The Godfather of Sarajevo

The middle-aged men I play indoor soccer with every Monday say there is no point in exerting yourself if you don't justify it with a hearty post-game beer. This being Bosnia, most will also tack on a few cigarettes in order to fully negate the healthy rewards of exercise. I am not one to complain. And so every week we go straight from pitch to bar, a matter of only a few dozen steps as the main Sarajevo gym convienently has its own watering hole for thirsty, self-styled athletes.

Last week, as we sat sipping our pints and reviewing the game's heroes and zeroes, a pair of stunning ladies sauntered in, a blonde and a brunette, sporting shiny makeup, short tight skirts and pursed lips -- a recipe for attention amongst sweaty men pleased with themselves after an evening of masculine exertion and a drink in hand. A friend of mine, Tim, tracked their regal entrance and softly whistled to himself. He took a gulp, then smiled and waved. But mid-wave his face turned ashen white, and he looked straight down into his beer.

"Holy shit... that's Celo. Those are Celo's girls!" he whispered hoarsely.

Celo. The Godfather of Sarajevo. The meanest, biggest, ugliest looking goomba in town. 7 feet tall with a long pony-tail. Possibly the most powerful man in Bosnia, regarded by locals as equal-parts hero and villain.

"Hero" for being a leading figure in the defence of Sarajevo during the siege. When the Serbs surrounded the city, Bosnian army defenses were more or less incapacitated. But small militia groups persisted in fighting back, many of them led by organized crime figures who had access to weapons and ammunition. Celo became a quasi-general in the forces defending Sarajevo, and was even badly wounded and evacuated to Germany for recovery. In the end, Celo and others succesfully helped prevent Sarajevo from being overrun.

But as with so many heroes in war, he became a villain in peace. After 1995, he capitalized on his public renown by becoming the leading mob boss in Sarajevo. And leading the mafia in Bosnia means you rival even the President in power. Organized crime is an omnipresent force. There are simply too many burly men dressed in black leather skulking around Sarajevo for it to be a mere fashion trend. Celo himself is known for one thing in particular: walking into a crowded club and shooting a rival Serbian boss in the face. He was arrested and brought to court. TV footage of the trial apparently shows Celo chuckling as the indictment is read. Needless to say, he was acquitted.

And there was Celo, in the bar of the gym, in jogging pants and a t-shirt, surrounded by two beautiful women. Around him stood a couple of big goons who had their backs turned to him, their eyes scanning the crowd.

And Tim had just waved to Celo's girls.

A moment of panic ensued. But Celo didn't notice; the girls didn't react. Tim breathed a big sigh of relief. We all laughed, and decided to keep to ourselves the rest of the night.

At some point, Celo and his entourage slipped away and, after a couple more beers, Tim was already telling the story of how he had flirted with Celo's girls and stared down the feared mob boss. Beer has a funny way of re-writing history.