The Sebilj in Baščaršija, built in 1913, is constructed from three materials: stone, wood, and copper.

The foundation of stability and history on which Sebilj has stood firmly for over a century is made of stone. Stone is a symbol of stability and longevity, representing resilience through time, much like the city of Sarajevo, which has survived numerous historical challenges and remains a symbol of different cultures and unity.

Sebilj, as a public fountain, is not only a monument but also a source of water. Its body, constructed of wood, connects us with nature and reminds us of the harmony between man and the environment. The authentic spirit of the dark brown wood brings warmth that can be found in every corner of Sarajevo.

Noble and conductive metal, known to us as copper, is a generational legacy typical for production in the Balkan region. It has been used on the streets of Baščaršija for crafting items like coffee cups, cezves, and various household goods that have been used in these regions for centuries. Copper, with its dark green dome, symbolizes the rich past and carries numerous everyday life and love stories of the people of Sarajevo and passing travelers.

These seemingly simple materials, used for centuries in the construction of homes and landmarks, have been employed to create one of the greatest symbols of the capital city of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The strength of stone, the warmth of wood, and the nobility of copper are the essential characteristics not only of Sebilj today but of the entire homeland of our country.

For 30 years, our city’s market square has been graced by a golden fountain with wooden ornamental details, providing water for both locals and passing travelers. The copper dome is a testament to the many daily stories of hundreds of people moving freely through Baščaršija, searching for what they need. Old man Husein, every morning after the dawn prayer, prepares his copperware to bring it out onto the street in front of his small shop. Baker Mustafa, together with his wife Rapka, prepares warm bread and rolls at four in the morning, which the entire neighborhood will take before the midday prayer call. Sebilj witnesses all of these events every day, absorbing the various scents of delicious burek and sweet baklava, the sounds of the call to prayer, the chatter of the market people, and the loving glances of young couples who meet near the fountain.

At least that’s how the mornings used to look until four years ago. Today, it is no longer the same. Since the war began a few years ago, everyone has retreated, carefully following the events in Sarajevo. Our beloved city has become the crossroads of different interests, where many of my fellow citizens sadly lost their lives defending the interests of the local population. Many say that the war is nearing its end, that the Nazi forces are slowly weakening, but all I can think about is my dear one, who is somewhere out there with the partisan forces, trying to liberate Sarajevo. My family doesn't know about him… in fact, no one except Sebilj knows that he and I have secretly been meeting for the last six years. We started as children at 16, meeting secretly in the shade of the fountain and talking daily about the happenings and mishaps in the neighborhood. We shared both the good and the bad, ate sweet baklava from Aunt Esma, talked about our favorite music and books, and over time, we started sharing more intimate moments.

We planned to get married and confess our love for each other to our families, but then the war came to our area, and since then, nothing has been the same. As a grown man, strong and healthy, he was called to be part of the resistance against the fascists and Ustashe, and he agreed. And so, I haven’t seen him regularly as I once did. From time to time, when he gets an opportunity, we secretly meet next to our dear old Sebilj and talk for hours in the shade about how beautiful things used to be. We plan our future, how our house will look, and how many children we will have. Not all of the details match, but that doesn't bother us. What we agree on is that we love each other.

I only wonder how many stories like ours Sebilj has heard. I’m sure that within that greenish dome, all of our plans from the last six years are stored. It has heard what color curtains we want, what dishes we will make for the Eid gatherings, and what our children will be named. If only I could ask Sebilj if he has noticed how much my dear one has changed since the war started and how much he has deteriorated in these four years. Sometimes I look at him and can't believe how much we've both grown in every way. His once gently green eyes are now full of grayness and melancholy, his smile is no longer as bright as it once was but rather serious and somewhat artificial, as though he’s doing it just to convince me that the situation is good and that things are going in our favor.

I believe Sebilj sees this every time we meet. God, I don’t even know if he’s still alive as I tell you this story, looking at my beloved fountain. I only hope he’ll send me a message through my neighbor’s son and invite me for a meeting, because we haven’t seen each other for a long time.

I better hurry. My mother asked me to bring some potatoes from Aunt Fatima to make some food. Looking at Sebilj, I remembered many beautiful memories and felt nostalgic. I wonder if Sebilj will continue to be a symbol of our city after the war ends, a symbol of love, unity, strength, and solidarity. I’m sure it will, and perhaps in a century or two, it will tell the stories of the joys and troubles of this beautiful little neighborhood to all future passersby.