The island of Susak, together with Unije, Vele Skarane and Male Skarane, forms the northernmost part of the Kvarner archipelago. It has an area of ​​approximately 3,7 km2 and is different from all the other islands in terms of its appearance and soil composition. Susak consists of seven layers of sandy sediments, with a total depth of 37 meters. Only a third of these sediments have a composition that is similar to the stones of the region.

According to Andrija Bognar, a geologist, most of these sediments were deposited by the Po and other rivers that flow down from the Alps and Apennines and then accumulate in the northwest of the Adriatic. From there, the winds would have carried these sands towards the karst areas around 300.000-130.000 BC. And according to recent research, the oldest sediments could date back even 700.000 years ago. At that time, the sea level was lower by a hundred meters and all the space north of a hypothetical line Zara-San Benedetto del Tronto had emerged. It was in fact a wide valley along which the Po flowed and where the tributaries coming from the north, east and west flowed into it. A region that, in appearance and conformation, is similar to the current one of Srijem.

Susak, an island that will soon die?

In Susak, we were greeted on the dock by a delegation of islanders: the president of the municipal council, Marija Rudić, in traditional dress, teacher Barbara Bušić Ribarić, four of her students, and a few other residents. As we left the dock, we helped an elderly woman pushing a wheelbarrow (here, a kariola ), one of the island's main means of transportation.

Some have the owner’s name and address on them, a sort of informal plaque. Jakomina Sutora is a widow and lives here all year round. Her children emigrated abroad. “They went off into the wide world, they didn’t want to continue being a mule like me,” she explains apologetically. “I’m going to Strasbourg for Christmas, but I feel better in Susak. You see, it’s so calm here now.”

Life on the island, however, is far from idyllic. “My house flooded twice because of poorly constructed municipal sewerage. I had to take care of it all by myself, one night. I opened the front door so that the water could flow out into the garden, what else could I do? I could stop paying taxes… Here, this is the most beautiful house in Susak. I have made it available to Kozulić so he can make his wine, come and taste it”. Jakomina Sutora is one of the 120 inhabitants of the island.

Like most of Croatia's countryside and islands, Susak is slowly dying. In a generation or two, no one will live here. At its peak, in 1936, it had, according to Anton Turčić, a local priest, 1656 inhabitants and a large school. The islanders cultivated 1,8 million vines, and the island was home to a fish processing factory since 1940.

An isolated community

However, even during its “grandeur”, Susak has always been isolated from the world by geography and history. The island has long been closed in on itself and is home to a very unique community. The language spoken here mixes old Croatian expressions with the languages ​​of the people who have passed through. Isolation has led people to marry each other and this has caused a certain frequency of diseases related to consanguinity.

The community of residents declined sharply with the closure of the fish processing plant in the 60s. “600 people left in one year and another 600 the following year, Susak was literally devastated,” says Julijano Sokolić, a historian from Mali Lošinj. Many would set sail at night, clandestinely reaching the Italian coast from where they would emigrate to the United States, especially to the city of Hoboken, New Jersey. According to journalist Borislav Ostojić, there are twenty times more people from Susak in the United States than there are currently on the island.

One of these “Americans,” Antun Picinić, is currently staying on the island “for three and a half weeks.” “I came to do some repairs on the house and to pay some bills,” he explains. Antun Picinić left at the age of 15, in October 1967. After 9 months in a transit camp in Italy, he managed to reach the United States. “I don’t know what will happen, but I would like to come back and live here while I still can,” he explains.

Antun Picinić has five children and his wife Marija still works. She left Susak when she was 9. “My mother and father are dead, but wherever I walk here, I feel they are present. They lived here for a long time. It is so peaceful here,” she sighs. “It is really beautiful.” In the summer the village is packed to the brim, Antun says, and a big celebration is organized, the “Emigrants’ Day.”

A little further away, "Nanny Lady," who also lives here year-round, is the only one wearing the traditional black costume, explains Marija Rudić. A few steps further, Antun points to a large house: "It used to be my school." A performance is about to begin in the school, celebrating the anniversary of a monograph titled The Island of Susak, a work created in 1957 under the direction of Mijo Mirković.

In the classroom decorated for the occasion, the pupils sing a song, the Susak anthem, Sansego gradiću.

The Big Seagull, Little Pea and Highway

The inhabitants of Susak, explains Julijano Sokolić, president of a cultural association of Cres-Lošinj, have the habit of using nicknames since there are few surnames on the island, a habit they extend to those who come to visit them.

So, when Tito arrived after the war, in his white uniform, they immediately nicknamed him the Big Seagull. Borislav Ostojić, a retired journalist from Rijeka, has been coming to Susak since 1973. He confirms that at the time there were two priests, the taller of the two was nicknamed “Highway”, the smaller and plump “Pea”.

Important research on Susak has been conducted by the Institute of Anthropology in Zagreb. Jelena Šarac, an anthropologist, recently published an article summarizing new findings made through mitochondrial DNA analysis. Conducted on 64 people, 42% of the current population of the island, they confirm the low genetic diversity of the inhabitants of Susak. Only three different haplogroups were detected, the lowest genetic diversity ever detected in Croatia. Nothing surprising explains Jelena Šarac, given the isolation of Susak.

A 1957 monograph already revealed a high rate of consanguinity, 1400 people shared about ten surnames, two of which were dominant. 95% of the islanders had blood group A or O. Studies have shown the existence of very specific pathologies in Susak: mental disabilities, learning difficulties and psychiatric problems. Another study, from 2009, later revealed that an epidemic had devastated the Croatian islands, in 1450, especially Susak and Rab and that the mortality rate, then, was 70%.

Winter on the island

How is life in Susak? Abandoned by the institutions, the inhabitants tighten their belts. In autumn, the “Café Barbara” in Gornje Selo and the “Ankora” in Donje Selo close, as does the bakery “Sveta Katarina”. Social life is reduced to frequenting the former Cultural Center, today the “Emigrants’ Center”.

Hajdi was a nurse at the Children's Hospital in Zagreb. Now retired, she has lived in Susak for ten years. She keeps a small medical clinic open for two hours a day, provides first aid and calls the emergency services in Mali Lošinj if necessary, praying every time the sea is not rough. "Medical care is really at a minimum," she explains, "it's no wonder many people decide to leave to live in safer places."

The only shop on the island, “Jadranka”, has been closed for many years. The authorities say they are aware of the issue, but for the former owner it is all hypocrisy: they never responded to his calls for help. In the early 90s Julijano Sokolić wrote down several proposals for revitalizing the island: since then a 3000 m3 cistern has been built that provides drinking water all summer long. A new pier is also being built, to allow ferries to dock, work is also being done on the sewerage system and the main street is being repaved. New vineyards have been planted and many houses have been renovated. Things are improving slowly, but they are improving, says Julijano.

Julijano Sokolić, however, remains pessimistic about the island’s future. “I was optimistic in the 90s, but today I fear that small islands are doomed,” he explains. Marija Rudić returned to the island after living in the United States and is now the president of the city council. She does her best, but admits that she doesn’t find much support among the local population. “Everyone who does something for Susak comes by boat,” she says.

To develop Susak could attract tourists but for the moment it is not enough valued. The smallest of the Balearics, Formentera, alone welcomes 20.000 visitors a year.

“Among the Croatians, Susak evokes only consanguinity. And this is sad because it is a magnificent island, with an interesting history but which risks sinking into oblivion. The traditional customs are in danger of disappearing, as are the last 150 inhabitants,” says Jelena Šarac. “We need to make efforts to protect the island’s traditions and we need to be able to explain the importance of these communities for Croatia’s science and cultural heritage,” she adds. From the boat that takes us back to the continent, Susak soon disappears in the rays of the setting sun. A twilight in which its isolation and the indifference of the authorities persist.

November 29, 2017 – Ivo Lučić

Source: Transeuropa Balkan and Caucasus Observatory