It is difficult to speak and write about a recently deceased friend, especially to unknown people. I don’t want to just quote information from the official biography, but again, some things are important to at least mention.
That’s why I’m passing on a part of what others wrote and said about him: “Zoran Đerić wrote poetry, essays and scientific studies in the fields of literature, theater and film.” He translated from several Slavic languages. He was a prominent member of Matica Srpska for many years. He was the director of the Serbian National Theater for two terms. He is the author of over 70 books for which he received many of the most prestigious awards. As a visiting professor, he taught in Prague, Gdańsk, Krakow, Novi Sad, Banja Luka. A top intellectual.” That’s what I’m reading in various obituaries these days.
What is not written in those obituaries, but can be assumed, is that Zoran was a man of great knowledge. Those who met him in his professional work know that he could speak beautifully, intelligently and with authority on any topic in the world. And he spoke softly, in a gentlemanly manner.
There are, of course, some things about Zoran that only those who loved him and who were his friends can know – and I have the privilege of being among those who can speak about him from that point of view. It is difficult to talk about friends in short definitions, but I am sure of one thing: Zoran Đerić (whom all his friends called Đera) knew how to return the friendship he had given. That quiet and unobtrusive man knew how not to get angry when he might have had the right to be angry. I remember how once, in cold Vienna, he waited for me outside for over an hour because, as all women do, it is not easy to pack a bag and shoes. And when I finally appeared, he just asked with a smile: “Are you satisfied?”
After that long wait in the Viennese cold, Đera and I entered the ballroom where we were greeted by the breath of a bygone era and some music that is no longer played today. Appropriately dressed, among the ball gowns and tailcoats, by all accounts he belonged to that gentleman’s world that no longer exists. So measured, dignified and elegant, he looked like a discreet gentleman who finally found himself in his natural environment – among some kind people who adhere to etiquette and, even more, to essential decency. I can easily imagine a situation where someone introduces him to a lady with the words: “Mr. Zoran Đerić.” That would be so true.
Đera knew how to remain a friend even when times were difficult – both for him and for others. He knew how to keep secrets. To stay on the right side. Lived in his own specific quiet way and did not show resentment or anger even when he had every reason to. He just remained quiet and good. In the meantime, the world has become corrupt and rude, and every day it is getting more corrupt and rude – and Zoran Đerić did not fit into such a world. He was one of the few who did not spoil the world.
I guess it sounds incredible, but all Đera’s computers and phones very quickly started to look like their owner – in some magical way, all the factory settings just disappeared from them, and all those technical aids went silent on their own. It was as if they were becoming more discreet. Of course, this sometimes resulted in him simply not hearing his silenced phones – but he always answered my calls. He had an ear for friends.
It may not seem important to some, but he loved animals and took care of them. And he had a lot of them. He had a heart for them too. Đera, his inseparable friend, the dog Toša, we often walked around the city center, sat in the “Lipa” tavern, got wet in the Danube Park and shared many beautiful and difficult moments.
It will be a long time before I stop expecting my phone to ring softly and hear my friend’s voice on the other end.
Mr. Đerić is now at some ball of his own that we can’t see from here… And in the silence that we all hear…
By Sonja Damjanović