After her benevolence during the post-war period, people did not brand her a hero, but instead a person ostracized by her community. The best possible option for her was to return to Jajce, because, aside from helping Bajro, there was no place for her in Banja Luka anymore. But her return to Jajce was not salvation, only consolation.
Ahmet did not care about the consequences because her name and religion were irrelevant to him. The only thing that was important was to provide a safe home for her, which he did.
In a country such as ours, where young people don’t go to other parts of the city where they were born solely because they were taught not to, Nikola is a hero.
In the Bosnian media, war seems to have never ended. It simply seems to have continued through other means. Above us looms the hologram of war that prevents our confused minds from making sense of oft repeated and empty phrases.
That is how on one March morning in 1993, fates intertwined to fuse the threads of a friendship that would defy all differences and borders. It was on that morning that I met a man who became my inspiration and my role model in life.
A new photographic exhibition in Sarajevo documents the use of sexual violence as a weapon of war. It aims to help survivors transform from victims to participants in the struggle for justice.