"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."
ALONE
by Edgar Allan Poe
(1830)
From childhood's hour I have not been
As others were; I have not seen
As others saw; I could not bring
My passions from a common spring.
From the same source I have not taken
My sorrow; I could not awaken
My heart to joy at the same tone;
And all I loved, I loved alone.
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
Of a most stormy life- was drawn
From every depth of good and ill
The mystery which binds me still:
From the torrent, or the fountain,
From the red cliff of the mountain,
From the sun that round me rolled
In its autumn tint of gold,
From the lightning in the sky
As it passed me flying by,
From the thunder and the storm,
And the cloud that took the form
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)
Of a demon in my view.
"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."
“These Are My Wishes For You”
Sandra Sturtz Hauss
May you find serenity and tranquility
in a world you may not always understand.
May the pain you have known
and the conflict you have experienced
give you the strength to walk through life
facing each new situation with courage and optimism.
Always know that there are those
whose love and understanding will always be there,
even when you feel most alone.
May a kind word,
a reassuring touch,
and a warm smile
be yours every day of your life,
and may you give these gifts
as well as receive them.
May the teachings of those you admire
become part of you,
so that you may call upon them.
Remember, those whose lives you have touched
and who have touched yours
are always a part of you,
even if the encounters were less than you would have wished.
It is the content of the encounter
that is more important than its form.
May you not become too concerned with material matters,
but instead place immeasurable value
on the goodness in your heart.
Find time in each day to see beauty and love
in the world around you.
Realize that what you feel you lack in one regard
you may be more than compensated for in another.
What you feel you lack in the present
may become one of your strengths in the future.
may you see your future as one filled with promise and possibility.
Learn to view everything as a worthwhile experience.
May you find enough inner strength
to determine your own worth by yourself,
and not be dependent
on another's judgment of your accomplishments.
May you always feel loved.
PISMO IZGUBLJENOM PRIJATELJU I GENERACIJI
Dragi moj prijatelju-moja generacijo,
Zelim da ti napisem nesto sto osjecam i da ti napisem koliko mi nedostajes. Ti si onaj prijatelj, ona generacija, onaj zivot sto mi upravo nedostaje. Napustila sam te s tugom, otisla sam daleko, dovoljno daleko da ne mogu vise da dodem do tebe. Nisam zeljela, ali sam morala. Ponekad osjetim da sam zaista bila priseljenja na to.
Sad, kad se nalazim ovdje, pisem da bi se osjecala malo lakse, a kome je ovo vazno i da li cu sta postici sa ovim, ne znam. Ipak znam, da mi malo pomogne barem malo da ocistim ovu dusu i unistim dio ove boli. Nazalost, kratko traje, jer opet se vrati ta ista prasina na mojoj dusi i nikad da se u potpuno ocisti ili nestane. Izgleda, od kako sam zakoracila na ovo tlo, gdje ne pripadam, polako gubim svoj identitet i zivot sto sam nekad imala. To tlo se zove "Americki Zivot." Taj zivot me tjera da se mijenjam i da se povucem u neko svoje jezgro usamljenosti i samoce. Imam osjecaj da sam izolovana od mnogih, kao kad je osoba bolesna i mora biti izolovana od drugih. Nekad jednostavno, ne mogu sebe da vidim i nadem u toj grupi ljudi, sto me okruzuju. Mentalitet je na neki nacin drugaciji od nasih, stil zivota brzi, a niko ne vidi druge oko sebe. U Sarajevu danas se je naselilo mnogo stanovnika iz drugih gradova, sela, tako da je i tamo doslo do promjena. Ali ipak...ima nesto u tom gradu, sto nas vuce ka' njemu i vraca sjecanja i uspomene na njega.
Kao da mnogi ne shvataju, sta ja zelim, a imam osjecaj da zahtjevam tako malo, a nije mi jasno sto je tako tesko dokuciti? Nekad se osjecam zbunjeno, da uopste objasnim sta bi htjela i voljela. Zadovoljna sam sa ovim sto mi zivot pruza, ali opet , ovdje nisam nasla sebe u potpunosti. Kao da mi uvijek nesto nedostaje, i tjera me da ceznem za tim. Mozda ti, znas sta ja zelim, jer mi svi zelimo one nase stare izlaske, slobodu i setnje kroz sarajevske parkove i Ulice, koncerte i da osjetimo onaj pravi miris proljeca. Da li sam u pravu ili samo ja ovo osjecam? Ne znam, ali valjda shvatim nekad sta je to za cim ceznem? Mozda sam se ustvari ja promjenila, a u Sarajevu mnogo toga stoji na svom mjestu. Mozda mi ni ta promjena ne bi pala tako lako. Ovaj zivot ovdje kao da me je sad obuhvatio, da nastavim ovim stopama. Imati prijatelje, izlaske, duge setnje i price, je nesto sto se materijalno ne moze postici, a to se samo moze dozivjeti.
Danas dok sam sjedila sama u maloj sobi, izmedu cetiri zida, pocnu mi misli navirati iz casa u cas. Otvorim prozor, i pustim svijetlost dana, da me povrati u zivot. Pogled sam bacila na grad, gledajuci kako su liske na granama promijenile svoju boju. Sve je tako crvno-narandzasto, sjajno i veselo. Prava jesenja idila. Odjednom sam se trznula iz razmisljanja, i uzela knjigu gdje zapisujem svoja osjecanja, price i pjesme. Dugo sam razmisljala bil' pocela sta pisati, ili bi nastavila sa svojim zivotnim pricama, ali onda sam zastala i upitala se "ali na kojem jeziku da pisem?" Dokle smo dosli, da ne znamo vise kojim jezikom da se sluzimo. Oduzeli su nam i taj osjecaj, ovaj hladni jezik je usao u nas! Mozda sve ovo zvuci cudno i glupo, ali nekad pozelim da pocnem pisati neku svoju zivotnu dugu pricu (na nasem jeziku), da bi sutra neko mogao to da procita i cuva u sebi. Posto sam malo zatvorenija osoba, a neki misle "tajanstvena", mozda kad bi neko procitao sve to i shvatio bi veci dio mene. Ipak, mozda ne. Sve sto pisem, nije za neku korist ili isticanje. Nisam nesto nadarena da pisem, ali pisem sta god osjecam i kad god sta osjetim u tom trenutku. Nista u zivotu nema vise vrijednosti kao iskrenost u rijecima i osjecajima. Dusa kad se otovri, i osoba se sama "otvori." To je vrijednost ovog zivota, da covjek ima nekog kome moze opisati i iskazati osjecaje. A ja toga vise nemam. Nemam najboljeg prijatelja, vise. Samo se sjetim bezbroj prijatelja u Sarajevu sto sam imala, da ih ne mogu na prste prebrojati. Ne, sto ih je bilo previse, vec sto ih sad nemam nikako. Nikad nisam ni sanjala da ce se moje prijateljstvo svesti samo preko pisama ili cak kompjutera. Uvijek sam voljela dopisivanje i pisanje pisama, ali od kako sam se upoznala sa novom i jacom tehnologijom, kao da posta vise ne postoji. Sad mi se je svelo prijateljstvo, na par dobrih osoba "bez lika," na drugoj strani ekrana. "Barem, neko da ima, da me saslusa"-pomislim uvijek. Izgleda, da je tacno da se ne valja hvaliti za nesto, previse. Ja sam se uvijek hvalila i uzivala u radosti i okruzenosti mojih prijatelja. Imala sam nekad osjecaj, da sam znala vise faca i prijatelja od nekih drugih mojih prijatelja, kojima se prijateljstvo svelo samo na par osoba. Volim prijatelje i druzenja. Mnogi misle da sam zatvorena, ali kad su prijatelji u pitanju, tad dajem dio sebe, a mozda je to razlog sto tragam za samo iskrenim prijateljima. Ne mogu nekom lako dati dio sebe, dio svoje duse i otvorenost, ako to nije sigurno prijateljstvo, a to isto vazi i za ljubav. Ne bih rekla da je bilo previse prijatelja, jer "previse" je okruta rijec. Nikad se ne bi moglo reci "previse" prijatelja ili ljubavi prema nekom. Mnogi misle "Pa naravno, nikad nije previse novca," ali moja prva pomisao je "nikad nije previse prijatelja i ljubavi." Mozda, tesko za povjerovati, ali je tacno tako. Pitam se, dok citas ovo, sta je tebi palo na pamet? Cega ti nikad nije previse i za cim tezis?. Svi mi tezimo ka' uspjehu i sretnom buducnoscu, ali ima li nesto drugo za cim ceznes? U roku ove 3 godine zivota ovdje, nekako je postalo tesko za mene da dodem do onog sto zelim, a to je prijateljstvo i ljubav. Izgleda, kao da drugima ide "od ruke", a ja se ne pomjeram sa jednog mjesta ili stanja. Tjesim se da nisam jedina sto to osjecam, pa mi bude i drago, jer cak bi pomislila "da nesto zaista nije u redu sa mnom?" Ja iskreno mislim, da ima nesto i u meni sto me muci, ali isto tako gledajuci druge koji su izbjegli u tudinu, osjecaju slicno. A ti? Svi mi osjecamo nesto sto nas boli, a necemo da priznamo. Hocemo da pokazemo da samo sretni sa svim ovim sto imamo, da "uzivamo", da se provodimo, i da smo kao postali dio ovog "americkog" stila zivota. Ja mislim, da je to neko zavaravanje ne drugih, vec samih sebe. To skodi nama, jer krijemo osjecaje. Mozda grijesim, mozda je ustvari ovo samo sto ja osjecam? Ne znam. Znam, da neki kriju u sebe, a s vana navlace neku masku, nekog novog lica. S tim samo raste problem i gubitak svog identiteta i onih prijasnih navika. Nekad se pravimo da smo navikli na veci dio ovog zivota ovdje, izlazimo, ravnamo se prema drugim (Amerikancima) da bi bili kao "cool" ili se smijemo nekim njihovim salama i pricama, koje u potpunosti nismo ni shvatili. Ja ipak, pokusvam da cuvam svoje korijene i navike sto sam i donijela sa sobom. Ne dopustam da me neko mijenja, na lose, vec idem samo ka' boljem ako je to moguce. Samo znam da sam osjetila kako je sakriti "kutije sjecanja," stare dnevnike, slike iz proslosti, pisma, kasete na nasem jeziku pjevane, samo da bi pobjegla od te neke proslosti i sjecanja. Ali, opet ne uspjevam. Sto? Kako bi neko mogao tako lako da baci sjecanja i uspomene ili tacnije pola svog zivota zajedno sa tim uspomenama. To je nemoguce, jer to ostaje urezano u nama. Ipak, ne mora biti "pola zivota", vec onaj najljepsi dio od rodenja, do skolskih klupa i prvih ljubavi. Zar se to moze lako izbrisati, kao neka disketa? Ne! Da li bi osoba mogla tako lako zaboraviti gdje se rodila? Naravno da ne, a isto tako ne moze se zaboraviti ono cega cemo se (mozda) zauvijek sjecati i sto ce ostati u nama. Covjekov mozak, je kao knjiga. Prihvati odreden broj stranica, sjecanja i iskustava tokom zivota, i onda sve to stoji kao memorija na tom jednom dijelu knjige ili tacnije kao dio uspomene. Kao neka stara napisanja knjiga, "Zivota!" Sve u zivotu pocinje od blizine u kojoj se nalazimo. Prvo od roditelja, pa onda od okoline sto nas okruzuje. Ipak, ima tacnosti u izreci "S kim si, takav si." Okolina u kojoj sam ja provela svojih 17 godina zivota je unijela veliki dio svoje svjetlosti u moj zivot. Nije potrebno 17 ili 25 godina, dovoljno je da se covjek rodi na tom tlu. Da prode kroz tebe taj osjecaj, da ude i ne izlazi vise dok si ziv. Znam, mnogi se prave kad kazu: "ma nije mi vise do onog grada stalo, ni do onog tamo," jer znam po samoj sebi. Tek nakon 3 godina zivota ovdje, i mog prvog odlaska nazad u svoj voljeni grad, shvatila sam da moram ici dalje, i da ne mogu tamo traziti vise taj dio sebe. Na nekin nacin to nije tacno, jer jos uvijek taj dio mene zivi u onom gradu, na onom tlu gdje sam ostavila svoje korijene. Nekad imam osjecaj da mi toliko nedostaje, da pomislim i uporedim sa jednom malo losom slikom, ali tako osjecam taj gubitak onog sto sam nekad imala. To je mozda isto ili samo slicno, kao kad covjek hoda Ulicama grada, bez jednog dijela tijela, a ja kao da hodam bez jednog dijela srca. A sta sa onima kojima zaista nedostaje dio tijela a i dio srca? Pita li se ko? To je najtuznija slika koju ja vidim u svojim ocima, iako nisam osoba sa takvim slucajem. Gledajuci druge, osjetim tu bol na njihovom licu. Sve je ovo veoma tesko i jedna vrsta psihicke bolesti, tj. traganjem za onim sto smo izgubili. Do kad? Izgleda, uvijek mi u zivotu tragamo za necim, za nekom perfekcijom. Mozda ne svi. Zar ima neko vece zadovoljstvo od zdravlja i ljubavi svojih bliznjih i prijatelja? Meni, barem nema. Ova zemlja, ova hladna zemlja i voda po kojom koracam, je unijela neku hladnocu u mene i kao se ne mogu ugrijati. Ovdje, svi izgledaju kao da uvijek trce za necim, kao da svaki dan prolete pored mene i pitam se: "kuda zure?" Kod mene je sve tako sporo. Kao da je sve stalo ili ide u krug. Oni za mene su neki ljudi koji tragaju za necim nevaznim nekad, a u stvari to je samo traganje da bi buducnost obezbijedili. To je sasvim normalno, i svi zelimo isto. Nekad se samo pitam "kakva ce tad da bude ta njihova buducnost?". Mozda ce biti kao sto im je i bilo. Opet, trcat ce svaki dan, s posla kuci, na spavanje, pa na posao, pa kuci i sve tako. Stvorit ce svoje porodice, i sve ce ici svojom brzinom. Toga me je strah, da ne vidim sebe poput njih za koju godinu ili vise. A gdje im je vrijeme za paznju, ljubav, djecu, izlaske, i barem neki odmor i uzitak sa onim bliznjim. Eh, na taj nacin, ja vidim taj njihov "The American Dream." Da li ovo uopste lici na taj "American dream?" Mozda se varam, ali ja ne mislim da ce ikad covjek imati potpuno ostvarenje nekog sna. Svaki dan, je novi gubitak ili dobitak. Zivot je patnja, i zivot je iskustvo, kroz koje prolazimo, i ucimo iz dana u dan. Meni je dovoljno nesto sasvim normalno, nesto sto su i moji roditelji imali dok su mene odgajali u mom gradu. Sasvim prikladan, normalan i prosjecan zivot jednog Bosanca ili Bosanke. Ne tezim za tim nekim "snom" i njegovom ostvarenju, jer ne mislim da bi ga pronasla, jer zivot se sastoji od onog sto nam "on" pruza, ali taj "san" nije bogastvo ili neka beskrajna sreca. U to bas ne vjerujem, jer niciji zivot nije totalno divan. Mene ne zanima taj neki "Americki San", jer odgojena sam i odrasla u drugoj kulturi i naciji, i svakodnevnom zivotu drugacijem od ovog. Sigurno, ako mislimo ostati na ovom dijeli Svijeta, polako treba prihvatati neke obicaje, navikavati se, ali nikad previse ili skroz. Ne bih rekla da je to nekom skroz uspjelo, jer uvijek ostane u nama dio onog sto smo nekad imali i donijeli iz nase zemlje. Pa makar, ako nista, ostane u covjeku naglasak, boja, ponasanje, obicaji, religija, sto nam niko ne moze oduzeti. Mozemo tjerati sami sebe da izbacimo i ocistimo dusu prolosti, ali nikad u potpunosti, ma koliko pokusavali. Zamsili samo, da ocistis prasinu u kuci, a na taj nacin, da se vise nikad ne pojavi, a to je nemoguce. Tako isto, ma koliko ocistili dio nase duse i sjecanja, uvijek ce ostati jedan dio ili ce se tokom vremena vratiti, a onda samo moze biti gore. Onda ce nam poceti navirati sva ta sjecanja, jos vise i vise. Kazem, ovaj zivot ide u krug, jer nekad ne vidim neke promjene. Iz dana u dan isto. Osjecam se bolje znajuci sta sam do sad postigla, pa onda opet idem dalje i cekam na nesto novo da se desi. Dosla sam do ovog dijela zivota, i dostigla mnogo toga uz svoj napor, i idem dalje da bi dosla do dijela (moja neka zamisao) kada trebam da "predem Ulicu, i da predem polako preko mosta i da bi polako usla u u vihor "pravog zivota" i novog iskustava." Nekad se pitam "sto mi to uopste znaci pravi zivot?" Zar ima tako nesto? Ovo je pravo, sto sad imamo, a ja mozda zivim od snova, i nekih svojih zamisli. Nekad bi se vratili i rekli "pravi je zivot sto smo nekad imali u nasoj Bosni prije," ali jedini i pravi zivot je ovaj sto sad zivimo. Ipak, fino je cuvati sjecanja i zamisao na ono sto smo nekad imali i sto nam se cinilo "pravim." To sto smo nekad imali i uzivali u tome, ali to se zove "proslost," a ne "sadasnjost" ili cak "buducnost." Naravno, ostat ce dio proslosti sa nama u sadanjosti, i nada i planovi za buducnost.
Mozda zvuci cudno i smijesno, kad kazem da ovaj sadanji nije bas taj "pravi" ili moja prava zamisao. Kao da mi nedostaju mnogi mali dijelovi koji trebaju da budu sastavljeni i zaljepljeni u moje srce. Ti dijelovi su se raspali i tesko je da ce se ikad sastaviti taj dio, i to je (ja mislim) razlog sto jos uvijek osjecam da mi nesto nedostaje i boli. Sta ako nikad ne uspijem sastaviti te dijelove, a onda cu morati naci nove, ali slicne starim. U obzir ne dolazi neki novi i bez dijela slicnosti. To ne bi bila "JA." Ja trenutno gubim to "JA", jer mi fale ti dijelovi zivota, pa mi pada sve teze i teze. Pokusavam kroz maglu da nadem i dodem do tih dijelova koji mi nedostaju u zivotu, ali mi ide veoma tesko, a razlog moze biti sto se jos uvijek nalazim na ovom hladnom tlu? Jel to zaista razlog, pitam se. Vecim dijelom jeste, ali isto tako razlog tome je sto jos uvijek nosim tragove na sebi. Do kad?
Kroz moju zamisao, ne izgleda mi tako tesko naci taj dio, ali kad bi pokusala da prekoracim preko tog mosta, isto kao da bi se odjednom podigao nedopustajuci mi da zakoracim samo taj mali korak. "Korak zivota?" Ja sebe tako cesto vidim u mislima, kako koracam iza tog mosta, kroz vihor pravog zivota, ali ga vidim s onim sto me cini u potpunosti sretnom. Nije materijalna sigurnost, koliko neka "ruka sigurnosti." To je necija ruka topline, razumjevanja, ljubavi, iskrenosti, briznosti i prijateljstva. Sve to sacinjava "ruku sigurnosti" koja nas vodi kroz zivot. Mozda ja, kao djevojka, zahtjevam nesto vise, zbog neke nestabilnosti, nesigurnosti, samoce, i straha da mi pomoc, sigurnost i ljubav nece biti uzvracena istom mjerom? Osjecam da mi je to sve potrebno da bi dosla i prosla kroz tu drugu stranu zivota i da bi koracala putem koji vodi ka buducnosti.
Moji osjecaji, zelje kao da su zamrzli nekad, kao da ne znam sta vise zelim i osjecam, kao da je nestao dio mene i kao da jos uvijek nedostaju ti dijelovi. Nazad ne mogu ici, jer su se "istopili" ili nestali u stranicama proslosti, bez povrata. Zato, mozda mogu naci tu "ruku zivota," da mi je neko pruzi, da koracamo zajedno. To je nada. Zelim i nadam se da cemo da koracamo zajedno, ja i on, kroz zivot, ali ta ruka kao da mora biti Bosanska krv, i onaj miris tla odakle sam i ja dosla i gdje sam ostavila svoje korijene. Mozda zvuci lose i oholo prema drugima, ali to je samo moje misljenje i ono sto ja osjecam. Taj neko, mora biti, neko ko nosi obicaje, osjecaje i ljubav prema onom sto smo nekad imali. Ipak, svi mi zelimo da nastavimo onim nasim obicajima, zivotom odakle smo i ponikli. Na tom tlu smo sagradili prvi, najvazniji dio zivota i zato nam je potreban neko "nas" s tog tla, da bi nas razumio i da zajedno koracao ka tim nedostajecim dijelovima zivota i da ih popunimo. Mi mozda, rastemo (kako ja kazem) na ovom "hladnom tlu", gdje ne osjecamo toliko tu hladnocu, ali u nama se nesto ledi i zato nece biti moguce u potpunosti da prihvatimo ovo ovdje ili tu veliku hladnocu u nama i oko nas. Zar nije naljepsi osjecaj kad se zivi u toplini, u toploj kuci zivota, ili je bolje u nekom hladnom i okrutnom zivotu, okruzenim sa nepoznanicima? Mozda je to razlog, sto tragamo za prosloscu, samo da ne bi postali dio "njih", dio njihovog zivota, i naglo se trazamo iz stvarnosti, da bi sacuvali sto smo nekad imali. Naravno, u prolost se ne moze vratiti (sto je nekad i bolje), zato idemo dalje, da nademo taj dio slican nasom prosloscu, da bi mogli da sastavimo te dijelove nase duse i ceznje.
Sve ovo je napisano iz mog zivotnog iskustva. Moze biti veoma komplikovano za razumjeti, ali znam da ima onih sto shvataju sve ovo. Ipak znam, da ima ljudskih dusa sto osjecaju isto ili slicno. Ali ne svi, jer svi mi dozivimo uspone i padove, ali svak na svoj nacin. Niko ne pati na isti nacin, i zato je vazno razumjevanje i da se osjecaji podijele sa drugim. Da se pomogne i da se podijeli paznja razumjevanja za drugoga, bilo to zensko ili musko, zena ili muz, dijete ili dio familije, poznanik ili bolesnik. Nama, koji patimo i ceznemo za necim, je potrebno nesto sto se zove "ruka podrske," a to se moze naci u roditeljima, prijatelju ili voljenoj osobi. Mozda, ja zaista jos uvijek tragam za tom jednom osobom, i ponovnim osjecajem ljubavi. Osjecaja, kako je voljeti i voljen biti.
Ja sam shvatila, da zivot bez prijatelja, je kao cvijece bez vode, jer ako ga redovno ne zalijevamo dok rastemo, onda uvene. Ja znam po sebi, jer sad kad mi nedostaju prijatelji i voljena osoba, kao da i ne rastem. Kao da stojim na mjestu, bez dodira i paznje, kao kad neko ne pridaje paznju cvijetu. Iako sam sad starija, opet nekad duboko u sebi imam cudan osjecaj, kao da sam jos uvijek dijete, koje cezne za starim prijateljima ili igrackama na onom mjestu gdje je zapoceo taj zivot. Jos uvijek stvaram slike starih prijateljam jer ovi novi ovdje su oni "hladni" i ne znaju da pokazu prijateljstvo i ljubav kao oni prijatelji sto sam nekad imala. Mozda grijesim, ali ipak ima razlike. Mozda sam samo ja izgubila neke te osjecaje i ne mogu sebe da nadem s njima u toj punoj sreci. Oni imaju ovdje, sto sam ja nekad imala na svom tlu, odakle sam i dosla. Sigurno se pitas: "A sto ne mogu bas da prihvatim ovo sto oni imaju i da budem kao oni?" Pitam se i ja isto. Zaista, ni sama ne znam, jer to je ustvari dio te "Zivotne knjige" koja ne prihvata nista drugo i strano. Zeli da ima samo one stranice zivota sto meni odgovaraju, i onog sto je ostalo, i sto ce biti,a nesto sto je na nekin nacin drugacije od njihove "Knjige zivota."
Tacno je da svi imamo slicna ponasanja, ali smo drugacijeg izgleda, ali ipak ako zapocnes i niknes se na tlu gdje ti odgovara, to onda nigdje i nikad nece biti isto. Barem, ja to osjecam i u ovim godinama provedenim ovdje. To nije isto tlo, i to cvijece ne raste isto, i ta voda nije cista kao ona sto me je nekad zalijevala i pomagala mi da rastem dalje. To je tesko da se shvati, i to "TI" moj stari prijatelju, moja generacijo, mozda razumijes, ali sigurno ne, ako nikad niko nije stao na ovu "hladnu zemlju" na kojoj ja upravo stojim i cekam na nesto meni veoma vrijedno...
Melisa Magodic - '98
WAR CHILD
“To thine own self be true,” said Shakespeare.
If you were to walk by me, with all your grace,
You wouldn’t even stop and look at me and think who I am.
It wouldn’t cross your mind to ask me how I’ve been, where I've been and where I am now.
You wouldn't even imagine that, when your generation was laughing, playing and living a happy life,
I was hiding in basements from bombs and grenades.
When kids my age went to bed and dreamed wondrous dreams, I prayed through the night for humanity and to see another day.
When I was hungry, you were full!
When I was cold, you were comfy!
When I cried, you laughed so silly!
When I survived, you just kept on living!
So, what do you think about me now? Do not feel sorry,
For I am a war-child, just another, one of the many...
My story begins in Prijedor, a northwest city in the country of Bosnia and Herzegovina. I was born in April, on the day everyone celebrated Earth Day. The young “careless” years, as I call them, I had spent living at the good end of life. My parents had great jobs, and my sister and I had everything we wished for. They say that wealth makes people greedy, but my parents never raised us that way. We fairly shared our wealth with our family, friends and community. Good things come to those with good will.
At the age of ten, where every child has a childhood, I never got to have mine. Just as I was about to have it, my world changed for bad. To some of you being Muslim and believing in Islamic beliefs are sins. To this day I can not understand why. I am still a human being, right? It would have been easier if I was born a flower, just so I wouldn’t have to be marked with the “cross of religion”. At the age of ten I had to grow up faster than I could. My countrymen and neighbors went to war. A war against their countrymen neighbors families and friends.
When the war began, people started leaving Bosnia. Running as far as the eye can see. Leaving their homes, families and lives. Running from people, whom just yesterday they were drinking coffee with. People were becoming refugees; people were being put into concentration camps and losing their lives for nothing. I stood there with my family watching this chaos. We stood there and hoped for the best. Sadly, it got worse. Our city, of a few hundred thousand people, was left in destruction, terror and shock.
Years past and I grew. Each day like a beautiful flower, each night like a scared child. My family had nothing, except each other. Our lives gone, our beliefs shattered, our hope hanging on. One day my mother was at the water well. Since our electricity and running water was cut off, we had to go to the nearby water well to get the water for our necessities. As she was standing there, she saw a group of Muslim men, being led like cattle by Serbian soldiers. All of them with chained ankles and arms, with their bodies so skinny, that they looked like prunes. They were being taken to a concentration camp, one of the countless that surrounded my city. That day she knew she had to get us out of there.
I was almost thirteen when my family decided to leave Bosnia. As we were making our plans, I felt ashamed. I was going to become one of the ones that left. I was going to become a refugee. When February of 1995 arrived, I was on the road that kept taking me further away from Bosnia. It is true, good things do come to the ones with good will.
Today, living in Pennsylvania, USA, I am too far away. As I walk down the halls of my high school, getting ready to graduate, I don’t look any different than my peers. My pale skin, my blue-green eyes and my long hair do not make me any different. I walk down the hall laughing and talking, and they don’t even look at me as being something else. I wonder if they stop and think about me? I wonder if they realize that we can never be the same? They have lived their childhoods and have reached young adulthood, and I am still trying to pick up where I have left off.
While they go to bed at night, dreaming sweet dreams, I am haunted by mine. The demons of the past creep up into my dreams and torment me. They remind me that I will never be as same as my peers. We are once more different. They are children of a free world, and I am not. I am Ermina Memic, a war-child, just another, one of the many.
Ermina Memic '00
MOJ JE ZIVOT AMERIKA
Moj je zivot Amerika, zivim a nedisem
Moj je zivot Amerika, spavam a nesanjam te
Ja sam davno otisla, u sjecanju mom si ostao ti
Ja ti pisem pismo ovo grade moj jer smo nekada davno
bili najbolji drugovi.
Sarajevo druze stari u srcu mom ostaces uvjek ti I ma
