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Thursday, March 30, 2000 
Years of AntidepressantsHow to arrange thoughts in a logical sequence and write down anything without bitterness pervading every single word? How to avoid ubiquitous sense of self-pity and worst of all - helplessness in portraying the scene I'm about to present to you? In the morning, still drowsy, I find mechanically my way to the bus stop and get on the bus No. 52 which takes me almost every day to the city centre, to school, my department of classical sciences where, in seclusion, almost autistically absorbed in Latin and ancient Greek I let time slip through my fingers. I've been here for years, but I've never got used to the expression on the faces of so many people I meet. I'm referring to that dismal, inhuman look, lips stiff with silence and suffering. I think of the faces which once reflected clearly their inner life, their diary - intimate little joys, defeats and victories. Tacit acceptance of evil and gross injustice which bear down on us hasn't been a part of my upbringing. I've been taught that it's much better to point a finger at those responsible for this evil and everybody knows perfectly well who the culprits are. Once there were signs of disapproval on the faces I'm about to portray, but they were fading away and eventually vanished into thin air. I've recently come across an adequate expression in some newspaper (I rarely buy newspapers and when I do it's usually so because of TV programmes listing) - YEAR OF ANTIDEPRESSANT. I've felt like smiling but instead the expression on my face has turned sour. "Bravo!". This man hasn't got the faintest idea how right he is. However, this year isn't only a year of ONE specific antidepressant, this is a year of all antidepressants which could be found in pharmacies. Everything will be much clearer to you after the following story... One day, well protected by sunglasses and a walkman, I noticed something I could only retell as this was the sight I usually wouldn't want to see or hear about... Well, despite 'defence installations' on my face I noticed and heard a pensioner in the midst of the Revolution Boulevard who was offering his goods on display on a cardboard box in front of him turned upside down. Goods? His "goods" were actually a selection of pills and tablets - all of them tranquilliser drugs. Neatly and methodically arranged tranquillisers. The passers-by seemed quite indifferent, they were viewing and examining these drugs as if they were hairpins, cosmetic items or socks. Some people would inquire about the price, but for the most part his business was rather bad since the people had already emptied the shelves in pharmacies in their neighbourhood and probably had their pockets filled with tranquillisers at least for some time. At first I entertained the idea of how it would look like if some of the street vendors of cigarettes (selling all sorts of things as well) were to tout pedestrians crying out the names of these drugs: "C'mon, we've got Trodon here, Artana, Artana to make you feel fine...". And then I felt I was blushing with shame and rage. The old man used his wife's, neighbours' and probably his own recipes to get hold of his "goods", now on offer to people confused and disoriented by hardships of everyday life, weak enough to seek their salvation in antidepressants. Of course, his countenance gave away devout tranquillity supported by psychoactive substances. He was himself an excellent advertisement for his goods offered to pallid and expressionless faces passing by. I felt like shouting at the top of my lungs, driving away the old man home, I felt like doing something about it... But I didn't. I was on my way to meet my girlfriend and shocked by the sight I turned my escapist device right up and walked away. I'd have to quarrel anyway, not only with the vendor but a multitude of users - addicts as well, and no good could come out of it. The most dangerous is a wounded animal. A hungry pack of wolves won't focus on mere survival, at least for a couple of hours, as there are so many of them. Who am I to deprive them of that illusion? Even if I were successful, would it be the right thing? I had to give it up. All these questions were slowly drowning in the noise coming from my earphones.
There were approximately 400,000 regular users (addicts) of antidepressant and tranquilliser drugs in Belgrade in the period 1990-96. During the '96/97 civil protests this figure was reduced to 200,000 only to skyrocket to 600,000 in 1998. It is estimated that the number of occasional users amounts to more than 1,500,000.
Isidor Igic (23)
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