It was with sadness that I received the news of the death of Idriz Saltagić, a journalist, writer, publicist, and above all a good man and friend.
And as it usually happens, when death happens, a person remains speechless. No words. Silence talks, and in the soul there is a muffled cry. Nevertheless, I feel the human need to say goodbye to our dear Idriz through the written word.
Although I had the opportunity to read Idriz’s literary works and listen to his poetry at poetry evenings, I got to know this wonderful man better only ten years ago. He often visited our BIH supplementary school in London, where I have been working for many years.
He was happy to participate in all our events, cultural and artistic evenings, school gatherings…
He was always a welcome guest, both among our students and their parents.
He loved children, he was happy to visit them in the classroom and often held a poetry lesson. Our students were very lucky, not only to read his poetry, but also to meet our famous poet “live”. He gave them not only books, but also his precious time, love, attention…
When a human soul has so much warmth and breadth, then there are no age limits, and Idriz knew all generations.
We had a lot in common. He loved his native Banja Luka with all his heart, and this city on the banks of the Vrbas River reminded me of the most beautiful student days. In his long working career, he was also engaged in educational work, so we had that in common.
But the most important thing was the love for the written word. To us, less established poets, he was a huge support and a strong “wind at our backs”. Although he had a long-standing journalistic career behind him and many published literary works, he was very modest. He respected every pen friend, regardless of whether he was known or unknown in literary circles. Of course, the respect was mutual. I felt that there are no small and big poets, but small and big poems. Those that quickly appear and disappear like a rainbow and those that live and conquer time.
In his elegiac poems, one could feel his great love for Bosnia and Herzegovina, for his hometown, to which he was bound by childhood, youth and the most fruitful years of his journalistic career.
Unfortunately, he had to leave his Banja Luka during the war, but Banja Luka never left his heart. The shores of Vrbas and Clock Tower will remain his eternal inspiration, regardless of the fact that he was separated from his homeland by kilometers and kilometers.
One of our famous writers said in one of his works, “Time does not heal wounds, it only covers them up”. Even time did not allow him to forget about his native bosom and the beloved city on Vrbas in the soul of an eternal dreamer, but over the years he also loved London where he lived. In addition to the country of his birth, he also had a country that gave him refuge in the era when war was raging in Bosnia and Herzegovina.
She was looking for the lost Vrbas in the Thames, Big Ben reminded her of the Clock Tower, Hyde Park reminded her of the greenery of šeher – Banja Luka, so much sung in songs, and London’s bridges of bridges on the green Vrbas. Poets never stand still, you never know when in your heart and head, quite suddenly, a gentle verse will be born, happen to see the light of day. To happen and record a moment, and stay to live for all eternity.
Thus, numerous new songs and new works were published during his lifetime in Great Britain, and enriched his poetic creation even more. Beautiful poems about loved ones from his family remain. He bequeathed himself and his life’s work to his hometown, which remains timeless and immortal. And Banja Luka, that Krajina beauty sung in Sevdalinka, has always had great written words. Idriz was one of the greats.
What will remain in my memory the most is the celebration of his 70th birthday and 50 years of journalistic and literary work, which was held at the Abbey Centre, where we hold classes for students of the BiH Supplementary School London. He was a great friend of the BHCUK association and our school, and I am very glad that we were able to repay him, at least in part, for everything he did for us.
Many newspapers wrote about this event, including “Bosanska pošta”, which was published in Sweden at the time, and for which he was a correspondent.
He participated in numerous book fairs, literary contests and poetry meetings, which we often discussed. He was a member of the Society of Writers in Bosnia and Herzegovina, the Pen Club in London and the Senj Literary Hearth in Senj, Croatia.
His creative energy never left him, even in the last months of his life. When we last visited him in March of this year, he still had ideas and plots for new stories and lyrics for new songs. Then, at that last meeting, we had the privilege of looking at his old photo albums. In the multitude of those old, yellowed photographs that bear witness to another time, I could also see a part of his rich, twenty-year journalistic life in the era when he worked as an editor and journalist for Radio Banja Luka and “Glas”. Meetings with the other Tito and the most famous figures from the cultural and sports life of that era speak volumes about his rich life story.
He has always been a great fighter and creator, a man with a bright spirit and an optimist.
Unfortunately, he lost the battle with the disease. Behind him remains his character and his work, which we must not forget. Beautiful memories and photos remain, which will constantly remind us of all that he selflessly did for our BiH community.
May his soul rest in peace, and I would like to extend my sincere condolences to his family and give them enough strength to overcome the difficult times and his irreparable loss.
Al-Fatihah
Written by: Semira Jakupovic
