Zlata
Sunday, May 17, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
It’s now definite: there’s no more school. The war has interrupted our lessons, closed down the schools, sent children to cellars instead of classrooms. They’ll give us the grades we got at the end of last term. So I’ll get a report card saying I’ve finished fifth grade.
Ciao!
Zlata
Wednesday, May 20, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
The shooting has died down. Today Mommy felt brave enough to cross the bridge. She saw Grandma and Granddad, ran into various people she knows and heard a lot of sad news. She came back all miserable . Her brother was wounded on May 14, driving home from work. Her brother is hurt and she doesn’t find out about it until today—that’s terrible. He was wounded in the leg and is in the hospital. How can she get to him? It’s like being at the other end of the world now. They told her he’s all right, but she doesn’t believe them and keeps crying. If only the shooting would stop, she could go to the hospital. She says: “I won’t believe it until I see him with my own eyes.”
Zlata
Thursday, May 21, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Mommy went to see Braco in the hospital today. He’s alive. That’s the most important thing. But he’s badly wounded. It’s his knee. Two hundred wounded were brought to the clinic that day. They were going to amputate his leg, but his friend Dr. Adnan Dizdar (the surgeon) recognized him, canceled the amputation and took him into the operating room. The operation lasted four-and-a-half hours and the doctors say it was a success. But he’ll have to stay in bed for a long, long time. He has some rods, a cast, all sorts of things on his leg. Mommy is terribly worried and sad. So are Grandma and Granddad (that’s what Mommy tells me, because I haven’t seen them since April 12; I haven’t been out of the house). In the end he was lucky. I hope it will turn out all right. Hold on there, Braco!!!
Your Zlata
Saturday, May 23, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’m not writing to you about me anymore. I’m writing to you about war, death, injuries, shells, sadness and sorrow. Almost all my friends have left. Even if they were here, who knows whether we’d be able to see one another. The phones aren’t working, we couldn’t even talk to one another. Vanja and Andrej have gone to join Srdjan in Dubrovnik. The war has stopped there. They’re lucky. I was so unhappy because of that war in Dubrovnik. I never dreamed it would move to Sarajevo. Verica and Bojana have also left.
I now spend all my time with Bojana and Maja. They’re my best friends now. Bojana is a year-and-a-half older than me, she’s finished seventh grade and we have a lot in common. Maja is in her last year of school. She’s much older than I am, but she’s wonderful. I’m lucky to have them, otherwise I’d be all alone among the grown-ups.
On the news they reported the death of Silva Rizvanbegović, a doctor at the Emergency Clinic, who’s Mommy’s friend. She was in an ambulance. They were driving a wounded man to get him help. Lots of people Mommy and Daddy know have been killed. Oh, God, what is happening here???
Love, Zlata
Monday, May 25, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today the Zetra Hall, the Olympic Zetra, went up in flames. The whole world knew about it, it was the Olympic beauty, and now it’s going up in flames. The firefighters tried to save it, and our Žika joined them. But it didn’t stand a chance. The forces of war don’t know anything about love and the desire to save something. They just know how to destroy, burn, take things away. So they wanted Zetra to disappear as well. It makes me sad, Mimmy.
I feel as though no one and nothing here will survive.
Your Zlata
Tuesday, May 26, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I keep thinking about Mirna; May 13 was her birthday. I would love to see her so much. I keep asking Mommy and Daddy to take me to her. She left Mojmilo with her mother and father to go to her grandparents’ place. Their apartment was shelled and they had to leave it.
There’s no shooting, the past few days have been quiet. I asked Daddy to take me to Mirna’s because I made her a little birthday present. I miss her. I wish I could see her.
I was such a nag that Daddy decided to take me to her. We went there, but the downstairs door was locked. We couldn’t call out to them and I came home feeling disappointed. The present is waiting for her, so am I. I suppose we’ll see each other. Love,
Zlata
Wednesday, May 27, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
SLAUGHTER! MASSACRE! HORROR! CRIME! BLOOD! SCREAMS! TEARS! DESPAIR!
That’s what Vaso Miškin Street looks like today. Two shells exploded in the street and one in the market. Mommy was nearby at the time. She ran to Grandma and Granddad’s. Daddy and I were beside ourselves because she hadn’t come home. I saw some of it on TV but I still can’t believe what I actually saw. It’s unbelievable. I’ve got a lump in my throat and a knot in my tummy. HORRIBLE. They’re taking the wounded to the hospital. It’s a madhouse. We kept going to the window hoping to see Mommy, but she wasn’t back. They released a list of the dead and wounded. Daddy and I were tearing our hair out. We didn’t know what had happened to her. Was she alive? At 4:00, Daddy decided to go and check the hospital. He got dressed, and I got ready to go to the Bobars’ so as not to stay at home alone. I looked out the window one more time and ... I SAW MOMMY RUNNING ACROSS THE BRIDGE. As she came into the house she started shaking and crying. Through her tears she told us how she had seen dismembered bodies. All the neighbors came because they had been afraid for her. Thank God, Mommy is with us. Thank God.
A HORRIBLE DAY UNFORGETTABLE. HORRIBLE! HORRIBLE!
Your Zlata
Thursday, May 28, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
It started at around 10:00. First we went to Neda’s. I put Saša to sleep and left the bedroom. I looked toward the bathroom, and then... BOOM. The window in the bathroom shattered into pieces and I was alone in the hall and saw it all. I began to cry hysterically. Then we went down into the cellar. When things calmed down we went up to Neda’s and spent the night there. Today in Vaso Miškin Street people signed the book of mourning and laid flowers. They renamed the street and now it’s called the Street of Anti-Fascist Resistance.
Zlata
Friday, May 29, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’m at Neda’s. The result of last night’s fascism is broken glass in Daddy’s office and at the Bobars’ shattered windows. A shell fell on the house across the way, and I can’t even tell you how many fell nearby. The whole town was in flames.
Your Zlata
Saturday, May 30, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
The City Maternity Hospital has burned down. I was born there. Hundreds of thousands of new babies, new residents of Sarajevo, won’t have the luck to be born in this maternity hospital now. It was new. The fire devoured everything. The mothers and babies were saved. When the fire broke out two women were giving birth. The babies are alive. God, people get killed here, they die here, they disappear, things go up in flames here, and out of the flames, new lives are born.
Your Zlata
Monday, June 1, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today is Maja’s birthday. She’s eighteen. She’s an adult now. She’s a grown-up. It’s an important day in her life, but, what can you do, she’s celebrating it in wartime. We all did our best to make this day special for her, but she was sad and moody. Why did this war have to ruin everything for her? Maja isn’t even having her senior prom, or an evening gown. All there is here is war, war and more war.
Fortunately, there wasn’t too much shooting, so we could sit in peace. Auntie Boda made a special lunch (how special can it be in wartime???). Mommy used the last walnuts in the house to make a cake (Maja and her eighteen years deserve it). We gave her a necklace and bracelet made of Ohrid pearls. She got a lot of valuable presents made of gold. Well, you’re only eighteen once in your life. Happy birthday
to you Maja on this big day, may all your other birthdays be celebrated in peace.
Zlata
Friday, June 5, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
There’s been no electricity for quite some time and we keep thinking about the food in the freezer. There’s not much left as it is. It would be a pity for all of it to go bad. There’s meat and vegetables and fruit. How can we save it?
Daddy found an old wood-burning stove in the attic. It’s so old it looks funny. In the cellar we found some wood, put the stove outside in the yard, lit it and are trying to save the food from the refrigerator. We cooked everything, and joining forces with the Bobars, enjoyed ourselves. There was veal and chicken, squid, cherry strudel, meat and potato pies. All sorts of things. It’s a pity, though, that we had to eat everything so quickly. We even overate. WE HAD A MEAT STROKE.
We washed down our refrigerators and freezers. Who knows when we’ll be able to cook like this again. Food is becoming a big problem in Sarajevo. There’s nothing to buy, and even cigarettes and coffee are becoming a problem for grown-ups. The last reserves are being used up. God, are we going to go hungry to boot???
Zlata
Wednesday, June 10, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
At about eleven o’clock last night it started to thunder again. No, not the weather, the shells. We ran over to Nedo’s. I fell asleep there, but Mommy and Daddy went back home.
There’s no electricity. We’re cooking on the wood stove in the yard. Everybody is. The whole neighborhood. What luck to have this old stove.
Daddy and Žika keep fiddling with the radio, listening to the news. They found RFI (Radio France Internationale) in our language. That’s at nine o’clock in the evening and they listen to it regularly. Bojana and I usually play cards, word games or draw something.
Love,
Zlata
Sunday, June 14, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
There’s still no electricity, so we’re still cooking on the stove in the yard. Around 2:00, when we were doing something around the stove, a shell fell on the opposite corner of the street, destroying Zoka’s wonderful jewelry shop. We ran straight to the cellar, waiting for the barrage. Luckily there was only that one shell, so we went back at around 4:00. Your Zlata
Tuesday, June 16, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Our windows are broken. All of them except the ones in my room. That’s the result of the revolting shell that fell again on Zoka’s jewelry shop, across the way from us. I was alone in the house at the time. Mommy and Daddy were down in the yard, getting lunch ready, and I had gone upstairs to set the table. Suddenly I heard a terrible bang and glass breaking. I was terrified and ran toward the hall. That same moment, Mommy and Daddy were at the door. Out of breath, worried, sweating and pale they hugged me and we ran to the cellar, because the shells usually come one after the other. When I realized what had happened, I started to cry and shake. Everybody tried to calm me down, but I was very upset. I barely managed to pull myself together.
We returned to the apartment to find the rooms full of glass and the windows broken. We cleared away the glass and put plastic sheeting over the windows. We had had a close shave with that shell and shrapnel. I picked up a piece of shrapnel and the tail end of a grenade, put them in a box and thanked God I had been in the kitchen, because I could have been hit ... HORRIBLE! I don’t know how often I’ve written that word. HORRIBLE. We’ve had too much horror. The days here are full of horror. Maybe we in Sarajevo could rename the day and call it horror, because that’s really what it’s like.
Love,
Zlata
Thursday, June 18, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today we heard some more sad, sad news. Our country house in Crnotina, a tower that’s about 150 years old, has burned down. Like the post office, it disappeared in the flames. I loved it so much. We spent last summer there. I had a wonderful time. I always looked forward to going there. We had redone it so nicely, bought new furniture, new rugs, put in new windows, given it all our love and warmth, and its beauty was our reward. It lived through so many wars, so many years and now it’s gone. It has burned down to the ground. Our neighbors Ziga, Meho and Bečir were killed. That’s even sadder. Vildana’s house also burned down. All the houses burned down. Lots of people were killed. It’s terribly sad news.
I keep asking why? What for? Who’s to blame? I ask, but there’s no answer. All I know is that we are living in misery. Yes, I know, politics is to blame for it all. I said I wasn’t interested in politics, but in order to find out the answer I have to know something about it. They tell me only a few things. I’ll probably find out and understand much more one day. Mommy and Daddy don’t discuss politics with me. They probably think I’m too young or maybe they themselves don’t know anything. They just keep telling me: This will pass—“it has to pass”????????
Your Zlata
Saturday, June 20, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Auntie Radmila (Mommy’s friend from work) came today. She came from Vojničko polje (a new housing complex). Her apartment has been completely destroyed. Wiped out in the shelling. Everything in it has been destroyed. All that’s left is a useless pile of furniture, clothes, pictures and all the other things that go into an apartment. She’s sad, because her daughters Sunčica and Mirna aren’t there (they’re in Zagreb), but she’s glad they didn’t have to live through the hell of Vojničko polje. Today we heard that Narmin Tulič, the actor at the Experimental Theater, lost both his legs. Awful! Awful! Awful!
Saša went to stay with his grandmother. But he’ll probably be coming back.
Your Zlata
Monday, June 22, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
More blood on the streets of Sarajevo. Another massacre. In Tito Street. Three people killed, thirty-five wounded. Shells fell on Radič, Miss Irbin and Šenoa streets. About fifteen people were killed in the three streets. I’m worried that something may have happened to Marina’, Marijana’s or Ivana’s parents.
These people just go on killing. MURDERS!
I pity them for being so very, very stupid, so servile, for humiliating themselves so much in front of certain people. Terrible!!!!!!
Your Zlata
Tuesday, June 23, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Cicko could have been killed today. He fell out of the kitchen window onto a tin roof. We ran downstairs into the yard and brought him in. He just lay there in the corner of his cage, blinking madly. I tried to cheer him up with a leaf of lettuce. Fortunately he survived.
A shell fell on the central market and the cathedral today.
The electricity went out at eight o’clock last night. It’s now 11:30 and it’s still not back.
HORRIBLE
Zlata
Wednesday, June 24, 1992
Dear Mimmy, 9:45—the water is back on. Still no electricity. 10:30—we’ve still got water. 12:00—no water, but we’ve got electricity.
YESSS!
Mimmy, I’ve just realized that all my friends have left: Oga, Martina, Matea, Dejan, Vanja and Andrej.
OHHHH!
They’re shooting outside. Bojana and I aren’t allowed to go out into the yard, so we’re rollerskating in the lobby of their building. It’s not bad!
These are the books I’ve read so far: Mommy I Love You, Eagles Fly Early, and the next book I’m going to read is Little Toto.
Your Zlata
Monday, June 29, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
BOREDOM!!! SHOOTING!!! SHELLING!!! PEOPLE BEING KILLED!!! DESPAIR!!! HUNGER!!! MISERY!!! FEAR!!!
That’s my life! The life of an innocent eleven-year-old schoolgirl!! A schoolgirl without a school, without the fun and excitement of school. A child without games, without friends, without the sun, without birds, without nature, without fruit, without chocolate or sweets, with just a little powdered milk. In short, a child without a childhood. A wartime child. I now realize that I am really living through a war
, I am witnessing an ugly, disgusting war. I and thousands of other children in this town that is being destroyed, that is crying, weeping, seeking help, but getting none. God, will this ever stop, will I ever be a schoolgirl again, will I ever enjoy my childhood again? I once heard that childhood is the most wonderful time of your life. And it is. I loved it, and now an ugly war is taking it all away from me. Why? I feel sad. I feel like crying. I am crying.
Your Zlata
Thursday, July 2, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
We gave ourselves a treat today. We picked the cherries off the tree in the yard and ate them all up. We had watched it blossom and its small green fruits slowly turn red and now here we were eating them. Oh, you’re a wonderful cherry tree! The plum tree hasn’t gotten any fruit so we won’t even get to try it! I miss fruit a lot. In these days of war in Sarajevo, there is no basic food or any of the other things a person needs, and there is no fruit. But now I can say that I ate myself silly on cherries.
Braco, Mommy’s brother, is getting better. He’s even walking a bit now.
Zlata
Friday, July 3, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Mommy goes to work at her new office. She goes if there’s no shooting, but we never know when the shelling will start. It’s dangerous to walk around town. It’s especially dangerous to cross our bridge, because snipers shoot at you. You have to run across. Every time she goes out, Daddy and I go to the window to watch her run. Mommy says: “I didn’t know the Miljacka (our river) was so wide. You run, and you run, and you run, and there’s no end to the bridge.” That’s fear, Mimmy, fear that you’ll be hit by something.
Zlata's Diary Page 6