Zlata's Diary
Page 5
Dear Mimmy,
Mommy is at work. Daddy has gone to Zenica. I’m home from school and have been thinking. Azra leaves for Austria today. She’s afraid of war. HEY! Still, I keep thinking about what Melica heard at the hairdresser’s. What do I do if they bomb Sarajevo? Safia is here, and I’m listening to Radio-M. I feel safer.
Mommy says that what Melica heard at the hairdresser’s is misinformation. I hope so!
Daddy came back from Zenica all upset. He says there are terrible crowds at the train and bus stations . People are leaving Sarajevo. Sad scenes. They’re the people who believe the misinformation. Mothers and children are leaving, the fathers are staying behind, or just children are leaving, while their parents stay. Everybody is in tears. Daddy says he wishes he hadn’t seen that.
Love you, Mimmy,
Zlata
Saturday, April 4, 1992
Today is Bairam [a Muslim religious holiday]. There aren’t many people in the streets. I guess it’s fear of the stories about Sarajevo being bombed. But there’s no bombing. It looks as though Mommy was right when she said it was all misinformation. Thank God! Love you,
Zlata
Sunday, April 5, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’m trying to concentrate so I can do my homework (reading), but I simply can’t. Something is going on in town. You can hear gunfire from the hills.
Columns of people are spreading out from Dobrinja. They’re trying to stop something, but they themselves don’t know what. You can simply feel that something is coming, something very bad. On TV I see people in front of the B-H parliament building. The radio keeps playing the same song: “Sarajevo, My Love.” That’s all very nice, but my stomach is still in knots and I can’t concentrate on my homework anymore.
Mimmy, I’m afraid of WAR!!!
Zlata
Monday, April 6, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Yesterday the people in front of the parliament tried peacefully to cross the Vrbanja bridge. But they were shot at. Who? How? Why? A girl, a medical student from Dubrovnik, was KILLED. Her blood spilled onto the bridge. In her final moments all she said was: “Is this Sarajevo?” HORRIBLE,
HORRIBLE HORRIBLE!
NO ONE AND NOTHING HERE IS NORMAL!
The Baščaršija has been destroyed! Those “fine gentlemen” from Pale fired on Baščaršija!
Since yesterday people have been inside the B-H parliament. Some of them are standing outside, in front of it. We’ve moved my television set into the living room, so I watch Channel I on one TV and “Good Vibrations” on the other. Now they’re shooting from the Holiday Inn, killing people in front of the parliament. And Bokica is there with Vanja and Andrej. Oh, God!
Maybe we’ll go to the cellar. You, Mimmy, will go with me, of course. I’m desperate. The people in front of the parliament are desperate too. Mimmy, war is here. PEACE, NOW!
They say they’re going to attack RTV Sarajevo [radio and TV center]. But they haven’t. They’ve stopped shooting in our neighborhood. KNOCK! KNOCK! (I’m knocking on wood for good luck.)
WHEW! It was tough. Oh, God! They’re shooting again!!!
Zlata
Thursday, April 9, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’m not going to school. All the schools in Sarajevo are closed. There’s danger hiding in these hills above Sarajevo. But I think things are slowly calming down. The heavy shelling and explosions have stopped. There’s occasional gunfire, but it quickly falls silent. Mommy and Daddy aren’t going to work. They’re buying food in huge quantities. Just in case, I guess. God forbid!
Still, it’s very tense. Mommy is beside herself, Daddy tries to calm her down. Mommy has long conversations on the phone. She calls, other people call, the phone is in constant use.
Zlata
Sunday, April 12, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
The new sections of town—Dobrinja, Mojmilo, Vojničko polje—are being badly shelled. Everything is being destroyed, burned, the people are in shelters. Here in the middle of town, where we live, it’s different. It’s quiet. People go out. It was a nice warm spring day today. We went out too. Vaso Miškin Street was full of people, children. It looked like a peace march. People came out to be together, they don’t want war. They want to live and enjoy themselves the way they used to. That’s only natural, isn’t it? Who likes or wants war, when it’s the worst thing in the world?
I keep thinking about the march I joined today. It’s bigger and stronger than war. That’s why it will win. The people must be the ones to win, not the war, because war has nothing to do with humanity. War is something inhuman.
Zlata
Tuesday, April 14, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
People are leaving Sarajevo. The airport, train and bus stations are packed. I saw sad pictures on TV of people parting. Families, friends separating. Some are leaving, others staying. It’s so sad. Why? These people and children aren’t guilty of anything. Keka and Braco came early this morning. They’re in the kitchen with Mommy and Daddy, whispering. Keka and Mommy are crying. I don’t think they know what to do—whether to stay or to go. Neither way is good.
Zlata
Wednesday, April 15, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
There has been terrible gunfire in Mojmilo [a part of Sarajevo]. Mirna spent a whole forty-eight hours in the shelter. I talked to her on the phone, but not for long because she had to go back down to the shelter. I feel sorry for her.
Bojana and Verica are going to England. Oga is going to Italy. And worst of all, Martina and Matea have already left. They went to Ohrid [a lakeside town in Macedonia]. Keka is crying, Braco is crying and Mommy is crying. She’s on the phone right now, and she’s crying. And “those boys” up there in the hills keep shooting at us. I just heard that Dejan has left too.
OOOHHHHH! Why war?!
Love you, Mimmy,
Zlata
Thursday, April 16, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Martina, Matea and Dejan didn’t leave, after all. That’s really not fair! Yes, of course it is, they mustn’t go. But it isn’t fair because we all cried our eyes out and in the end they didn’t leave. There are not enough buses, trains or planes for all the people who want to get out of here.
Love you,
Zlata
Saturday, April 18, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
There’s shooting, shells are falling. This really is WAR. Mommy and Daddy are worried, they sit up until late at night, talking. They’re wondering what to do, but it’s hard to know. Whether to leave and split up, or stay here together. Keka wants to take me to Ohrid. Mommy can’t make up her mind—she’s constantly in tears. She tries to hide it from me, but I see everything. I see that things aren’t good here. There’s no peace. War has suddenly entered our town, our homes, our thoughts, our lives. It’s terrible.
It’s also terrible that Mommy has packed my suitcase.
Love,
Zlata
Monday, April 20, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
War is no joke, it seems. It destroys, kills, burns, separates, brings unhappiness. Terrible shells fell today on Baščaršija, the old town center. Terrible explosions. We went down into the cellar, the cold, dark, revolting cellar. And ours isn’t even all that safe.
Mommy, Daddy and I just stood there, holding on to one another in a corner that looked safe. Standing there in the dark, in the warmth of my parents’ arms, I thought about leaving Sarajevo. Everybody is thinking about it, and so am I. I couldn’t bear to go alone, to leave behind Mommy and Daddy, Grandma and Granddad. And going with just Mommy isn’t any good either. The best would be for all three of us to go. But Daddy can’t. So I’ve decided we should stay here together. Tomorrow I’ll tell Keka that you have to be brave and stay with those you love and those who love you. I can’t leave my parents, and I don’t like the other idea of leaving my father behind alone either.
Your Zlata
Tuesday, Apri
l 21, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
It’s horrible in Sarajevo today. Shells falling, people and children getting killed, shooting. We will probably spend the night in the cellar. Since ours isn’t safe, we’re going to our neighbors’, the Bobars’ house. The Bobar family consists of Grandma Mira, Auntie Boda, Uncle Žika (her husband), Maja and Bojana. When the shooting gets bad, Žika phones us and then we run across the yard, over the ladder and the table, into their building and finally knock at their door. Until just the other day we took the street, but there’s shooting and it’s not safe anymore. I’m getting ready to go to the cellar. I’ve packed my backpack with biscuits, juice, a deck of cards and a few other “things.” I can still hear the cannon fire, and something that sounds like it. Love you, Mimmy,
Zlata
Wednesday, April 22, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
We spent the whole night in the Bobars’ cellar. We went there at around 9:30 and came home at about 10:30 the next morning. I slept from 4:00 to 9:30 A.M. It boomed and shook really badly last night. Zlata
Sunday, April 26, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
We spent Thursday night with the Bobars again. The next day we had no electricity. We had no bread, so for the first time in her life Mommy baked some. She was scared how it would turn out. It turned out like bread—good bread. That was the day I was supposed to go to Ohrid with M&M. But I didn’t, and neither did they.
Ciao! Your Zlata
Tuesday, April 28, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
SNIFFLE! Martina, SNIFFLE, and Matea, SNIFFLE, left YESTERDAAAY! They left by bus for Krško [a town in Slovenia]. They went with Keka. Oga has gone too, so has Dejan, Mirna will be leaving tomorrow or the next day, and soon Marijana will be going too.
SNIFFLE!
Everybody has gone. I’m left with no friends. Zlata
Wednesday, April 29, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’d write to you much more about the war if only I could. But I simply don’t want to remember all these horrible things. They make me sick. Please, don’t be mad at me. I’ll write something.
I love you,
Zlata
Saturday, May 2, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today was truly, absolutely the worst day ever in Sarajevo. The shooting started around noon. Mommy and I moved into the hall. Daddy was in his office, under our apartment, at the time. We told him on the intercom to run quickly to the downstairs lobby where we’d meet him. We brought Cicko [Zlata’s canary] with us. The gunfire was getting worse, and we couldn’t get over the wall to the Bobars’, so we ran down to our own cellar.
The cellar is ugly, dark, smelly. Mommy, who’s terrified of mice, had two fears to cope with. The three of us were in the same corner as the other day. We listened to the pounding shells, the shooting, the thundering noise overhead. We even heard planes. At one moment I realized that this awful cellar was the only place that could save our lives. Suddenly, it started to look almost warm and nice. It was the only way we could defend ourselves against all this terrible shooting. We heard glass shattering in our street. Horrible. I put my fingers in my ears to block out the terrible sounds. I was worried about Cicko. We had left him behind in the lobby. Would he catch cold there? Would something hit him? I was terribly hungry and thirsty. We had left our half-cooked lunch in the kitchen.
When the shooting died down a bit, Daddy ran over to our apartment and brought us back some sandwiches. He said he could smell something burning and that the phones weren’t working. He brought our TV set down to the cellar. That’s when we learned that the main post office (near us) was on fire and that they had kidnapped our President. At around 8:00 we went back up to our apartment. Almost every window in our street was broken. Ours were all right, thank God. I saw the post office in flames. A terrible sight. The fire-fighters battled with the raging fire. Daddy took a few photos of the post office being devoured by the flames. He said they wouldn’t come out because I had been fiddling with something on the camera. I was sorry. The whole apartment smelled of the burning fire. God, and I used to pass by there every day. It had just been done up. It was huge and beautiful, and now it was being swallowed up by the flames. It was disappearing. That’s what this neighborhood of mine looks like, my Mimmy. I wonder what it’s like in other parts of town? I heard on the radio that it was awful around the Eternal Flame. The place is knee-deep in glass. We’re worried about Grandma and Granddad. They live there. Tomorrow, if we can go out, we’ll see how they are. A terrible day.
This has been the worst, most awful day in my eleven-year-old life. I hope it will be the only one. Mommy and Daddy are very edgy. I have to go to bed.
Ciao!
Zlata
Sunday, May 3, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Daddy managed to run across the bridge over the Miljacka and get to Grandma and Granddad. He came running back, all upset, sweating with fear and sadness. They’re all right, thank God. Tito Street looks awful. The heavy shelling has destroyed shop windows, cars, apartments, the fronts and roofs of buildings. Luckily, not too many people were hurt because they managed to take shelter. Neda (Mommy’s girlfriend) rushed over to see how we were and to tell us that they were OK and hadn’t had any damage. But it was terrible.
We talked through the window with Auntie Boda and Bojana just now. They were in the street yesterday when that heavy shooting broke out. They managed to get to Stela’s cellar.
Zlata
Tuesday, May, 5, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
The shooting seems to be dying down. I guess they’ve caused enough misery, although I don’t know why. It has something to do with politics. I just hope the “kids” come to some agreement. Oh, if only they would, so we could live and breathe as human beings again. The things that have happened here these past few days are terrible. I want it to stop forever. PEACE! PEACE!
I didn’t tell you, Mimmy, that we’ve rearranged things in the apartment. My room and Mommy and Daddy’s are too dangerous to be in. They face the hills, which is where they’re shooting from. If only you knew how scared I am to go near the windows and into those rooms. So, we turned a safe corner of the sitting room into a “bedroom.” We sleep on mattresses on the floor. It’s strange and awful. But, it’s safer that way. We’ve turned everything around for safety. We put Cicko in the kitchen. He’s safe there, although once the shooting starts there’s nowhere safe except the cellar. I suppose all this will stop and we’ll all go back to our usual places. Ciao!
Zlata
Thursday, May, 7 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I was almost positive the war would stop, but today ... Today a shell fell on the park in front of my house, the park where I used to play and sit with my girlfriends. A lot of people were hurt. From what I hear Jaca, Jaca’s mother, Selma, Nina, our neighbor Dado and who knows how many other people who happened to be there were wounded. Dado, Jaca and her mother have come home from the hospital, Selma lost a kidney but I don’t know how she is, because she’s still in the hospital. AND NINA IS DEAD. A piece of shrapnel lodged in her brain and she died. She was such a sweet, nice little girl. We went to kindergarten together, and we used to play together in the park. Is it possible I’ll never see Nina again? Nina, an innocent eleven-year-old little girl—the victim of a stupid war. I feel sad. I cry and wonder why? She didn’t do anything. A disgusting war has destroyed a young child’s life. Nina, I’ll always remember you as a wonderful little girl. Love, Mimmy,
Zlata
Wednesday, May 13, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Life goes on. The past is cruel, and that’s exactly why we should forget it.
The present is cruel too and I can’t forget it. There’s no joking with war. My present reality is the cellar, fear, shells, fire.
Terrible shooting broke out the night before last. We were afraid that we might be hit by shrapnel or a bullet, so we ran over to the Bobars’. We spent all of that night, the
next day and the next night in the cellar and in Nedo’s apartment. (Nedo is a refugee from Grbavica. He left his parents and came here to his sister’s empty apartment.) We saw terrible scenes on TV. The town in ruins, burning, people and children being killed. It’s unbelievable.
The phones aren’t working, we haven’t been able to find out anything about Grandma and Granddad, Melica, how people in other parts of town are doing. On TV we saw the place where Mommy works, Vodoprivreda, all in flames. It’s on the aggressor’s side of town (Grbavica). Mommy cried. She’s depressed. All her years of work and effort—up in flames. It’s really horrible. All around Vodoprivreda there were cars burning, people dying, and nobody could help them. God, why is this happening?
I’M SO MAD I WANT TO SCREAM AND BREAK EVERYTHING!
Your Zlata
Thursday, May 14, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
The shelling here has stopped. Daddy managed to run over to Grandma and Granddad’s to see how they are, how they’ve been coping with the madness of the past few days. They’re all right, thank God. Melica and her family are all right, and Grandma heard from Vinko that Meda and Bojan (an aunt and her son) are also all right.
The situation at the Marshal Tito barracks and in the new parts of town is terrible. It’s a madhouse around the electricity board building and the radio and television center. I can’t watch television anymore. I can’t bear to. The area around Otes seems to be the only place that is still quiet. Mommy’s brother Braco and his family live there. They’re so lucky, there’s no shooting where they live.