Free A Different Lifetime: Stepping Back in Time in the Former Yugoslavia by Martin Radford

enormous. I cannot see as far as the road I followed on my way
here, but I can, however, see the small church in the distance that I passed
earlier: it must be a mile off. As I’m looking at the view, an old lady passes
by, smiles and says:
    “Dobro jutro,” (Good
morning).
    There are a few people
dotted around the landscape and flowers lying here and there. Most of the grave
stones on this side seem to be older, but there are some groups of more recent
stones that again bear the images of those born in the 60s and 70s. The
cemetery covers much of the distance between the station and the town, and then
after passing a handful of houses I find myself back at the ‘east’ end of the
main street at the position where the street re-joins the one I had taken on my
outbound journey.
    I later try to gain some
information on the station and its few apparent trains from Arkom. 
    “Yes, I know there are
trains I can see them from my window. Where do the trains go to” I asked, “do
they go to Novi Sad?”
    “No, the bus goes to Novi
Sad,” I was told.
    As for where the trains do
go, I am left still wondering. I had experienced the same result when asking
about the wasteland and its signs.
    “I walked over to the edge
of town,” I had said, “and found an area of land between the town and the river
marked by large white signs. What do the signs say, are they a warning,” I asked.
    “I don’t know where you
mean” and “I haven’t seen any signs,” was Arkom’s reply.
    I suppose this is just
part of the secrecy that envelops the community, that remnant of communist
times that prohibits strangers from wandering into areas they are not supposed
to see. 
     
     

Chapter 9
The Channel
     
    Well, some cool and
inclement weather has again prevented me from going out walking much over the
past week or so, but this Sunday afternoon the weather appears to be agreeable
for me to resume my exploration of the surrounding areas, and I have decided to
head towards the southern boundary of the community. This is the one direction
which I have still as yet not explored. So I head out towards the river and
follow the esplanade and the flood wall in search of the channel: the man-made
body of water that marks the border of Novaginja on its south side. I know from
previous walks that if I merely followed the flood wall I will eventually get
to the point where my path is blocked by a locked gate, with the view of the
mouth of the channel still ahead in the distance. The only other route I could
take is to follow the wall as far as the tiny football stadium and then follow
the narrow road that provides the only vehicular access for the teams and
supporters.
    As I followed the narrow
road it began to wind around the stadium and follow the length of the far side
of the pitch. The area beyond the stadium is apparently a somewhat new development;
there are many houses which appear to be of fairly recent construction and many
partially constructed houses whose empty shells appear to have been abandoned.
There are houses that consist of outer wall and nothing within, and there are
odd combinations of houses that have some of their inner walls but no exterior.
But strangely, some of these said houses appear to be, or to partially be,
lived in.
    As yet I’ve not seen one
single person, and no vehicles have passed me. And this apparent new housing
project is also deserted. Perhaps there really is a connection between bad
weather and the apparent disappearance of the local population.
    Several streets turn off
to my left and head towards a road that I can see bears a certain amount of
traffic: this I conclude must be the main road entering Novaginja. But I decide
to keep walking straight ahead until finally reaching the point where the
houses end. Up ahead, I can see a tall grassy bank that appears to run at a
right-angle to the course of the river: this I decide must be the flood bank of
the channel. I continue ahead, crossing the short area