The shooting really has died down. I can hear the whine of the electric saws. The winter and the power saws have condemned the old trees, shaded walks and parks that made Sarajevo so pretty.
I was sad today. I couldn’t bear the thought of the trees disappearing from my park. They’ve been condemned. God, all the things my park has had to go through! The children have left it, Nina forever, and now the linden, birch, and plane trees are leaving it forever, too. Sad. I couldn’t watch, and I can’t write any more.
Zlata
Sunday, November 29, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
It’s cold. We don’t have enough wood, so we’re saving on it. There is wood at the market, but, like everything else, only for Deutsche Marks and that’s very expensive. I keep thinking that my park’s linden, birch and plane trees are probably there with the other wood. They’re selling for foreign money now.
Braco Lajtner comes by every day. We have lunch together and since he’s alone, he stays until dark. Then he goes home. He goes back to a cold, empty house. That isn’t easy either!
Mommy brings home the water and when it rains, we collect the rain water, too, it comes in handy. The days are getting shorter and shorter. Mommy, Daddy and I play cards by candlelight, or we read and talk, and around nine o‘clock in the evening Boda, Žika and Nedo come to listen to RFI, and that’s how the day ends. It’s the same almost every day.
Ciao!
Zlata
Thursday, December 3, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today is my birthday. My first wartime birthday. Twelve years old. Congratulations. Happy birthday to me!
The day started off with kisses and congratulations. First Mommy and Daddy, then everyone else. Mommy and Daddy gave me three Chinese vanity cases—with flowers on them!
As usual there was no electricity. Auntie Melica came with her family (Kenan, Naida, Nihad) and gave me a book. And Braco Lajtner came, of course. The whole neighborhood got together in the evening. I got chocolate, vitamins, a heart-shaped soap (small, orange), a key chain with a picture of Maja and Bojana, a pendant made of a stone from Cyprus, a ring (silver) and earrings (bingo!).
The table was nicely laid, with little rolls, fish and rice salad, cream cheese (with Feta), canned corned beef, a pie, and, of course—a birthday cake.
Not how it used to be, but there’s a war on. Luckily there was no shooting, so we could celebrate.
It was nice, but something was missing. It’s called peace!
Your Zlata
Friday, December 4, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
It’s awful in Otes. The place is in flames. We can hear the thunder of the shelling, which is constant, even here, and we’re ten kilometers away. Lots of civilians have been killed. We’re worried about Braco, Keka, Mikica and Dačo. Mommy keeps listening to the radio. Braco called from the press center last night. What’s going to happen to them? Until now, everything down there was fine. There was no shooting, they had food, as if there was no war. You never know where or when this war is going to flare up.
Zlata
Sunday, December 6, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Sad, sad news. The whole of Otes has been destroyed and burned down. Everything went up in flames. People were killed, they fled and were killed as they ran, they were trapped in the ruins and nobody could help them. Parents were left without their children, children without their parents. Horrible. More horror.
Luckily, Braco, Keka, Mikica and Dačo managed to get out in one piece. Keka, Mikica and Dačo drove out and Braco fled on foot. He ran with his injured leg, falling and hiding, he swam across the Dobrinja river and managed to make it to the radio and television center.
He fled with Mišo Kučer (his best friend, they reported from Otes together). At one point, Mišo was hit, he fell and that was the end of him. Braco barely managed to drag him to a house and then went on running, to save his own life. It’s terrible. Terrible when you’re powerless to help a friend. Oh, God, dear God, what is happening to us? How much longer?
Your Zlata
Thursday, December 10, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
And so Braco and his family joined the list of hundreds of families in Sarajevo who are left with nothing. Absolutely nothing. Everything they had has been destroyed. But they managed to save their lives. That’s the most important thing.
They’re at Keka’s mother’s now. They came to see us. They were sad, they cried. It’s awful what they’ve been through. They need peace and quiet. But where are they going to find that here? We’ll help them as much as we can. Mommy has given them a lot of clothes, because it’s cold and they have nothing. Other people have helped them too. And will help them again. It’s lucky that there are good people around who will give a helping hand to those in need.
Braco is the saddest of all. He cried when he told us about Mišo. TERRIBLE!
Love,
Zlata
Tuesday, December 15, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I spend all my time with Mikica and Dačo these days. I try to help them forget all the awful things that have happened to them. But they can’t forget. It’s constantly on their minds. They remember the terrible shelling, the destruction, the flames, and everything they left behind and lost in the flames. Their toys, books, photos, their memories. Dačo is sorriest about his Alf dolls, and Mikica says: “When I see something or talk about something I think to myself: Oh, I’ve got that. And then the truth hits me—I don’t really have anything anymore.” It’s really hard. But, we’re all helpless. The war has got a hold of us and won’t let us go.
Zlata
Friday, December 18, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Mommy ran into my piano teacher today—Biljana Čanković. She complained to Mommy how she had to hold her piano lessons in the school, and she had no pupils. How can you give lessons when you have no pupils?
Lots of children have left Sarajevo, and for those who are still here it’s dangerous to move around the city. The shelling can start out of the blue. She might even lose her job because she has no pupils. It’s silly. God, how stupid it is!
Mommy said she’d go to the school headmaster on Monday and arrange something.
And now super news. Mirna can come and sleep over.
Love,
Zlata
Wednesday, December 23, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
NEWS! I’m going to music school. Actually, my piano teacher will be coming here. Since it’s too dangerous for children to move around in town. Mirna has signed up too. We have our first lesson on Monday. I’ve got butterflies in my stomach. See you. Ciao!
Your Zlata
Friday, December 25, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today is Christmas. Christmas in wartime. Still, people have tried to make it something special for the children.
Auntie Radmila got me into the group of Caritas children, and so, thanks to her, I got to go to the UNPROFOR [United Nations Protection Force]—PTT [post office] Christmas show. And most interesting of all I got to ride in a real personnel carrier.
As we drove through town I saw Vodoprivreda where Mommy worked (there’s nothing left—it’s burned down), the Elektroprivreda building (it looks terrible—it’s all wounded), the UNIS building (all burned down), the old tobacco plant (an ash heap), and the Oslobodjenje newspaper building (it looks awful). I saw but I couldn’t believe my eyes. Sarajevo really has been wounded, not to say destroyed.
Tifa, Goga Magaš, five girls and a boy were in the show. They did some silly dance and then had a smoke, and there was that singer Alma, the one who always goes: “Aooooa ...”
Then they gave out the Christmas presents and sweets. The children started pushing, almost fighting over them. I wasn’t one of the lucky ones to get anything, because I didn’t elbow my way through. What can I say? A nice little girl from a nice family. The “little lady” didn’t get her present. Then the French soldiers began to sing. They
were wonderful. We went there at noon and left at five o’clock in the afternoon. Since it was too late to go home, I spent the night at Grandma’s and Granddad’s.
I’m there now. It’s warm. I told them all about what I saw. Grandma made me pancakes. For my sweet tooth!
Ciao.
Zlata
Saturday, December 26, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Went to Auntie Radmila’s for Christmas today. She made all sorts of things. She gave us a wonderful treat and I even got a little Christmas present. Afterward we went to Braco Lajtner’s but he wasn’t home, just Auntie Vilma and Auntie Micika. Auntie Vilma is Braco’s aunt. He brought her to stay with him because of the cold. Auntie Micika is his neighbor. She was his mother’s best friend. She has no heat and Braco felt sorry for her so he brought her to live with him. You know how old she is? Eighty-seven. And full of life.
Zlata
Monday, December 28, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I’ve been walking my feet off these past few days.
I’m at home today. I had my first piano lesson. My teacher and I kissed and hugged, we hadn’t seen each other since March. Then we moved on to Czerny, Bach, Mozart and Chopin, to the étude, the invention, the sonata and the “piece.” It’s not going to be easy. But I’m not going to school now and I’ll give it my all. It makes me happy. Mimmy, I’m now in my fifth year of music school.
You know, Mimmy, we’ve had no water or electricity for ages. When I go out and when there’s no shooting it’s as if the war were over, but this business with the electricity and water, this darkness, this winter, the shortage of wood and food, brings me back to earth and then I realize that the war is still on. Why? Why on earth don’t those “kids” come to some agreement? They really are playing games. And it’s us they’re playing with.
As I sit writing to you, my dear Mimmy, I look over at Mommy and Daddy. They are reading. They lift their eyes from the page and think about something. What are they thinking about? About the book they are reading or are they trying to put together the scattered pieces of this war puzzle? I think it must be the latter. Somehow they look even sadder to me in the light of the oil lamp (we have no more wax candles, so we make our own oil lamps). I look at Daddy. He really has lost a lot of weight. The scales say twenty-five kilos, but looking at him I think it must be more. I think even his glasses are too big for him. Mommy has lost weight too. She’s shrunk somehow, the war has given her wrinkles. God, what is this war doing to my parents? They don’t look like my old Mommy and Daddy anymore. Will this ever stop? Will our suffering stop so that my parents can be what they used to be—cheerful, smiling, nice-looking?
This stupid war is destroying my childhood, it’s destroying my parents’ lives. WHY? STOP THE
WAR! PEACE! I NEED PEACE!
I’m going to play a game of cards with them! Love from your Zlata
Wednesday, December 30, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Tomorrow night people will be seeing out the old year and ringing in the new all over the world. I remember previous New Year’s Eves, I wonder what they are like in the normal world. And here???? In Sarajevo???
In Sarajevo we’re ringing in the New Year so that we can forget the old as quickly as possible, in the hope that the New Year will bring us peace. That’s all we want. When there is peace, then it’s a good and happy year. That is what we the (innocent) people of Sarajevo wish. And just because we are innocent, our wish should be answered. We don’t deserve to suffer like this anymore.
Zlata
Friday, January 1, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!
May this year bring us peace, happiness, love, reunited families and friends.
Now let me tell you how we saw out the old year and rang in the new.
Yesterday we (Mommy, Daddy and I) first went to Melica’s for her birthday. We had lunch there. Melica gave us ajar of pickled carrots as her New Year’s present.
We came home. Mommy went to fetch the water, and Daddy and I stayed in the house. When Mommy got back we sat around for a while, made sandwiches with margarine (the package of winter food supplies Mommy got at the office included margarine), cream cheese and liver sausage. “Fantastic” sandwiches! Yum-Yum!
Around eight o‘clock we started getting drowsy. Then Auntie Boda burst in, got us onto our feet and we all went to their place, where we had “turkey” (a can of beef) and real Emmenthal cheese. Around ten o’clock we all started getting drowsy again, and then somebody remembered to turn on the radio. And on the radio were the Nadrealisti [Surrealists, a Sarajevo comedy group]. We all woke up. And so, bit by bit, the New Year came round. Zika opened a bottle of champagne (he had been saving it for the end of the war, but since the end isn’t in sight he opened it now), and we all kissed (Grandma, Žika, Boda, Mommy, Daddy, Cici and I). Nedo was missing, but he had gone off with his friends. Mommy and Daddy gave me a comb and barrette, the Bobars gave me a musical egg (it has a light sensor) and Slime. They gave Mommy some nail-polish remover, and we gave them some potatoes, onions and sour cabbage. Oh, wow!
And that’s how we spent the evening until 1:30 in the morning. We were dead tired when we got home. It was 2:00 A.M. before we got to bed. We slept like babies.
Once again, Mimmy, Happy New Year to you and all the people of Sarajevo.
Love,
Zlata
Tuesday, January 5, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
Today we received a package from Neda in Zagreb. It came through the Adventist Church. It was full of all sorts of things. It made us happy, but also sad. I liked the tangerines, chocolate bars and “Nutella” best.
Auntie Irena, my summer school teacher, is still looking out for us. She brightened up our days at the summer school, while it lasted, and now through UNICEF [United Nations International Children’s Fund] she’s managed to get us thermal underwear. She brought them over today. The underpants are red, and the top has red and white stripes. Thank you Auntie Irena. Thank you
UNICEF.
Ciao,
Zlata
Wednesday, January 6, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
It’s freezing. Winter has definitely come to town. I used to love and enjoy it so much, but now it’s a very disagreeable guest in Sarajevo.
Our flowers have frozen. They were in the rooms we didn’t heat. We live in the kitchen now. That’s the only room we heat and we manage to get the temperature up to 63.4°F. Cicko is with us. I’m afraid he might get sick, because birds are sensitive to winter.
We moved the mattresses into the kitchen and now we sleep here. (Don’t make me tell you how many sweaters and pullovers we wear over our pajamas.) The kitchen is now our kitchen and our sitting room and our bedroom and even our bathroom. We have an unusual way of bathing. We spread out the sheets of plastic and then—the basin becomes our bathtub, the jug our shower, and so on.
Daddy’s got frostbite on his fingers from cutting the wood in the cold cellar. They look awful. His fingers are swollen and now they’re putting some cream on them, but they itch badly. Poor Daddy.
Tomorrow I’m probably going to Grandma’s and Granddad’s. They have gas heating.
Zlata
Friday, January 8, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
In Geneva “all three warring sides” are trying to reach some agreement. I don’t think it will amount to anything. I don’t believe anyone.
Still no electricity or water.
Tomorrow, Mimmy, I’m going to my old teacher (she’s retired now) for a math lesson. Mirna is coming with me. The two of us practiced a little today but we seem to have forgotten everything. We’ll see tomorrow.
And tomorrow Mommy and Auntie Ivanka are going to the Holiday Inn to see about the Slovenian convoy. Maybe we’ll leave on it.
Now for the main thing. Yesterday Auntie Boda received a letter from Maja and Bojana. YIPPEE, HOORAY! I read it today. Everything is really super. They live in a big ho
use—700 square meters. They go to school, too. They’ve been eating all sorts of wonderful things—tomatoes, Pi-Pi orangeade, Camembert ... YUMMY-YUMMY! Their thoughts are with us and they are sad for us.
Zlata
Saturday, January 9, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
They killed Vice-Premier Hakija Turajlić, my workshop teacher’s husband. Everybody says he was a wonderful man. What a shame.
My math lesson at my teacher’s was a success. We learned three new lessons. The arithmetic mean, ratios and percentages.
No electricity, no water.
Zlata
Monday, January 11, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
It’s snowing. A real winter’s day. The snowflakes are huge. If only I could go out sledding, since I can’t go to Jahorina. But, there’s a war on, Zlata! The war won’t allow it. You have to sit in the house and watch the snowflakes play, and enjoy yourself that way. Or get your enjoyment from remembering the good old days, before the reality of war brings you back to earth.
I watch people lugging water. They are using sleds for that now. We left ours at Jahorina, so we have to borrow Auntie Boda’s.
Thank God we didn’t have to stay in the cellar for long. The shooting wasn’t that bad. Otherwise we would have frozen stiff down there. Are they thinking about us after all????
Zlata
Friday, January 15, 1993
Dear Mimmy,
Just so you know, the war is still on. But I’m sick, Oohhh! Yesterday I had a sore throat but no temperature. Last night I got a cream for my throat and it doesn’t hurt anymore, but I have a temperature: 99.5°F or 100.4°F or 101.3°F. A temperature, and I’ve got math tomorrow! SNIFFLE!!!
Zlata's Diary Page 9