Volim biblioteku. Nekako se uvek nanovo obradujem tom prepoznatljivom mirisu starih knjiga. Dragi su mi dokoni posetioci i nehajno razgolićene službenice koje se uprkos klima uređaju nervozno hlade najnovijim Literarnim almanahom u izdanju arizonske književne zadruge. Promaja  nestašno leluja svilenu bluzu moje bibliotekarke a boga mi i ono ispod nje... Učtivo klimnem glavom, progutam knedlu a onda žurnim korakom pohitam prema mojoj maloj, nedavno otkrivenoj književnoj oazi. U sred Arizone pa još u Americi... sa polica me uobraženo posmatra šampionska ekipa u sastavu: Andrić, Pavić, Ćosić, Pekić, Krleža, Kiš, Kapor, Crnjanski, Kovačević, Selimović, Nušić.

Stotinak naslova ispod velike table s natpisom "Jugoslovenska književnost". Izgleda mi da one oznojene & napupele službenice ovde baš dugo nisu navraćale. Nežno milujem knjige osećajući pritom neko čudno uzbuđenje... i poštovanje!

- Koliko se ja u ratove i svekoliku ljudsku glupost razumem, jugoslovenska književnost već odavno ne postoji zar ne? obrati mi se nepoznati muškarac na engleskom, samo se pitam čiji su to sada pisci? Za koju li književnu reprezentaciju danas igraju?

Osmotrim ga pažljivo, stariji gospodin sedamdesetih godina... duga, seda kosa... uredno začešljana... laneno odelo... prilično je elegantan za jednog Amera. Pošto sam žurio da odaberem neke posve drugačije umetničke sadržaje, zbunjeno slegnem ramenima a sve u želji da izbegnem neku preterano opširnu i visokoumnu diskusiju.

- Izvinite, da možda ne govorite srpski? upita učtivo.

- Razumem vas ja gospodine na svim jezicima i u svekolikim varijantama i  verzijama... ali verujte mi, prilično žurim!

- Znam... idete tamo gde su multimedijalna izdanja... niko više ne čita... knjige se danas gledaju, slušaju...

Iskreno, nisam baš veliki ljubitelj slučajnih, nazovi prijateljstva a posebno kada je reč o totalnim neznancima. Toliko je poznanika, prijatelja, rođaka koje ne stižem da vidim... U tom trenutku međutim, iznenada sam pogledao prema dekici... iz njegovih očiju zračila je iskrena i nepomućena dobrota... a setan pogled odisao je nekom prigušenom tugom.

-  Obično ne prepadam ljude po bibliotekama, rekao je kroz smeh, a nisam ni nastran... mada sam nedavno nabasao na neke pedere... ma tamo levo... u sekciji "Albanska literatura između dva rata"... kako zašto? Pa tu niko ne navraća! Priča se da je jedan beskućnik nedelju dana spavao ispod sabranih dela Ismaila Kadarea... tek onda je neko iz "SF sekcije" osetio neprijatan miris... i tako... umesto vanzemaljca pronađose klošara... Ja sam Aleksandar Stojanovic, predstavio se.

Rodio se u Americi ali evo već decenijama čini sve kako bi održao vezu sa jezikom svojih predaka... pročitao je gotovo sve knjige na srpskom jeziku koje je ovde pronašao. Nekada je bio aktivan u crkvi a onda se izjasnio protiv rata i nasilja u nekadašnjoj SFRJ: "Lako je junačiti se iz Amerike" poručio je svojim sunarodnicima, "ako ste zaista tolike patriote a vi blago meni stavite dolare u džep pa pravac Bosna... tamo će vam dati i pušku i uniformu... ništa ne brinite!" Brže bolje su ga proglasili izdajnikom... od tog vremena ni crkvu ne pohodi. Udovac je poslednjih desteak godina...  dece nikada nije imao... živi sam.

- Došao sam da potražim jednu knjigu, reče, možda mi vi možete pomoći?

Nastaviće se...

Odlucio sam da ovih dana malo stanem na loptu i napravim jednu malenu "stvaralacku pauzu. Posto zaista ne podnosim kada reklame zmirkaju po (neaktivnim) blogovima mislim da ne bi bilo lose da sa mojim blogerima podelim predivan clanak koji je danasnji Guardian posvetio jednom velikom srpskom umetniku.

Do skorog citanja prijatelji!

Garth Cartwright

The Guardian, Friday August 15 2008

The singer Šaban Bajramovi´c, who has died of heart failure aged 72, at his home in Niš, Serbia, was known across the Balkans as "king of the Gypsies". He is, arguably, the most influential musician from the region since the second world war, his artistry matched only by his gambling, fighting, carousing, and refusal to recognise any rule or regulation. All of which inflamed his legend.

Born in southern Serbia, Šaban had his childhood interrupted by the war, in which Nazi and Croatian fascist Ustashe troops massacred many of Yugoslavia's Gypsies, and Šaban's earliest memories were of fleeing and hiding. His parents' deaths forced him to live on his wits.

Conscripted into the postwar Yugoslav army, the illiterate 18-year-old went awol to search for his girlfriend, and was sentenced to five years. He spent a year on Goli Otok (Barren Island), a prison in the Adriatic. It was in jail, he said later, that he learned to read and write.

Once freed, he sang at weddings and bars around Niš and, in 1964, released his first record, Pelno Me Sam (I Am Imprisoned). The song's protagonist begs his mother to get him out of jail so that he can see his daughter marry. His imagination and lyricism immediately established him as a leader in nove Romske pesme (new Romani song). Across the 1960s and 70s Šaban's status to Balkan Roma would be comparable to that of James Brown's to African-Americans: a musician who gave his community a voice. He would sing in Romani, "hey, another beating from the police," his superb tenor voice conveying the Gypsy experience like no other. He incorporated diverse influences - including jazz and mariachi - into his music and won popularity across Yugoslavia and beyond, singing for President Tito and Indian prime minister Indira Gandhi.

Recognition failed to tame Šaban - a popular tale has him driving a new Mercedes into Niš's mahala (Gypsy ghetto) and taking part in a poker game. The following morning, he leaves having lost car, jewellery and suit. Šaban was banned from Yugoslav television in the 1980s for failing to fulfil bookings. Yet his talent never diminished and, in 1987, he acted in the noted Yugoslav film Guardian Angel, and sang the theme song. Serbian film director Emir Kusturica's Cannes-award-winning films Time of the Gypsies (1988) and Underground (1995) found soundtrack composer Goran Bregovic using Šaban compositions, and he sang the theme song to Kusturica's Black Cat, White Cat (1997). He also acted in the Macedonian film Gipsy Magic (1997).

During the civil war, Šaban disappeared; rumours suggested he had died in poverty, but he was in Niš, breeding pigeons, releasing home recordings and avoiding the Miloševic regime. Bosnian producer Dragi Sestic tracked him down in 2000 and convinced him to record an album, A Gypsy Legend, released on the Dutch label World Connection, that won international acclaim. In 2001, I interviewed him in Amsterdam. The ensuing European tour was cancelled after Šaban began missing dates, preferring to sing in German Yugoslav restaurants for tips than at concert halls.

In 2003, I travelled to Ništo interview him again, for my book Princes Amongst Men: Journeys With Gypsy Musicians. Where in Amsterdam he had been restless, at home he was engaging, boasting of releasing 20 albums and writing 760 songs, and claiming he had perfect pitch as a child. "Life inspires me to write songs," Šaban explained, "my inspiration is life because I am a great consumer of life!" While Šaban's face bore knife scars from his wild days, he exuded a warm nature.

Šaban's popularity survived the disintegration of Yugoslavia and he enjoyed a 2005 Balkan-wide hit as guest singer with the Croatian band Cubismo. A Serbian documentary, titled Šaban, chronicled his final years. Its soundtrack, again produced by Dragi Sestic, has just been released in Britain. His sole British performance, in May 2006 at London's Mean Fiddler, enabled German producer Henry Ernst to record Šaban as part of his Gypsy Queens and Kings project. I will never forget watching him, seated on the bed of a tiny London hotel room, wreathed in cigarette smoke coughing, but singing beautifully.

He is survived by his wife Mica, four daughters and many grandchildren.

* Šaban Bajramović, singer-songwriter, born April 16 1936; died June 8 2008 *