In company with other members of the Friendship Force of South Central Minnesota, my wife Ramona and I had the opportunity in 1985 to visit the former Yugoslavia. But please indulge me as I precede my commentary with some observations about that then conjoined nation and its people.

Over the last few years this country has divided and has withstood three major wars. This now divorced nation has become the world's leading symbol of ethnic hatred. We traveled but a spattering of the country but could see, even then, that this marriage could not last.

Throughout our journey we had the good fortune to have been invited to the homes of farmers, dignitaries, peoples of the arts and others. In every locale and at every level did we find the people gracious, passionate about their country and respectful of ours. What became apparent, however, was that these same benevolent hosts had beyond the confines of their immediate borders, an inveterate distrust of the Yugoslav citizen beyond. At the time, I attributed that, at least in part, to the interference of the Soviet Union. I now conjecture that an eight hundred year history of war and dominance by other countries has taken a dreadful toll on this citizens tolerance for anyone outside the confines of his own community and this intolerance has become an inherent part of the culture of this now defunct nation.

First the Roman Empire and then in the mid 1300's the Ottoman Turks invaded and dominated this area. Then a period of independence just to be crushed again. Most countries treasure their independence and their sovereignty and certainly there are embedded impressions of a lost empire and continuing bitterness from centuries of Ottoman rule.

Yugoslavia translated is "land of the southern Slavs". The southern Slavs are the Bosnians, Croats, Serbs, Slovenes, Montenegrins and Macedonians. Our guide and interpreter, a young lady from Belgrade, showed a spirit of ease among our hosts who graciously opened their homes to us in the Serbian quarters of this land. But when we entered those territories we now know as Croatia and Bosnia, a more formal character emerged from our escort. A clue that, perhaps, all was not well between these peoples.

On our journey we visited the home and learned the history of the recently deceased Yugoslav leader - Tito. Soon after the end of World War II and during the time the Soviet Union dominated that area, a movement was led by Josip Broz, better known as - Tito, a Communist of mixed Croatian-Slovenian background.

I believe Tito tried to acknowledge and respect everyone's ethnic identity, downplay their grudges against one another and promote the idea that the various brands of southern Slavs had more to unite than to separate them. It was Tito who divided Yugoslavia into six republics.

But Tito died - and he didn't appear to be concerned enough to leave an heir to his legacy. And now - the old hatreds and suspicions still lurked. Serbs watched warily for signs that the Serb minorities in Croatia and Bosnia-Herzegovina were being mistreated. The non-Serbs were always on the lookout for signs that the Serbs still saw them as subordinates.

You might say that Tito's accomplishment was to bottle up the centuries of grudges that the various nationalities held toward one another. It didn't take long after Tito's death in 1980 for the cork to come out of the bottle and the contents to begin oozing forth.

Still we, as citizens of a far off land, were treated throughout this nation with consonant courtesy. Time spent traveling from one region to another was as engaging as the events arranged for us upon arrival. Visions of "fiddler on the roof" filled my head as we passed Ox carts, driven by a Yugoslavian rendering of Tivia, taunting me to believe that this way of life was more "tradition" than "necessity".

Traditions did manifest themselves, however, as we were frequently greeted upon arrival at gatherings with a round of freshly baked bread, a large segment torn from its topside. A portion of salt would replace the open cavity. As the bread was passed, a morsel would be taken, dipped into the salt and placed in the mouth. A healthy swallow of Schlevovitz would follow to accompany the seasoned grain beyond the throat - burning as it passed. Schlevovitz (that may not be the correct spelling) is a highly potent alcoholic beverage that is analogous to the taste I would imagine motor oil to be.

Whatever that noisome liquid was it did keep our internal motors running and continually looking forward to our journeys next fresh and exhilarating episode.