PHOTO: Island Susak – Beauty on the Brink of Extinction

Island Susak, despite its preservation and unusual beauty where Adriatic and Baltic scenes blend, is often accompanied by the reputation of a community on the brink of extinction.

The land part of the island, one of the most isolated in the Adriatic, is entirely built of sandy and dusty loess overgrown with grass and reeds, and the bay that welcomes us is bordered by Spiaza beach, where one must wade to reach water up to the knees. Around Spiaza, Donje Selo has spread out, towards which the remnants of the bora evenly stretched the surface of the sea.

At the dock, a delegation of Susak residents welcomed the boat: the president of the Local Committee, Marija Rudić, in colorful attire, teacher Barbara Bušić Ribarić along with all four students from the island branch of the elementary school, and others.

Adriatic like Srijem

Susak, like Unije and Vele and Male Srakane, is the westernmost chain of the Kvarner islands. This small island, with an area of about 3.7 square kilometers, is different in soil composition and appearance from everything in the Adriatic. It consists of 6-7 layers of sandy loess with a total thickness of 37 meters. Only a third of its grains have a composition that corresponds to local rocks.

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According to geomorphologist Andrija Bognar, most of the deposits were carried by the Po River and other rivers from the Alps and the central Apennines and deposited in the northwestern parts of today’s Adriatic. From there, the dusty loess was blown by winds onto the rocky karst surface of today’s northern Adriatic.

This occurred during the glacial period, which lasted from 300,000 to 130,000 years ago. However, recent research suggests that the oldest grains could be as much as 700,000 years old. At that time, the sea level was about a hundred meters lower, so the entire area of today’s Adriatic Sea north of the line Zadar – San Benedetto del Tronto in Italy was a dry basin. In fact, it was a valley through which the Po River flowed, into which tributaries from the west, north, and east flowed. We could compare this area in appearance and soil composition to today’s Srijem.

They didn’t want to be donkeys

Among the last to leave the dock, we offered help to an elderly lady pushing a wheelbarrow or cart. This is the main means of transport on Susak. Some are marked with names and addresses, which seems like an unofficial registration.

“Are you from the local committee?” she responds to the offer and after we repeated it, she continues:

“I carried a lot on my head here.”

She introduces herself as Jakomina Sutora (probably born) Busanić. She is a widow, lives permanently on Susak, and her children, she says, are abroad.

“They went to work around the world, they didn’t want to be donkeys like me, carrying on their heads,” she says as if she is fond of them.

“I go to see them a bit for Christmas, to Strasbourg, but Susak is the best. You see, now it is the calmest,” she says and immediately complains:

“My house has flooded twice, this big one, here. Because of the utilities. They put the pipes up poorly. I was on duty alone at night, a widow. The blue garden; I opened the door for it to go towards the carpenter. Or I won’t pay taxes,” she shouts through laughter with the buzzing of a motor cultivator that overtakes us. “Here, that’s it, the best house on Susak… I gave Kozolić this house for wine, now you will try the wine up there.”

The Game of History and Geography

Mrs. Jakomina is one of about 120 residents of Susak. The island is in the final phase of a demographic catastrophe that has affected most islands and rural areas in Croatia. It has long crossed the threshold of symbolic threat, and serious research indicates that in a generation or two, if we count only the locals, it will literally be dead.

At its peak in 1936, Susak, according to Reverend Anton Turčić, had 1,656 inhabitants, and some classes had two divisions each. The residents of Susak then cultivated about 1.8 million vine stocks, had an open winery, and in 1940, a fish processing factory.

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However, even when it was at its “best”, geography and historical fate pressed Susak with troubles rarely found elsewhere. They isolated it from the world, turned it inward, and made it a specific community. Their language is a mixture of older dialects of Croatian and other languages that were in administration. Due to this insularity, they intermarried and largely became related, which was accompanied by specific diseases.

The community rapidly dwindled after the closure of factories in the 1960s. “One year 600 left and the next year another 600 left, so Susak was completely devastated,” says its chronicler Julijano Sokolić from Mali Lošinj.

Many rowed at night to reach the Italian coast. From there, they migrated to the USA, New Jersey; mostly to the city of Hoboken.

In America today, there are 20 times more Susak residents than on the island, says another good chronicler, journalist Borislav Ostojić.

Where I walk, I hear they are here

One of the “Americans” is retiree Antun Picinić, who came for “three and a half weeks”. “We had to come a bit to fix the house, it’s starting to fall apart, settle accounts and so on,” he explains and adds that they also call him “From the Lord”, because on Susak “everything is by nickname”.

He left as a fifteen-year-old in October 1967, after the grape harvest. Then he spent nine months in camps in Italy, before, he says, reaching America.

“For now, I don’t know what will happen, but somehow I would like to return as long as I can…” he says and adds that he has five children and that his wife Marija, whom he introduces us to, still works.

Marija Picinić left Susak at the age of nine. “It’s really nice,” she gestures towards the island as she speaks. “My mom and dad have died, but where I walk, I hear they are here. But they were here for a long time. But here it’s very peaceful,” Marija explains her deep attachment to Susak.

And in summer, it’s crowded here, adds Antun. “We have a big feast here, oh my. The Day of Emigrants.”

“That’s a holiday that everyone should see,” notes Marija and adds that they have “two new nuns. They are very nice.”

“Aunt Lady, shall we sing?” calls Anton to an older lady in front of the house. “She lives here all the time and is the only one who dresses in black attire,” Marija Rudić interjects.

“Change your clothes Aunt Lady,” Anton tells her and then turns to me: “Take a picture with her. When she’s dressed like this, she won’t even let us open the window like that.” But Aunt Lady has fled into the house.

For a few steps, Antun points to a large house, “This is my old school.” Through its window, we see, the “event” is about to start.

Island of Nicknames

The first name for the event at the school was “presentation of the book about Susak”. Then they called it “event”. It is actually a homage to the 70th anniversary of the publication of the monograph “Island Susak”, a grand work edited by Mijo Mirković in 1957. In a suitably arranged classroom, in front of about fifty participants, the students sang a kind of anthem to Susak “Sansego gradiću”. Then the president of the Čakavski Assembly Cres-Lošinj, Julijano Sokolić, read several illustrative excerpts from the book and commented on them a bit.

The book collects 34 works by then-leading authors such as Mijo Mirković, Milivoj Petrik, Petar Guberina, Josip Hamm, Andre Mohorovičić, and others and represents not only the most comprehensive picture of Susak but perhaps also the greatest care for it so far.

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Rakljani and Suščani have always been connected, says Sokolić explaining partly the reasons why editor Mijo Mirković, a native of Raklja, had an ear for Susak. He then explains how the Susak residents, due to the small number of surnames, developed the habit of giving nicknames, which they also passed on to those who visit them.

When Tito came after the war, in a white uniform, they told him: “Kalebina has come.” And then Bishop Josip Srebrnić came. He was thin and yellow, so they called him “The Passing of Jesus Christ.” Then Branko Fučić, an academic, had his jacket tied, so they called him “Repina,” Sokolić recounted.

Veli Buoh returns to Lošinj

Retired journalist Borislav Ostojić from Rijeka, who has been coming to Susak since 1973 and spends most of the year there, continued Sokolić’s series and revealed how the Susak residents distinguished between two priests after the war. If you said “Brza Pruga,” it meant the tall one who walked quickly, and “Mali Bižić” (pea), then it was the small round priest.

Olujić also explained how the book mistakenly changed some toponyms: “It was always Veli križ or Veli kriz. And when they were questioning in the fifties, there were 40 from Zagreb, they asked a woman: ‘What is the name of that cross in the church?’. ‘Veli Buoh,’ she told them, because for her it was a great god. And from those days until today, no one speaks of Veli križ anymore.”

The book was acquired in an antique shop by the secretary of the Rotary Club “Lošinj”, otherwise from Osijek, Branimir Domac. Sokolić handed it over to the principal of the “Marija Martinolić” Elementary School, Olivela Franko, in front of everyone. After the “event”, the students curiously gathered around the table and flipped through this and other books that Sokolić brought as a gift. Then Principal Franko took it back to Mali Lošinj, where the school is headquartered.

“I would love for two books to come here, so that one stays here and the other in Lošinj,” concluded Olujić, who is said to have a ready manuscript for a book about Susak.

Genetic and Biomedical Research

Certainly the most systematic research on Susak was conducted by the Anthropological Institute from Zagreb. Young anthropologist Jelena Šarac recently published an article in which she provided an overview of this research, as well as new analyses of mitochondrial DNA. The analyses confirmed earlier results about the reduced genetic diversity of the Susak population.

She analyzed mitochondrial DNA from 64 individuals (42 percent of the current Susak population) and found only three haplogroups (groups of common ancestors), while others are completely absent. No study conducted on Croatian samples has recorded such a reduction in basic haplogroup diversity so far, the text states.

Every sudden demographic change of this kind, linked to the general isolation of island communities, necessarily entails a reduction in the genetic diversity of the population, she explains.

She reminds that already in the monograph about Susak, a high degree of relatedness on the island was established, considering that among 1,400 residents only a few surnames were identified, of which two were dominant. It was also confirmed that there is a higher frequency of individuals with red hair than usual (14 percent), and the dominance of blood group A and O, which reaches as much as 95 percent, she adds.

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Genetic and biomedical research of the islanders identified certain forms of diseases in this community, such as mental retardation, learning difficulties, and psychological disorders. Particularly interesting is the research conducted in 2009, which found that an epidemic of a deadly infectious disease ravaged the Croatian islands around 1450, and that it left the most devastating consequences precisely on the island of Susak and Rab, emphasizes Jelena Šarac and adds: It is estimated that the mortality rate was 70 percent.

In her work, she compares Susak to the island of Tristan de Cunha in the South Atlantic Ocean, which is the most remote inhabited archipelago in the world. When a volcano erupted on the island in 1961, the island’s population was relocated to Great Britain, which administratively owns it, but most later returned.

The research shows striking similarities between the two islands. It is believed that the current 278 individuals descended from 15 ancestors, seven women and eight men, who arrived on the island in the 19th century. They have only three square kilometers suitable for living and agriculture, the soil has volcanic geological features, and the population has an exceptionally well-documented genealogy. Only seven surnames have been recorded on the island of Tristan de Cunha, while there are also only about ten on Susak. The mentioned demographic, historical, and genetic similarities of these two islands are quite surprising and, as such, have already been described in the text “Tristan de Cunha and Susak” in 1964, she concludes.

Artists in “deškuorš susački”

The western part of the beach is surrounded by weekend houses hidden in the reeds. From them, a dirt path about a kilometer and a half long begins, which makes a full circle and returns from the north, through Gornje Selo, to this place. Initially, it passes by a playground, then boats with their keels turned up have sunk into the reeds around it. Then you come across an open large waste disposal site and continue uphill. Partly it is dug into loess, in whose rocks bird nests are hollowed out and various signatures are carved.

From the ravine, you exit onto the plateau of the island next to new vineyards, of which there are 32,000 vine stocks, as Sokolić says, planted by a private vintner from Italy. About eighty meters behind them, a cemetery emerges from the reeds. The shapes, ornamentation, and inscriptions on the tombstones confirm that this is a community with a specific history. Until the middle of the century, the tombstones had inscriptions like “famiglia Bussanich”, “Mattessicc”, and later “Busanić”, “Matešić”… From the cemetery to Gornje Selo, the path is paved.

Gornje Selo, where the houses are pressed against each other, appears deserted. In the narrow street towards the church, a cart protrudes from the facade on the second floor. It is clear that the thing is “shifted”, but why? On the internet, we find the answer: it is about the biennial contemporary art Susak Expo, which has been gathering artists from several European countries there since 2006. Instead of, like other biennials of contemporary art, striving to attract as many audiences as possible, Susak Expo discreetly addresses the local audience.

This is like a kind of silent protest in the world of contemporary art, we heard among contemporary art critics.

They note that they are not actually an exhibition, but that they explore what happens when you set up a “structure that has all the potential for art” in time and place without plans and expectations.

In the publication marking ten years of the event, scenes with artistic interventions in landscapes can be seen: wire figures like those on the facade of this house by the beach, carts in the reeds, a furnace lit with fire in a cleared space, etc.

They sought inspiration in translating the introductory text of British writer and curator Jo Melvin from English to “deškuorš susački”. They believe that “thoughts that were not spoken are later forgotten”. According to the translation by Totka Picinić, “Susak Expo 2006, started as an idea to expand the platform through the exchange of context and language via dialogue between people and locations. It is an idea in motion, an idea of translation.” The differences between the worlds are also seen in the fact that the original has 1,804 words, while the translation into “deškuorš susački” has only 434 words.

One of the performances was the journey of an orange cart from London through Reims, Munich, Vienna, Višnjan, Rijeka, Baška, and Mali Lošinj to Susak. It was the work of Daniel Devlin, and the cart was transported, no less, than on the roof of Cedric Christie’s Metropolitan Picasso car, intended for transporting expensive artworks.

Winter Closing of Everything

From above, Donje Selo looked frozen. Only two hurried nuns waved their black dresses. We met at the bottom of the stairs. They were carrying canisters of water. To the question I would usually ask a colleague, a doctor, or a craftsman – “how is it here to serve” – they answered cautiously that they do not see it that way, but that they go where the Lord calls them.

And how do people live on Susak? They also do not take care of this in a social or communal sense. They say, here they pray for human needs. The community is small, and everyone knows what is happening and how everyone is doing, they say something of this world.

Autumn will soon close the already quiet taverns Barbara in Gornje Selo and Ankora in Donje Selo near the dock, as well as the bakery St. Catherine. Social life will be reduced to the former Social Home, now the Emigrants’ Home.

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There we find nurse Hajdi, a retiree from the Zagreb Children’s Hospital from Srebrenjak, who spends her time playing belot. She has lived on Susak for ten years, and her job happened by chance. She runs a small but equipped clinic for two hours a day. If a health problem occurs, she provides the most basic assistance and calls the emergency service from Mali Lošinj.

And I pray to God that the weather is good and that they are not busy in Lošinj, she adds and notes that often a private doctor is on Susak and helps.

Healthcare on Susak has been reduced to the lowest level. Therefore, it is not surprising that in winter, a large number of its residents go to safer destinations, says Olujić in a note he shared on the HZJZ portal.

The only store, Jadranka, has closed after many years. The local portal says that the authorities are negotiating with someone to resolve the issue. The former owner responds in a comment that they are hypocrites. They did not respond to his call to help him overcome off-season losses, and now they are worried.

Marija Rudić lived in America and returned, opened apartments, and took on the role of president of the local committee. In her previous actions, she highlights raising almost 10 thousand kuna for the Great Lady, for the arrangement of a playground for children.

There is no strength

Julijano Sokolić graduated in the early nineties on the revitalization of Susak. Has there been any progress since then?, we ask him.

There has. There has, he says. A water reservoir of three thousand cubic meters has been built, so it fills up before the season and there is water all summer. Recently, the City of Mali Lošinj acquired a desalination device, which will enable better supply. A new dock is being built where ferries will be able to dock. The sewage system is gradually being resolved, and the main street has been paved.

The state wants to help, it wants, Sokolić replies. He reminds of the new vineyards and adds that many houses have been renovated. In summer, there are up to a thousand people, tourists and emigrants from the USA. It is progressing slowly, he concludes.

We remind him of the concluding thought of his work, in which he says that the state administration and potential investors in island development programs need to stand behind the development of Susak, but that the problem is the lack of trained operators. They must come from outside and need to activate the levers of the dormant self-organizing system, which the islanders, today only a secondary subject of development, will be able and willing to accept, and that through gradual revitalization they take matters into their own hands.

I do not see any strength that would lead such a project at all. In the nineties, I was optimistic, but I see that today small islands are doomed to extinction. I do not see that strength, repeats the persistent Sokolić.

Marija Rudić does not explicitly emphasize it, but from her statement, it can be discerned that there is no significant support among the local residents. Everyone who does something on Susak mostly comes by boat.

Without answers about development

The duality between possibilities and fate follows the visitor to Susak at every step. It is touristically attractive but undervalued. It is considered a case, and a twist of fate, although it is clear that this is primarily an economic and developmental issue. While carts are the main means of transport there, the smallest and southernmost island in the Balearic archipelago, Formentera, for example, receives 20,000 vehicles at the peak of the season.

Susak is mostly associated in the Croatian public with the fact that a high degree of relatedness has been established there. For this reason, I am extremely sorry, because it is truly a beautiful island. It is also an island with a particularly interesting history that is threatened with oblivion and specific island customs that are threatened with extinction in the near future, along with the remaining 150 Susak residents, explains Jelena Šarac. I think it is necessary to put in effort to preserve and protect island traditions, both of Susak and other Croatian islands, and to raise public awareness of the importance of such communities for science, but also for public health and Croatian cultural heritage, she says.

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Unfortunately, we did not learn much about the development plans for Susak, and what the relevant authorities intend to do to revive the island. The former mayor of Mali Lošinj, Gari Cappelli, who spoke two summers ago at the Day of Emigrants about the projects for the arrangement of Susak, some of which have been realized, is now the Minister of Tourism and directed us to the current mayor of Mali Lošinj, Ana Kučić.

We were unable to reach her by phone or email. Only from the door of the city administration building did we receive a smile from the sign “Thank you”.

A fast catamaran took us from Susak at sunset. Through its back doors, low rays fell, and the island quickly disappeared into the light.

Written by: Ivo Lučić