Exploring the Themes of Injustice and Memory in Miljenko Jergović's "Zulum"

The Profound Significance of "Zulum”

Miljenko Jergović's "Zulum," translated by Ellen Elias-Bursać and Mirza Purić, opens with haunting imagery that sets a somber tone. The word "zulum" carries a weighty essence—it translates to injustice and violence, echoes of a darker human condition often overlooked. Through the striking metaphor of a falcon faced with terror and the destruction of its nest, Jergović portrays a visceral response inherent in nature. The falcon’s instinctual retaliation serves as a mirror for humanity itself, reflecting the complex interplay between victimization and power, suggesting that even creatures once seen merely as gods of the skies can transcend their roles in risking retaliation. As the narrative unfolds, we confront a legend far removed from ordinary monastery chronicles. The character of Fra Jakov Durmo emerges as a figure shunned by history, his contributions and virtues nearly erased from the records of the Kreševo monastery. Is it mere coincidence, or does a deeper pattern reveal itself in the seemingly sporadic blotches on parchment? Inkwells tipping over and curious mice gnawing at his merits hint at an existential injustice, where the very fabric of memory erases the presence of one who lived fully. Every degradation on those pages—be it ink stains or mouse-chewed edges—conspires to conceal his significance. When Fra Jakov’s absence from the monastery becomes apparent amid a turbulent visit by a Turkish woman named Rejhana, the brothers' tension rises. They speculate about her motivations and the danger her presence brings amidst societal upheaval. This interaction not only enriches the subplot but also raises essential questions about the interconnectedness of fate and choice, drawing in the very essence of their strained reality. Here's the thing: the chaotic arrival of Rejhana and the ensuing fear that permeates the monastery encapsulate the broader narrative of upheaval and uncertainty that plagues their community. Her lament—"woe is me"—is not merely personal but reverberates beyond her own tragedy to symbolize the collective malaise of uncertainty and the haunting specter of impending conflict.

The Arrival of Rejhana and a Disturbance of Order

The moments leading to Fra Jakov's eventual return encapsulate the restless anxiety swirling among the brethren. It’s not just concern for the woman’s safety that drives their reactions but a deeper dread of the socio-political chaos brewing outside. The Dominican friars’ dread of Turkish wrath underscores the tension—the monastery, once a sanctuary, becomes a precarious holdout. Rejhana’s uncertainty about her condition—whether cursed or simply caught in the throes of her own circumstance—is indicative of a broader malaise affecting the inhabitants of these tumultuous lands. That question of culpability ripples through conversations laden with fear, suggesting that the very fabric of existence there has shifted. The shift that occurs with Fra Jakov’s reappearance—his transformation into a falcon—underscores this theme of metamorphosis and serves as both a culmination and a puzzle. The friars, grappling with the implications of his new form, simultaneously harbor hope for a spiritual revival through Jakov’s wild return to nature while also fearing the breach of monastic decorum. Even so, the brothers are compelled to confront their own fears. Rejhana's eerie presence juxtaposed against the quiet lives of the monks reveals the thin veil separating stability from chaos. Decisions about whether to accept the falcon—now symbolically representing Fra Jakov—expose a profound reckoning of identity and belonging, illustrating how the instability permeating their lives begins to challenge the notions of faith, brotherhood, and the essence of humanity itself. It's a narrative steeped in complexity: as the monks attempt to reconcile their tenuous existence with the pressures of the world beyond their cloistered life, the falcon's role looms large. A reconsideration of the thematic and metaphorical layers in Jergović's work compels us to ponder—how far can one’s transformation intertwine with our precious identities? What becomes of faith when the line between man and beast blurs? Amidst this turmoil, perhaps the narrative nudges us to reflect on our placements within our own ecosystems of belief and societal duty. Whether compassionate or cursed, we’re left searching for answers in the ashes of their dialogues, ultimately revealing that every layer of existence is interlinked, echoing long beyond the monastery walls.

Fra Julian's Vision

The brothers adjusted quickly to the new dynamics brought by the bird, and it wasn’t a difficult transition. The disturbances caused by Fra Jakov were absent; no more dirt trails from his woodland forays, and the condescending silence that once lingered over him vanished. The presence of the bird transcended mere animal interference. They felt a deeper connection, sensing a wisdom in the creature that appeared to have retained the essence of their old brother yet evolved into something more enlightened. In this strange metamorphosis, they found themselves befriending a better version of Jakov while still cherishing their memories of the original. This complexity might have required the analytical mind of Fra Ignacije, the logician from Visoko, had he not passed away just the year prior. After the brothers took their customary afternoon rest, a wave of tranquility washed over them, a feeling that had eluded Fra Serafin since his early days in the cloth. Memories of youthful evenings spent planting plum trees alongside his companions floated into his mind. Those idyllic summer days spent under the stars with the old but passionate Fra Julian revealed how entwined their lives had become. Fra Julian, well over eighty, had dedicated his late retirement years to crafting an ambitious celestial map, convinced that every locale had its unique constellation setup. His enthusiasm was infectious; no one had the heart to contradict his notions. They just supported his joy, even gifting him a remarkably advanced telescope from Vienna—likely the finest in all of Bosnia at the time. This newfound tool brought him endless delight, scattering star charts across his desk as he eagerly set out to chart the heavens anew. Yet a jarring event marked the turning point for Fra Julian. One fateful morning, as he wandered through his cherished plum orchard, he unexpectedly stumbled over young saplings, which led to a series of falls. It was a shocking revelation. The beloved old scholar who had once confidently maneuvered the monastery grounds now found himself grappling with a steep decline in vision, which had remained his secret for far too long. Though he had mastered the art of navigation through familiarity, the sudden introduction of the orchard disoriented him. In a collective decision, the brothers opted to keep this incident from being discussed openly. Instead, they rallied behind Fra Julian, dispatching young seminarians for nightly star-gazing sessions to bolster his spirits. The joy that radiated from his lectures was palpable, lifting the spirit of the entire community, including the young Serafin, who recognized how profound Fra Julian’s insights were, especially when given through the lens of his blindness. Here’s the crux: It was during those serene stargazing nights that true harmony surfaced among them. They shared not just the beauty of the night sky but also a deeper understanding of the human condition—an appreciation of inner peace that, for Serafin, felt unprecedented. That serene feeling was reclaimed once more as he lay on his bed, contemplating the events of the day, the echoes of natural sounds filling the air. Alarming disturbances would soon unravel this peace, an unexpected knock on the monastery door heralded an unintended twist in their narrative. Little did they know that the arrival of a stranger—a disheveled figure—would set off a chain of events that would once again intertwine their lives in a strain of chaos.

The Mysterious Visitor

After a period of tranquility, that third morning began ominously when a loud knock resonated through the monastery. Fra Šiško, still caught in a fog of distraction, answered to find a scruffy man, forlorn and unkempt. A look of surprise and confusion washed over him. "Who are you?" he inquired, bewildered. The stranger, recognition flickering in his eyes, shouted for Fra Ilija, demanding a second look. Fra Serafin instantly recognized the man standing before them. It was Fra Jakov, unrecognizable in his current wretched state. Although he hadn't exactly been known for his pristine appearance, the stark contrast in the duration of just four days was alarming. The brothers had embraced the belief that his spirit had forsaken him to inhabit the falcon, which explained his sudden absence. Confronting him in this new form, now unkempt and defeated, required a mental leap akin to accepting the existence of a bird in place of their brother. The gravity of their faith was admirable; no doubt even the Pope would have found his heart aching in response to their plight, a thought that lingered bitterly in Serafin's mind. Initially, Jakov was reticent about his whereabouts, but pressing him with reminders of his ties to the monastery forced him to concede that he had been with a woman. The admission came heavy with regret; "I have sinned, the worst possible sin," he stammered. Serafin, skeptical, retorted, "You're lying! You've never been one to chase after women, especially not one of her stature!” Jakov, however, quickly launched into a tale that would have left a mark in the monastery's history—had their harvest not diverted attention and memory in the years to follow. His story unfolded in vivid detail, recounting a pre-dawn encounter that began with an argument he overheard—a female voice and a bird's chatter arguing as if in lifelong combat. The tension was palpable; there was a rhythm to their exchanges, a familiarity laden with animosity—a clear indication of relationships maintained over time, much less of a simple quarrel. Jakov’s reflection on these exchanges revealed not just humor, but deeper truths about the human condition, resonating in ways that might go unnoticed at first glance. As if unwittingly drawing profound lessons from their argument, Jakov listened intently, recognizing an unfamiliar connection with the woman and the bird involved. Ultimately, this meeting would spin into a tale greater than himself, one that forced him to rethink his own nature and vulnerabilities. Engulfed in the complexities of these relationships, he tried to unpack what lay beneath the surface of his present dilemmas, unaware that the true test of their faith—and his own redemption—was yet to unfold.

Reflections on a Tale of Duality

The conclusion of this narrative leaves us in a suspenseful tension between the mundane and the mystical. Fra Jakov Durmo’s silence has become a profound echo, resonating through the corridors of time. This bittersweet ending raises essential questions about the nature of truth, perception, and the stories we choose to believe—or ignore. What stands out here isn’t merely the strange tale of the monk and his enigmatic bird; it's a reflection on the complexity of faith and human experience. You can’t help but sense the weight of the unspoken truths burdening the brothers. Their reluctance to discuss Rejhana hints at an underlying fear—not just of ridicule but of confronting something profoundly unsettling within themselves. There's a universality to this that anyone working in a community—whether religious or otherwise—can relate to: the shared burden of secrets and the human tendency to distance ourselves from the inexplicable. What’s particularly striking is how the narrative plays with the theme of sanity versus madness. While Fra Jakov plays the part of the madman, it’s clear he’s deeply connected to a world the others cannot see, or choose not to acknowledge. The rest of the friars, searching for logic in his behavior and weaving elaborate theories about what transpired, ironically reveal their own disconnectedness from the cycle of nature that Jakov embraces. And yet, despite the brothers’ scrutiny, they never cease to ponder reclusive issues like identity and existence. What might appear as foolishness can turn out to be a reflection of their own unvoiced struggles. If you’re in a position where your work grapples with collective beliefs and hidden truths, this story invites you to reflect: what narratives do we cling to, and at what cost? As we part ways from this narrative, it is clear that despite his penance and isolation, Fra Jakov remains unwavering in his connection to the earth and its creatures. Rather than a simple ‘happily ever after’ ending, we find a more nuanced truth: life goes on, and sometimes what we don’t speak of weighs heavier than the spoken word. In essence, the story leaves us contemplating the beauty of the unseen and the complexities of human emotions, reminding us that some tales are too profound to be reduced to mere humor or folklore. For each of us caught in the web of our own stories, it beckons us to search for meaning beyond the surface—to recognize, with humility, that the true beauty often lies in the mysteries we dare not unravel.