Anonymous, 43

Mostar, Bosnia-Herzegovina

 “You know, I even like calling his name through my window because when I saw my dad and all other neighbors and all people, so many people, going to concentration camp, and they were making them sing songs, their songs, some borbanje pjesme [war songs], they were making them sing those songs. It [was] so hard, I’m looking at my dad, he’s singing those songs, like… it was very hard for me. And I was calling [to] him, he didn’t want to look at me, I was calling him, “Tata! Tata! Tata! Tata!”

Interview originally conducted in both English and Bosnian/Croatian/Serbian

So, first, tell us about yourself and where you grew up, how did you spend a typical day?

Okay. I was born on April 2, 1978, in Mostar, Bosnia i Herzegovina. How I spent my time… I went outside with my friends… I went to school, I think that’s how it is in Bosnia and [in other countries] non-stop. As soon as you come to school, you go outside and you do homework. I mean… typical Bosnian life (Laughs). My friends came over to my house so non-stop. I was either in school or with friends, we were always, you know… happy. Our parents didn’t worry like how we worry now, you know... we never didn’t anything stupid. We were always outside, out there with us. We would say “We’re going outside,” “We’re playing,” “We’re going to the cafe for coffee,” “We’re going for drinks…” It was happy life. I really believe that. It was a happy life. I-I can say that. That was before the war, I’m telling you before the war. I’m not talking about during the war. 

When did the war start for you? Was there a specific moment when you knew, “Ah, the war started.” 

I was in my room, I was watching TV, (deep breath), and there was a film--I remember it well, Valter Brani Sarajevo I loved to watch that film. I was watching, and just at once, there was no more electricity, puk--something burst, like...like bomb, and there was some kind of explosion and then the grenades started, that’s how it began somehow. 

My brother came into my room, he’s lying down--we didn’t know what’s happening, if they’re shooting, if there’s rifles, whether there were grenades... somehow that’s how it began. 

I can’t remember exactly what day it was… I think, April ‘92.  It was after my birthday because for the second of April we were all at home, we celebrated my birthday, and at that time there was nothing. So, we celebrated my birthday, at my apartment, and it was sometime after that. It just started that way.

My balcony looked out on a hill called Hum, and that’s where the frontline was. As a child, I didn't know that, you hear that later, you know...they are there on that hill, those are Chetniks, that’s how we called them, and my balcony looked exactly at that hill. Basically, they were shooting at the city. I lived in Center Two it was called, that was us… and when that siren starts, you have to go to the basement. (Clears throat). The one, uh… and then I like a child, you know, that… we’d be playing down somewhere  and the siren starts, we’d go home, run.  

My mom was sick, she had a disease. She was alone and sick, I remember having to tell my grandparents “Let’s go” to go run and hide because the grenades were starting to explode. I remember some moments, uh… but I was still a kid... we still wanted to play, no matter what that war was, you know?

As soon as it calms down a bit, you immediately go outside to play. When the siren starts again, [you] run away (claps hands like you “that's it”). That’s how it was.

How old were you? 

I was… Okay, ‘92... I-- was 14.

I mean it wasn't... my mom was sick and then in the hospital. Eh I mean, the hospital was close to us, but we couldn’t go visit it if there’s shooting, right? You have to watch this too… and she died that year. In September, she died. 

And I think... it was hard then. Now...I'm stronger now… she didn't die because of the war. She was sick. It happened like that. She was sick and she died and that… you know, it was hard for me. That was harder than the grenades falling. 

My family, generally, we, we are mixed, there are so many mixed, like… this one is married with Serbian, this one is married with Croatian, or catholic, orthodox, you know. So I cannot hate anybody, you know… 

Then they sent me to Croatia because my mom was getting very sick, they sent me to Croatian so that I could stay there to be safe. I was by myself with other people, you know, not with my family, so I just… I was crying every day you know. And one time, my brother came to visit me and I didn’t want him to leave without me. I was still a kid. So, I went back [to Mostar[, and it was still war, you know, like during, between Serbs and Bosnian army. Because in Bosnian army, it was mixed, like also. There were some serbs, there were some Croatians, and Muslim mostly, you know. Anyway, I was in , Croatia, when they told me that my mother had died. I am... I only know that I slept for two days. I don't remember anything...Two days. When I woke up, they told me “Honey, you slept for two days.”

But then when that war kind of stopped, then like overnight. war between Croatians and Muslims happened. And that’s when my dad… um, they took him to concentration camp. Not just him, so many people, like the whole building where I was living, they took. And they were not just taking Muslim people, they were taking Serbs too, you know. And my brother he didn’t want to fight, he was in a military group called Havil, and it was mixed… like a group of friends, like  “Okay, you’re going to Havil? I’m going too.” It was...Serbs, there were Croatians, there were Muslims, mixed, you know. Um, so… when this [second] war happened, he was trying to get out of the country. And I didn’t know where he went. He went with his friend...

I-I didn’t know if he was alive or it he m-made… I didn’t know where he went. (Deep breath). So they took my dad to concentration camp. So, um… I was left alone.

In Mostar?

Yeah, in my apartment. But, um… all the neighbors came together. Even some people you didn’t even know lived in the building... we all came together and… but, you know, you don’t want to burden anyone, you don’t want to be a burden. 

Then, the city was separated, and I was on Croatian side, you know. So… I was just (claps hands) [separated from everyone].  I had so much family on that side, my own family-- from my dad and from my mom, you know. So… I was just praying to god, like “Please, just [protect me]…” 

So the Croatian army was coming and they would take you somewhere. If you were lucky, they just would send you to the other side. And if you have somebody [there], good. If you alive and not…(I have to say it like this)…  not raped, you know? 

For me, like...my dad was in a concentration camp. My brother, I didn’t know where he was, if he was in Germany or Italy, or anywhere, I didn’t know nothing.. So I was just like “Please, just send me over there. Please, just…” Even, even if I go through some stuff, I just wanna go there and be with my family. You know, you always want to be with your family.

And I was by myself and during the night they [soldiers] would come you know like a bunch of them...They would look for [men]… to see if there was any guy left [in the building]. You know...you better stay quiet. If you said something, they would take you. If they’re in good mood, they would just come and go. But sometimes they would take people.

 You don’t know where they gonna take you. Some people were lucky, you know, they would just send them to the other side, and whatever happens to you, like… at least you’re alive. I think I was lucky one. It was hard for me, you know, I was there by myself, but… I-I wasn’t, like by myself by myself. People would come and ask me if I needed something to eat, and then I had my aunt in another building right across the street, my dad’s sister. And, um… she was married to a Croatian guy, and you know...God bless his soul, but um… in that moment...at that moment… I hated him.

It was so hard, seeing my dad and everybody else in those buses. I was watching from the window when they were taking them, you know… they just took my dad. 

“Hello, can you come with us? We just need to do some checking, and that’s it.”

I went to my room, and then I saw...there were so many buses, full of people. And I just see my dad, you know, sitting there, and I kept calling him, calling him. And then they... they told me to be--can I use the word, like “shut up”?--They told me “Šuti malo” (quiet down).

They put like a rifle up...and you know, some of those guys [Croatian soldiers] were friends with my brother, you know… like why are you guys doing that? It’s hard [to understand]. 

They took my dad, I was by myself, and my aunt was calling me to be with her because she was just across the street. But at the moment, I just… I hated her husband. I hated him, you know… I just didn’t wanna… I regret now, because he helped us later a lot. He he took [my dad in]-- my dad was in the camp for seven months, but he took him when he got out, you know… I regret now. But at the moment, I didn’t… she was begging me to come be with them, but I didn’t wanna talk to her, I didn’t want to do anything with her. 

And then, um...people come in, “So how are you?,” “Are you okay?” - but, I always tried not to think about those things. My dad isn’t in-in the camp, my mom didn't die, I'm not alone, you know, that… I was trying to be so strong. And, you know, people always feel sorry for you. I'm not, dumb, but...

One time, I was with my friends in front of my building--we didn’t know what to do with ourselves, you know the war is happening, you don’t know what to do-- and here comes some man, first time, a beefy guy, and he says,

“Who is [Interviewee’s Name]?” 

I say “Me.” 

“This is your brother’s telephone number”

But no one has a phone. But my aunt went to Germany with her husband, and he was in some higher-up position, neki direktor, and he had a telephone.  No one else had one.

“This is the phone number to call your brother.” I, that.... That aunt left me the key, and I went there and I call [that number], and he tells me that he’s in Italy and that he’s trying to find someone to find me and my dad. And then I told him that dad is in the concentration camp, that I’m alone...he begins to cry… and that was that. I knew that he’s in Italy and… nothing. I don’t know anything else...but I’m happy to know that he’s in Italy. 

Then, one time I received a letter from my dad from, from the concentration camp. He said be a little more patient, that he hoped “I’m going to get out quickly,” but can’t go anywhere. That one day, we will leave Mostar, that we don't have anything else to do there, this, that, but... he stayed in the camp for a long time. 

And one day two men come to look for me again... my brother paid them to come take me out of Mostar. My neighbors didn’t trust them at all, [saying] “Who are you, what are you…” you know.

They [the two men] brought me fake documents. We went through Croatia and then Slovenia and then Italy. These were Albanian guys, and they came for me. [There was] a woman with my brother [in Italy] who had family in Croatia, [so we] spent the night in Croatia with her family and then [went] to Italy. 

I wasn't scared because I wanted to go. I [didn’t] know these people, I know-- they just said your brother sent us to take you out [of Mostar]-- that was it. Now I think, "What about Dad, how about him… How am I going to let Dad know I'm leaving?" I didn’t know that. But I want to go, I [couldn’t] anymore. I- I- I- I [couldn’t] do that anymore.

Simply, I just wanted to get out. And that’s that, they took me out, uh, I didn’t know if they [border officials] were going to believe me or if maybe… I don’t remember how we crossed the border. I don’t remember the border. I don’t remember. I feel like it was a dream. Like, I don’t remember. I know I had fa-fake documents, my name was Josipa, I don’t know what was my last name, and I went through. It was risky, you don’t know…

And then we went to Slovenia, first we went to Croatia. We, we, how do you say, we stayed the night there with those people, they gave me some clothes… and then they got me here in Italy, and that one, my brother and that woman were waiting for me. 

When I came in Italy, I came to a big camp, it wasn’t very nice, but I was happy that I was out of the war, you know. 

Like a refugee camp?

Like, refugee camp, a big one, and it was mixed people, you know. There was some people from everywhere, it wasn’t just people from Bosnia, understand? There were people from everywhere, there wasn’t a place from where people weren’t from, from Albania, from Macedonia, from you know… we were there from a little bit. 

We were trying to get our dad out of the [camp]. So my uncle, god bless… pokojni [deceased]… uh… he got him out. But, you know... he was there for a long time. Seven or eight months. But still, he got him out, he [my dad] was at their house for a little bit, to recover. 

And then...back then, we had like a little restaurant. And we sold that little restaurant to get our dad out of the country. It was [only] a little money. It was like… I mean you were in Bosnia, like a little itty bitty restaurant, like a čevapđinica. And we just gave that to one croatian guy to own, [in order to] get our dad out. That was the only option, you know. 

When our dad came, you know, we moved to another place close to Venice, and that’s… my happiness started there. I was teenager, I was very ha-- like, I didn’t go through… I didn’t have any wounds, I was so lucky. Some people go through so much. 

Like, the neighbor that I left, um… she is in Norway now, um… the night after I left, they took her and her family and she was raped before they moved her to the other side. So... I think I was very lucky. That’s what I wanna say. I was lucky, like I didn’t have anything like that. 

The only thing that, it happened to me, you know… my mom died, not because she was shot or something, because she was sick and then the war happened, I was by myself, you know and soldiers were coming almost every night, you know… even when I tell stories to my kids, I’m trying to tell them something to not hate anybody. It’s really hard, you know. Sometimes [when] you tell kids stories, they start hating people and I don’t want my kids to hate anybody. Like, [people] say “This, they started war, blah, blah, blah”, but then after [the war started] everybody was doing everything, so you know. 

Like I said… I hated my uncle [in] that moment, I hated him.

 You know, I even like calling his name through my window because when I saw my dad and all other neighbors and all people, so many people, going to concentration camp, and they were making them sing songs, their songs, some borbanje pjesme [war songs], they were making them sing those songs. It [was] so hard, I’m looking at my dad, he’s singing those songs, like… it was very hard for me. And I was calling [to] him, he didn’t want to look at me, I was calling him, “Tata! Tata! Tata! Tata!”

And when I saw my [Croatian] uncle looking at me, telling me to go [inside]...oh I was cussing at him, I was telling him so many-- and I never cuss, like, that’s, that’s how I was raised-- but… whoa I was telling him so much. And later, the first time I came back from Italy to visit my country, it was so embarrassing for me. Because I never saw him after [we left], you know, so when I came to visit, it was so embarrassing, what I yelled at him. 

He was like, “It’s okay.” 

But it was so embarrassing for me! 

I… I hated all of them, you know. And like I said, they [soldiers] were coming every night. We don’t know if they gonna hit you or something. [I was cussing] like jebem ti ovo, jebem ti vako onako (fuck this, fuck that), I-I-I’m embarassed to say all of those things. But, you know, after years, you-- at least to me-- maybe some people remember every single detail. I remember every single detail. But like, I don’t have that hate that I had back then. I had big hate. Big, big hate. Big, big, big. I don’t know to explain, but that’s why… sometimes I even try to talk to my kids and I’m trying to explain them some things, but I don’t want them to hate anybody. 

It’s so hard for me to say that, you know. I always tell my kids, like sometimes, like that storm [Texas deep freeze] happened, and we didn’t have electricity, water, and I’m telling them, like “We were without electricity for years,” or like, “water,” you know. I was there for two years, but some people, like in Sarajevo, they didn’t have electricity for four years or something, you know...I just don’t know. Like I said, I’m trying to explain something to them, when I tell them my story or their dad tells [his story]… still to not hate, you know. Because I personally think there’s so much hate. I-I understand--people lost… people lost somebody, I understand that. Um… but still, not everybody is same. Not everybody is thinking the same. That’s what I think. 

I don’t know. I… that’s why I said I want to be anonymous, I don’t want people to judge me. But I had big hate. I had BIG hate. Like, when they, when they destroyed, the, the old bridge? I was in Italy when that happened… WHEW… I hated them. What I’m saying. I hated who? I hated Croatians. I hated them. But… I’m not like that anymore. I go to my city, and even now, on social media, I have some friends, for example, some friends of my brother that... they were bad. And when I see them, I don’t say “hi” because… hey, you were very bad to me, so, I don’t have anything to say to you. But, not everybody as same, you know.

And my story is different than like… I cannot compare it with somebody who went through Srebrenica, you know, like, that’s… that’s… une-unexplain, there’s not like. But, like in Sarajevo, like. Even with the war, people were still mixed, you know, there were even Serbs people living in Sarajevo going through all of that. You know what I’m saying? Like it’s hard--

It’s not black and white. 

Yeah, yeah. It’s… you know, like, some Muslim people were in Croatian armies. Some… so, you know, I cannot say everybody is same. I cannot say that, you know. Maybe my dad has a big hate for them still. And I’m sure he does. Because he went through beating everyday.He has big hate and we get in [arguments]. You know, like, when I go to visit him or when I talked to him, you know. “Come on dad, it was 20-how many years ago, you know, lets, you know…” And his own sister was married with [a Croatian], you know. 

I just don’t have… maybe I sound weird… I just don’t have hate anymore. Then? Yes. Because i guess it was fresh, it was happening, you know, like I was left alone, everything was their fault, you know. “Why, why, why.” 

But, I don’t judge people that have hate, you know, I just don’t wanna. 

I don’t have hate. Like I am Muslim, I celebrate Bajram, when I can fast, I fast during Ramadan, but… I just don’t have hate. Like I don’t wanna say, you know… “You know [daughter’s name], I experienced the war and you can’t have Serbian or Croatian friends. They’re a četnik, they’re ustaše.” 

No. What did I tell her? Nothing. But some people teach kids differently.

During the Christmas time, we have a Christmas tree, [but] we call it a New Years Tree, because that’s how I was raised. I still want our traditions. My mom had a new years tree when it’s new years time. I was raised like that. 

I… don’t know what other examples I wanna tell you, like… I went through a lot… I had hate… but I don’t have it anymore. You know? And I’m not judging people that don’t wanna have friends of a different religion, you know. I have very close friends that don’t wana have friends from different religions, but that’s their choice. That’s what I think.

My dad--because of all that happened to him-- he changed. He moved his apartment to the other side of Mostar, and that side is mostly muslim people and some Serbs, and he lives over there he’s more comfortable over there. But, you know, I understand him, and he still have fears, like when he goes to that side, it was 20-something years ago, I still get in conflict with him, like come on--

(Daughter interrupts: he won’t cross the bridge). 

He doesn’t like to go to the other side, he thinks somebody is gonna do [something to him]… some people still think about the war. And it was 20-something years ago, 25, I don’t even know anymore, um. But… I went through a lot, but I don’t wanna say, “I hate those people.” Like, first, war happened between Serbs and Bosnian army. I cannot say it Muslims because in that army, it was mixed, you know. It was mixed. When that war stopped, then it [war] happened between Croatians and Muslims. So, you know, Mostar was very specific, and there’s a lot of hate between both sides. But when I go to that side--I go there a lot-- it’s more alive, you know, more alive, more going on, you know. 

But anyway, from Italy-- my brother wanted to come to America so bad. America for me was… a no. I was happy in Italy, you know, I was teenager, I had so many friends, I was speaking Italian, most of my friends were Italians. But [my brother] decided to try to go to America, I didn’t want to go with him, because I was really happy in Italy. But in the end, I was like, “okay.” And hey, I’m here, 22 years.

Did you come to [current city] right away?

Yeah, we [came] through some program, I don’t know the name… um… something Lead something.. .um. And they tell you, you know, “You’re going to [current city].” It’s not like you can pick. 

But, you know, I think I was the lucky one. People have stories, I know that are… incomparable. Like I have friends… I had my very good friend, her name was Olja, and, I remember, I was going to her house--like, she was a Serb--[her and her family] were left in Mostar, they stayed in Mostar, they weren’t going anywhere. 

So I was going to meet her in front of the building next to me. And luckily I didn't go, [because] that the grenade went into her apartment. So we were supposed to go somewhere, I start heading towards her place and my [other] friend says, a grenade hit [Olja’s] apartment...When he told me that, I mean…

She was left without legs. She was left alive without legs and… I mean ... those are big things. Those are big things. You know how it was for me when I went to visit her in the hospital? I mean we all went, and… she was the most beautiful among us girls, she was the most beautiful...when it just happened, we all cried we all… We were all in shock. When you see her in bed… you know, I mean...Those are some things that happened to people, that… and, and, I was supposed to hate Olja? 

Each has its own story. I didn't lose anyone in the war-- I'm a mother but she's not because of the war but because, uh, you know. She was sick, you know, maybe there was medicine and something, maybe you would survive. That's how it was. 

But, I say, I was, lucky compared to some people, that were left after me in my city. 

But that wasn’t easy, you were alone and- 

Yeah, that was--

Yeah, I mean it was… now when I tell you they're coming every day or with those you don't know if you're going to take [you], you know, that was the worst. I mean everything was happening… but I wasn't raped, it's not like they beat me before. 

They’d come, you don't know what they are going to look for. A male head [head of household], and now they are looking for a male head [head of household] ah there is not one male in the building. And there was no one with me, I was alone, it was like eternity, for me. I've been here for two, three, three months alone, to me it was like I've been alone for five years. Never an end. Never an end. 

But I'm telling you, really don't have hate for nobody. Not all people are the same. Really not all people are the same. Everyone has their thoughts, I tell you. My own dad--we always get in conflict. I never even talked to him about it. He never sat down to tell me how it was for him in the camp, but I heard from other people who were with him in the camp, you know, who later, y-y-young men, who later also came to Italy who told me when they caught him. 

I guess that’s why he has hate-- like i’m telling you, h-he hardly-- he has family on that side, like, you know, two sisters, living on the, on Croatian side, how we call it. When he has to go there, he gets very nervous like somebodys gonna, but… no, it’s not gonna happen. But, he gets, he gets very nervous. 

I was a child in that war. I mean, what, we go to the cafe, we get together for a little bit, you forget everything and, suddenly you hear a grenade you run, you know (claps hands to make snapping sound).

So, so that’s how it was. That's how it was. It never ended but we lived some life, when the grenade starts, runs inside, as soon as we can go to the cafe, to drink coffee, to talk, we did… so you make yourself a little happy. But there were days when you didn't go out of the building, there was nothing to eat or drink, but you always try something to forget it. 

During the war, you were in Mostar, when was your dad taken to the camp? And then when did you go to Italy? What year?

‘93… I can’t remember the month. (Deep breath). I think that I left in ‘93, maybe it was Fall. But when I left Mostar, my dad was still in, in the camp...late 1993, so I was in the war, almost two years. And… I say I was lucky.

How did you find your dad in the camp?

I knew which camp he was in. 

Before [the war] it [the camp location] was where college guys went to become pilots. Pilot School. It was, it was a big deal. And here they are-- they were using that as a concentration camp.

So I knew where he was. Where they dumped him. 

They [people that ran the camp] took you to work during the day. I don't know, digging rock, I don't know, they’re digging [as their work]. Across the river, there is muslim army-- I will say more like Bosnian army. Muslim, bosnian, whatever. Everyday, they were taking them there to work, work. Just digging. 

They took one of my close friends from my building, and they just came to me sometimes to say, "Your dad's, your dad's like this, your dad's like that." You know. And he ran away from that group just to be… there. To maybe see his mom, or, maybe he got beaten up when he came back, that. 

So, I knew where he was. 

Once, I got a letter. Some women dared, how to say… they had courage to go and try and visit their husbands. I didn’t. I knew where my dad was, but I was not allowed to [go]... how would I know what they were going to do to me, you know, maybe nothing would happen to me, maybe... you know. 

Some women went. I knew where he was ... that he was in that camp, that… I mean, they took him somewhere in front of my eyes, you know. [When he was taken], dad and I just wanted to sit down to eat, not even at home. And he had cooked lunch and that's all… when mom was alive it was kind of normal .... He did everything mom did. He cooked lunch and we sat down, him and I, alone, to sit down. Someone knocks on the door, and he goes alone to open the door, he… and I just hear my dad say, “Ah what, why?” The guy that was taking him was Muslim, but he was in Croatian army. Because, He says to my dad, “Hey, Emir, just routine control, routine control,” like that,

It’s a regular check

Yeah, like a regular check. And behind that guy, I see my neighbors, you know. Guys. My dad says to me, “[It’s] just you honey.” I didn't realize... I hear, uh, noise outside. You know how it is in the city, like you don’t hear anything, but when something is going on, outside, everybody is in the house, everybody is quiet, so you hear what’s going on outside. I hear what's going on, I'm in my room, behind the building, [I see] ... how many buses, what was going on. 

The lights turned on. I don't know how many buses there were, I can't tell you how many buses now...just regular buses, you know, they were using regular buses, full of people. And I just see my dad. They were like banging on the buses, making them sing one disgusting song, very bad song. And they just... you know... sing those songs. It was bad. It was very… I was crying, I was calling my dad, but he didn’t want to turn. I saw him, you know… and then [a soldier] was like “Shut up!” he fired his rifle. And then [across the street], there's my aunt’s building and I see my uncle and I can't… it was a shock to me. 

I remember that lunch that Dad made. I just threw it out the window. Dishes, food, everything. I could have hit someone. Later, when I came to my senses, when I said, “Dear God,” but there was no one, you know. In war there is nobody… everyone is in their houses, everyone is locked in the house. There’s nobody anywhere. It was a shock for me, you know... what do I do now? What should I… 

It was hard, I was alone, this that, um… but there. With the help of neighbors, I think I was okay... I didn’t know how it would be, but you know how we are in Bosnia-- we are such kind people, we won’t leave someone alone.

Was there someone who really helped you during the war? 

(Deep breath). Uh… during the war, yes. Neighbors, I think, for that period. Before, you know, when we had war with Serbs, we had money, but everything was empty, you know. You didn’t have things to buy, you know. But, whoever had food--okay, let’s get together, let’s eat, you know. That’s how it was. 

But, um… my dad and my brother, after my mom died, they were everything to me. But, when I was left alone, you know, these neighbors, my friend and her mom and her grandma, they were my big supporters. Even when I was leaving for Italy with those two guys, they were so worried. 

“You don’t know where you are going, you don’t know these people.” And that’s really how it was, I didn’t know who they are. They only told me my name, last name, my birthday, my mom’s name, my dad’s name, and that was enough to say “Okay, I’m going.” And… I didn’t know who I’m going with. But anyway, I’m telling you, they [my neighbors] helped me a lot.

And my brother was in the war, and he got away, I don't have a clue how he got out, not how many times he was scurrying across the border to go somewhere, just to go… but he got me out of war.

But this family helped me while I was there alone, I can never forget that, I really can never forget that. What would it be if I didn’t have them... it would be someone else, I guess, because we are that type of people, you can't let someone [struggle], you know. 

You know how it is...you're in a city, and you have a family, and you can't do them any good. But I didn't want this family [my aunt and her husband] at the time, you know. I could have crossed the street and it's your aunt alive. But I didn't. Then I had a big, big hate. I didn’t want to look at him [my uncle]. My soul was just destroyed. 

But [later] he helped me a lot. He took my dad out [of the camp]. I mean my Dad was there for a long time, 7 months... 7 months.

My friend and her grandma and her mom, I think. When I was eating, whenever lunch was, I was with them, you know. It wasn't like I was sitting alone in the house now, they didn't let me. I was alone when I wanted to be just so no one could see me crying, you know. I didn't like anyone to look at me [when I was crying]. I liked to hide, and that... that's it. I don't like, you know, "Jojjj she was left alone, her mom died, jojjj, ta--" I didn't like that at all. That's what that is.

How did you go, escape, from Mostar to Croatia?

Driving. These two guys, they were Albanians, they came in their car, and--from Dalmatia we then went… was it Brač? Was it Hvar? I know that it was an island where this woman from Italy had family. It was an island, I don’t know if it was Brač or Hvar, I now can’t remember. And then we went by ferry. I didn't talk to them in the car. We spent the night there [on the island], and they took me to Slovenia. 

In Slovenia, that woman had a brother. He lived in Slovenia. They just handed me over to that man (her brother). And then to my brother in Italy. They didn’t take me all the way to Italy. They got the money beforehand. But that... I tell you... I didn't tell them anything, they just took me to the border. They didn’t ask questions, [they had], papers, “These are your documents.” 

I only know that a Josepa name [on my documents]. Ah, whatever the last name, I don't remember. The name was Josepa. That… uh… and that's it, they joked to me, "These are your documents," and that was it. I had no documents when I entered Italy… nothing. I could say my name was anything because I came to Italy and that was the worst… I was supposed to be in tenth [grade]. They returned me to eight grade. 

I had nothing when I came, no documents. I didn't have anything. And later, when our [documents were] fixed, they still couldn't give me my birth certificate. I could say I was anyone. In the end, they brought me back [a grade], that was the worst for me, They brought me back to the eighth grade.  I was with little kids.

I just cried the first year in Italy. I was known for crying. 

I learned Italian quickly, and then on some occasions, they always called me to translate [for other refugees]. Since I was young, I got Italian quickly, you know.

I remember one occasion there was something happening [in] Mostar [or] Sarajevo. I can’t remember. I had to translate it [the story] for them, and as soon as I start translating, I start crying. And they are [saying] "Ah, it's normal.’ you know, I, and guess the memories just came back because it was all grenades, shooting, buildings collapsing and it was… very fresh. 

When did the war end for you? Was there like a moment when you realized that it was over? 

I was in Mostar when every bridge was demolished. Those were huge detonations… there were so many bridges so I don't know how many bridges were left, how many here [in Mostar]. I think they have broken down all the bridges except the Old Bridge. While I was there, there were twelve detonations for me. When the bombing had started, there were detonations as well, so there was never an end to this war for me. These are "Ah, the war is over" with the Serbs. They relaxed a little bit, started, this, that. Then all of a sudden, overnight, they [demolished] this neighborhood, there is no longer that hill, there is no one on this side. [At one point], everyone returned to their houses but there were no more, as they were called, Chetniks, you know. No more Chetniks. Everything is cleansed. It starts with a new life, that means, I started going there to my mother's family [who] lived in Dunjim Mahav. Everything was normal for maybe one, two months and, (claps hands), war again. But the war ended when I was in Italy, the first time I went after the war. I think it was ‘95. People were still living, there were parties, but there were still a lot of ruins. A lot of things were hanging, fresh, after the war. There were still armies walking. Every city had them, the UNPROFOR. In Sarajevo, we had them from Spain. When I first went to visit [Sarajevo], the war stopped maybe a couple of months ago. But people were already living, you know. I went to see my friends, to see if it was normal again. But most of them had left.

Yeah

Pa I can say that was the end of the war, but do you mean for me personally?

Mhm

When my dad came in. It’s kind of selfish [with] all the people still left in the war, but for me, when my dad came, it was like a big “awe..” you know. 

I don’t think that’s selfish, that makes sense. 

Yeah. 

That for me was “AHA!” (makes cut-off beeping, ending noise) if I could call it “end of the war.” I guess that’s the end of my story. 

Yeah

When we managed to get him out. It was hard even to get out. This doesn’t have to do anything with [my dad], but like her dad (referencing her daughter), he’s from other part of Bosnia and he was trying to get out of his city, him and his family. They were going through the river. It was hard, and you don’t know if they gonna shoot you. Everybody has different stories, but you go through so much, it’s like nothing happened. 

Like it gets normalized. 

Yeah, yeah. It’s like you now, for example, are walking to another building to see your friends and the grenades start [falling]. You don’t know whether you should run or if you should fall to the floor or… or to stay where you are. You don’t know if the grenade is going to hit you… you just hear “zzzzzz” and you don’t know… 

Mhm

But I can’t say that nothing happened to me. It happened. But that… it was long time ago. What do I know, I don’t have any idea. Some people have it good… people maybe who went to the line, who fought, have a lot of that. But in the end, I was there [in Mostar]. 

During the war, how was your typical day during the war? Like what did you eat? How did you entertain yourselves? How was the social life, everything, during the war? You spoke a little bit about it but… 

You want me to tell you like, how was it? Or how it was during the war or before?

During.

It was very good. Still, you know, social life as far as social life. 

But how was life? What did you eat? Social life? Did you go to school?

Ah, for us in Bosnia we didn't buy like here [in America] every two weeks. In Bosnia, we go to the market and the store every day and overnight, you have nothing. When you don't have anything to buy, how do you manage? Dad goes here and there, to the neighbor, to put together these dishes.

But social life was great. We still played cards and had fun in a way. Old people are sitting there, saying some negative things, but we were young and when we wanted something, we won't leave it. I know once [my] dad found mushrooms somewhere, and he said, “Think of it as meat”. We didn’t have meat for months, so we ate all of it, my company from the city and I. We were all together on the floor in my room and we’re all eating. We were all laughing about something we remembered and then all of a sudden, you hear shooting from somewhere (claps), (deep breath). Then you forget what you were talking about, you know. We young people tried everything to forget, but the old ones were more worried. We all had crushes, she likes him, he likes her, but then as soon as the army starts shooting, we get scared and think, “ah, we better get serious” (laughs). That's how it was for us as youngsters. 

We had depressive moments. We lost a year of school, this and that, you understand. But again, we tried to make ourselves happy somehow. Those years, you can't compare with some people, for example, here [in the United States] (gestures). 

Strong, (laughs). 

I know one does. I follow her on instagram. She lost a leg in the war, and it happened while she was playing outside her building. We had a saying for in front of the building. Everyone knew the word: Maja one. She was with with her friends. You don't know when the grenade will fall. I’m general, the grenade exploded, and she lost her leg. She was having a good time when everything happened. Children always try to have some [fun]. When we were in the basement, we young people always tried to play, talk some nonsense.

Like your own drama.

Yeah! But when it leaves someone is frightened, you know… you get serious. 

Pa yes, we tried everything in those ways, you know, to still be a kid, teenager. 

Do you have anything specific that you would like Americans to know about the war in the Balkans? For them to know. 

(Long pause). 

I like to say my story, but how will people understand it, I can’t say. They were Croatian, they were Serbian, and what happened to me in Italy was very hard. But I can’t talk with hate. My husband escaped to Serbia and half of his family are Serbs. they know what happened to them, that they were being wiped out by foreign Serbs, you can’t say that to just anyone. I know that the country is… really one of the most beautifull countries. She said it herself… I now for example, when someone asks me, I remember that I came here because of the war. You know when someone asks, I forgot that I was first in Italy and then I am here, that I came here as a refugee. How do I explain it to her [my daughter] now? Ah, I don’t want to talk! I would just have to say that it is very beautiful country, all of the ex-Yugoslavia. You not gonna go wrong with any place you go. Really!

(Laughs)
It is. 

And then finally, the last question, do you have any story about burek that you wish to share? 

(Laughs).

Of burek?

Of burek. 

Everybody should try burek! 

(Laughs). 

Oh, uh… pa that’s what I mean, everybody should try it! I learned [to make burek from] my mother in law. She was always making burek. I didn’t even have to think about [making it before]. I’ve been married to my husband 21 years, but I learned how to make it maybe five years ago. And now my dad gets surprised that I make it. But burek, everybody should try. And burek is with meat! This family of my husband all tell me, “burek with cheese.” My husband says, “Burek isn’t with cheese.” “Burek with cheese!” “No, no it can’t be with cheese, burek is with meat.” (laughs).