This is the MP Nedović who became famous for her lament about sneakers. We heard: her toes were swollen as a terrible sign of a poor childhood. For years, she wore tight pants, a martyr of the DPS regime, which put her on a par with Saint Mary of Egypt who wore a sackcloth shirt; or closer to us, the blessed Ozana, who wounded herself for the common good. And just as the body of a saint in penance frees the spirit to become related to Christ, so MP Nedović gradually recognized her divinity – her grandfather, in the narrow sense, her biological grandfather who left her a house and a meadow, which she informed her fans about in the report "Meet the Parliamentarians" on the parliamentary TV channel.
Now, how the change came about and how Nedović, when you said PES, severed ties with her ancestral home, we still don't know, well, the other day she said what we heard well. Our dear MP, she says, would give her ancestral home to Muhamed Alabar, and she would tell him, feel free to build the building and leave the floor to me!
If only she had had a better gut when she was little, who knows, maybe she would have renovated her grandfather's house by now, continued the family tradition, gotten involved in the local community, and worked on the development of the Bijelo Polje region. Maybe she would have kept some pets, planted herbs, and enjoyed the same stream where her grandmothers used to draw water. Maybe she wouldn't have gone into politics and started making up for old deprivations in such a costly way for all of us.
Anyway, the situation is as follows – instead of counting plums on the ranch and leading the community towards sustainable development, this Scarlett O'Hara vows on her own ranch that she will never go hungry again (read: that she will have enough for sneakers for the rest of her life). And that, translated from parliamentary slang, means demolishing her grandfather's house, accepting Alabaro's housing development in which a virtuous new class is being born. The MP asks for the entire floor, logically, because she would be in the caste of rentiers. She imagined not only that her big toe would be comfortable but that her back would also be soft – on the high ground floor, the tenants would ring the bell at the first to submit an envelope and pay for their stay at her excellency's grandfather's.
It's easy to imagine the picture – nothing is left of the old estate, the stream has been upgraded to a sewage system, the boundary has been sealed with concrete, the fruit trees have been uprooted, the garden has been demolished, there is no trace of the grandfather's world. It turns out that the connection between the heroine and her grandfather is not made up of real life, not a stream or a dry stone wall, not a deep connection, not consideration. On the contrary, the only connection with the grandfather is geometry, a plot for sale and the desire to fence the estate, measure it and spread it.
And why?
So that the proud owner could achieve the mythological security of rent, realize the dream of her generation, to earn from the labor of others. Without participation in her own development, like a leased plot, a family story thus comes to an end. To make matters worse, we hear that end from the mouth of a person so powerful in her own conceit that she thinks that ten floors of Arab investment will not nullify, change, and revoke her right to call herself by the name of her grandfather who ends up on the doormat. Just as she did not understand why her parents did not have money for sneakers, now she does not understand the price of her grandfather's property.
I used to think that people like Rep. Nedović were just fools. But today I think they need help, to understand that life is not about money and square footage, but about developing inner freedom and connection with other people. This connection is not mercantile, but many driven by their suffering simply do not see that. On the contrary, by selling and destroying old ecosystems and family traditions, by destroying the geography that shaped the society and man of these areas, we are building a concrete tombstone for ourselves. We are grinning at the sky. We are alienating the earth – life is led in a broken way, devoured, traded, invested in and made into a city, the purpose of living on the planet that your grandfather left you to protect is missed.
The problem of the future struggle for Velika Plaža is how to stick these simple truths in cynicism-coated ears. How to explain to citizens that they are victims of renderings and animations, false images of progress that pumps profit for the minority wherever it appears, while leaving walls for the land and people from which the river, the shore, the clearing cannot be seen. How to explain to them that they do not live in advertising. That work is not important for money, but for the organization of the supreme treasure of the community, the lives of all of us, on a human scale.
The deputy Nedović should not be scolded, but rather gently taught. But what a Christ-like individual you need to be to have the strength for that! That you do not call that amount of greedy arrogance and hungry frustration an appropriate name. On the path to their realization, such people seem to destroy and waste in order to reach their dubious satisfactions. They would do it overnight, in a hurry. This mentality of fear and robbery is the greatest opponent of Montenegro, no Alabar is a problem, its machines run on local fuel.
My desire is to speak and protest as much as I can, to be honest and say that I barely remember my grandfather, but I know that every letter I have written, and every achievement my child will achieve, is part of the unity not only of my family but of all the people, rivers, birds, hills and valleys that are not plots of land for sale but are connected as a whole by an old-fashioned feeling we call love and a simple name like Montenegro.
That love and that name are stronger than all the sneakers in the world, but our Carrie Bradshaw from Rodijelje wants a closet full of sneakers, she wants to be safe on an air sole, in a water bed, on the first floor, our MP is working against herself without being aware of it. That's not entirely bad, because Nedović is equally working for us who see her and recognize the moment that such people are not given even a grain of sand, not even a millimeter of golden shore; the desire arises to interpret Corsica, Kvarner, Sardinia, Yugoslavia, or some other name in a time and space where development is planned and justified by policies for the people and not tycoons and the soulless glory of their damned money.
Slowly, this fight will take time, we will use words, but also bodies. If you ask me, we finally have something to fight for.
Bonus video:
