- published: 02 Feb 2009
- views: 21123
The Bosniaks or Bosniacs (Bosnian: Bošnjak, pl: Bošnjaci, pronounced [bɔːˈʃɲaːtsi]) are a South Slavic ethnic group, living mainly in Bosnia and Herzegovina, with a smaller minority also present in other lands of the Balkan Peninsula especially in Serbia, Montenegro and Croatia. Bosniaks are typically characterized by their historic tie to the Bosnian historical region, traditional adherence to Islam since the 15th and 16th centuries, common culture and language. In the English-speaking world, Bosniaks are also referred to as Bosnian Muslims or simply Bosnians. Bosniak has replaced Muslim as an official ethnic term in part to avoid confusion with the religious term Muslim - an adherent of Islam. The term Bosnian is used to denote all inhabitants of Bosnia regardless of ethnic origin.
Bosniaks are a South Slavic people. Nonetheless, it has been proposed, based on genetic signatures, that their roots also date back to pre-Slavic inhabitants of the Dinaric region, effectively predating many modern European homogenous ethnic groups. There are well over two million Bosniaks living in the Balkans today, with an estimated additional million settled and living around the world.[citation needed] Several instances of ethnic cleansing and genocide have had a tremendous effect on the territorial distribution of the population. Partially due to this,[citation needed] a notable Bosniak diaspora exists in a number of countries, including Austria, Germany, Australia, Sweden, Turkey, Canada and the United States. Both within the region and throughout the world, Bosniaks are often noted for their unique culture, which has been influenced by both eastern and western civilizations and schools of thought over the course of their history.
Bosnians Interviewed At the Australian Open
BBC Death of Yugoslavia : Croat-Bosniak War 1993-94
Bosniaks Genocide - Canadian Peacekeeper Gen. Lewis Mackenzie suspected of Rape.
Vedad Ibisevic Interview in English
Stana Katic speaking Serbian, French and Italian
Bosniaks Genocide - The Greek role in Bosnia's war.
Did Bosniaks fight for a "Muslim state"?
Biz Foods: Segment on Bosnians in St Louis
Bike Touring - Interview With Serbian Newspaper at Sunny Resort 1/2
Bike Touring - Interview With Serbian Newspaper at Sunny Resort 2/2
I was nineteen when I came to town
They called it the Summer of Love
They were burning babies, burning flags
The hawks against the doves
I took a job in the steamie
Down on Cauldrum Street
And I fell in love with a laundry girl
Who was working next to me
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
Brown hair zig-zag around her face
And a look of half-surprise
Like a fox caught in the headlights
There was animal in her eyes
She said, "Young man, oh can't you see
I'm not the factory kind
If you don't take me out of here
I'll surely lose my mind"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine that I might crush her where she lay
She was a lost child, she was running wild
She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
We busked around the market towns
And picked fruit down in Kent
And we could tinker lamps and pots
And knives wherever we went
And I said that we might settle down
Get a few acres dug
Fire burning in the hearth and babies on the rug
She said "Oh man, you foolish man
It surely sounds like hell
You might be Lord of half the world
You'll not own me as well"
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
So fine a breath of wind might blow her away
She was a lost child, oh she was running wild
She said, "As long as there's no price on love, I'll stay
And you wouldn't want me any other way"
We was camping down the Gower one time
The work was pretty good
She thought we shouldn't wait for the frost
And I thought maybe we should
We was drinking more in those days
And tempers reached a pitch
And like a fool I let her run
With the rambling itch
Oh the last I heard she's sleeping rough
Back on the Derby beat
White Horse in her hip pocket
And a wolfhound at her feet
And they say she even married once
A man named Romany Brown
But even a gypsy caravan
Was too much settling down
And they say her flower is faded now
Hard weather and hard booze
But maybe that's just the price
You pay for the chains you refuse
Oh she was a rare thing, fine as a bee's wing
And I miss her more than ever words could say
If I could just taste all of her wildness now
If I could hold her in my arms today