STORIES BY REAL BOSNIAN PEOPLE

Memories of SARAJEVO

"Isn't surprising what terrible things people will do just to change the lines on a map?"

By: Melisa Magodic

"Isn't surprising what terrible things people will do just to change the lines on a map?" Surprising or not, it is true. The following story is from my own experience during the war in Bosnia and relates all the terrible things that happened to me and my friends just because some people wanted "to change lines on a map." From the day when the war started my life in Sarajevo changed dramatically.

It was April 6,1992. The day started as every other, but unfortunately ended in an unexpected way. i can still remember that day; even at this moment, I can hear the echo of the sniper shot, and I can see an old man lying in his blood in front of me. At that moment, my heart started beating incredibly fast; I was running, but I didn't know where. I was scared and confused. With so many people around me, I couldn't hear anything, and suddenly my father grabbed me and told me to run to toward my grandmother's house. I was confused because I didn't know who was shooting at us and why. Throughout the rest of the day, about 20 people were killed and many more wounded as the first mortar shells crashed into the city from the hills that surrounded us. Smoke was rising into the air. The smell of the spring was replaced by the smell of gunpowder, and at that moment I realized that the war has started.

The city dramatically changed that spring. Bt the end of the year Sarajevo was not only under siege; Sarajevo was divided by hatred just because we, its citizens, were of different religions. Aggression and the killing of innocent people and kids continued. This was well known as "Ethnic Cleansing." Not only did aggressor take parts of Sarajevo, but they also occupied most of the towns in Bosnia by killing entire families. Soon, Bosnia and Hercegovina were divided-Bosnia in the north, and Hercegovina in the south. Many people had to emigrate to find new place to live, but some of them were unable to do that because the aggressor had taken them to the concentration camps.

My life in Sarajevo only got worse. Every day started in the silence, but that silence was usually broken after a coupe hours by the startling sounds of machine guns and the explosions of shells. Though, the survival seemed impossible, I had to fight with myself: hope was my only choice of survival. I was hoping for peace-for the life I used to have, but I realized that everything was gone just in one day. My friends and my generation were lost in the wind of war. Many of them were killed or wounded, and many of them had escaped to places where they could stay alive. The only choice I had left was to fight with pain and reality.

Winters were going by. Every New Year's Eve I had to spend in cold, dark room without food, water, electricity, and heat. All necessities for life were missing. The public water supply was broken completely by aggressor's attacks on basic utilities. Telephone lines were destroyed, and our chance to get some food came only onca a week. Everything in our lives had changed since the war began.

Finally, on November 14, 1994, I had to leave Sarajevo, the city where I lived for most of my life, the place where I made my first friends and where I had my first love. Today, when I am here in the United States everything has changed. Since I came to the United States I had to learn new language, make new friends, and to adjust to an entirely new life. In the beginning it was really hard to adjst, because I was away from home and everything was new for me. The United States is not the country I pictured to be. Before I came to this country I had imagined the United States as a country that we can only dream of, but I was wrong. The "American Dream" for me is not that important, because I just want to live the way I used to did in my native country, Bosnia. Even if I stay in this country I will be always what I was, I will try to keep my family's traditions and at same time I will try to achieve all my goals, because I have learned it is possible.

All I have left are my memories and hope that I might go back and start my life over again in the city that I love.

THE SPIRIT OF SARAJEVO
By: Igor Turkusic

Let me take you back in time to a beautiful city that has a very special meaning in my life, a city that has a special spot in my heart. Let me take you to my lovely hometown.

The year is 1994, and the name of the city is Sarajevo. Oh yes, Sarajevo, it is one of the names, that when you hear it, you simply keep one hearing the echo of it in your mind, as if you were standing in a great canyons. It is one of those rare places on our planet were east and west meet. One of those places where you have so many cultures, many types of buildings from different periods of time, many religions, so many nationalities. Despite this variety, every Sarajevan in this lovely town lives happily, surrounded by his neighbors, people who respect various religions, and lives being proud of all this variety. The only reason that this is possible, is that everything is so well mixed into the large piece, a large "cookie," called Sarajevo. Take it from me, I am one of them. The 1994 was the tenth anniversary of a great event that occurred in this lovely town. Ten years before, in 19984, Sarajevo welcomed the whole world. My dear Sarajevo was the host of the Fourteenth Winter Olympic Games. Oh, I remember everything, just like it happened yesterday. Having so much fun, enjoying every second of that large event, having people from all around the world, gathered in one place, and once again all that variety becomes perfection in Sarajevo. But that summer my beautiful town was not celebration that tent anniversary. No, my hometown is in pain. Sarajevo is suffering, Sarajevo cries for help. You may ask why? You may ask: "Is it possible that such a great town can be suffering?", and I can tell you that I ask myself that same question, every day, even though I know that people that did all those horrible things to Sarajevo and it's citizens weren't humans. Oh no, they were some wild beasts from the darkness, hungry for meat, thirsty for blood, blood as red as all those beautiful sunsets over the same lovely city ten year ago, blood as red as a face full of anger and shame, human blood.

At the beginning of that horrifying war that happened in my country, people were frightened. They had that same feeling a deer has when it senses danger, when it smells hunter, and as a deer runs away from danger, a lot of people being afraid of the war and hunger were leaving Sarajevo. Every day was the same, no electricity, no water no gas, nothing. The only thing you had in those war days were your friends and your spirit. Your spirit was a piece of the great spirit of Sarajevo, and every single citizen of Sarajevo was your friend. Someone once said: "They can kill us, but they can never kill our spirit and our friendship." He was right, because friendship was sacred, and people were risking their lives in order to help other people. Take it from, I was one of them. It was one of those empty war days, that summer of 1994, and I was outside having fun with my best friend, as much fun as a person can have in a surrounded, suffering town that is being shelled every day over and over again. Just being with my friend made me very happy, we paid no attention to shells, or snipers shooting near by. "How is that possible?" you may ask. Well, let me tell you, after a while you become a machine, some kind of a mechanism. You begin to think of all those sounds of death, as normal, something that happens every day. Maybe even on purpose, you try to pay attention to these sounds and you out to be with your friends, even though you know it's dangerous. But you can only stay sane by going out, because if you stay at home or in your basement all the time, you will go crazy.

My friend and I were talking about how nothing last for ever. This evil must come to an end soon. We will have a great rest of our lives, and we will make Sarajevo beautiful as it was, and even prettier. We will be able to have a girlfriends without being afraid, and without asking ourselves: "God, am I going to see her tomorrow?" With asking ourselves question in the morning: "Am I going to survive this day?", that a day will come when we will have water, electricity, gas and food, and all the lovely things we had before, yes, we were daydreaming. Suddenly we heard someone's voice: "Help, please help me!", and as we turned around I realized that I had heard a sniper shot. For a second I felt lost, but finally I was a woman lying on the ground, screaming. She was in her thirties, and she was dressed poorly because of the war, but her hair, her hair was beautiful and it was sparkling in the sunlight, and despite her dress I noticed that she was very pretty. "Help me!", she scrammed, and her voice brought me back to reality. I looked at my friend, and he looked at me. We knew there was only one thing to do. We started running in order to help her. As we were getting closer and closer, I could see that her skirt was soaked with blood. As we finally approached her, another shot was fired, and when I actually heard the bullet flying right above my had, making the sound, the sound of death, I realized that we were actually doing and that we have to act fast. There was no time for fear. I still have the picture in my had. I was telling her: "Don't worry, everything is going to be just fine, we have you now." Bullets were still flying above our heads, and next to our legs, all over the place, but we paid no attention. The only thing I could really see was lady's frightened face, her dress soaked in blood and her bloody arms. My friends was yelling: "Run, run, we have just a few more meters!" and that was the first time I looked up and in front of us. I saw a lot of people behind my building, out of that sniper's range, waiting for us. A car was ready to take the lady to a hospital, and I can still hear the sound of the engine running. The next thing I knew, was she was on her way to the hospital, and she was going to be all right. I looked at my friend and I looked at his shirt. It was dirty and bloody spots all over it, his face was like the face of me and we hugged each other. There was this sudden silence, nothing, emptiness, just my friend and me, and a voice of the wind saying: "You made it. The Sarajevo Spirit lives."

"How to live without water, electricity and food"
By: Melisa Magodic

In a time of war people are usually faced with some strange changes that are essential for their survival. From my own experience during the war in Bosnia I learned how to make my life bearable even though it was very difficult. Some unique, unforgettable changes and ideas made my life easier to survive. The most important and essential things were missing, were things such as electricity, water and food. For example, some of the changes that my family and I went through were that we got water and food in small amounts each week or did not received it for long periods of time. Also, electricity was very desired by us because we didn't have it for many months.

First of all, we didn't have water in our apartments for months. Water was shipped to us on trucks and we could only get a certain amount at a time. When we got water we washed our laundry by hands and dried it in the house, then we took a shower from the water which was left. Of course we saved some water for cooking. At that time I forgot how it was to live with water and how it was to take regular shower and to wash clothes in laundry machines. I felt that I would never be able to live the same as I used to live before the war. At the same time, electricity was one of the essential missing part of our lives during the war. I had to learn how to read a book by candle light, and also I didn't know what was going on around us at that time. We were isolated from the whole World and reality, but as always we tried to find the way out. A specific example attempt to survive was that we tried to produce electricity. The best way was by using generators from cars. We would use that electricity for light and to listen to the radio. This idea gave us new hope that we could still survive. We had to get used to it because there was no better way. We were fortunate when we found new way or a new ideas. Still, our lives, and those ideas didn't help to stop the war. Nothing could seemed to really be able to alleviate our frightened and hopeless souls. We continued our usual lives and routines. Everyday seemed to be the same. We had to divide one loaf of bread and two eggs between the members of my family. I can still remember, how one late afternoon I came home and I asked my mom what I could eat and then she responded, "There is not much to choose from, whatever you find is yours." In that moment I knew what was waiting for me, the same lunch as usual; a piece of bread with oil on it, just to kill my hunger. When I got macaroni or rice, that changed my day. Still, there was nothing to go with all that, there was no meat or sauce, nothing! Everyday we tries to save some food in case we didn't get anything for the continuous day. One day rice, the next day macaroni and again rice and the cycle was the same each and every week.

Finally, writing about my experiences has made me realized that people should be more concerned about World problems. They need to understand what surrounds them and can occur in their nations. From listening to the news they can learn how important is to keep peace and how hard is to live without the most important things for life. Experience has thought me what the important things in life are. They are not material things but the things that help us to gain them; hope, family values and desire to live peacefully.

"The only way we are ever going to ensure peace
on this planet is to adopt the entire World
as "our family". We are going to have to hug them,
and kiss them. And dance and play with them.
And we are going to have to sit and talk and walk
and cry with them. Because when we do, we will be
to see that, indeed, evryone is beautiful,
and we all complement each other beautifully
and we would all be poorer without each other."

"IN MEMORIAM ‘92"

"Nerazdvojni"

Autor: nepoznat

Clanak iz ratnog izdanja "OSLOBODENJA"

Posveceno mojim prijateljima koji su izgubili
mlade zivote tokom rata:

- Dzenan Karavdic-poginuo u svojoj 17 godini zivota.
- Suad Suljevic - poginuo u svojoj 25 godini zivota.
- Emir Radeljas- poginuo u svojoj 16 godini zivota.
- Robert Sejdic- poginuo u svojoj 21 godini zivota.
- Enis Proha- poginuo u svojoj 15 godini zivota.
- Kenan Sahinovic- poginuo u svojoj XX godini zivota.

"ONI SU DALI SVOJ ZIVOT ZA SLOBODU
BOSNU I HERCEGOVINU"

Kad god sam pokusavao da napisem nesto o poginulim borcima nekako mi nije islo. Onda mi najednom sinu zasto mi to ne ide. Ne ide mi zato sto su ti ljudi, za mene ustvari, zivi, zivi a mrtvi. Mrvti a zivi. I ne samo to. I suvise su mi blizu, oni su moja vruca rana koja jos uvijek nije pocela boljeti, a kamoli da je zarasla. A onda i ovo : borba u kojoj su poginuli nije zavrsena, niti se zna kad ce biti zavrsena i ja jos ne mogu reci ono jedino sto im mogu reci-"Vasa smrt nije bila uzaludna!"

A ima i ovo: Gledam njihove slike i citam njihova imena ali kako da ih sakrijem da ih ne vrijedaju dusmanske oci, kako da ih po posljednji put zastitim od dusmanskih pogleda? Jer ovaj list moze svakom doci u ruke. Do sada sam imao samo svoj vlastiti album poginulih boraca kojeg je mozak automatski, kompjuterski obradivao i kojeg je neprekidno drzao u memoriji. Na lak, nevidljiv i dodir tastera negdje u mom srcu ili negdje u mojoj dusi s nevjerovatnom lakocom u svako doba dana i noc preda mnom bi se poredala lica sehida, koje sam licno poznavao. Jos mi nismo rastaljeni ni toliko da bih mogao kome glasno kazivati to sto su oni govorili, a sto se, ko zna zasto, meni usjeklo u pamcenje.

Oni su svoje zivote posijali po Sarajevu, i meni je tesko da gledam mjesta na kojima su poginuli. Borili su se i branili sebe, svoj rod, svoj narod, svoj grad i svoju zemlju. Svaki od njih je kako je znao i mogao zivio i kako je znao i mogao borio se. Oni su borci Armije BiH. Ali oni se jos bore s nama. Tesko je pobrojati i imenovati sve ono sto Bosnu cini Bosnom i covjeka covjekom, a oni su se borili za Bosnu i covjecnost. Ako smo Bosanci i ljudi mi ih ne smijemo iznevjeriti i utoliko se oni jos bore uz nas, u nama i s nama.

Mi smo nerazdvojni. Nas, njih i nas, smrt nije i ne moze i nece nikada rastaviti!

"Proljece je, ja zivim u Sarajevu"
napisala: Melisa Magodic
(Ratno proljece)

Opet je proljece. Moje drugo ratno proljece. Osjecam cudnu malaksalost u udovima, mada je puls zivota jos tu, u vrskovima prstiju i kutu usana, mada u mojim venama jos tece pradjedovska krv mojih predaka. Kao da me nesto gura iz kolotecine ove sumorne svakodnevnice. I danas kao i ranijih godina osjecam miris proljeca. Tu je. Dodirujem tek probeharanu granu vocke, pruzam ruke ka kisi, a opet kao da to nisam ja, kao da to nije proljece, kao da ovo nije moje Sarajevo. A jeste. Ranjeno i krvavo, cudnovato lijepo i ponosno. Posmatram Sarajevo u proljece. Sve nekako ozivi uprkos svemu. I onaj pelud sa cvijeca kao da svakog dotanke i sve oboji u vedriju boju. Popucala zemlja trazi vodu, a tek iznikao pupoljak otvara svoje latice na suncu. Poneko drvo i gnijezdo na njemu, melodicne zvukove, koje, cini mi se samo moje uho prima. Sve bih to htjela da dotaknem i osjetim, jer, pocinju se buditi moja cula i pocinje da tece sok mog mladog bica, bas kao i svakog proljeca. Probudim se iz melankolije, struji nesto u meni neka se prijatna toplota razliva u mojoj okolini. I odjednom oslobada se ogromna pokretacka energija. Htjela bih sve odjednom, htjela bih da ja udem u tvorac necega sto ce biti samo moje da ga imam kad me obuzme staro raspolozenje. Pitam se da li i drugi ljudi osjecaju neku veliku prazninu, tu, svuda oko nas, da li se i oni pitaju kako se osjeca Sarajevo u ovom proljecu tako slicnom, a tako drugacijem od ostalih. Da li i oni vode beskrajne razgovore, da li se i njima, dok setaju Sarajevom cini kako se bas ovde, na njegovom tlu stvara i rada neka nova zemlja. Krvava, s' mirisom baruta, koju proljece tek usput dotakne i ozivi.

Tu su moji stari drugovi, nekako izmjenjeni i ocrvsli, valjda od prevelike odgovornosti. Dok ih posmatram nesto me tu u grudima stegne i zaboli. Neki odu i vise se nikad ne vrate. Njihove duse onda nastave da zive u nasim. Svi su oni imali svoje neodsanjane snove. Ponekad me obuzme ceznja za onima sto su tamo, Ponekad uzmem gitaru, a ruke same traze melankolican akord, kao da ne znaju da je proljece i da je vrijeme da se i one probude. Jos uvijek hodam, sada vec zelenim parkovima. Jos uvijek zivim starim zivotom kao da prkosim necemu. Nerijetko mi se oci napune suzama, htjela bih nesto da kazem, makar da pustim glas, ali usne ostaju nijeme. Isti osjecaj kao kad izgubis nekoga ko ti je veoma drag. Dok setam razmisljam da li ce ikad vise biti one nekadasnje mladosti, da li ce Sarajevo dozivjeti svoje puno proljece. Pitam se da li ce mene kad udem u tramvaj obuzeti ono isto osjecanje potpune srece i slobode ili da ovo u grudima nastaviti tako nemilosrdno da boli? Pitam se...

"Ima li buducnosti?"
napisala: Melisa Magodic
(Novembar 01, 1994.)

Ni sama ne znam kako i odakle da pocnem, sta bi prvo napisala. Sve je tako crno, da ne moze, biti gore. Pitam se: "Kakav je ovo zivot, za sta uopste zivim?." "Pola zivot prode dok doznamo sta je zivot," kaze jedna poslovica koja nama govori sve. Nama prolazi zivot u ovom paklenom ratu i nikako da dodemo do onog normalnog dijela sto bi mladost trebalo ciniti mladoscu. Vec smo 31 mjesec zatvoreni, kao u logoru, ili tacnije moje dvije ipo godine zivota su prosle bez nekog znacajnijeg desavanja, sto bi me trebalo ciniti sretnom u zivotu,a u stvari za mnom ide, kao sijenka ovaj sumorni rat. Ko zna, dokle? Pitam se: "Da li me iko razumije, smisao mojih recenica koje su iznesene na ovaj papir duboko iz moje duse koja jeca, boli i cezne za boljim zivotom?." Znam, niko nam ne moze pomoci, niko ne moze razumijeti nas, ko nije prosao kroz ovo sve sto mi prezivljavamo pune dvije godine i sedam mjeseci. Dani prolaze i prolaze, godine se redaju, polako starimo, mijenjamo se u nekom novom zivotu, tj. losem svijetu stradanja i patnji. Onda se ponovo nadamo da ce biti bolje, a u stvari nikako da krenemo ka' boljem i uspijesnijem putu zivota. Duboko u meni se stvario neki kamen koji lezi i boli, koji ne moze da se slomi i da se ponovo rodi srce koje normalno kuca i dusa bez boli. To mi je jedina zelja da bi se poslije osjecala malo bolje, ako je to uopste i moguce? Zelim da ovo sve stane, jer je neizdrzivo!

Kako bi se neko drugi osjecao u ovoj situaciji?...

... Dan nam pocne u strahu i neizvjesnosti sta ce nam donijeti. Strah bude jos veci kad krenemo niz Ulicu ili cak u tramvaj, gdje je, cini mi se, najbliza i najbrza smrt. Stizemo tj. polako se priblizavamo stanici kod "Zemaljsko Muzeja" (poznata snajperska meta), gdje se tramvaj i ne smije zaustaviti. Noge mi podrhtavaju, ritam srca se polako ubrzao, krve se u venama sledi, a onda polako zatvorim oci i molim Boga da ostanem ziva. Tramvaj prode tu stanicu u velikoj brzini, i sve mislim, kako se njegova brzina povecava, da se istom tom brzinom priblizava kraj mog zivota. Ovo je jedna velika premija. Neko je prosaputao: "Smrt je broj koji svi izvuku na lutriji zivota." Nazalost, ovdje ima mnogo tih brojeva. Izlasci su jako slabi, jer padaju one tako reci "iznenadne granate" (mada nema nista iznenadujuce u tome, posto se to dogada svakodnevno) i od kojih ljudi najvise ginu, jer se sve desi tako iznenada. Pitam se "Zasto?", "Zasto se to mora desti?." Nedostaju mi one sarajevske noci sa svom mojom rajom, a sad ustvari kao da svi nestaju. Kao da nestanu u viru, a onda se pitam "Zasto je sve ovako cudno. Sve se odjednom izmijenilo, nema vise onog Sarajeva u punom sjaju i sreci?." Mnogi izlaze iz grada, traze bolju nadu u nekom drugom mjestu, a mnogi ovdje nastavljaju veoma tezak zivot. Nema vise one "raje" i ko zna da li ce se iko vratiti, ali mi ostajemo ovdje i borimo se do posljednjeg. Ostajemo ovdje i borimo se do kraja ovog rata, jer moramo dokazati da idemo dalje i svi dajemo nekim doprinosom za bolje sutra. Osim sto zivim u nadi, strahu, neizvjesnosti i gladi, vec svi smo tako napeti i nervozni iz dana u dan.

Cesto mislim o Sarajevu nakon ovog sumornog rata i pitam se kako li ce sve izgledati? Iskreno, nekad i pozelim da odem od ove bolne stvarnosti, negdje gdje nema granata, smrti, patnji, gladi i suza, ali gdje ima sve ono sto moj zivot moze ciniti zivotom, a ne ratom! Najvise bih voljela da je sve to u mom dragom Sarajevu, samo da ljudi (a mozda i ja) ne moramo napustati svoje domove, prijatelje, familije i svoj grad i zivot iz njega koji je uvijek bio (i bit ce) najbolji sa nasom "sarajevskom rajom." Zelim od srca, da docekam taj dan, da vidim Sarajevo u nekom novom mirisu mira, i da sve bude lijepo, svijetlo, sjajno i veselo. Mozda je to sto trazim previse, ali to nije tako mnogo, to je samo jedna zelja za kojom ceznemo svi vec dugo vremena. Naravno, niko i ne zeli i nikom nije drago da odlazi, ali to je sve zbog straha i zelje da osjetimo barem na tren "ljepotu zivljenja." A sta sa onima koji ostaju i nastavljaju veoma tezak i bolan zivot? Bilo bi divno kad bi se sve normalizovalo i da ne napustamo svoje gradove sirom nase Bosne, da zivimo u miru, a onda bi tek znali da ima neke budcnosti za nas. Ja, zelim da osjetim jos jednom onaj "pravi" mir, smijeh na mom licu (koji je vec odavno zamrzao), i zelim da jos jednom prodem kroz ljepotu zivljenja, da iz mene nestane ovaj teret' pa makar mi sve to bilo posljednje. Znam, da se nigdje i nikad necu osjecati sretnom kao sto je nekad bilo ovdje u dragom Sarajevu. Ovdje, nazalost, jos ne mogu osjetiti tu srecu, jer je RAT jos uvijek, ali zelim da osjetim taj malo tren srece. Ne znam koliko je to moguce i kako bih se osjecala, jer ne mogu imati osmjeh na licu svome dok je rat u Bosni i u mom gradu Sarajevu. Ako treba zivjet cu ovdje, i boricu se do posljednjeg, pa sta cu ako mi je to Sudbina, kao i mnogima ovdje.

Zivijet cu ovaj dan i svaki dan kao da mi je posljednji, samo za moje SARAJEVO!

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