After the horror of war and genocide in Bosnia, a widowed wife returned to her home in Konjevic Polje with her seven kids only to learn that a church had been built in her front yard. Her battle to have the church removed from her property is still ongoing more than 20 years later.
Two years ago, I visited the Memorial Center in Potočari with a friend from Holland. That day, I began getting to know this man, Senad, as he told me his incredible story of courage and survival.
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.