Microsoft Word - 2.1 Juric Ceif 20201130.docx Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 1 Conveying Ćeif: -ree Croatian Folklore and Folklife Writings on Bosniak Coffee Culture Dorian Jurić McMaster University Fruitvale, Canada Abstract Fis article presents three short passages describing coffee and coffeehouse culture among Bosnian and Herzegovinian Muslims in the late nineteenth century. Fese texts are drawn from manuscripts collected by lay, Croatian folklore and folklife collectors who submitted them to two early collecting projects in Zagreb. Fe pieces are translated here for the first time into English and placed into historical and cultural context regarding the history of coffee culture in Bosnia and Herzegovina and the wider Ottoman Empire as well as the politics of folklore collection at the time. By using the Pan-Ottoman concept of ćeif as a theoretical lens, I argue that these early folklorists produced impressive folklife accounts of Bosniak foodways, but that these depictions inevitably enfolded both genuine interest and negative by-products of the wider politics of their era. Introduction Of all the comestibles to transition from localized context to global phenomenon, none can claim the same position of influence as coffee. Charting an astronomic trajectory over the course of 500 years, coffee moved from a wild plant cultivated in modern-day Ethiopia to a global trade item that revolutionized religious observance, social interactions, political process, human rights, city planning, and the nature of labor practices. Fe history of that life-course is a dynamic tapestry of movement through various cultures and chronologies, full of social upheaval, poetic inspiration, and the vigorous remodeling of public and private custom. Fis article is concerned with one of the earlier campaigns in coffee’s global conquest. While the plant’s initial migration brought it a short distance from Ethiopia to the Arab world, in less than a century it had become a major trade item of the Ottoman Empire. Before Western Europeans would take diplomatic sips of the bitter drink and decide it had a place back home, coffee had already spread to the farthest reaches of the Ottomans’ holdings in Eastern Europe, an area whose coffee culture is seldom included in popular histories of the beverage. Here, I present three passages, translated from published and unpublished manuscripts submitted to two early folklore and folklife projects in nineteenth- century Croatia that concern aspects of Bosnian Muslim coffee culture. (1) All three were collected by Croatian school teachers working in a newly occupied Bosnia and Herzegovina, who were attempting to explain the culture of the region to a Croatian audience. By returning to these documents and the historical FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 2 circumstances that contextualize them, I hope to contribute some useful data to the study of coffee and its history for a region that is often overlooked. Additionally, on a discursive level these passages also provide material for research on the academic historiography of folklore and anthropology research in an area of the world riven by political division and post-colonial legacies. Fose legacies produced what Bakić-Hayden coined ‘Nesting Orientalisms’—a small scale gradient of telescoping ‘Western gazes’ in a region that was itself considered marginal and too ‘Eastern’ to belong to Europe [1995; Cf. Todorova 1997]. In this context of the academic face of Freud’s narcissism of small differences, Croatian folklore accounts of Bosniak coffee culture can not only reveal what coffee meant to nineteenth-century Bosniaks but also what it meant for Croats interested in learning about, as they imagined them, their “brethren” lost to the Muslim faith. Such a critical lens contributes to recent studies of the nexus between foodways and ethnic/racial/national politics [Appadurai 1988; Chen 2011; Ellis 2009; Jones 2017; Pilcher 1998; Preston-Werner 2009; Williment 2001] by providing a vantage into the discursive paradigms that Croatian scholars employed to discuss a population which they endeavored to depict as simultaneously co-nationals and exotic others. Fe Concept of Ćeif In this article, I argue that the three lay Croatian folklorists, Antun Hangi, Franjo Murgić, and Ivan Zovko, in depicting a broader matrix of cultural life that surrounded Bosniak coffee culture, were producing very early examples of folklife writings on foodways, “the network of behaviours, traditions, and beliefs concerning food” [Long 2004: 8; cf. Anderson 1971]. Modern scholars of coffee culture have often remarked on the terse nature of historical descriptions of coffeehouses and the preparing, serving, and drinking of coffee before the twentieth century [Mikhail 2007: 214-5 n.85]. Rituals surrounding coffee use are often elaborate and coffeehouses are a lively nexus of social life that merit comprehensive exposition and yet, many historical accounts offer nothing more than brief descriptions of appurtenances and cooking methods. (2) Fe three accounts provided here, though brief, attempt in various ways to convey the feel and function of a Bosniak coffeehouse and the role that coffee culture played in the lives of Bosnian Muslims. I discuss this division between simple and layered depictions of coffee culture through the conceptual lens offered by the term ćeif. As a combined practice, drinking coffee and smoking in the Western Balkans are intimately tied to the concept of ćeif. Fe Bosnian, Croatian, Montenegrin and Serbian (hereafter, BCMS) languages, and Bosnian to a much larger degree, are rife with Turkish loanwords. While many are straightforward loans that simply fill a lexical gap, there is a unique set of dynamic conceptual vocabulary for emotional states in the language that are originally derived from Arabic. Fese words generally have an initial breadth of simplistic meaning with a depth of expanded connotation that makes them conducive to adoption and to adaptation into local idiomatic and phrasal lexicons. Fe word ćeif is one such Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 3 word. (3) Derived from Arabic kayf, through Turkish keyif, it embodies a complex of basic meanings: condition, mood, will, pleasure, good humor, etc., as well as a higher, abstract meaning—what Sir Richard Francis Burton described as “the savouring of animal existence; the passive enjoyment of mere sense” [1874 I: 8- 9]. All of these meanings have been retained in Bosnian and have been elaborated and colored by a complex of local idioms exemplified in the phrase ‘biti u ćejfu,’ ‘to be in ćeif.’ Fis word, and the matrix of meaning surrounding it is intimately tied to Bosniak culture in the region and regularly connected to the acts of drinking coffee and/or smoking tobacco. For most Bosniaks, ćeif describes a positive and peaceful state of being where one feels removed from the flow of time and the stresses of the world. Like coffee, ćeif is a pan-Ottoman phenomenon; both were borrowed from the Arabs by Ottoman Turks and thence diffused throughout their empire. Westerners travelling in various Eastern regions would regularly encounter the term and become enamored with the richness of its connotation. To drink coffee is to drink coffee no matter where it occurs, but to find ćeif in the drinking of coffee was perceived as a particularly ‘Eastern’ phenomenon. As a region of proximity where East/West divisions were regularly constituted, challenged, and produced, the Balkans, even into the present day, often acted as a microcosm of wider conceptions of difference in the Eurasian sphere. By traversing distances of sometimes no more than 100 kilometers to speak with people in their native tongues, even lay Croatian scholars could see themselves as engaging in the crossing of deep cultural borders to explore the “East.” In his book, Život i običaje Muslimana u Bosni i Hercegovini [Fe Life and Customs of the Muslims in Bosnia and Herzegovina] [1906], Antun Hangi [1906: 15] waxed poetic about ćeif with an unfamiliar Croatian audience in mind: Ćeif is something quite unique which, aside from our Muslims, likely no other nation in the world recognizes. Just as the French have their esprit, so do our Muslims have their ćeif. But what a difference between ćeif and esprit! While esprit describes something spritely and ebullient, ćeif denotes that a man has calmed himself, that not only is his body at ease, but also his soul. Ćeif is “when one ascends to some kind of carefree realm, not knowing for a moment that one is breathing, let alone that one is drinking a coffee or chomping on a tobacco cigarette.” Ferefore, it is something akin to the Italian “Dolce far niente” [pleasant idleness]. Ćeif is also, in a wider sense, that which we [Croatians] would say “my pleasure” [hoće mi se, lit. I am inclined] or “gladly” [drago mi je lit. it is dear to me {to do something}]. If a man does something and someone asks him why he did it, he will reply to him “It was my ćeif to do so” [Tako mi je bilo po ćeifu]. Similarly, if one asks him why he did not do something, he will say, “Fere was no ćeif in it for me” [nije mi bilo po ćeifu] – Fen peaceful Bosnia. (4) FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 4 We see in this passage how the pan-Ottoman concept of ćeif can also become the utterly unique Bosniak concept of ćeif, and how a Bosniak word can be so foreign as to be untranslatable, but also common enough to compare easily to similar Croatian and Western European examples. In this article, I suggest that by depicting the ways that coffee culture was embedded into Bosniak life, these lay Croatian folklorists were attempting to convey the ćeif that comes with drinking coffee. As with the concept of ćeif, in portraying Bosniak coffee culture the scholars struck a balance between folklife depictions that celebrated a novel phenomenon embedded with deep cultural meaning, while also employing a romanticized ethnographic gaze that brought with it a range of ethno-national political leanings and Orientalist biases. Accounts of Bosniak Coffee Culture in the HAZU archives Fe accounts selected for this article are derived from published and unpublished manuscripts submitted from lay folklore collectors to two, early nineteenth-century, Zagreb-based projects—the folk songs collections of the publishing house Matica hrvatska (1896-present) and the folklore and folklife journal, =e Review on Folk Life and Customs of the South Slavs (Zbornik za narodni život i običaje Južnih Slavena; 1896-present; hereafter ‘=e Review’). While these two projects have their own unique histories, their contemporaneous creation and early mandates are built on very similar programs. Fe currents of their history further converged in the middle of the twentieth century when the two collections were united in the archive of the Department of Ethnology at the Croatian Academy of Sciences and Arts (Hrvatska Akademija Znanosti i Umjetnosti, or HAZU) [Primorac 2010: 10]. Fe three passages selected for this article are all built on a model that was formulated by the earliest editors of =e Review, such that, for the purposes of this piece, only that history, and not that of the folk song collection, will be discussed [see Primorac 2010: 13-17; Velzek 1950]. =e Review’s earliest editors envisioned the publications as presenting a tapestry of South Slavic cultural variation in the spirit of the Pan-Slavic unification efforts that flourished at the time. Fese efforts were tempered, and variously supported and undermined by contemporaneous ethno-nationalist movements. Whether articulated in larger- (Pan-Slavic, Illyrian, Yugoslav) or smaller-scale (Greater-Serbian, Greater-Croatian) iterations, the aims were the same—some level of unification and autonomous rule of linguistically- and culturally-related South Slavic peoples across exogenous imperial divisions. Fe Review was built on a grass-roots model where public calls printed in newspapers and special-interest papers encouraged priests, teachers, peasants, and any other motivated lay-collectors to enter their local communities to collect ethnological and ethnographic data. Aided by a collector’s guide published by the journal, these intrepid public scholars collected a wide range of folklore, folklife, and anthropological data on various communities and submitted them to the journal in hopes that their work might be worthy of monetary remuneration and Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 5 publication, in part or in whole, in the journal [See Čapo-Žmegac 1997; Jurić 2020; Primorac 2010; Radić 1897; Rihtman-Auguštin 2004]. Fe passages that are presented here have been selected for their focus on Bosniak coffee culture and practice and for the unique view each presents, both into that world and through the lens of the outsider, Croatian collectors who gathered the material. Fe second and third passages are only retained in manuscript form in the archive of the Department of Ethnology at HAZU in Zagreb and have never been published. Fe manuscript from which the first and longest passage is derived has been published in the original Croatian numerous times, but to my knowledge has never been translated into English. All of the translations in this article are my own. Coffee in the Ottoman Empire Although the pharmacological properties of the coffee bean may have been known to Arab scientists as early as the tenth century [Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 5-6], the common practice of drinking coffee can only be firmly attested in the historical record to the middle of the fifteenth century. First cultivated from wild stock in modern-day Ethiopia [Clarence-Smith and Topik 2003: 23-25], the bean (called bunn, perhaps the corrupted source of the West’s use of the word “bean” in place of what is technically the plant’s seed) was brought to Sufi monasteries in Yemen sometime in the mid-1400s by adherents of the order. Fese men brewed what was likely the first coffee beverage to fuel their nighttime dhikr devotions [Hattox 1985: 14, 24, 26, 74-76; Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 3]. By the end of the fifteenth century and the first decade of the following, those same Sufis had brought the drink respectively to Mecca and Cairo [Hattox 1985: 26]. In both locations, the beverage quickly diffused into the general population through these men’s regular, diurnal business interactions. Fe first Ottoman citizens tasted the, at that time likely, green drink during the reign of Sultan Selim I (1512-20) when the Sublime Porte stationed soldiers in Egypt and the Hejaz [Kreševljaković 1935: 161], but it did not physically enter the Empire until 1521 during the reign of Suleiman the Magnificent [Krstić 1974: 72]. (5) When the Sultan’s fleet garrisoned the Yemen littoral in 1538, he gained access to, and later control of, the mountain villages where coffea arabica was being grown [Hathaway 2006: 161-2]. Fis acquisition quickly ushered a precipitous expansion of the bean throughout the empire and with it the social institution of the coffeehouse. On the world stage, the Ottoman annexation of Yemen was serendipitous. One year before acquiring the region, a war had erupted in Ethiopia, with Oromo invaders disrupting the coffee trade there [Clarence-Smith and Topik 2003: 52]. Upon acquisition of the territory, the Ottomans became the key exporter of the bean over land and sea through their Yemeni and Egyptian ports [Hathaway 2006], whence it traveled to the rest of Europe. Fis new revenue largely supplanted the spice trade that had been re-routed with da Gama’s voyage around the Cape of Good Hope [Faroqhi 2000]. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 6 As Ottoman trade networks expanded, they attempted, unsuccessfully, to protect their monopoly on coffee by prohibiting the export of living plants and fertile seeds [Tucker 2011: 36]. Soon, however, viable seeds and seedlings were smuggled out of the country and spread to the Indies and the Caribbean by Dutch and English traders [Clarence-Smith and Topik 2003: 22; Tucker 2011: 37-40], enabling an international spread of the plant and establishing the global adoption of coffee into the modern period [Cowan 2005: 55-77; Faroqhi 2000: 20]. (6) Fe extensive maritime trade routes that brought coffee to the wider world also delivered goods in the opposite direction. In the year 1600 or 1601, English merchants from the American colonies brought coffee’s constant mate, smoking tobacco, from the new world to the Ottoman Empire [Lewis 1963: 134]. (7) In its new home, tobacco was first employed as a medicine against certain illnesses, before catching on as a simple pleasure enjoyed with coffee [Krstić 1974: 72]. While coffee arrived to cosmopolitan Istanbul as early as 1534 [Kreševljaković 1935: 161], regular trade only allowed the first coffeehouses to be erected sometime between 1543 and 1555 [Âli 2003: 129; Kātib Chelebi 1957: 60; Peçevi 1999 I: 349]. Historians offer these two conflicting dates for the arrival of two Syrian traders, Hakam from Aleppo and Shams from Damascus, who purportedly opened Istanbul’s first coffeehouse. At a time when Mi’mâr Sinân, Suleiman’s royal chief architect, was expanding the capital with his austere religious buildings, coffeehouses were propagating exponentially throughout the city. By the time British colonel and author Charles White [1845 I: 282] gave his impressions of the Ottoman Empire in the early 1840s, he estimated Istanbul to have no fewer than 2500 coffeehouses. Fese establishments were lively, with denizens attending daily to smoke their chibouks (a long-stemmed smoking pipe) (8) and drink their fincans (small, handle-less coffee cups) (9) of the beverage (see Image 1). In an Ottoman context, coffee’s earliest dissemination became particularly linked to the culture of Turkish intellectuals [Elezović 1938: 634] who used the stimulating drink and the socializing praxis built around it to stoke their imaginations and increase their productivity. As more coffeehouses opened and attendance became more routine, Istanbul’s café culture acquired a unique connection to the city’s various tradesmen’s guilds and particularly to the furlough financial endeavors of the city’s Janissaries [Çaksu 2007]. Beyond Istanbul and throughout the entirety of the empire, coffeehouses served a much larger social function. Fough members of every social class visited them, these humble premises became the primary site of male socialization for the lower and middle classes. Fese groups generally owned houses that were too small to afford them adequate room for properly hosting guests—that is, a sizeable selamlık as opposed to the private portion of the home, the haremlik. Fus, for poorer citizens of the empire, male socialization was extended into public houses, freeing their domiciles for women’s socialization [Mikhail 2007: 147-8]. As early as the late sixteenth century, the drink had become, as White [1845 I: 280] aptly put it, “the solace of the rich and the principal sustenance of the poor,” and the coffeehouse had assumed its social role as the revolutionary site for open social, political, and intellectual expression where various social Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 7 classes mingled in novel and radical ways [Cowan 2005: 152-92; Hattox 1988: 91-8; Image 1. A man drinks a findžan of coffee at an open-air market in the western Bosnian city of Cazin in 1905. =e džezva in which the coffee was prepared sits in front of him [Hairlahović 2017] Tucker 2011: 53-6]. Fis social praxis was perhaps even more revolutionary in the Islamic world than it proved to be later in Europe and America. In the Near East, where taverns were deemed illicit and restaurant culture was largely unknown [Hattox 1985: 89, 125], this unprecedented growth of public gathering places was an alarming shift in the social fabric. In the Ottoman Empire, where the tenets of Islam strictly circumscribed access to alcohol, the coffeehouse offered the social function of a tavern, and indeed modeled its structure to some degree on those institutions, while remaining uniquely free of the overt stigma that accompanied patronizing such establishments. (10) FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 8 Coffee in the Western Balkans By at least the 1570s, the coffeehouse had made its way to the western reaches of the Balkans. (11) Fe great Ottoman historian (and Bosniak by matriline) İbrahim Peçevi (BCMS, Ibrahim Alajbegović Pečevija) related an account of visiting an elaborately furnished coffeehouse in Sarajevo in 1591. Later scholars have asserted that this café was likely predated by similar, unattested establishments in Belgrade, Sofia and Skopje [Elezović 1938: 632-3]. Fis early migration of coffee into Eastern and Central Europe reached as far as Hungary, where Peçevi recounted Ottoman Turks drinking the beverage on 4 August 1598 on the frontlines of their unsuccessful military campaign [633]. By the turn of the seventeenth century, coffeehouses had proliferated throughout all areas of the Balkans under Turkish authority; historians have uncovered a wealth of manuscripts mentioning cafés in some of the smallest towns in South Slavic regions, as well as accounts from Western travel writers who noted coffee being drunk in numerous Bosnian, Serbian, and Macedonian cities [Vinaver 1965: 331- 32]. Fis spread coincided with the introduction of tobacco to the region. Soon after its arrival to the empire, stores in the Balkans were already selling tobacco pipes and the men attending local cafés could be found “drinking” tobacco with their coffees [Fotić 2011: 90]. (12) Fe earliest proliferation of coffee, however, was tied directly to the Muslim population of the empire, starting with those Ottoman Turks who had immigrated to or administered the holdings of the Porte’s Rumelian Eyalet [lit. Roman Province] and quickly passing into the habits of local groups, like Bosniaks, who had converted to Islam. While Western-Balkan coffeehouses were indeed sites for the mixing of social classes—Peçevi noted that the Sarajevo café had various sets of divans [BCMS sećija] reserved for particular social classes (cf. Hangi’s account below)—this mixing did not include other religious groups. Since the drinking of alcohol is highly discouraged in Islam, and religious mixing was frowned upon under the divisive organization of the millet system, cafés in South Slavic regions were the predominant habitat of Muslim males. (13) Fough non- Muslims were not banned from entering Muslim coffeehouses, such mixing seems to have seldom occurred [Fotić 2011: 92]. Even at the beginning of the nineteenth century, most Christian households in Bosnia drank little coffee, often only keeping some in the house in case of hosting Muslim guests [Vinaver 1965: 345]. Fis segregation still held in the early twentieth century, with religious groups largely attending separate establishments to enjoy their coffee. Only in the inter- war period did this practice begin to slightly diminish [Murko 1951: 42, 334, 354- 57 371-2], before the ideological push of “brotherhood and unity” in the second Yugoslavia relegated such divisions into the realm of backward archaism. Fat is not to say that the Christian raja in the empire were impervious to the allure of the black bean in earlier centuries. In Serbia, coffee drinking was slowly adopted into Christian practice starting in the eighteenth century. Surprisingly, as in the Islamic world, the first Christians of the empire to begin drinking coffee were priests in local monasteries [Elezović 1938: 634]. Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 9 Aleksandar Fotić [2011: 94] has revealed how the elites of the Serbian Orthodox church very early embraced coffee drinking and the smoking of tobacco in mimicry of Turkish high culture. By the middle of the eighteenth century, cafés had become a regular locus of culture in Belgrade, though the establishments were most often opened and run by Jews and Aromanians [Vinaver 1965: 336]. As far afield as in Buda, Serbs had taken coffee drinking as a regular habit [336] and by the 1780s travelers to Serbia remarked on the central role cafés served in the social life of every city [341]. Fe practice seems to have been fully cemented in local public and private practice by the time of the first Serbian Uprising (1804-1813)— a predicament given that political tensions with the Ottomans made it difficult to obtain the bean [346]. In neighboring Venetian- and Habsburg-controlled South Slavic regions, adoption of coffee drinking lagged considerably. Coffee was unheard of in Dubrovnik until the seventeenth century, where it is first attested as a trade good in transit from Egypt into Bosnia via the maritime republic. Later, the drink became better known in the city, but only as a beverage that Turks shared with Dubrovnik emissaries when the latter conducted business in the Ottoman Empire [Vinaver 1965: 333]. Coffee made its first appearance in the republic sometime between 1635 and 1640. By the 1660s, it had gained the status of a luxury item that was often given as a gift. Only in the eighteenth century did the beverage become a common drink, attested by retail figures for coffee appurtenances; yet, even then, import numbers reveal its popularity as paling in comparison with neighboring regions [334]. Cafés in the Republic also shirked any role in social reformation. While Bosnian cafés served as social and political forums for male socialization across class boundaries, Dubrovnik coffeehouses remained the purview of only nobility and upper-class townsmen for some time [Fotić 2011: 91-2]. Rules for coffeehouses in Dubrovnik were set soon after their initial appearance and curtailed many of the habits that they fostered elsewhere: Fey had to close early; talk of religion and politics was prohibited, as was the reading of foreign newspapers; all gambling and games of chance were prohibited; and a certain level of social standing of attendants was de jure enforced when not de facto. One coffeehouse set firm guidelines for excluding “lower people”—here noted specifically as Jews and actors—from entering [Vinaver 1965: 340 n.83]. Despite a long history of war- and peace-time interactions with the Ottomans, the Habsburg Empire seems to have received its coffee in a completely roundabout manner. Fe first coffeehouse to open in Zagreb appeared around 1749, and this establishment was built on a western model derived from Austrian example [337]. While most South Slavic regions received their coffee as imports from Alexandria, Egypt, Habsburg coffee was most often a Dutch import from Java [339]. Fe Habsburgs imposed a strict imperial monopoly on the sale of the bean, which produced a lively trade for smugglers bringing contraband coffee and sugar across the Bosnian-Croatian border where their product immediately doubled in price [Kreševljaković 1935:165 n.45]. Fough belated, here too the drink spread rapidly and by the end of the eighteenth century it had become a FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 10 crucial part of social life in all the major Habsburg South Slavic centers (Zagreb, Osijek, Novi Sad, Zemun, Sremski Karlovci, etc.) [Vinaver 1965: 337]. In the selected passages that follow, we return to the initial site of introduction to the region. Into the homes and coffeehouses of the Bosnian Muslim population as witnessed by Croatian folklore and folklife collectors. Passage #1: Antun Hangi – A Description of a Bosnian Coffeehouse Fe following account is taken from a book [Hangi 1906] that began as one half of a manuscript submitted to Matica hrvatska [Hangi 1898]. Fe work was collected by Antun Hangi (1866-1909), a Croatian school teacher who moved to Bosnia to find work after the territory was ceded to the Habsburgs in 1878. Born in the town of Petrinja and educated in Zagreb, Hangi headed to Bosnia in 1890 to assume a teaching position in the town of Maglaj where he professed [1906: 5; n.d.a: 197] that he fell in love with the “sober life” of the Muslims there “because of their sincerity and honesty.” He later taught in Livno, Banja Luka, Bihać and Sarajevo where he died from tuberculosis at the age of 43 [Kajmaković 1990: 7; Softić 1985: 161]. In a letter to Matica hrvatska he [Hangi n.d.a: 197] described his shock and wonder at the culture he found among the Bosniaks when he first moved to the region. In 1888 he began collecting various material for his work, predominantly in Banja Luka as well as Bihać [Hangi n.d.b: 198], which he hoped to publish in a single book composed of three sections: Fe first would be an ethnographic and folklife work titled “Fe Life and Customs of the Muhammedans in Bosnia and Herzegovina” [Život i običaji muhamedanaca u Bosni i Hercegovini] [n.d.a: 196; n.d.b: 198] which was informed by =e Review’s format (given the title that he has lifted from it and his admission of reading the work [Hangi 1906: 5]); Fe second section was planned as a selection of folk songs titled, “Harem folk songs,” which he had collected predominantly from poorer Muslim women and some Catholics who had served in wealthier Muslim households [n.d.b: 198]; Fe final section would be a concomitant dictionary of Turkish-loans and regional words that provided clarity to the other two sections [n.d.a: 196]. Hangi also took photographs throughout Bihać and Banja Luka that he hoped would add color to the pages of the work [n.d.a: 196; n.d.b: 198]. For their part, Matica hrvatska relied on one of their members with extensive experience collecting folk songs in the region, Dr. Luka Marjanović, to assess Hangi’s work and guide his manuscript to completion [Hangi n.d.a: 196; Marjanović n.d.: 9]. In the end, Matica retained the songs he sent them, but only published seventeen of the songs in their larger folk song collection [Andrić 1909; 1914; 1942; Marjanović n.d.: 9; Smičiklas 1899: 1 Softić 1985: 170]. Hangi’s prose manuscript was deemed less valuable to the group and returned to him per his request [Hangi n.d.a: 197; n.d.b: 198-9]. After publishing sections of his work in Bosnian periodicals, the work was finally published in full as a book, complete with elaborate illustrations and some of Hangi’s photographs in 1899. Fe book was instantly successful and reprinted in a second edition in 1906. In respect to Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 11 the subject of his work, and to shifting discourse coming out of Sarajevo, he altered the name of his piece for the second edition, replacing the derogatory and dated term ‘Muhammedans’ [Muhamedanci] with ‘Muslims’ [Muslimani]. Fis passage from his work [1906: 78-84], describes the look, workings, and culture of a Bosniak coffeehouse, presumably in the Bosanska Krajina region. Since our Muslims have their serfs, who work in their stead, they need not worry as much about their existence as Christians do. Because of this, they have plenty of time for gathering and conversing. Feir dearest meeting places are the stores of Muslim merchants and coffeehouses [kafane], or better cafés [kahve], as they also call them thus. (14) Fese coffeehouses are not the same as those in the West, but rather little, sooty rooms. In them the proprietor sits at the hearth and “bakes” the coffee. Fere are a large number of cafés in Bosnia and Herzegovina and one would not be much mistaken were one to say that nearly every tenth or twentieth Muslim house is a café. Fe interiors of Bosnian cafés are very simple. Divans [sećije] line the walls, upon which are placed pillows stuffed with wool, reed grass, or hay. Over the pillows is spread blue or red loden [čoha]. Only in one corner of the divan is found a nicer, taller pillow, a proper mattress for the divan. Fat spot is always reserved for one exceptional Aga or Beg who frequents that café every day as though it were his own. Fe entire café is covered in cattail mats [hasura], while only the nicest have both cattail mats and rugs [ćilimi]. Fey like to build cafés above water, such that either the entire building is above water, or else that one section is reposed along the bank while the other rests upon strong pilings [direci], posts that protrude from the water. Otherwise, they situate them on some raised area or hillock from which opens a beautiful vista on all sides, for our Muslim is gladly carried away by flights of fancy and those types of locations are most conducive to that. In many of the more common Bosnian cafés one may also find a barber, such that, beyond drinking coffee, one may also receive a haircut and shave (see Image 2). Such cafés are also called barbershops [berbernice]. Barbershops are small wooden shacks, regularly found in the market district, either standing alone, or else sharing their roof with another shop. Barbers rent such shops and then shave and cook coffee, or else some coffeehouse-keepers will rent that shop and then invite a barber to join him so that the rent is paid more easily. Fus together they ply their trades. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 12 Image 2. Painting of a barber at work included in Antun Hangi’s 1899 text, =e Life and Customs of the Muslims in Bosnia and Herzegovina. [1906: 86] Let’s take a peek at that café or, if you will, barbershop and observe it from both outside and in. Fe roof on such barbershops is most often short and juts out well into the street. Its door is loose and short and its windows are dirty and small, very small. Inside, the barbershop is packed with yellow earth or, in some, there is a very primitive plank floor. Fe “architect” has laid-out a number of fat planks against one another, nailed them to the joists; then the floor is done. But when the planks dry, you can easily see what is hidden below them. In some barbershops, the walls are whitewashed, while in others the planks are bare and are regularly plastered-over with various papers, mostly newspapers and price lists. In some you will find one or two pictures with or without frames. On the shelves of nearly every barbershop the diligent barber has arranged his ibriks [metal ewers] and little džezvas [coffee pots], and beside them stand bottles of lemonade and rose water; beside the bottles are little tin boxes, full of ground [lit. pulverized] coffee and sugar—a little bit of everything. In every barbershop, the thing that will immediately catch your eye is a large Bosnian earthen oven with stove tiles, in which a fire burns summer and winter, from early morning until late at night. By the fire you will Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 13 always find a large vessel—usually half the size of a tin petroleum container—a container in which water is heated. Beside the vessel are arranged a number of ibriks of various sizes in which the water is heated for cooking the coffee. Should a customer desire coffee in a hurry, the barber or coffee-man adds a spoon or two of toza (ground coffee) in that ibrik which the customer requests. When the water boils a second time, the coffee is done. Across every barbershop, nearly from wall to wall is extended a soha, a strong, chased tree trunk or other beam, just like in a Slavonian peasant home, and a small cauldron with a little spigot depending from it by a chain or rope. When the barber finishes his work, and if the customer wishes, he will move that cauldron directly above the customer’s head, he will open that spigot and immediately a warm stream of water pours down to his head. Fen you enjoy it like that, underneath a small waterfall, wrapped in a white or multi-colored, but completely clean sheet, or without. Afterwards, the barber dries your hair. Fen you sit where you like, light a cigarette, order a coffee and wait while you dry off. Fen you head home, beautified and rejuvenated. It’s a unique life in those coffeehouses. Some Muslims enter the café and sit on a divan; one leans his back on the wall, one leans his elbow on a pillow or reclines on a window; others sit on a divan and take out their tobacco pouch to fill their pipe or chibouk, or else some youth grabs his “box” to role a “cigar” [cigarette] of tobacco, and only then will they order a coffee. Regulars, particularly more esteemed guests, have their permanent spots on the divans, while newcomers and less notable individuals sit wherever a spot is available. If you have come to the café of an older coffeehouse- keeper who carries on the old customs, he will never ask you what you want. Instead, sit where you wish, smoke and converse as you like, he won’t even come near you, let alone ask you what you would like unless you call to him or cajole him; he really won’t. In all the cafés where our Muslims gather, it is usually very calm; visitors calmly gather, quietly converse and peacefully part. While they drink coffee and smoke tobacco they speak about everything and all things, but most happily and often about politics. While they converse, they remain very serious, and some truly dignified, as though they’re discussing God knows what important topic. Some of them will even, when they’ve said something important, stroke their long, usually pointed beards as a sign that they’ve spoken the truth. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 14 While they’re talking thus, a stranger or some unfamiliar man enters into the café. Whether he be Christian or Muslim, the conversation grows quiet or else completely stops. If they are talking about an, according to their opinion, important topic, then some foreigner stumbles into the café, especially a “Schwab,” [Austrian or German] and greets everyone present, normally they all stop talking and only a couple of them here and there begrudgingly return the greeting. While such a man sits amongst them, they often change the theme of their conversation and speak about something different. Fen, all the while stroking their beards, they look at one another as though they are asking with their looks, “Who is this? Where’s he from and what kind of work has brought him here?” Every foreigner who enters a Bosnian café for the first time is struck, before anything else, by the many little chalk marks on the walls, beams, or on the ceiling. Whence these marks and what purpose do they serve? As with us, so too and with our Muslims, credit plays a very important role in public life, including cafés. Regular guests, namely those who come every day to a café, rarely ever pay immediately for their coffee, but rather pay after some time, usually around Saint George’s Day [April 23rd or May 6th] (15) or before Bajram [Eid al-Adha]. (16) So that the proprietor won’t forget before then how many coffees each of his guests has drunk, he writes—either on a wall, a beam, or the ceiling—the name of the debtor in Turkish letters [Arabic script], or, if not that, then he makes some kind of symbol in place of the name that only he and his customer understand. When such a guest has drunk his coffee, the proprietor makes a mark beside his name or that sign for how many ibriks or fildžans of coffee he has drunk. What is owed to the proprietor is conscientiously paid. At least I, to date, have never heard a coffeehouse-keeper complain of a customer who hasn’t paid for his coffee. When someone pays his debt, the proprietor wipes those marks away with his fingers or a wet cloth, but not the name or sign. Fe “ledger” carries on, for it is rare for a regular customer to leave his coffee-man for another. Particularly in one café in N., a small town not far from the [river] Sava, I saw something unique and for a foreigner very interesting. One day I was traveling by wagon from B. in Slavonia and came before dawn to N. Since all the inns were still closed, I dropped into a café, as candles were already burning there. It was cold out, but in the café the fire in the “hearth” was joyfully blazing; a true delight and pleasure for a chilled traveler. Fe ceiling of that café was quite vaulted, which is truly a rare exception in Bosnian cafés. In the center of the café stood a plump coffeehouse- Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 15 keeper atop some type of chest. In his hand he held a long pole and at the tip of the pole was a sharpened stick of chalk. Beside him stood his lad, and everything he’s saying, the owner is marking down and marking down. All the walls in that café were already full of markings, only on the ceiling remained some empty space. It’s a true wonder that this diligent proprietor of ours could find his way in that forest of names, symbols, markings and scratches. When I entered that café, I greeted the both of them with a “Good morning!” Fe owner just looked at me from atop his chest completely disinterested. I sit on a divan and then just watch what they’re up to. Fe owner, just as though I’m not even in the room, asks, “And Suljo?” Fe youth responds, “Five.” “Huso?” “Free,” and just like that in order. In other words, the owner left early the night before to retire and in his place the youth stayed in the café. Now he’s telling him how much each person drank last night. I wanted to strike up a little conversation with the proprietor. I asked this and that and he responds to everything through gritted teeth, “Yeah!” or “Nope!” or “Oh yeah!” Seeing that there’s no conversation to be had with him today, I finished up my coffee, paid, and left to an inn. In larger places there are some nicely decorated cafés in which the furnishings are oriental or à la française; here, there are not just divans and cushions, but also tables and chairs. In those cafés there is the greatest order and cleanliness; in more common cafés, cleanliness is an incidental thing. But in one and the other cafés one thing is the same, and that is excellent coffee. Even in the most elegant European hotel or coffeehouse you cannot find such good coffee as in the humblest Bosnian café. Fe coffee in Bosnian cafés is so good because our coffeehouse-keepers know how to roast it well. When roasting, they never let the coffee completely blacken or over-roast. It’s best to let it just get a little ruddy and then it’s ready. Over-roasted coffee not only loses its strength, but also its scent, and that’s why coffee in [European] coffeehouses isn’t as flavorful as in [Bosnian] cafés. When the proprietor has roasted the coffee, he places it in a mortar, a hollowed-out young linden or cherry trunk, or else in a hollowed-out stone and grinds it with an iron bar, a pry bar, until it’s completely ground. Fen he sifts it through a very thick screen, grinding the remainder over again until it has been pounded into a powder. He places this powdered coffee into tin containers and closes them tightly, that way the coffee doesn’t lose its strength and scent. Because of this too, it is much more pleasant than milled coffee. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 16 Coffee is brewed or, as the Muslims say, baked in džezvas or in ibriks, and when they’ve baked it, they pour it into fildžans. (17) Fildžans are little, circular, porcelain vessels, in white, red, green, or blue colors. Finer, particularly white, fildžans have a golden rim around the top. A fildžan of coffee with sugar is worth four hellers, without sugar only two. (18) Whoever wants to drink very strong coffee can ask for special gift [mahsuzija], that is, a double-measure of ground coffee, but this is doubly-expensive. In more common cafés, the proprietor gives his customer his coffee such that he accepts it from below with three fingers—thumb, index and middle—and while taking, it he touches his left hand to his chest. When you drink this good coffee, it is lovely to light up, but for this you won’t need a match. As soon as you’ve taken a cigarette into your hand, here’s the obliging coffeehouse-keeper or his man to serve you with a charcoal. In more refined cafés, as in ours [i.e. Croatian/Western], the proprietor serves the coffee on a platter with a glass of cold water placed beside it. Coffee is a very beloved drink of our Muslims. Fey say that coffee is not only a pleasant, but also a very healthy drink. Fey say it cools a man in the summer, warms him in the winter, freshens him in the morning, and strengthens him in the evening. Fat’s why when someone receives you in his guest room [ahar], he will serve you coffee, if you come to his store, he’ll treat you to a coffee. If you buy or sell something, get married or have some kind of celebration, someone will give you coffee. In Bosnia and Herzegovina there are many Muslims who can drink a great amount of coffee; it doesn’t even affect their nerves. Not a one has ever complained that it made him jittery. I knew a hodja in Livno [present day Tomislavgrad] who drank between fifty and one hundred fildžans of black coffee nearly every night of Ramaḍān [BCMS Ramazan], and smoked as many cigarettes, and didn’t even feel that he had drunk anything. Our modern man, who is already eternally anxious anyway, would die or go crazy from so much caffeine and nicotine. Coffee doesn’t harm the Bosnian Muslim since he’s grown accustomed to it since his childhood. He begins to drink coffee when he is two or three years old and he drinks it with the same relish as everything else in his life. He does not imbibe alcoholic drinks, nor do great existential troubles torture him. Aside from that, he doesn’t feel the need for back- breaking work. He lives peacefully and contentedly with what God has given him. What use is it to him, in the end, to worry about superficial, worldly troubles when everything is already fated in advance? (19) It’s no wonder, then, that he has nerves of steel and that coffee and tobacco cannot harm him. He drinks coffee from early dawn, as soon as he opens his eyes, until late in the evening when he lays down for bed. When day Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 17 has barely dawned he’s leaving the mosque or finished his morning prayer at home and headed for the café to drink his fildžan of coffee and smoke a tobacco cigarette. Only after this does he set off to carry out his day’s work. In the winter, Muslims head very early to sleep, and so very early rise. Since they cannot await the sabah [morning prayer] at home, some as early as around four o’ clock after midnight head to a café where, with coffee and conversation, they wait until the dawn breaks and the Muezzin calls to sabah from a minaret. After lunch and after dinner they head again to the café and there they pass the time in various social games, coffee and friendly conversation until akšam or jacija [dusk and evening prayers]. (20) Merchants and artisans cannot go to the cafés every evening, and even less during the day. Because of this, their friends and acquaintances come to their shops, and there pass the time in conversation. So that our merchant or artisan need not send someone throughout the day to a café or else call the coffeehouse-keeper to him, he has connected his shop to the café with a cord. When he wants coffee, he pulls on the cord and in the café a small bell rings. Fe coffee-man recognizes each shop’s bell and takes coffee to him whose bell has rung. Whoever has been to a truly Muslim town in Bosnia has seen those cords stretching across the streets and has wondered why such a small place has need for so many telephone lines. Aside from coffee, they particularly love tobacco. Fey also begin smoking in childhood and continue to smoke as long as they live. Both men and women smoke tobacco, young and old, the rich and the poor. Only the children of respectable and notable parents will not light-up in front of their parents nor other prominent people, since this does not befit well-raised children. Youths and women smoke only cigarettes, married men smoke cigarettes, pipes and čibuks [see note 9], and old men on top of all that will also smoke a hookah [nargile]. Fose who do not smoke tobacco instead snort snuff and snus. As mentioned above, compared to many contemporary Western accounts of coffeehouses and coffee culture in Muslim lands, Hangi’s description is pleasantly detailed and informative. From architecture and décor to ambiance and appurtenances, the coffeehouse’s description is rich and informative. Readers learn how the coffee is roasted, ground and prepared, the prices of coffee, as well as the range of drinks on offer—lemonade, rose water, coffee with or without sugar and even what might be termed a “double shot.” Fey learn here the difference between refined and simple coffeehouses and even considerations for ideal locations to build cafés. But what stands out even more clearly is the FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 18 revealing descriptions of the culture of the coffeehouse. Hangi brings readers into the building with him where they learn practices of etiquette and commensality, where to sit, how to hail the barista and how to politely receive their drink [cf. Long 2000; Shuman 1983]. Fe passage details who smokes what in the coffeehouse, how much coffee is drunk, and at what age these habits begin, linking the drinking of coffee to life-course considerations. Readers are introduced to the interplay between coffee drinking and grooming practices through the division of work shared by the coffee-man and the barber, as well as the hierarchies that exist among attendants and the culture of devotion that creates a bond between café and customer. He describes conversation habits, the culture of exclusion that arises at the arrival of a stranger and the elaborate system of chalk-mark ledgers which politely keeps debts anonymous while also tying consumer habits into seasonal cycles—debts are paid at festival times. Such thick description (albeit lacking the informant input that would make it Geertz’s) was uncommon for accounts of foodways produced in this era and creates a style of narrative that made Hangi’s text widely successful in and outside of Bosnia upon publication. Fe Bosnian Coffeehouse In the Ottoman Empire it was common to refer to coffeehouses simply by the name ‘coffee.’ Fis practice begins with the Arabs and their original naming (qahwah), carries through the Turkish borrowing (kahve), and into the BCMS languages whose members use three dialect variants that have come to be standardized by nation: kava in Croatian, kafa in Serbian and Montenegrin and kahva in Bosnian. (21) Coffeehouses in the region also acquired more particular names through shortening and elision of the Turkish compound noun kahvehane [lit. coffeehouse], which produced the most common name for a coffeehouse, kahvana/kavana/kafana, and which persists into the present day and generally denotes a locality with an old-style ambiance akin to an English public house and which may still prepare coffee in the Turkish style. Fis compound noun also produced a diminutive, kafić, which is often applied to smaller and more modern establishments in an Italian/Western European style and with an obligatory espresso bar [cf. Bringa 1995: 111-12]. For most of its history, coffee in the Western Balkans has been brewed in a traditional Turkish manner—water is boiled in a džezva, a small, metal coffee pot with a long handle and a protruding lip for pouring, or, in the past, optionally in an ibrik, a metal pitcher or ewer with a wide base for heat distribution and a narrow spout, (22) which was used to serve larger groups (see Image 3). Ground coffee is then added to the hot water which is mixed lightly and returned to the heat one-to-three times for short periods to produce a slight froth. Fe coffee is then served piping hot, today into demitasse cups, but traditionally into small findžans for drinking. Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 19 Image 3. Illustration of a kahvedžija preparing coffee at his large earthen oven. [Hangi 1906: 79] In nineteenth-century Bosnia, every district [mahala] of every major city had at least one coffeehouse, while the merchant districts [čaršija] were said to have one on every street. Fere was also a café in every village inn/caravanserai [han], as well as in most barbershops [berbernica]. As Hangi describes, the winter, when most seasonal work was suspended, was a particularly lively time for coffeehouse attendance. Coffeehouse owners/keepers [kahvedžija, Turk. kahveci] would regularly hire musicians and groups to perform with the šargija, the saz/bağlama or other popular instruments of the time. Attendees would also entertain themselves by telling riddles, jokes and tales, playing games—checkers, backgammon, ring games, and others, as well as billiards in the finer establishments that could afford a table—and discussing politics and current FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 20 events. Esteemed locals and travelers might relate their personal experiences, and there were even occasional performances by magicians [karađoz] [Kreševljaković 1935: 162]. (23) Coffeehouses were also home to more formalized entertainers. Fose who knew Turkish, Persian or Arabic were often asked to relate popular folk and fairy tales from written works into the local vernacular and were usually paid for this entertainment. Fis practice was referred to as “telling tavarih” derived from the Arabic term for histories, chronicles, or annals [pl. tawārīkh] [162]. More importantly, through the winter, most coffeehouse owners kept singers of epic songs on retainer to entertain their guests with tales of ancient heroes sung to the accompaniment of the gusle (a single-stringed fiddle), the two-stringed tambura- samica (a simple lute reminiscent of the Turkish cura saz), or various other local lutes (šargija, saz, etc.) [see Murko 1951: 322-39]. Fis practice found its apex in the month of Ramazan [Ramaḍān] when one or multiple singers (depending on the skill and repertoire of available performers) would be employed to regale audiences through the long nights over the length of the month [Lord 2000: 15- 18; Murko 1951: 355-56]. Fere was also a political side to Bosnian coffeehouses that is not often discussed. In most areas of Bosnia, coffeehouse owners belonged to their own unique guild [esnaf]. Sometime during the end of seventeenth or the beginning of eighteenth century, the Ottoman state tried to extend fiscal control over coffee distribution by forcing vendors to bring their beans to a common location for grinding (actually crushing). Fe grinding was called tahmis after an Arabic verb meaning to quintuple or divide in five [Arab. Takhamus], due to the fact that one fifth of the cost of grinding was collected by the state. Fe coffeehouse owners would take their beans to a designated location, a tahmishane [lit. grinding house], where the coffee would be poured into a large stone mortar [dibek, lit. pillar, column; beam] and pulverized into a fine grind with a large iron pestle. Fis practice was mostly imposed on guild-members in larger cities, while in rural areas grinding was commonly done as Hangi describes, in large wooden pestles made from hollowed-out trees. Dictates of the Sublime Porte made it illegal for coffeehouses to have their own mortars, but rampant violations of this law, which disadvantaged honest dealers, led to the monopoly being abandoned in 1868 [Kreševljaković 1935: 163]. Bosniak Habits and the Orientalist Gaze For South Slavic academics in the Habsburg Empire, connecting with their linguistic brethren in the faltering Ottoman Empire was viewed as a necessary early step for cultural unification and political autonomy. In 1878, when the Habsburgs occupied a wide swathe of Bosnia and Herzegovina from the Ottomans, academic and political discourse out of Croatia and Serbia aimed to establish clear connections between Serbs and Croats across imperial divisions and to ensure Bosniak Muslims that Serbian, Croatian and Yugoslav political visions held conceptual space for them as well. In Croatian intellectual circles, Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 21 much of this discourse was informed by an honest drive to find ethnic unity across religious and political boundaries. Fese Croats had a sincere passion to understand how the culture of the Slavs long-conquered by the Ottomans and cut off from their cultural and linguistic kin by the Military Frontier had developed along its unique historical path. Fis drive, however, also included, or was later motivated by others (such as other academics, politicians, or statesmen) towards a political vision to enfold various sections of the Bosniak population into the Croatian ethnonym. Hangi’s politics are of particular note in this context. While working with Matica hrvatska, his views reveal a Croatian nationalism aimed at incorporating Bosniaks into a larger Croatian national program. Speaking as “a Croat who loves Croatia above all” [n.d.a: 197], he talked about Bosnian Muslims as “the brothers that we lost and would happily return under the wing of Croatia” [196]. In his letters [196] and in the forward to his book’s second edition [1906: 5], he remarks that his main aim in the work was to depict Bosniaks in sympathetic tones to assuage the perhaps unflattering views that Croatian gentlemen might have about their Muslim brethren and ease rapprochement. Given these political leanings, Hangi’s view on Bosniaks often carried overtones of Orientalist simplification, albeit regularly positive ones. In the forward to the first edition of his book, he describes [5] how his sojourns in various Bosnian cities had impressed upon him how “our Muslims are everywhere the same; of the same honesty and character.” Edin Hajdarpasic [2015: 15-17] has considered this outlook toward Bosnia and Bosniaks as undecidable, potential co-nationals, using a phrasal interpretive device, “the (br)other.” He uses this evocative formation to manifest then contemporary Serbian and Croatian nationalist understandings of Bosniaks as a nascent population—simultaneously insufficiently patriotic but also necessary for the national future—impregnated with the potential to choose to be, be used as, or be rejected as brother and/or other. As in Hangi’s passage above, in folklore and folklife writings about Bosniaks at the time, this outlook regularly manifested at a semantic level. Here, the rhetoric fluctuates between the type of common Orientalist othering that Edward Said clearly outlined in his opus [1979: 237-8]: “Fe Muslim does x, y, z…” and a more intimate “our Muslims/our Muslim brethren do x, y, z…” Fis language suggested national unity while also solidifying perceptions of ethnic difference within a perceived singular linguistic zone. Bosniaks were intrinsically fortified as simultaneously ‘us’ and ‘them,’ while fostering an internal hierarchy of those co-linguals who are more or less western or eastern, based on their habits and practices [Bakić-Hayden 1995: 922- 31; Živković 2011: 42-75]. Hangi’s passage on the coffeehouse, and the next piece by the collector Franjo Murgić, present clear examples of this othering discourse. Fe works regularly reduce Bosniaks to a simplistic caricature. It is worth noting, however, that this type of simplified description was not unique to depictions of the Bosniak population, but also manifested in many folklife accounts that treated Croat and Serb peasants too. In many ways, this was a descriptive trope that defined the style of the submissions at that early stage of ethnographic scholarship. Fere are FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 22 however, certain impressions that belong uniquely to Orientalist discourse. In Hangi’s passage, the Bosniaks are exceptionally suspicious of foreigners entering their coffeehouses, even though similar establishments in rural Croatia would likely produce identical results. Fey are infinitely passive, deeming all of life as fated. Fey have nerves of steel, smoke from childhood, and are impervious to the effects of caffeine and nicotine. We also encounter here a topic regularly visited in nineteenth-century Western scholarship when describing cultures of the “Orient:” the presumed freedom, slow living, and leisure of Muslim populations. Despite Islamic principles that discouraged aimless leisure [Hattox 1985: 120- 21], and a general dynamism inherent to any large group, much early-modern period writing on the Ottoman Empire and other regions farther afield focused on the presumed leisure of “the East” as a reductive stereotype [Alatas 1977; Fludernik 2014; Lane 1871 II: 31; Said 1979: 49, 178, 253]. Hangi’s coffeehouse attendee drinks at his leisure and is carried away by flights of fancy, staring at flowing water while his serfs do his work for him back home. In the midst of Hangi’s deep description of Bosniak coffee culture he cannot help but falling into Western European tropes aimed at raising the bar on the exoticism of the “Easterners” in his account. Poetically describing the ambiance of the coffeehouse and the ćeif in the air, he reifies the (br)other in descriptive examples. Fis ethnic othering did not go unnoticed though. Even at this early era of academic discourse in the region, Hangi’s simplification of complex regional manifestations of Bosniak culture brought criticism from more astute commentators. A sharp critique came from a fellow folklorist, Luka Grdić- Bjelokosić, who produced a detailed treatise criticizing the inaccuracies and romantic tendencies in Hangi’s work [Kajmaković 1990: 9-11]. (24) And yet, the sincerity of Hangi’s account shone through his sometimes myopic scope. Fe book also stood as a rarity at that time for trying to convey such a wide description of life and culture among Muslim Bosnians, and many of his passages contained a wealth of information and folklife description. Because of these traits, the book became quite popular upon release and garnered praise from most circles [8-9]. In fact, the book was so popular that its final fate ended up sidetracking Hangi’s political leanings. His work saw publication in full at a time when the Habsburg government authority in Bosnia was attempting to thwart Croatian and Serbian expansionary goals on the intellectual plain by supporting research that focused on Bosniaks as a unique ethnic group [Hajdarpasic 2005: 176-86; Okey 2007]. Fey recognized the potential in Hangi’s work for their efforts and purchased most copies of his first edition to be disseminated to school libraries [Kajmaković 1990: 8]. Fus, a work originally intended to support Muslim identification under the Croatian banner ultimately ended up supporting an independent Bosniak nationalism. Passage #2: Franjo Murgić – Fe Schedule of a Bosniak Fis passage is taken from an unpublished manuscript, Ethnographic and Folklore Material from Visoko [Murgić 1898c], which describes folklore and Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 23 folklife in the central Bosnian city of Visoko, situated half-way between the larger centers of Sarajevo and Zenica. Fe collector, Franjo Murgić, was a Catholic school teacher from Slavonia. In early 1898 he moved to Visoko to assume a position in a newly established school constructed by the Habsburg administration. Here he shared a rental with a fellow teacher, Stanko Ljubičić, a Serb from the Croatian town of Vrgin Most (also known as Gvozd) [Murgić 1899]. Soon after his arrival, he petitioned =e Review’s editors for a collecting guide [1898a] and spent the remainder of 1898 collecting material for the journal from the town’s sizeable Muslim and Orthodox population. Under the guidance of the journal’s editors, Murgić collected the wide range of folklore and folklife data outlined in the guide and also spent considerable time collecting local history from informants. Fough he regularly complained about his overburdened class sizes and heavy workload, he made a point of inviting local Muslim elders into his home to conduct extended interviews with them on a range of topics [1898b]. He also attempted to collect material which the editors viewed as valuable, including photographs of local Muslim women. In one of his letters, he noted that they would be impossible to photograph alone due to issues of honor, but that they could be persuaded if in a group [1899]. Despite his earnest efforts, his manuscript remained quite thin and only a small number of short sections ever saw publication in the journal [see Jurić 2020]. Fe following short passage presents a description of the daily habits of Bosniaks during the winter and summer. It is useful for conveying a general sense of the important role coffee drinking and coffeehouse attendance served in the life of Bosniak males, especially during winter months. Fe passage, however, is built on the same kind of generalizing tendency that Hangi’s work presented, reducing an entire ethno-religious group to a singular caricature. In line with the style of the journal, and like Hangi’s passage above, the text is rife with local Turkish- loanwords inserted to convey some regional color to the account. If one were to come in the morning in winter into someone’s house [in Visoko], one would not find him in his chamber [odaja] but rather at a café. In the afternoon he is in the merchant district of town [čaršija] or at a café; if he’s not in one, then he’s in the other. At akšam [at sunset] you can always find him at home, after akšam [at dusk] he is again in a café. During Ramaḍān he comes to the café for two and a half hours at akšam while he performs [lit. bows] his teravija prayers [nightly prayers for Ramaḍān]. (25) Fen he remains there for five and a half hours, or else spends this time visiting others. Fen he goes home to wake his wife and children, so they can cook a meal while he smokes and sits and plays with his little children. (26) He will drink coffee and then, when the meal is ready, he will spend two hours eating (namely, three hours before sunrise [sabah]). Fen, after finishing his meal, he will again play, smoke and drink coffee for another hour. He remains awake for this time, still two hours before sabah [sunrise], but will neither eat nor smoke a thing. Fen, when they have called [okujisati] the sabah (when the muezzin FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 24 calls [adherents] from the minaret to morning prayer), they go to pray the sabah; then he will go home and sleep until noon. When they call the noontime prayer, then his wife wakes him to go pray. When he’s prayed, then [he walks] along the merchant district: up, down, up, down, like that until before the sunset prayers. Fen he goes home to snack. When they eat at night during Ramaḍān, they call that iftariti. (27) In that same way, whoever seeks him during the summer, will not find him at home. In the morning they go to work between 5:30 and 6 o’clock and in the evening he comes home at akšam, after akšam, or sometimes somewhere around two hours before akšam. As in Hangi’s piece, Murgić’s brief account conveys the central role that coffee played in Bosniak social life. Murgić reveals the way that daily schedules were guided by milestones of prayer times and coffee consumption, particularly in winter months when seasonal work was largely suspended. Fe “typical Bosniak” outlined in this piece, freed from certain duties by winter weather, shifts to a nocturnal schedule, which is implied to be supported in some part by the stimulating benefits of coffee. What Murgić provides is, in effect, a foodways time-table for a Bosniak male whose daily schedule is punctuated by meals and coffee. Fere is, of course, as in Hangi’s piece, an element of exaggeration, stereotyping, and orientalizing—as Hangi’s Bosniaks grow up on coffee and cigarettes and while their days away in fantasy, so too does Murgić’s Bosniak father sleep through every day and live at the coffeehouse—and yet, the fact that the summer season receives short shrift in the account reveals that there was something exceptional about the daily plotting of coffee habits in the winter months that drew Murgić’s attention. Private Coffee Practice in the Western Balkans With Murgić’s passage we move away from the coffeehouse and into the private home. In private practice, both in the nineteenth century and in the present, coffee serves numerous roles: it is often given as a gift when visiting family or friends; it is a crucial item served during formal and informal gatherings, and it carries its own system of etiquette and practice: It is brewed in the specific manner outlined in Hangi’s piece, always using the same, particular implements of preparation [pribor or takum], traditionally by the women of a household, poured out to all guests by the brewer before she serves herself, and always served extremely hot; as the traditional Bosnian saying goes “coffee poured and a woman undressed cannot wait” [kahva nalivena i žena otkrivena ne mogu čekati]. Fe drink is generally served with something sweet on the side, as opposed to the public practice in cafés of accompanying the beverage with a glass of water. For accompaniment, coffee is often paired with baked goods [kolači] of some sort, which help to break up the bitterness of the drink when served black. In Bosniak homes, the drink is traditionally paired with lokum/ratluk [Turkish delight], baklava, or else with large, rectangular sugar cubes (about twice as long and half Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 25 as thin as a common sugar cube) that are nibbled intermittently through the drinking (see Hadžiosmanović 2007; Işın 2013). Historically, as European cafés began to adopt Italian espresso machines in the mid-twentieth century, the traditional way of drinking Turkish coffee (turska kahva, also called domaća [domestic/homemade] kahva, and very rarely, usually in a tongue-in-cheek manner, Bosnian/Serbian/Croatian coffee [bosanska kahva/srpska kafa/hrvatska kava]), became relegated to household practice outside of Bosnia. In western regions (particularly the north-west corner of Croatia), it also took on connotations and stigma of backwardness and village practice as opposed to the cosmopolitan drinking of European coffee with milk in cafés. Marko Živković [2011: 47, 53-4] has explored the wide-reaching metonymic regional distinctions connected to the dichotomy between Viennese and Turkish coffee which often stand for a wide matrix of perceived internal divisions. Despite this divisive side, the domestic practice of sharing coffee with neighbors, friends and family is still viewed in the region as the purest symbol of proper and healthy interpersonal relationship and a healthy community balance [Helms 2010: 24-25; Stefansson 2010: 67-69]. Passage #3: Ivan Zovko – On the Origin of Coffee Unlike the first two contributors, our final school teacher and lay folklore collector, Ivan Zovko, did not come to Bosnia from Croatia to teach, but was rather born there. A native of Mostar, he worked as a teacher in a number of areas of Bosnia and Herzegovina. He was the author of a score of articles and books focused on Croatian and Bosniak folklore and folklife in Bosnia and Herzegovina [Marjanović 2009]. In his many letters written to the editors at =e Review—in his characteristically sloping, extended, nearly-illegible hand—the collector related only a few points about his personal life. During the time of his correspondence, he moved from a teaching position in Konjic in Herzegovina to another trade school in Sarajevo, before being relocated to another school in Bihać. Although the majority of his correspondence relates only to edits, corrections and redactions to his manuscripts and articles, he regularly presented himself as a Croatian patriot and nationalist, often ending his letters with a humorously overwrought “Croatian greeting” to the editors. He talked at length about establishing a printing press in Mostar and publishing regimes for Croatian interest papers in Mostar and Sarajevo [Zovko 1897: 2] as well as plans to open a Croatian book store in Sarajevo to better spread the Croatian name in Bosnia [1898: 2-3]. While he provided a wealth of data on Bosniak cultural practice, his main focus was aimed at relating the folklore and folklife of Croatians in Bosnia. Fe following legend, however, represents one of the many gems of Bosniak folklore that he unearthed for submission to =e Review. (28) Fis legend [Zovko 1892: 226] is drawn from an unpublished section of Zovko’s manuscript that focuses on peasant perceptions about the origins of common foods. Given collection practices of the time, this text could be Zovko’s descriptive retelling of one or many accounts he heard, modelled to a first-person FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 26 narrative format. However, the passage bears the mark of a verbatim account recorded from an interlocutor. Given comparative data from other collectors of the time, this is most likely the case, despite Zovko leaving no information about the legend teller or the context of collection. If someone, I don’t know who, were to tell me that coffee came to be at the same time as other things, by Allah!, I would not believe him. I would go so far as to swear that it hadn’t existed before. In truth, coffee appeared at that time when the prophet Muḥammad wandered the Earth. Somehow it simply appeared on its own when it was taken from the human mind, but again, it is not as though it’s difficult for Allah or his messenger to do wondrous things. Truly, in that time, coffee somehow came to be, when the prophet Muḥammad made the prohibition against the drinking of wine and rakija [fruit brandy]. At that time, once, when he was headed to mosque, he began to ponder which drink might best replace rakija and wine. According to his habit and as he was wont, he wished then to give alms to a pauper. But, when he dug into his pocket, he had only one, singular coin, for he had already given out all his other money. He gave this coin to one pauper who had just then sat below the mosque’s door. As soon as that coin dropped into his [the pauper’s] palm it immediately transformed into some kind of strange g[r]ain which until that time was unseen and unheard of. It suddenly occurred to the prophet Muḥammad that this was some kind of sign regarding the thought he had just moments ago been thinking. When he got home, he planted that grain, for he had taken it from that pauper and prayed to Allah that a coin appear in his hand so that he might give it to the pauper in place of that grain. (29) Allah immediately did this for his messenger, and that grain, which he had planted, after only one, single night, sprouted, grew tall, flowered and bore fruit. Fen saintly Muḥammad taught everyone how to handle coffee and the entire world began to use coffee which only grows in holy places in Mecca. Fat’s why the plant won’t take elsewhere. Here we find the origins of coffee connected to the actions of the prophet Muḥammad at a time when he has decreed alcoholic beverages as illicit. Fere are some interesting revelations regarding perceptions of cultural geography in the piece, e.g., the Balkan spirit rakija [fruit brandy] is projected back to ancient Mecca, where it did not exist. Meanwhile, the Bosnian fabulator who provided the tale reveals a clear knowledge of coffee as an Arabic import, albeit here from Mecca rather than from Yemen. Fe point of this legend, though, is not only to offer an explanation of origin for coffee, but to typify the drink as a sacred item in opposition to profane and prohibited alcoholic beverages. To accomplish this, sacred contexts are heaped upon coffee’s spontaneous generation; the plant is supernaturally bequeathed to the Prophet from Allah while the former is pondering the prospects of a righteous drink, heading to mosque, and impoverishing himself to the point of destitution with almsgiving. Coffee’s Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 27 sacrality, as a traditional topic of vernacular discourse, was specifically linked to the turbulent history of debates regarding the drink’s status as a permissible food item among Islamic religious authorities. Fis history of the drink’s reception in the Ottoman Empire provides the clues that explain the storyteller’s stress on coffee’s holy character. Is Coffee Ḥalāl? From its earliest introduction to Arabic lands, coffee faced severe suspicion and backlash from conservative civil and religious authorities. Fe first recorded opposition to the drink arose in Mecca in 1511 when the martinet pasha of the Mamluks and civic overseer of marketplaces [muḥtasib] of Mecca, Khā’ir Beg al- Mi‘mār held a sort of “trial against coffee” among the city’s ‘ulamā [Muslim scholars consulted to interpret theology and sacred law] to convince them of the drink’s dangers. With a consensus reached (under political pressure) the religious judges [qāḍīs] of Mecca sided with Khā’ir Beg, who proclaimed coffee illicit and had his deputies begin closing down coffeehouses, beating drinkers and sellers and burning any beans they found. Fis state of affairs obtained until an official decree arrived from the Sultan of Cairo, supporting disapproval of social gatherings to drink coffee, but not prohibiting the drink. Fis effectively ended Khā’ir Beg’s persecutions [Hattox 1985: 30-37; Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 11- 12]. Such reactions to coffee drinking in the Ottoman Empire were to become a common occurrence over the next two hundred years. Fere were riots over coffeehouses in Cairo in 1521 and 1532 [Tucker 2011: 52]. In 1534-5 (A.H. 941) the city degenerated into chaos after local preachers incited mobs to attack the establishments and counter-protestors met them in the streets [Hattox 1985: 38- 40]. In 1543, the first merchant boat bringing coffee from Yemen to Turkey was sunk, because of a fetva (Arab. fatwa, a legal opinion produced by a mufti) issued by shaykh al-islām Abū Su‘ud [Krstić 1974: 72]. Polemics about whether coffee should be considered ḥalāl [permissible] or ḥarām [forbidden] offered lively discussion and bitter argument amongst the ‘ulamā. As a novel item neither known in the time of Muḥammad and the first caliphs, nor mentioned in the Qur’ān, coffee was considered bid‘ah [innovation] and thus warranted suspicion and careful weighing of its perceived merits and dangers. Such innovations generally received immediate disapproval and rejection from conservative scholars and religious figures who viewed them in terms akin to heresy. More progressive voices, however, would rely on a stronger principle in Islam, the concept of original permissibility [al-ibāḥa al-aṣlīya], a firm binary tenet of mutual exclusivity that decrees that all that is not illicit is perforce licit. Fe naming of coffee did not help the beverage’s case. Fe term qahwah was used in Arabic before the introduction of coffee as an epithet for wine. Fe name may have been applied by analogy, since the root q-h-w/y denotes aversion— coffee putting one off of sleep as wine was believed to put one off of food— or by FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 28 homophony, as a drink from the Ethiopian region of Kaffa [Hattox 1985: 18-19; Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 24-5]. No matter the source of the initial ascription, it could not aid the novel coffee to be associated with a substance of dissipation so clearly prohibited in the Qur’ān [II.219, IV.43, V.90-91]. Besides some ardent critics, most were willing to admit that coffee did not intoxicate in the same manner as alcohol. It did, however, have noticeable psychoactive effects on the imbiber, and as such was suspect as impermissible. Many early critics also compared coffee to wine because it was drunk in groups and, purportedly, regularly passed amongst drinkers “from hand to hand” like wine [Elezović 1938: 625; Hattox 1985: 117-20]. A further objection against the inherent dangers of the drink was raised in the sixteenth century by Şeyhülislâm Abū al-Su‘ūd Efendi (1490-1574) who argued that coffee beans were roasted to beyond the point of carbonization and thus were hazardous to the drinker [Hattox 1985: 114; Lewis 1963: 133; Peçevi 1999 I: 350; White 1845 I: 280]. Fese assertions were based upon the conception of jurists that included charcoal in a list of food items which are ḥarām on grounds of “manifest harm” [ḍarar]. Although contested even in al-Su‘ūd’s time, this argument continued to surface in numerous fetvas and treatises. In his seminal work on coffee in the medieval Near East [1985], Ralph S. Hattox has competently argued that most of these religious arguments were, in fact, justifications used to add weight to an ire raised by the more practical civic danger implicit in coffee drinking. Fe problem was less with the drink itself, than with the social structure that arose around it and that threatened the central role of the mosque in Islamic social life. Coffeehouses were often sites of political discussion, unrest and intrigue, and regularly the point of origin for revolts in this time. Furthermore, many coffeehouses modelled too closely the taverns that had come before them, becoming the locus of illicit behaviors such as gambling, prostitution, homosexual interactions, drug use and other unsavory vices (see Image 4). Fere were, however, contrary voices who argued against the connection between coffee and wine. Fey supported coffee as a stimulant that could be used for diligence in work, study and prayer or outlined its medical benefits as a digestive aid, appetite suppressant, promoter of haleness, and cure for sanguinary ailments [Hattox 1985: 61-67; Krstić 1974: 92]. Yet even these voices could not condone the behaviors exhibited in the more disreputable establishments. (30) Indeed, the sixteenth century became a time of almost constant production of fetvas for or against coffee as the ‘ulamā tried to come to a consensus on how best to deal with the beverage. (31) Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 29 Image 4. A seventeenth-century Ottoman miniature depicting a coffeehouse. In the top right the kahveci is at his stove, at bottom-center men are playing what appears to be backgammon. Attendees drink coffee and smoke chibouks. [Museum with No Frontiers 2020] FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 30 Fe polemic also became an official matter of the Porte on regular occasions. A number of Sultans, under pressure from religious leaders, took measures to prohibit and curtail coffee culture in an effort to curb revolt and diminish the occurrence of the many fires that plagued Istanbul and regularly stemmed from the smoking in coffeehouses. Around 1580, Sultan Murad III issued a number of interdictions and closed coffeehouses, ostensibly in response to fetvas that had been issued, but likely over concern of seditious activity and unflattering discussions in those locales about his brutal accession to the Sultanate [Lewis 1963: 133; Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 15]; fermans [official mandates/decrees] were issued a number of times during the reigns of Ahmed I (1603-17) and again in the time of Mehmed IV (1648-87) [Elezović 1938: 628]. Fese prohibitions reach their apogee, though, in the reign of Sultan Murad IV (1623-40). Murad came to power at a time of disorder and anarchy in the empire. Fe previous sultans had allowed Janissary power to become unchecked and the empire was embroiled in an unpopular war against the Safavids. By this time, coffeehouses were fully entrenched as the meeting grounds of mutinous soldiers. Known for his iron-fisted rule, the splenetic Murad was not eager to suffer the fate of his older brother Osman II (r. 1618-22) whose regicide had been plotted in a popular janissary café [White 1845 I: 283-4]. After a coffeehouse fire in 1633 grew out of control and consumed one fifth of Istanbul, he used the opportunity as pretext to issue a ferman outlawing the drinking of coffee and smoking of tobacco and opium. All coffeehouses and taverns were ordered closed or razed and none were permitted to be built. Fose who continued to sell these items or engage in their use were subject to harsh punishments including the death penalty. Popular legend and historiography from this time are rife with stories of coffeehouse owners being tied in bags and thrown into the Bosphorus [Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 15], cafés in Edirne being shuttered and all of their owners hanged, and of Murad himself patrolling the streets at night in disguise, sniffing the air for tobacco and executing anyone he came upon walking the streets without a lantern. Fese cruel prohibitions had a long aftermath, but they too soon passed. By the last quarter of the same century the coffeehouses were reopened and thriving. Finding their citizenry to be inveterate coffee drinkers and smokers willing to face the gallows for one final sip or puff, efforts at interdiction were finally abandoned. Fe last bans on coffee and tobacco were removed in 1688 [Fotić 2011: 93] and tobacco was finally declared licit by Chief Mufti Mehmed Baha’i Efendi, who had himself been dismissed and exiled in 1634 due to his own heavy smoking [Lewis 1963: 136]. As Hattox has suggested, original permissibility [al-ibāḥa al-aṣlīya] inevitably overcame conservative responses to innovation [bid‘ah] [1985: 129]. Fe Verdict on Coffee in Bosnia Fe edicts of the Porte seem not to have reached as far as Bosnia in any meaningful way. In 1658, while Murad IV’s ferman still held in Istanbul, the French traveler A. Poullet mentioned coffee being drunk in Bosnia as he traveled Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 31 through the Balkans on his eight-year eastern journey [Jelavić 1908: 66]. It is unclear if the ferman was ever carried to the eyalet, or if a return to equilibrium had simply been expedited in Rumelia. Fat does not mean that political edicts on coffee were unknown in the region; rather, they were familiar, but often localized. Numerous political uprisings in Bosnia also had their rabbles roused in local coffeehouses: the riots that reigned from 1747-56; the 1820 resistance put down by Ali Dželaludin Paša; the protests that arose after the abolition of the Janissaries in 1826; the 1831 revolt of the “Dragon from Bosnia,” Captain Husein-beg Gradaščević; and the 1832 uprising of Hasan bajraktar Zubović all had their beginnings in coffeehouses. In the latter case, and likely for many others, Zubović’s café was razed on 8 June 1832 after his movement had been suppressed [Kreševljaković 1935: 162]. Fe learned deliberations on the use of coffee were also well known in the region. Sometime in the middle of the eighteenth century, while Bosnians were enjoying a period of peace, the Bosnian mufti of Prusac, Muṣṭafā ibn Muḥammad al-Aqḥiṣārī (died 1755/6, A.H. 1169), wrote a treatise on the use of coffee and tobacco in his native land [Krstić 1974]. He was well informed of the various debates surrounding these items in the empire and decided to weigh in on the conversation. A proponent of the drink, he strongly opposed the fetvas levelled against coffee, celebrating it on numerous grounds—for inducing heartiness and a positive mood, affecting one’s productivity in a positive manner [92], causing good digestion, warming the body, and exercising holy thoughts and an inclination towards pious obedience, among many other beneficial aspects [94]. He related his own affirmative experiences with coffee which helped him actively read books and kept him awake at night, allowing him to avoid lethargy and sleep for a longer, more productive day [93]. He could not say the same for tobacco, however, spending pages adumbrating sixteen formal proofs of the harmful effects to the body and soul caused by smoking [96-99]. (32) He included tobacco in the list of detestable things outlawed for consumption under Muslim sharīʿa [96], stressing that it is neither food nor medicine, has neither positive spiritual nor profane use and is only a filthy entertainment that harms the body. However, by the nineteenth century, these debates had lost their urgency and both drinking coffee and smoking tobacco had become firmly established practices among all religious groups in the region. Fis popularity did not mean, however, that the stigma of the coffeehouse had been completely whitewashed, nor that the majority of religious officials viewed the practices as particularly virtuous or reputable. Fough most of the ‘ulamā in Bosnia had long accepted coffee as permissible, its status as an innovation remained. Zovko’s legend on the origin of coffee likely stems from vernacular attempts to justify the beverage by not only projecting back in time and having the bean exist in the time of the Prophet, but in fact by establishing him as the magical source for the bean’s existence. (33) FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 32 Conclusion: Conveying the Ćeif along with the Coffee It is my hope that the three passages presented here, previously unpublished or untranslated in English, will contribute to an understanding of the role of coffee in nineteenth-century Bosnian Muslim culture. I have endeavored to present them in a manner that places them in a historical and cultural framework that contextualizes their importance and lays bare the academic focus that undergirds the epistemic view that influenced their collection. Fe three Croatian school teachers whose work is presented here entered the Bosnian and Herzegovinian communities in which they worked to gather folklore data bookmarked for a Croatian readership. Fey aimed to exhibit unique and curious aspects of Bosniak culture at a time when rapid political and economic change was poised to alter or overwhelm those practices. Read together, these works act as a highly effective overview of the socially-embedded nature of coffee culture among Bosnian Muslims and present an early example of folklife and foodways research [Anderson 1971; Hinson and Ferris 2009; Long 2004; 2009; Yoder 1972]. Fey offer a window into the shared practices and symbolic patterns of meaning that surrounded Muslim coffee culture in nineteenth-century Bosnia and Herzegovina. Far from simplistic depictions of how to cook and drink the beverage, Antun Hangi, Franjo Murgić, and Ivan Zovko provided a vantage point onto the role coffee serves as an “everyday practice… that inject[ed] meaning into life’s unyieldy dailiness… [and] len[t] comfort in [its] familiarity and sharedness” [Hinson and Ferris 2009: 8]. Frough their work, contemporary and current readers obtain(ed) a sense of being in a local coffeehouse and of watching the processes of a cultural structure play out. In their short passages, these lay scholars conveyed a sense of the temporality of coffee and its embeddedness in daily and yearly schedules, the politics of interaction that arose in sites of meaning structured around the habit of drinking, the aesthetics and ambiance that surrounded coffeehouses and other sites of coffee use, and even how the supernatural, the divine and the holy became woven into the tapestry of coffee lore in order to legitimize the practice. Given these analytical achievements, it is a pity that in such seemingly mundane writing as that devoted to the drinking of coffee and coffeehouse culture, one perceives, through the interstices of their sentences, telling hints of Croatian political views about Bosnian Muslims and wider Orientalist tendencies that were an academic currency of the time. Like many other Bosniak practices recorded in the nineteenth century by both Croat and Serb scholars, the aim of relating coffee culture in Bosnia and Herzegovina was to simultaneously reveal the exotic and foreign habits of Croatia’s south-easterly neighbors, while also stressing those similarities that bound the Slavic populations together across political divides. For Croatian readers of the time, newly ceded territories, sometimes less than 100 kilometers away from their own homes, could beguile in the same way that Western European audiences hungrily collected fantastic tales from the One =ousand and One Nights and Eastern travelogues. In fact, this appeal was all the richer for the underlying similarities of their exotic, and yet familiar, (br)others. Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 33 Frough the writings of Murgić, Hangi and Zovko we are provided some unique vantages on nineteenth-century Bosniak coffee culture, but also on the ways that these practices were conveyed to a Croatian audience. Fey strove to present the unique nature of Bosniak culture, while packaging those curiosities in an epistemic frame entitled “what has happened to our brethren.” In presenting an embedded, folklife account of coffee foodways, these Croatian scholars successfully conveyed the ćeif that comes along with coffee but, beguiled by the exotic notes they perceived in that added mood, they could not help but simplify, other and Orientalize the subjects of their research. By translating these works we can not only gain an intimate view inside both a nineteenth-century Bosniak home and coffeehouse (and reveal an interesting origin legend for the beverage), but also see the ways that Croatian folklore and folklife collectors hoped to bring a sense of the Bosniak’s “exotic” ways home to a Croatian readership. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS I am indebted to the helpful comments on this piece provided by Drs. John Colarusso and Naomi McPherson, my two anonymous reviewers, and the journal’s generous editor, as well as the insight and aid of Marina Jurić. I also owe a word of thanks to Blanka van Raalte and her father Bećir Behrem for helping me find the right translation of a pernicious word. Finally, my gratitude is also owed to the Department of Ethnology at HAZU for providing access to their archive. Part of this research was supported by the Social Sciences and Humanities Research Council of Canada and McMaster University. NOTES 1 Because of its intimate connection to the drink in the region, some reflection on tobacco use will also be discussed. 2 Mikhail makes particular note of Lane’s passage [1871 I: 173-75], which is indeed lacking in elaboration and depth. Burton’s accounts are also quite thin [1874 I: 197, 209-10, 248; II: 99, 206; III: 71, 123, 147]. Beyond Hangi’s description presented here, Charles White also offered a notable exception with his highly informative passages on the coffee [1845 I: 277-86; II: 132-3] and tobacco [1845 II: 125-52] culture of Istanbul. 3 Historically variously spelled and pronounced ćeif, ćejif, ćejf, ćef, ćeiv, kejf, etc. in the BCMS languages see Škaljić [2014: 176-77]. Fis concept has salience throughout the Balkans and Middle East [e.g. Alb. qejf; Bulg. kef; Gk. kéfi; Pers. keyf] with several unique idiomatic variations in each language. In Turkish, this word also carries a wide range of phrasal variety based on a number of verbal combinations, for example: keyif sürmek – to live the good life; keyif bilmek – to do as one pleases, etc. For a discussion of coffee practice and the concept of ćeif in a modern Bosnian-American immigrant context, see Croegaert [2011]. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 34 4 Here Hangi plays on a common folk expression “I/pa mirna Bosna” [and/then peaceful Bosnia], meaning “and then everyone is happy/in agreement,” and used in contexts akin to the English idiom “and Bob’s your uncle.” 5 It is not clear if the earliest recorded coffee preparations were kisher, the green, tea-like beverage brewed from the husks and skins of the coffee bean, bounya, the thick early predecessor of Turkish coffee made from raw boiled beans, or both. On this early preparation history, see Weinberg and Bealer [2001: 22-3]. 6 Fe Ottoman Yemeni port of Mocha and the Dutch Indonesian port of Java became synonymous bywords for coffee and its trade. 7 Fe Ottoman historians Kâtip Çelebi [1957: 59] and İbrahim Peçevi [1999 I: 351] give conflicting dates. For an English translation of Peçevi’s account of Istanbul tobacco and coffee culture, see Lewis [1963: 132-36]. 8 Fe Turkish çubuk [lit. shoot/sapling/staff; BCMS čibuk] is most commonly between one and five ells [Turk. arşın; BCMS (h)aršin] in length and composed of three parts: a ceramic bowl [Turk. lüle, lit. ceramic hearth; BCMS lula], a hollowed wooden (or reed) stem [Tur. kamış; BCMS kamiš], and a colorful mouthpiece most commonly made from carved amber or other soft minerals. In the Western Balkans, only the term lula has survived into the present day as the BCMS word for a smoking pipe. Smokers in the region also employed hookahs [BCMS nargile], but much more rarely. Cigarettes and cigars did not take a firm hold in the region until the twentieth century. 9 Fe Turkish fincan [cup; BCMS findžan/fildžan] is a small (usually holding about an ounce and a half of liquid), porcelain, or clay, handle-less coffee cup. It was the most common receptacle for drinking coffee in the Ottoman Empire. Finer coffee sets for homes might be set into a zarf [BCMS zarf/zalf/zaf; from Arab. ẓarf, lit. container, envelope], a metal, handled or handle-less holder, made of elaborate metal filigree or simple hammered tin or brass, and reminiscent of an egg-cup, into which the fincan was nested (see an illustration in Lane [1871 I: 174]). Fese were, however, rarely on offer in coffeehouses. Fotić [2011: 95] notes that archaeologists have unearthed findžans imported from as far afield as Germany and China at sites in Belgrade. Fe word itself has a long heritage: Turkish fincan ß Arabic finjān ß Persian pengân ( ناگنپ ) ß Greek pínax (πίναξ), the latter two denoting a shallow plate or dish. 10 For a clear, English-language discussion of the views of the four major Sunni schools of religious jurisprudence on alcohol, see Hattox [1985: 50-57]. 11 Compare this date, and those listed below with the opening of the first coffeehouses in major Western European centers: Venice in 1640, Oxford 1650; London 1652, Marseille 1654, Fe Hague 1664, Paris 1672, Vienna 1685, or Frankfurt 1689 [Cowan 2005: 90; Elezović 1938: 633; Kreševljaković 1935: 161; Weinberg and Bealer 2001: 18, 64, 71, 77, 154]. 12 Until the nineteenth century, the BCMS languages employed the older conception that tobacco is drunk rather than smoked or blown [Fotić 2011: 96]. To this day the Turkish language still retains this usage (e.g., Sigara içmek, “to drink a cigarette”). Conveying Ćeif FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 35 13 Fe Ottoman Millet system was an administrative approach to empire which, though shifting through various formations over time, provided a significant level of juridical and administrative autonomy to various confessional communities. It was an early example of religious pluralism built out of Islamic principles regarding dhimmi populations that came to influence wider conceptions of societal structure. See Braude [1982]. 14 In these passages, I consistently translate the term kahvana/kafana/kavana as coffeehouse. Fe term kahva/kafa/kava I have glossed as café, as the term is used in English and also means both coffeehouse and coffee in the original French. 15 Croats celebrate St. George’s day [Croat. Jurjevdan, Serb. Đurđevdan] on April 23rd according to the Gregorian calendar, while the majority of Bosniaks, who interestingly retained this celebration through their conversion to Islam, observe the holiday as the Serbs do according to the Julian calendar on May 6th. Hangi could be referring to either, though the time of year is the same. 16 From Tur. Bayram - festival, celebration, holiday. Fis can refer to both Hadžijski Bajram/Kurban Bajram (Eid al-Adha), Fe Festival of the Sacrifice, celebrated 77 days after Ramaḍān and lasting for four days, or to Ramazanski Bajram (Eid al-Fitr), Fe Festival of Breaking the Fast, celebrated immediately after Ramaḍān and lasting for three days. Fe former is considered the greater holiday and so likely intended here. 17 Fe BCMS languages normally use the verb kuhati/kuvati [to boil, to cook]. Hangi points out that it was common among Bosniaks of the time to use the term peći [to bake]. 18 Monetary denomination of the Austro-Hungarian Empire. One one- hundredth of a Krone and known as a Filler in Hungary. 19 Fis is a reference to the oft stereotyped conception of fate and the predestined nature of life in Muslim worldview which regularly figure in Western scientific writing [Grosfoguel 2010: 32; ibn Warraq 1995: 123-27, 157; Lane 1871 I: 84, 357-58; II: 200; Qur’ān III.139, IX.51, XIII.30, XIV.4, XXXII.32, XLV.26, LIV.49, LVII.22, LXXXVII.2]. 20 Fese terms represent both a time of day and the prayer that occurs at that time: Sabah namaz (Tur. sabah namazı; Arab. ṣalāt al-fajr), the morning prayer time between dawn and sunrise, akšam namaz, (Tur. akşam namazı, Arab. ṣalāt al-maghrib) between sunset and dusk, and jacija namaz (Tur. yatsı namazı; Arab. ṣalāt al-‘ishā’) the fifth and final prayer of the day. 21 Fe regional name for tobacco too derives from the Arabic [dukhān] by way of Turkish [duhan] into the local form duhan, with an eastern dialect variant of duvan (a division later cemented as the respective standard forms for the Croatian and Serbian languages). A Turkish-derived variant form tutun [Turk. tütün] and an Austrian-derived tabak are also attested. 22 BCMS and Turk. ibrik, loaned from Arab. ’ibrīq. BCMS džezva from Turk. cezve, Arab. jadhwah. For an overview of coffee preparation in the core Islamic world see Hattox [1985: 82-87]. FOLKLORICA 2019, Vol. XXIII 36 23 From Tur. karagöz, lit. Black-eye. Fis is the name of one of two main characters in a popular Turkish shadow-puppet play, Karagöz and Hacivat [İvaz the Pilgrim]. It was applied to the same show when performed in Bosnia, but the term became extended to also include marionettes, jesters and magicians who performed on similar occasions. 24 Fis critique served almost as a refined and locally internalized, although milder, replay of the Fortis and Lovrić debate over rights to representation. See Wolff [2001: 228-75]. 25 BCMS teravija, Tur. teravi, Arab. (pl.) tarāvīḥ. Special nightly prayers for Ramaḍān which are conducted after the conclusion of the fifth and final prayer of the day jacija namaz. 26 Fe collector here oddly uses the word “zidati” [to build, to erect walls]. Fis word simply does not fit the context. It is unclear what Murgić meant; perhaps this typical Bosniak father is playing some sort of building game with the youngest children, but the phrasing suggests infants or toddlers and is too general for such a specific act. It is tempting to read the word as “zibati” [to rock, to lull], but there is much working against this reading: Fe word is clearly written twice (i.e., not lapsus calami), zibati is a widely distributed, old Slavic verb that is generally familiar to people in most regions (i.e. it is unlikely that Murgić is trying to present an unfamiliar, regional word and getting it wrong), and zibati takes the accusative, not the instrumental as in the example. I have simply defaulted to a translation that makes sense in context. 27 Fis is a local verb form for the Arabic word ’ifṭār, the first meal to break the Ramaḍān fast. 28 I classify this oral narrative from Zovko’s collection as a legend due to its “believable” content being situated in a historical past and its plot accounting for the genesis of a transient aspect of life, as opposed to the ancient before-time of myths that often explain broader and lasting phenomena [Bascom 1965; Gatling 2020; Jurić 2019: 46; Tangherlini 1990]. 29 Fis section of the MS is difficult to discern. Fe word written seems to be “alika,” but I cannot find any such word in any dictionaries. I have used the dative form of the name Allah here, because it suits the context best, but I am not certain that this was the intended word. 30 For some of the more important names associated with fetvas argued for and against coffee see Kreševljaković [1935: 161]; Krstić [1974: 73, 93, 102]; Lewis [1963: 135-6]; White [1845 I: 280]. 31 Fe case for tobacco was even worse. Due to its highly addictive nature, its filthy smoke, and the number of fires that occurred after its use became commonplace, tobacco was the regular victim of interdiction from both Muslim and Christian communities [Fotić 2011: 91, 93, 94]. 32 Zovko’s legend is drawn from a section of his manuscript that focuses on the origins of foods. It comes directly before a description of tobacco which reveals the collector to have shared al-Aqḥiṣārī’s negative view of the plant [Zovko 1892: 227]. 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