were treated to poetry, a piano recital from his granddaughter, Sky Hutchinson, and contributions acknowledging his many achievements as a good and effective politician. On sale was a pamphlet which included my conversation with him over a takeaway curry.




As I write this postscript genocide continues to flatten Palestine, confirming the continuing importance of all that Jeremy and Ken have said and done. A
ided and abetted by our political leaders and the 'corporate media' it seems that all we are left with is Antonio Gramsci's - 'pessimism of the heart, optimism of the will.'  Jeremy and Ken, along with many of my friends, help me with that optimism.

Plenty to keep me busy and angry, but I am also finding time to write new books.  My World Café  was published by Riversmeet in November 2023. It is a collaboration with the wonderfully gifted artist, Laura Davis. I am now writing My World Music which will be published by Riversmeet in 2026.


These years have been ones when my eldest son lost and won back his disability benefits. Many haven’t and many have lost their lives in the process.

These have also been years of loss for me, not just of the dead, but of a living son who has ghosted me. I wrote about this under a pseudonym for Stand Alone, a charity set up for people estranged from their families. 


My past as co-founder of War Child still haunts me and hope it haunts those I write critically about here. I recently learned that the present War Child CEO receives an annual salary of £118,000. My critique of aid charities continued after two visits to the Calais ‘jungle’ refugee ‘camps’. 

More happily I visit Mostar to stay with my Bosnian family who I write about in Left Field





Here is my Mostar son, Oha Maslo, with his wife, Masa. They have taught me that 'family' is not just biological. Today Oha is Director of the Mostar Rock School, succesfully bringing together young people with music,


Here in London I have been trying to play guitar again. My left hand was weakened by the stroke. My London music friends are at Camden Guitars and the owner, Deicola Neves, tells me off when I complain. "Didn't you know that Django Reinhardt only had three fingers? 

Deicola and his shop have become my London Pavarotti Centre. Here he is playing great jazz on bass guitar. He performed at my 80th birthday celebration, as he did twelve years ago at my father's funeral. 



And here is the Dubioza Kolektiv 'Cross the Line' track made with Manu Chao about borders that kill. I dedicate this entry to Oha and family, to Deicola and all those who have kept me connected to music and a life without borders., both physical and mental.


Finally  I am honoured that the following messages were sent me to mark my 80th year.


BEN WILSON: Hey David and all of you that have turned up to celebrate this milestone birthday. I’m sorry I can’t be there in person. So bloody hell David you’ve done it! 80! I say this because, as you all know my dad had a lot of health issues, but has luckily got though them, Raise your glasses as I will tonight, but sadly David can’t, except with a soft drink’

OHA MASLO: Dear father, Well, you are turning 80 now. I do not have any doubt that, at the moment, you are surrounded by people who are important to you and who love you. I'm not sure how you're going to get through such a beautiful day without having a drink, good luck with that, hahaha. You were 52 when we met, which means I have to run through 5 more years to reach that age :) And I have known you for 28 years now :) We, Maša, Zoe, Luna, Lejla, and I, your southern family, are very happy for all these years that we are sharing together with you. Knowing your father's case, there are going to be at least 20 more :) We will have a time to celebrate this round number with you in Mostar in about a month's time. I would like to ask everyone in the room now to help us from down south to deliver our celebrating energy to David. - Take the glass, make sure there is drink in there :) - Look at David's eyes - And repeat after me - Živio sto godina - U zdravlje - Have a drink, and enjoy the party :) Thank you everyone. Love from Mostar. Happy birthday Father xxx’

IRIAL & DARLA ENO: Wishing you a very happy birthday. You have always been, and cntinue to be, such an inspiration to us both. Thank you for always speaking truth to power, and never giving up the fight for what is right. With love, admiration. Solidarity, and hopes for a brighter future’ Irial & Darla xxx

HENRIETTA SEEBOHM: Happy Birthday! You are an inspiration, a legend and a community builder. Thank you for your welcome to the Pavarotti Centre in Mostar in the 90’s. Congratulations on your 80th birthday – you rock!’ Henri 

HAIFA ZANGANA: My dearest friend. On your birthday let's celebrate friendship and solidarity. I and Mundher, will be with you though we are both in Tunis, and I will borrow a few lines from our friend Saadi Yousif, the iraqi poet who calls himself ‘The last communist’. To you " You are free. You pick a sky and name it, a sky to live in, a sky to refuse. A sky as vast as your heart. Your friendship’

CECILY BOMBERG:  In all the many years I’ve known David, he has not just spoken or written about his anger and despair for the world’s injustices, but has put his all actively and daily into attempting to defeat them, never counting the cost or seeking fame or reward, and I love and bless him for it. Happy birthday David, may you live another 80 years. This old world needs you’

HIDETO AND CHAKO WATANABE: Very happy 80th birthday, David! We wish we were there to celebrate this with you all. The time we were together doing Future Trust and Eclipse were one of the most exciting times of our life and remembered fondly always. Big thanks for the friendship!!!!’ Hideto and Chako.

And at the end of the 80th year celebration this poem was read by the person who is the reason why I am still here, Anne Aylor.


WILD GEESE by Mary Oliver 


You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting—
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

 Read all of Left Field here.