In March 2023, I landed in Sarajevo for the first time in well over a decade.
I was born there, but I’d spent most of my life growing up in Kansas City. The last time I’d been back, I was probably eight or nine years old.
Now I was 23.
Waiting for me at the airport was someone who had helped raise me when I was little. We’re not related by blood, but I’ve always considered him family.
The funny thing is, he didn’t recognize me.
He thought I was someone else at first. But once he realized who I was, he started crying.
And honestly, I got a little teary-eyed too.
We hugged, laughed and started talking. I knew I was excited to see everyone again, but I don’t think I’d realized just how much I’d missed being there until that moment.
He grabbed my luggage, and we headed back to their apartment in Sarajevo.
The coffee came out. So did the cigarettes. We sat around talking for hours, catching up, teasing each other and laughing at the kind of jokes that probably wouldn’t sound nearly as funny if I translated them into English.
There was something about the whole atmosphere. The language, the humor, the way everyone interacted. It was all so familiar.
God, I’d missed it.
What struck me was how little effort it took to feel comfortable again. I’d spent most of my life in America, but sitting in that apartment with people I hadn’t seen since childhood, I didn’t feel like I was visiting somewhere unfamiliar.
I felt like I’d come back to another part of home.
I grew up American, but Bosnia was always there
Growing up, I felt like a pretty normal American kid.
My first, middle and last names are all American. Let’s just say “Eddie Kendall” doesn’t exactly scream Bosnian.
But Bosnia was still part of my everyday life.
My mom and I spoke Bosnian at home. She’d make ćevapi, burek or sirnica, and as I got older, there might even be a glass of rakija every now and then.
It wasn’t like I was living two completely separate lives. I was just growing up with influences from both places.
As I got older, though, I became much more immersed in American life. My friends, school, music and most of my experiences were here.
Bosnia was still part of my life. I just wasn’t thinking about it nearly as much.
I wasn’t ashamed of being Bosnian. I wasn’t trying to distance myself from it. I just didn’t have some overwhelming desire to reconnect with that part of my background.
I’d occasionally exchange messages or birthday wishes with family overseas, but that was about it.
Years went by without me visiting.
And I was perfectly content living my life in Kansas City.
Looking back, I don’t think I understood how much of that connection was still there, even when I wasn’t actively paying attention to it.
Somehow, a random Snapchat story got me interested again
Around December 2022, something pretty random happened.
I was messing around on Snapchat’s map feature, where you can click on different places around the world and see what people are posting.
I ended up clicking on a story from Croatia, and somebody was playing a song I’d never really paid attention to before.
I liked it.
So I started wondering what kind of music people were listening to over there these days.
That sent me down a rabbit hole.
Before long, I was listening to all kinds of Balkan music. Bosnian, Croatian, Serbian, Montenegrin, you name it. A lot of the newer rap and pop music coming out of the region.
And something about it just clicked.
I’d spent most of my life listening to American music, and suddenly I was discovering this entire music scene connected to a part of the world where I’d been born.
It was familiar, but at the same time, I was experiencing it differently as an adult.
I started thinking more about Bosnia, the people I hadn’t seen in years and what it would be like to go back.
And the funny thing is, this all happened pretty quickly.
By March 2023, roughly three months after I started getting back into Balkan music, I was on a plane to Sarajevo.
After so many years without much desire to return, I was genuinely excited to see everyone again and experience Bosnia as an adult.
Ti si naš
One of the funny things about going back to Bosnia is that people can usually tell I’ve spent most of my life in America.
I speak Bosnian, but I’ve definitely picked up American habits and mannerisms.
And apparently, telling people I’m American, especially that I’m from Kansas City, comes with a few jokes.
I’ve had people respond with an enthusiastic, “Ooooh, John Wayne!” or bring up Clint Eastwood.
Apparently, being from Kansas City means I’m basically a cowboy.
I mean, fair enough.
My family also has no problem reminding me how American I can be sometimes. There’s plenty of teasing, joking around and pointing out the little things I do differently.
But there’s something they’ve told me that has always stuck with me.
Ti si naš.
It roughly translates to “You’re one of us,” or more literally, “You’re ours.”
I love that.
Because despite spending most of my life on the other side of the world, I’ve never felt like I needed to prove I belonged when I was with them.
They know where I grew up.
They can tell I’m American.
And they still see me as one of their own.
I think that’s part of why going back has meant so much to me. I didn’t need to become someone different to feel like I belonged.
Sve polako and my American brain
There’s a phrase my family in Bosnia uses all the time.
Sve polako.
Basically, take it easy. No need to rush.
And they really mean it.
I’ll be over there thinking about everything I want to do that day. Places to visit, people to see, things to get done. I’ve practically got a schedule running through my head.
Meanwhile, my family is perfectly content sitting down for another cup of coffee.
And another conversation.
And maybe another cup of coffee.
I’m sitting there thinking, Are we actually going to do anything today?
But that’s also one of the things I’ve come to love about being there.
Especially the kafanas.
A kafana is a traditional Balkan café or tavern where people gather to drink, talk and spend time together. Some have music playing, and depending on the time of day, you might find people drinking coffee or enjoying a glass of rakija.
What gets me is how lively they can be in the middle of an ordinary workday.
It could be noon on a Wednesday, and a kafana will be packed with people sitting around talking, laughing, teasing each other and enjoying themselves.
Meanwhile, my American brain is wondering, Does nobody have to work today?
Obviously, people have jobs, responsibilities and plenty of their own stresses. I’m not suggesting everyone in Bosnia spends their weekdays sitting around drinking coffee.
But in the places I’ve spent time, I’ve noticed a social atmosphere that feels different from what I’m used to in Kansas City. People seem more inclined to linger, talk and spend time together, even in the middle of an ordinary day.
I’ve also noticed people walking around more and spending time outside. I’ve seen kids playing outside late at night on a weekday, something that still catches me off guard.
I’m sure there are plenty of challenges I don’t fully appreciate as someone who visits rather than lives there year-round. But I enjoy how much everyday life seems to happen around other people in the places I’ve spent time.
And I think it’s made me more aware of my own habits.
I’m ambitious. I like having a plan, staying busy and making progress toward something. I’m not about to pretend I’ve suddenly become the most relaxed person in the world.
My family would probably get a good laugh out of that.
But I’ve started appreciating the moments when there’s nothing particularly productive happening.
Just sitting outside with a coffee. Spending time with family. Having a conversation that doesn’t need to lead anywhere.
Sometimes I still catch myself wanting to rush through everything.
I’m working on it.
My family in Bosnia would probably tell me to sit down and have another coffee.
What I want to carry forward
Since that first trip in 2023, I’ve been back to Bosnia and the surrounding region several times.
At this point, I try to make it back every year or two.
It’s not just about taking a vacation anymore. I genuinely want to see the people I grew up around, spend time with family and experience a part of the world that feels like home to me.
Some of that connection has followed me back to Kansas City, too.
I listen to Balkan music all the time now. Honestly, it’s probably most of what I listen to these days. I’ve introduced plenty of American friends to it, whether they asked for it or not.
My mom and I have always spoken Bosnian together, but I’ve become more intentional about improving my language skills and keeping that part of my life strong.
I’ve also made more of an effort to stay in touch with people overseas, call family just to talk and make time for relationships instead of always waiting for a particular reason.
I’ve even started bringing back little traditions.
One of them is March 8, International Women’s Day. It’s a holiday I remember from the culture I grew up around, and I’ve started making a point of giving flowers and reminding friends about it.
Nothing particularly complicated. Just something I don’t want to lose.
And then there are the smaller things.
Sometimes I’ll sit outside in my backyard with a cup of coffee and just enjoy being there.
That probably doesn’t sound like much, but it’s something I didn’t make nearly as much time for before.
And lately, I’ve been thinking about what I want to pass on someday.
If I have children, I want them to speak Bosnian. I want them to know the people and places that were part of my childhood, understand the traditions, enjoy the music and feel comfortable in that part of the world.
More than anything, I want them to grow up understanding that there’s more than one way to experience life.
I don’t expect them to feel exactly the way I do about Bosnia. They’ll have their own experiences and decide what those connections mean to them.
But I want them to have the opportunity.
For a long time, Bosnia was something I carried with me without thinking much about it.
Now it’s something I make an effort to keep close.
Kansas City is home. It’s where I grew up and where I’ve built my life.
But Bosnia is home too.
And I’m glad I’ve made the effort to keep it that way.