Thursday, April 24, 2025

Rotary projects around the globe

 

Rotary projects around the globe

November 2024

By 

Guatemala

The Rotary Club of Guatemala La Reforma’s Upcycling Art Festival featured whimsical sculptures and paintings created with cast-off materials such as paper and cardboard, wood scraps, glass, plastics, metal, rubber, and electronic waste. Like many countries, Guatemala struggles with solid waste management, notes Esther Brol, a past club president who pioneered the event in 2023. “Pushing artists out of their comfort zone by challenging them to create works of art from waste has generated wonderful results,” including raising funds for club projects and The Rotary Foundation, she says. The club partnered with the Rotaract Club of Guatemala La Reforma and the Rotary Club of Los Altos Quetzaltenango to organize the three-week exposition and sale that concluded 5 June.


Canada

The annual Concert to Feed the Need has raised nearly $90,000 since 2018 to offer meals in the Durham region in Ontario, through a network of food banks, meal and snack programs, shelters, and other social service providers. Feed Ontario reports an increase of 47 percent in the number of employed people using food banks since 2018. “With the rising cost of food and the impact of the pandemic still being felt, food bank use is soaring,” says Joe Solway, a member of the Rotary Club of Bowmanville, which initiated the event. Members of six other Rotary clubs also sell sponsorships and tickets and promote the show, an eclectic mix of pop, folk, country, rock, blues, gospel, “and maybe this year some opera,” Solway says. Media attention surrounding the concert and its acclaimed performers helped it yield nearly $23,000 in 2023. The 2024 event will take place on 8 December.


Bulgaria

In 2007, the Rotary Club of Sofia-Balkan teamed up with the Bulgarian Basketball Federation and the National Sports Academy to form a basketball club for wheelchair users, and the project has kept growing. Over the years, the club has lured coaches from the European Wheelchair Basketball Federation to offer a player clinic, cultivated referee skills, and established a Rotary Community Corps to help. On 13 February, in conjunction with a Rotary zone event, the Bulgarian team faced off against a Serbian team for a friendly match. RI’s president at the time, Gordon McInally, sounded the starting whistle and tossed the ball into play. The club’s signature project is a point of pride for Rotarians, says Past Club President Krasimir Veselinov, and several organizations that advocate for people with disabilities have signed on to support the venture.


Kenya

Recognizing the importance of sleep to child development, the Rotary Club of Nairobi delivered bed kits for 8,000 school children in 2024, a milestone in a long-running project. Over the past 16 years, the club has partnered with Toronto-based charity Sleeping Children Around the World to supply bed kits to a total of 80,000 children at a cost of about $4 million, says club member Mumbi King. Each kit includes a mat or mattress, bedding, and mosquito netting, along with school supplies and clothing. The kits have an outsize influence on children’s lives, since better sleep improves health and school performance, King says. Twenty Nairobi Rotarians mobilized for the five-day delivery mission in February, serving the town of Naro Moru at the base of Mount Kenya and other villages, including in the Maasai Mara region. “The heat couldn’t keep the team from visiting the villages and interacting with the families,” says King.


Ethiopia

With the wind at their backs, members of the Rotary Fellowship of Kites and its founder, Henock Alemayehu, gathered for a day of kite making and flying with 250 children, many of them displaced by conflict among the more than 80 ethnic groups in Ethiopia. The children and volunteers converged on the grounds of an elementary school in Quiha, in the northern Tigray region, for the Ashengoda Kite Festival on 9 June. “The simplicity of this activity carried profound significance, offering a rare moment of peace and joy for these children,” says Alemayehu, a member of the Rotary Club of Addis Ababa Central-Mella. The kite fellowship, which has more than 100 members from 12 countries, is “creating lasting change through the simple yet powerful act of kite flying,” says Alemayehu.

This story originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Rotary magazine.


Visit :-

https://www.rotary.org/en/rotary-projects-around-globe-november-2024



Songs in the key of change

 

Musician and Rotary Peace Fellow David LaMotte wants us to listen more closely to the stories we’re telling. He will perform at the 2025 Rotary Convention.

By 

In 2009, David LaMotte stepped away from a successful career as a musician, singer, and songwriter to accept a Rotary Peace Fellowship at Australia’s University of Queensland.

Image credit: Juan Diego Reyes

David LaMotte understands the power of a good story. Need proof? Look no further than the opening chapter of his book, You Are Changing the World: Whether You Like It or Not. There you will find the gripping account of a sudden illness that, in 2001, seemed like a stroke and left the 32-year-old LaMotte incapable of speaking and feeling sensation in his extremities. The things taken from him, as he explains in the book, were his words and his hands, a catastrophic loss for a man who made his living, and found spiritual sustenance, as a guitarist, singer, and songwriter.

Spoiler alert: LaMotte survived the ordeal, though that should be evident given that, 23 years later, he’s still around to discuss what happened. “As a professional musician, it’s easy to get self-absorbed,” the Rotary Peace Fellow says today. “What happened to me in 2001 made me reevaluate where I was putting my energy. I resolved to turn my focus outward.”

But if LaMotte understands the power of a good story, he also recognizes the importance of closely examining the stories we tell, what we hope to accomplish with them, and the truths they contain or perhaps, unintentionally, conceal. To ensure that people make good decisions, he says, it’s important to be cognizant of the stories we’re telling and the stories we’re hearing.

David LaMotte

  • Rotary Peace Fellow, University of Queensland, Australia, 2009-10
  • You Are Changing the World: Whether You Like It or Not, 2023 (2nd edition)
  • “Why Heroes Don’t Change the World,” TEDx Talk, 2024
  • Divergent passions

    But before delving into all that, here’s a quick look at LaMotte’s own story. The youngest of four children, he grew up in Sarasota, Florida. “We lived in the manse across the street from the church where my father was the Presbyterian minister. I was introduced to lots of different kinds of people at dinner.” Those meals, he says, imbued him with a “desire for connection across the lines that divide us.”

    LaMotte, who will speak and perform at the 2025 Rotary Convention in Calgary, also grew up listening to the music his older siblings liked, especially the singer-songwriters Neil Young, Jackson Browne, and Carole King. He began playing guitar in his teens, confining his playing to his bedroom. Finally, in college at James Madison University in Virginia, he began appearing at open mic nights. “I moved from performing covers to playing songs that I had made up,” he recalls. “It meant a lot to me that people were touched by my songs.”

    He graduated from college with two deep but divergent passions: music and mediation, an effective method of conflict resolution. Torn between the two, LaMotte gave himself two years to make it as a musician, which, against all odds (to hear him tell it), he succeeded in doing. Today he has 13 albums to his credit and has performed more than 3,500 concerts around the world, some with the trio Abraham Jam, a musical collaboration between a Jew (Billy Jonas), a Muslim (Dawud Wharnsby), and a Christian (LaMotte). Today he identifies as a “Quakertyrian.” “I’m a passionate amateur theologian, and my spirituality is pretty broad,” he says. “I have a foot planted in both religious traditions”: the Presbyterian teachings of his youth and the Quaker precepts that have informed his adulthood.

    And then, having succeeded as a musician, LaMotte set his career aside to study at Australia’s University of Queensland as a Rotary Peace Fellow. Accompanied by his wife, Deanna LaMotte, and their infant son, Mason, he spent a year and a half earning a master’s in international studies with a focus on peace and conflict resolution. “I was keenly aware of the privilege that the fellowship was,” says LaMotte, who praises the Rotary members of District 7670 (North Carolina) for making his fellowship possible and the members of his Queensland cohort for enriching the experience. “They were all extraordinary people, in midcareer and with a track record. They already had a lot to contribute, and I learned much from them.”

    Puncturing the hero myth

    Today, LaMotte continues to work with Senderos Guatemala (which translates to Guatemala Pathways), the arts, education, and mentoring program that he and Deanna founded after honeymooning in Guatemala. He also devotes time to public speaking engagements, including a recent TEDx Talk in Asheville, North Carolina (near his home in Black Mountain), that has accumulated more than 50,000 views online.

In his recent TEDx Talk, David LaMotte contends that movements, not individual heroes acting on their own, solve large-scale challenges.

Courtesy of David LaMotte

Called “Why Heroes Don’t Change the World,” the 18-minute speech, in addition to confirming LaMotte’s mesmerizing storytelling skills, allows him to challenge a predominant storyline that he fears undercuts our ability to accomplish effective change. (LaMotte considers the same topic in his book, which has been used in some college courses.) Too often, he says, we rely on the hero narrative, where “somebody really special” comes forward to “do something dramatic in a moment of crisis and then the problem is fixed.” Not only does that type of narrative absolve the rest of us from having to do anything other than wait, watch, and applaud, it doesn’t accurately reflect the way things really work. “I have yet to find one single example of this actually happening in the whole history of the world, not one where some extraordinary person ... effectively addressed a large-scale problem by themselves,” he says. “It has simply never happened.”

Returning to the story of Rosa Parks and the Montgomery bus boycott, nearly 70 years ago, LaMotte recounts lesser-known details about the network of support behind the boycott, unfolding a more complex tale that relies on what he calls the movement narrative. The upshot is that the boycott succeeded because of ongoing efforts by a group of well-prepared and well-organized people. “They did not wait until the fire broke out to build the fire station,” he says, speaking metaphorically. “They had been doing the work for years. They were ready to go.”

LaMotte finishes by offering some words of wisdom and posing a question. “The truth is it’s not naive to think you can change the world,” he says. “It’s naive to think you can possibly be in the world and not change it. Everything you do changes the world whether you like it or not. We need you. So which changes will you make?”

This story originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Rotary magazine.


Visit :-

https://www.rotary.org/en/songs-key-change


Rising from the ruins in Turkey

 

More than a year after two powerful earthquakes, Rotary’s relief efforts remain for many a path out of the wreckage

By 

It was just past 4 a.m. when Ferit Binzet finally drifted off to sleep. All night, one of his cats meowed and paced through his apartment in the city of Adıyaman, in southeastern Turkey. It was, looking back, as if the unsettled animal knew something was different about this night.

At 4:17 a.m., Binzet knew it too.

Loud booms shook him and his wife awake. Their bathroom walls exploded into the hallway. The kitchen caved in. The building lurched side to side. Binzet cried out to God.

“Please don’t take my soul.”

They ran from their crumbling home into a cold, heavy rainstorm, only to look back and see Binzet’s brother, who was living with them at the time, staring out a window, unmoving. Waves of concrete rubble rolled through the streets. Buildings swayed and fell. Screams pierced the roar of rain smacking against pavement.

After 85 seconds of sheer terror, the earth stilled.

Binzet went back inside the ruined building. He slapped his brother out of his shocked daze. “We can’t leave without the cats,” pleaded his wife, Mehtap Bostancı Binzet. They dug through the dust and debris, found their two cats, and left their home for what would be the last time.

‘A cascade of ruptures’ and a plan for relief

Turkey is known for its deadly earthquakes. The country sits at the junction of three major tectonic plates, with a fourth, smaller one squeezed between the others. (Scientists use the analogy of pinching a watermelon seed between your fingers and watching it squirt out.) Still, with a 7.8 magnitude, the quake, which occurred on 6 February 2023, was the strongest to hit the country in more than 80 years.

Its epicenter was near Kahramanmaraş in south central Turkey, near the border with Syria and about 75 miles from Adıyaman. What scientists called a “cascade of ruptures” tore along the East Anatolian Fault’s clamped rocks in both directions for a staggering 190 miles in total, shifting the earth more than 26 feet in some places. Nine hours later, a second quake, similar in size at 7.5 magnitude, struck north of the city in what seismologists call a “doublet,” compounding the damage.


Millions of people were left homeless after earthquakes struck Turkey and Syria in February 2023.

Up to 9.1 million people were directly affected, according to some estimates. Between Turkey and Syria, the quakes left more than 50,000 people dead, over 100,000 injured, and several million homeless.

People felt the trembling far from the epicenter, including in Egypt, Greece, Armenia, and Iraq. The first quake awoke Emre Öztürk, then governor of Rotary District 2430, that morning at his home in Ankara, about 300 miles away. Within hours, he and the two other Turkish governors, Suat Baysan of District 2420 and Serdar Durusüt of District 2440, were on a video call to start mounting a response. “The first thing we did was turn on the TV and try to understand what happened,” Baysan says. “And we immediately realized the power of the earthquake.”

That same morning, they outlined a three-pronged plan that would grow into a multimillion-dollar global relief effort: fulfilling immediate emergency relief needs, providing shelter in the form of container cities, and meeting the long-term needs for everything from water treatment to kids’ education.

Throughout the day, Öztürk, whose district encompasses the affected area, called the Rotary club presidents and district team members who live there. He learned that some Rotary friends were under the rubble. In the end, six Rotarians and Rotaractors died in the quake.

One of his calls was to Binzet, who was then the president of the Rotary Club of Adıyaman-Nemrut and would become a key contributor to relief efforts despite his own staggering personal losses, which he had only begun to tally.

Loss and survival

A video journalist for Turkey’s NTV news, Binzet recorded the aftermath on his cellphone as he and his family emerged from the wreckage. About three of every five buildings in his neighborhood had collapsed. Muffled cries emanated from the rubble: Save us. Rescue us. We can’t breathe.

In the early afternoon, he and his brother went to check on their mother. They were especially concerned about her because she had Alzheimer’s. The door was open. Her nurse had left, and they found her inside, confused. “I’m dizzy,” she said. “What’s happening?” The two urged her to leave, but in her confusion she did not seem to grasp the situation and refused. At 1:24 p.m. the second earthquake struck. Binzet ran outside as a nearby building crumbled. Binzet’s brother jumped from a balcony just before the platform collapsed. (Their mother, still in the building, survived that second quake but has since died.)

Ferit Binzet, a member of the Rotary Club of Adıyaman-Nemrut, Turkey, lost 41 family members in the disaster.

Buildings weakened by the first earthquake were quickly consumed by the second. “It was like a horror movie,” Binzet says. People were gathering personal items from their homes when the second earthquake hit. Others who had been trapped since morning by debris or, in some cases, by the steel gates on their doors were crushed in the afternoon. One of Binzet’s cousins was rescued in the morning but died of a heart attack in the afternoon when a building collapsed near him.

In total, Binzet lost 41 relatives — an unimaginable toll. In time it would be felt especially hard during holidays like Ramadan, when he used to visit 15 or 20 homes among his extended family. After the disaster, that once joyful promenade shrank to just two homes. In an interview more than a year later, he weeps at the thought, adding, “We don’t have anybody here. All our relatives are gone.”

But in those days after the quakes, he was focused on surviving. There was no food and no electricity. In desperation, people had emptied market shelves within hours. On that first cold night, everyone remained in the darkened streets, sleeping in any shelter they could find. Binzet and six others took turns sleeping in his brother-in-law’s car.

While recording scenes on his camera, he wandered into a gym where it looked like people had taken shelter. He shot video of a dark room full of people under blankets. “Why are people lying on the floor?” he asked the security guard. “Those are dead bodies,” the guard replied. Binzet fainted.

Rotary mobilizes

As news spread of the devastation across southern Turkey, Rotary clubs in other parts of the country were desperate to do something. “There was a desire to send stuff immediately,” Baysan says, “but if you do, is there anybody that will take it, distribute it, make sure it goes to the right people?” The day after the earthquakes, he, Öztürk, and Durusüt met with the clubs in their districts and outlined their developing plan.

They quickly set up help centers in six hard-hit cities. Assigned Rotary club members coordinated the centers, discovering residents’ needs and relaying them so that donors could send the right supplies. Rotary, Rotaract, and Interact clubs in the three districts sent more than 200 trucks of emergency supplies, including food, water, generators, heaters, diapers, sanitary pads, fuel, toys, and body bags.

Women work at a factory in Adıyaman opened by Districts 2420 and 2440 (Turkey) to provide relief for displaced people.

“The whole Rotary family in Turkey acted as one,” Öztürk says. “We used all of our power, all of our collaboration, to do something to create some relief for the earthquake victims.”

The day of the earthquakes, temperatures were only 37 degrees Fahrenheit at the epicenter, and in the following days they dipped below freezing. The rainstorms changed to snowstorms in some areas, and survivors battled the windchill and hypothermia. District 2440 had an existing supply of tents and immediately established a tent city in İskenderun, on the Mediterranean coast, that Rotary members administered for more than a month before the country’s disaster agency took it over. “We were the first NGO [nongovernmental organization] that was present in that region,” Baysan says. Tent cities in Adıyaman and Kırıkhan quickly followed. Rotary clubs worked with ShelterBox, Rotary’s project partner in disaster relief, to distribute over 2,500 tents and played a pivotal role in that organization’s relief efforts by making introductions to local leaders.

Öztürk spent the next 40 days trekking back and forth between the three tent cities, six coordination centers, and his home in Ankara to report back on what he saw and plan future steps. Baysan and Durusüt similarly traveled into the field to witness the needs and help.

Meanwhile, Rotary’s global membership mobilized to support their work. Within hours of the earthquakes, Jennifer Jones, then the Rotary International president, activated Rotary’s disaster response efforts, and within the week, Rotary established a dedicated disaster response fund that received more than $2.7 million in contributions. Additional aid efforts used Rotary Foundation global grants totaling about $1.4 million. Projects were confined to Turkey since Rotary has no clubs in Syria, where the earthquakes compounded a humanitarian crisis triggered by more than a decade of civil war.

Lifesaving relief and direct donations streamed in from all over the Rotary world, and so did volunteers. A Rotary member and doctor from Indonesia texted Öztürk, “I’m coming with medical supplies and will be there in two days.” The doctor lived in one of the tent cities for weeks and treated people.

Changing the fate of a city

Today in Adıyaman, children bike and play in the streets, conversation is exchanged over aromatic platters of kebab, and the melodic Muslim call to prayer crackles over loudspeakers five times a day. But even as life goes on in many respects, in other ways time seems to have stopped, like the clock tower that stands tall in the city center, its four faces frozen in time at 4:17, the moment the first earthquake struck.

Before the disaster, Adıyaman was known for its blend of archaeological sites and modern architecture, its stunning natural landscapes, its apricots and pistachios. Now, mountains once blocked from view by towering buildings have reclaimed the city’s backdrop. Shells of destroyed buildings and abandoned businesses loom next to sweeping fields of rubble. Distant cranes offer a constant reminder that Adıyaman is in an extended period of transition.

Rotary members from around the region know Adıyaman. Its province is the site of an annual project in which they accompany people with disabilities on a hike up Mount Nemrut. The UNESCO World Heritage Site features colossal stone heads and statues at the tomb of a first century B.C. ruler of a Greco-Persian kingdom. Rotary relief efforts focused here and in Hatay province on the Mediterranean coast, places with a lot of damage and strong Rotary cultures. “A Rotary club can change the fate of a city,” Öztürk says. “If we didn’t have Rotary clubs in Adıyaman and Hatay, we wouldn’t likely have been able to deliver this much aid.”

There was also the “Ferit effect,” he says of Binzet. “He was always in the field and knew the needs,” Öztürk says. “The city of Adıyaman should erect a statue of Ferit.”

Binzet was born in Adıyaman and has lived there his entire life. He joined Rotary in 2008. As a journalist, Binzet had the communication skills and the reach to advocate for the city. In the early days after the earthquakes, for example, he took a video of a toilet overflowing with waste and menstrual hygiene products for the news. Following the broadcast, people all over the region sent menstrual products. “He is a born communicator,” Baysan says.

His wife, Mehtap, a photographer and designer, joined the Rotary Club of Adıyaman-Nemrut shortly after the earthquakes and was the club’s president in 2023-24.


Left: Sadet Pişirici lives in one of the homes provided by Rotary. Top right: The modified shipping containers can be outfitted with the comforts of home such as porches and gardens. Bottom right: Donations from Rotary members supplied 350 container homes for displaced people.

Adıyaman became the location of one of four container cities that Rotary members supported in the affected region, the second prong of their plans. In total, donations from Rotary members supplied 350 of the prefabricated small homes. The temporary city on the northern edge of Adıyaman includes two streets of Rotary-sponsored homes: Imagine Street and Hope Street.

The modified shipping containers, laid out in tight rows, provide enough space for essentials such as toilets, showers, cooking utensils, beds, and air conditioning, as well as comforts of home such as televisions, porches, and gardens.

Sadet Pişirici, 74, lives alone in a Rotary-provided container. Before the earthquakes, she lived a “proper life,” she says. Her hopes echo those of survivors all over Turkey: She wants her grandchildren to go to school and become active citizens. She wants to maintain her health so she can keep walking and enjoying life.

Along with the hundreds of other residents of this container city, Pişirici benefits from Rotary’s field hospital, a short distance from her home. The hospital has been operational since April 2023 and serves about 200 patients every day. It has its own generator, an ambulance, monitoring and ultrasound devices, a blood testing lab, and a shower that doctors can use between shifts.

Today, chief physician Mesut Kocadayı sits with a patient surrounded by the hospital’s white canvas walls. Working as a doctor in the city, he began treating his fellow survivors in the wreckage immediately after escaping his own home.

(From left) Ferit Binzet, Suat Baysan, and Emre Öztürk visit a field hospital for earthquake survivors in Adıyaman. A Rotary Foundation global grant helped fund the project.

Survivors suffered significant wounds and many required amputations. The health system collapsed momentarily when the city was struggling to even bury its dead. But other health care workers streamed into Adıyaman from China to Sweden to help.

“The first three to four days were the most difficult because there was no electricity, water, and heating,” Kocadayı says. People lost their appetites, suffered from scabies and gastrointestinal diseases, and endured poor hygienic conditions. Some injuries will last a lifetime.

Building a kindergarten

The disaster affected nearly every aspect of daily life, which shows in the assortment of projects that Rotary members have supported: building water treatment plants, providing farmers seedlings and cows, opening a veterinary clinic. “Rotary has done great, great work here,” Baysan says. “People are working to rebuild and reshape their lives. I’m very happy to see that.”

But when looking at the results from the third prong of the Rotarians’ response plan — sustainable long-term projects — a kindergarten might be the most appropriate place to start.

After one kindergarten in Adıyaman was destroyed, funds from Rotary members in Japan paid to build a new school from the ground up.


Baysan, Öztürk, and Binzet visit with a teacher and his class in Adıyaman; their classroom, provided by a Rotary Foundation disaster relief grant, was made by merging two shipping containers.

Principal Zeliha Özlem Atlı at a new school built with contributions from Rotary members in Japan.


Taking a tour, a group of Rotarians greets the school’s principal, Zeliha Özlem Atlı, with a warm “merhaba” as they approach the entrance. Decorations from a recent holiday still hang amid toys and kid-size chairs. The principal’s goal: make this the best kindergarten in Adıyaman.

She’s made great progress. “The children needed materials like toys and books,” she says. “With the support of Rotary, they got all of it.” The school is on the city’s outskirts. She says that no one can believe there is such a nice school in the area.

“My first project is taking them to theaters and movies,” she says, explaining that many students have never been. “Then, I want to take them to other cities, because they’ve only seen Adıyaman.”

To Atlı, this school is a family. “The teachers also have trauma; some are still living in containers,” she says. “We support each other as a family. We don’t use the word colleague. I’m not the principal here. I’m the big sister.”

Atlı says the kids are in a much better place than a year ago. Every morning, they hug their teachers, who have become their role models. Most of the children, she says, want to become teachers someday.

Binzet cares for one of his cats. He and his wife continue to feed the stray cats near their old home as a way to deal with the trauma.

Stray cats and memories

Mehtap and Ferit Binzet step out of their car into the stillness of their old neighborhood. The familiar call to prayer buzzes from the loudspeaker of a distant mosque, its only competition the occasional passing car. Their old apartment spills into the street around them, where it will stay until the city clears the rubble.

This was the building they moved into 13 years ago after they got married, but one day the remaining pieces of it will be erased. “All my memories are here,” Ferit Binzet says.

Concrete and glass crunch beneath their feet. They call out for one of the stray cats they took care of before the earthquakes. “Gece!” The cat, whose name means “night,” dutifully appears.

After the earthquakes, the two sought help to deal with their emotional trauma. Their therapist recommended replacing painful memories with positive ones. That’s what brings them to their old home every other day, when they come to feed the stray cats. It helps, but it’s hard. “Every time I come here, I live that day again,” Mehtap Bostancı Binzet says. “It’s not easy.”

They remember escaping the house, the sound of the first earthquake. And they feel the pain of others who, like them, are trying to survive surviving. “Everywhere we look, we remember our loved ones. We also suffer from their pains.”

But they find that helping others helps them. Their optimism, their gratitude, breaks through. “Thank God we have friends all around the world,” Ferit Binzet says, as Gece observes from a nearby cement wall. “It’s better to say ‘Thank God’ than ‘I wish.’”

This story originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Rotary magazine.


Visit :-

rotary.org/en/rising-ruins-turkey




A bridge to unite them

 

A bridge to unite them

By 

Jesenko Krpo was studying architecture in Sarajevo, the capital of Bosnia and Herzegovina, when war broke out in the former Yugoslav republic in 1992. During a break in the fighting, Krpo went to stay with a cousin in Prague. The move was meant to be temporary. But the war, one of a series of ethnic conflicts that accompanied the breakup of Yugoslavia, lasted until 1995. In Bosnia, the war killed around 100,000 people and displaced more than 2 million.

It wasn’t until 1998 that Krpo returned home to his native Mostar, a city nestled in the mountains in southern Bosnia and Herzegovina known for an elegant stone bridge at its center that had spanned the Neretva River since Ottoman times. A tall, slim 55-year-old with a youthful face, Krpo saw the end of the war as an opportunity not just to return home but to help rebuild it. “Because everything is destroyed, so they will need me, my help as an engineer,” he remembers thinking.

The Rotary Club of Mostar, which includes (from left) Sinan Merzić, Zlatan Buljko, Marinko Marić, Nevzet Sefo, Martina Šoljić, and Jesenko Krpo, has members from Bosnia’s three major ethnic groups. Pictured here with the landmark Old Bridge behind them, members say they’re united by shared empathy.

Image credit: Jasmin Brutus

He isn’t being boastful, just honest. About 70 percent of Mostar’s buildings were heavily damaged or destroyed by the fighting, including the 16th century Stari Most, or Old Bridge, which gives the city its name. The stone arch, a masterpiece of Ottoman architecture dating back to when Mostar was a Turkish garrison town, collapsed under relentless shelling.

It wasn’t just the structures that needed repair. Once known for having the most ethnically mixed marriages in the region, Mostar was now divided along the Neretva, with Bosnian Croats on one side and Bosniaks, the city’s other main ethnic group, on the other. It was the same picture across the country. The Dayton Peace Agreement that ended the war with an imperfect peace kept Bosnia intact but largely divided along ethnic lines and with a weak central government.

Amid that perpetual political stalemate, the Rotary Club of Mostar hoped to achieve what the politicians couldn’t. Chartered in 2002, it was, as far as members can tell, the first multiethnic organization to emerge from the city after the war. The six businessmen who initially organized the group included Krpo’s father. The club “was the beginning of a very positive thing for connecting people, especially in Mostar, where the city was very, very divided,” Krpo says.

One of the few remaining charter members, 70-year-old Marinko “Maka” Marić, was attracted to Rotary’s approach to peacebuilding by addressing the underlying causes of conflict. A retired economist now working in real estate, Marić says Mostar “needed such a club to be a symbol of tolerance.”

Culture and camaraderie

Celebrating the region’s culture is central to the Rotary Club of Mostar’s approach to building community — and having fun. Several members, including Jesenko Krpo, play music. He is a guitarist with a rock band called 45° C in honor of Mostar’s hot summers. He also plays the tamburica, a long-necked lute, in a traditional music group called Mostarski Tamburaši.

Music is something Krpo has been doing since childhood. In elementary school his band was called Shakespeare. “I earned my first money playing as a 12-year-old kid,” he says.

Krpo has performed in cafes, bars, restaurants, and at parties. He even played during the war as part of a cultural organization of Muslims called Behar. Among those in the audience these days are Rotary club members like Martina Šoljić, who studied piano at music school before deciding to become a surgeon.

Before the war started “we were like one family,” he says. To re-create that camaraderie, it was obvious what the club’s first project should be.

Members set out to bridge the divide — literally — by helping reconstruct Stari Most. Linking two fortified towers, the bridge was long a symbol of peace and friendship and the center of the city’s life and identity. Generations of daredevils plunged over 75 feet from its ledge to the river in diving competitions. Many works of art depict the structure. It was so beloved, the community insisted on an exact replica, which was painstakingly reconstructed using stone from the same local quarry that supplied the original.

Five of the Mostar club’s 21 members at the time — including architects, civil engineers, and a city administrator — aided in the bridge’s reconstruction, which was carried out under the auspices of UNESCO.

Completed in 2004, the bridge is a symbol of reconciliation and the centerpiece of a UNESCO World Heritage Site. “This is our legacy that is still present, to unite the people,” Marić says.

Keeping faith with a city

Although the club’s current ranks are small at 13 members, they include representatives of Bosnia’s three major ethnic groups and two women. Shared empathy and understanding unites them. They also “all like wine,” jokes Club President Sinan Merzić. He joined the club in 2016 because of its “good deeds and nothing else.” Among those deeds are scholarships for orphaned children, holidays for children with special needs, and support for a program that educates Romani girls. The club is overseeing funding for a local nonprofit called Minores that supports people who are homeless.

Members also help provide equipment to dentists volunteering to treat children. That project developed the way most of the club’s projects do, with a member noticing a need. General and thoracic surgeon Martina Šoljić discovered the situation while talking with dentists working at the same city hospital as she did. A confident and good-natured 43-year-old with braces, Šoljić spent her childhood in Sarajevo with frequent visits to extended family in Mostar. Green and clean with a river running through it, Mostar is the most beautiful city in the region, she says.

But Šoljić wasn’t able to call the city home until she finished her medical training in 2008. During the war, Šoljić and her family fled Sarajevo, passing barricades and soldiers on the way to resettle in Croatia.

Although she now works and lives primarily in Croatia, Šoljić won’t abandon the club she has been part of since 2021 — or Mostar. “For many years it was kind of devastating,” she says of the city of around 100,000. “No one really cared about it.”

She and other club members, like Zlatan Buljko, are helping change that. During the war, Buljko worked for humanitarian organizations in the city. A member since 2005, Buljko, who is 70, is considered the club’s “godfather.” The two-time past president believes the club’s multiethnic status is its most important attribute.

Šoljić agrees and says its reach is remarkable for its size: “Let’s say we don’t do big things but the things we do, they really matter.”

Katya Cengel reported this story with the support of a fellowship from Project Mostar, a UK-funded initiative to foster civic, cultural, and economic life in the city through revitalized public spaces.

This story originally appeared in the November 2024 issue of Rotary magazine.


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