Bosnia: January 16

I don’t remember hearing much about the conflict in Bosnia when it happened back in 1995.  I was only four at the time, and more concerned with the upcoming birth of my sister when it was going on.  Later on, I heard something about it; I’m not sure when at first.  That kind of recent history was never taught in any systematic way in my schools, so I had to go by indirect knowledge, of what I happened to incidentally read and see.

Before this trip I did have some idea of the war; the Balkan States were in a kind of prolonged ethnic/nationalist conflict following the breakup of Yugoslavia, and Bosnia was their battleground.  There was a massacre, and at some point the UN, NATO, and US were involved.  That’s about all I could have told you before coming here.

Today, we visited Srebrenica, the site of the biggest massacre in Europe since World War Two, committed in July 1995.  Our guide was Hassan, one of the refugees who managed to escape the Serb forces on foot, though his brother and father were not so fortunate.  He guided us through the cemetery and memorial, telling his story and the story of this place.

In 1992 the Bosnian Serb forces began to advance through the area, driving the Muslim Bosniak refugees before them.  They all came to Srebrenica, which was designated as a UN “safe zone” with Canadian and Dutch battalions cordoning it off.  The situation, materially, was horrible, with only bare subsistence supplies managing to get into the camp.

In July, the Serbian forces had besieged the city, and finally entered on the 11^th, with no resistance from the UN forces.  The Dutch base had 25-30,000 refugees in front of it, begging for protection.  They declared that only 3000 women and babies were to enter, the rest would be left to the Serbs.  5,000 managed to  push their way in, and were put into one room in the base, completely cut off from any news from outside.

Outside, the Serbian forces were separating the men and boys from the women and children.  The latter were packed on buses into the Bosnian Free territory, and the former were confined, and eventually killed.  Many tried to escape through the woods, only to be caught and killed.  Over 8,000 are counted as victims.

There are still unfound mass grave sites in the Bosnain wilderness.  Searches continue for the missing.  When found and identified, they are buried in the memorial cemetery every 11^th of July.

The story of the memorial itself is also worth relating.  It wasn’t easy to get it built in the first place; the Bosnain Serbs still deny the genocide to this day.  It was the women of Srebrenica who banded to gather to lobby and fundraise for the memorial, which was established with assistance from the International community in 2001, and formally opened in 2003.

I thought it was interesting the way in which the Srebrenica memorial was similar to the Stasi prison, in that it was primarily supported and staffed by the victims of oppression, who wished to show the truth of history over the denials of their oppressors.  It was a sobering introduction to Bosnia, perhaps the hardest-hit state in all of post-communist Europe.

At the end of our visit, one of the women who lived nearby and was active in the memorial foundation hosted us for dinner.  She was very glad that a group of Americans had decided to visit the memorial, and she loved to cook and play the hostess, so we had a very nice home-cooked Bosnian meal, while talking with her about her family, some of whom had survived Srebrenica, others hadn’t.

The drive to Sarajevo was in the dark, along the hills with winding roads and snow.  The terrain would often remind me of the Appalachians back at home.  I was surprised by how modern and clean the city looked when we first approached it, especially in contrast to the countryside.  I suppose that this city has tried its best to heal from the wounds of war, at least materially.  Some scars, I fear, run deeper, and as long as there is no repentance, there will be no absolution.