Disappointment

Few days ago I realized that a boy with whom I grown up together turned into person with a nasty fundamentalist views. I could not believe that someone who actually saw what horrors war brings can actually ask for another one. So I terminated all the contact with him. After I was been through, I do not need to listen that kind of shit anymore.
Anyway, the rest of the war continued almost in the rut. Sides were attacking each other; in certain areas was the standstill. So another winter came and left. 1994 year came. Now I was already emotionally numb. One had to be, in order to get trough all of that.
Of course the rage because failed attempt from previous year remained. We knew that our “leaders” refused it. And we know that was done because Karadzic had this sick connection with the Sarajevo. At least that’s what we were told. The truth was slightly different.

As I said my brother was recruited 1992. Barely 18 years old. Anyway, after that trouble in the city from 1993 he disobeyed his captain and the captain released him from the army. Oh, that was not a reward. My brother had a quite safe place; he was tanking the fuel into the planes on the nearest airport. So only bad consequence he had was constant stench of the kerosene on him. But, let me start from the beginning. When the government recruit the new soldiers they do some testing on them to determine where to put them. My brother failed all the tests on purpose, so that he would be put in the least demanding position.
You see, our maternal grandfather was an officer, got loads and loads of medals in the Second World War. And he was teaching both of us how to use weapons and shoot. Both of us, my brother and me were quite good in that; so good that grandpa was planning to put us for the official competitions (in the peace time). So therefore my brother missed the target on purpose when he was tested. If he’d shown his true skill they would put him to a duty of the sniper. And my brother did not wished to kill anyone. But since he was a teenager at the time he made mistake. A year after testing, his captain told the unit that the person who scores the best result at the shooting practice will get 2 days of leave. And my brother, tempted by the offer put every bullet in the black of the target. He got a leave. And hate from captain. It did not take long for captain to realize that my brother was missing target on purpose earlier.
So the first instance the captain got, he released him from service. This did not mean that my brother got free from army and war. No, this meant that he’s back into the recruiting. Because at that time every male from 18 to 60 was automatically recruited. And this time he will be assigned to the battle lines. Literarily as the cannon footer.
We did try to hide him for some time, but unfortunately we could not do it for long. You see, we did not have any money or property to buy him a safe position. That’s what the richer people in the country did. If you had a money or very good connections you could get assignment to the logistic, and logistic was safely away of any danger, deep behind the battle lines.
So my brother went to the battle line. The one near Bihac region. Our forces surrounded that part for years. People were wondering why it was not simply taken. And when my brother got back to his first leave he told me why.
Because our leaders were selling the food and weapons and all the other supplies to the people who were inside the surrounded area. My brother saw trucks full of the things going trough the lines, escorted by some special unit responsible directly to the “government”. The very, very nasty kind of soldiers.
And that was not all. All the humanitarian aid that was sent to the civilians went trough the local Red Cross. Unfortunately, the head of the Red Cross was the wife of the Karadzic, so people did not get any help. Instead, you could buy in the private shops the cans, flower, and other supplies that had a mark on them (written in English usually) that those items are not for sale, but they supposed to be distributed as humanitarian aid. The same happened with the help that was send by the private persons or even brought in the country by the private persons. Medicines, food, washing powders…, all was just taken from those private persons officially and then sent to the shops. For the people to buy, if they had any money. If you did not, you starved.
My paternal grandfather was a farmer when he was alive, so my mum and I regularly went to the farm, made there a vegetable garden, and we were able to have some food. Sometimes enough even to give it to other, less fortunate people.
We could not buy anything from that “humanitarian aid”. Only once, we got a bag of flower as the humanitarian aid; for all that duration of the war.
Interestedly, because of this, I found out that we, humans, are not supposed to eat or drink any milk after third year of our life. You see, my mum and I could not get any milk or dairy products. Meat and dairy were so expensive that we barely had any during the whole war. So my body stopped producing the enzymes necessary to digest the milk. Of course, I found out about that only after war, when I actually tried to have a glass of chocolate milk. Instead of the treat I was expecting, I got really sick. Then I got explanation why that’s happened.

My mother told me about one case connected with this misery in that period. She told me how one soldier came home for the few days of the leave to see his family only to find them half starved. They had no money, no help; they ate only food they could get from other people, the ones like my mum and me. He was furious, so he went to one of the private shops with his gun and forced salesperson to give him food, that “humanitarian aid” stuff. And, later, military police came to arrest him. He laughed at them.
For year there was a “new law” that any crime committed will be ignored until end of the war, and the “criminal” will be reassigned to one of the worst battle line. That happened because too many of the soldiers from the bad battle lines were doing crimes on purpose just to be taken into the prison. The prison was better option than the battle line.
The trouble was this soldier was already assigned to that line and unit; anyway, he was there from the beginning of the war. So military police did nothing. There was nothing to do anyway.

So that was what was going on in that winter. Next April the refugees from Croatia started to arrive running in front of the Croatian troops; and the situation in the town got worse.

Long time

I did not write anything for long time. The trouble is that in the remaining half of the war I need to describe there were things happening that I would prefer really to somehow erase from my memory and the life.
I’m at the moment afraid to even start remembering those. I just do not wish nightmares to start.
I did described one of the incidents from that period in my other blog. You can find it in the post: http://darwi-nerd-land.blogspot.com/2009/02/human-nature.html

Sorry, you’ll simply have to wait a bit for the continuation of the story here.

What happens when shit does not stops…

Well, those consequences continue. Now I can feel on myself how hatred and intolerance actually come to existence. That fear I was talking about in previous post slowly gets worse of me. I still get nervous when I go and walk about in the town, or simply go shopping. And now there is new development happening. I’m getting more and more aware of all persons who look like they come from middle east, regardless how they are dressed, and slowly resentment starts to develop. I’m afraid if I do not stop this, hatred will appear as well. Intellectually I know that those persons I meet have nothing to do with the horrors I been trough. However, because of the associations I’m getting all those emotions slowly creep on me.
The Muslims I see and meet now, associate me to the terrors and attacks I went trough during the war; so all the fear, resentment and all bunch of negative feelings start to appear in me. All those ‘war memories and emotions’.
Now I wish to go somewhere where I do not have to experience such emotions. Somewhere where I will not be reminded constantly to the horrors of the war I survived. Somewhere where I will be able to live normal, boring life, the kind in which biggest worry will be what to watch on TV on the raining day. To me the obvious solution is to move from Birmingham.

What a turn around!

Anyway, I had to go to Sarajevo as well during this short visit to my country, and yeah, there is a less extremely religious Muslims there than in Birmingham. I still find that unbelievable. But it is true.

During this my stay in Bosnia I realised how all three sides that were involved in the war, Croats, Muslims and Serbs, are so similar that one can say they are same. People I mean; their personalities, habits and overall life values. And all of them would react equally badly on this statement. Most of them still see the “other ones” as cause of all their current troubles.
This weekend I was with Bree and her good friend at coffee. And I found myself again facing need to explain my view about terminology marking the population of Bosnia.
Basically I feel as someone stole the country from me just because during the war someone did not translate properly the term that Muslim in Bosnia use to mark themselves.
Muslims in Bosnia started to declared themselves during the war as Boshnjaci, a form of the word which in native language is different than the word which marks Bosnian nationality, Bosanci, but people failed to mark that difference during the translation to the English and translated the both word with one which marks people who have Bosnian citizenship, Bosnian. (Yeah, I know its only two letters of the difference, but those letters really, really change the meaning of the word in local language. In fact word Boshnjaci is also a fairly common family name within Croats and Serbs. One can see that name on the gravestones in the Christian cemetery at one of the entrances in Sarajevo. Really. Do look next time when you drive pass by.)

In all regional languages this difference exist. And since this confusion, average foreign person actually means that only Muslims, i.e. Boshnjaci are truly local to the area. That is usually very offensive for all those Croats and Serbs whose families and ancestors live in the Bosnian territory for more than thousand years. It is as their became invisible!
My family is one of those.
Muslims, who are now called Boshnjaci, actually came in that region around 700 years ago. And now suddenly, people who lived there before are declared as intruders in the region. That simply is not fair. Somehow it would me fairer if we’re all called Boshnjaci or Bosnian and not only Muslims. I mean, if that word marks residents of Bosnia, then every one who had Bosnian citizenship even before the war has right to be consider a resident of Bosnia, not only that part of the residents which happened to be members of Islam religion!

What confusion isn’t?

Real cause of the war was economic decline, but people who lived there, suddenly remembered that they can be divided by religion. Two of major religions had additional non-religious names; you see, Croats are Catholic Christians; Serbs are Orthodox Christians, but Muslims did not have a “second name”. They were, genetically, offspring from Croats and Serbs who lived in the area and changed religion and the Turks who conquered the area around 700 years ago.
There is another fascinating fact for that area. If someone decided to change religion they would simply drop out from the nationalistic classification as well, regardless to the genetic connection. That is actually the very, very old rule introduced by Turks in the region. In Ottoman Empire classification of the residents was done by religion not by biological/genetic origin. So it was not mater who parents of the person were, if the person changed the religion, his/her place in society changed. That person started to belong to the other group. Sadly that kind of attitude still exists in Bosnia, especially at the countryside.
In reality all population had genetic connections among them. It was (and is) not rare for someone to have close relatives who belonged to another religion (i.e. nationality).
In general customs were similar, personalities were similar, family relationships and everyday life were also very, very similar. Only from 1988 small differences started to be emphasized.
All that makes the whole situation sadder. Differences were misused as the excuse for the war. But, the true is people from that area more similar than different. Maybe that’s why there are less extremely religious Muslims in Sarajevo than in Birmingham. Almost all Muslims from Sarajevo grow up in socialistic society, the one that was really liberal comparing to the religious societies. During and after war we all were brainwashed with the idea that religion is the right answer and that religion is something what will save us and make possible for us to live normally.
Of course that did not happened. The trouble is that what religion considered normal life was not what average person from that area considered normal.
Nah, average person from that area wished to have a roof above it’s head, family, car, nice comfy job with enough income for comfortable life and once per year holidays on Adriatic coast. And that’s not what religion things the normal life is.
During the war priests of all major religions were promising better life only if one builds temples and pray and regularly visits temples. And people did that. They were bewildered with the war. The war was something terrible and uncontrollable, and no one knows how to end it.
The trouble was, before the war only information average person had about war was the one gathered from the films. The war films. The films full of heroes, strong honest and just men who always did the right thing.
No one mentioned death, illness, hunger, dirt, and cold, despair. No one. You cannot sell that as entertainment.
That’s why people believed priests. One did not know what to do, communist ideals failed. People thought, what if, what if those priests really know what they talk about? Maybe if we listen to them this hell will stop.


There were local elections in Bosnia during my stay. Can you imagine, it is still more important for the running candidates and parties to “find who is guilty” for the trouble Bosnia is in, but to offer the solution for the economical troubles. My brother could not get any information about what which party plans to do when they get power. So he did not vote. Me neither. Either of us is not interested who is guilty for the situation Bosnia is in, but into the some solution that will solve problems and give the people a chance for better life.
Just a chance, just a way out of the troubles. But no, politicians still are more interested to find ”guilty” ones. I sometimes wonder does Bosnia have juristic system at all, because finding and punishing the “guilty” ones seem to be the major ambition of the politicians. I do wonder what is then job of the police and courts? And who actually leads the country if politicians are took over the role of juristic system?

One of the war consequences…

I moved in the Birmingham. And was surprised to see how many extreme Muslims are living in that city. I did not saw so many totally covered females and so much males dressed in Arab/Muslim way even in Sarajevo where 90% of the population is Muslim.
That in the way would not be so big deal if there is no this war consequences in me. So from the moment I moved here I started to get increasinly nervous. I took me almost a month to realise why. Every time I would go to the city and saw those extreme Muslims all those emotions I experienced during war started to come back. I’m literarily getting more and more scared. Of course, I’m keeping telling myself that neither of those people I see was not involved in the war in my country. But my subconscious does not wish to listen. I am afraid that I will have to go to counsellor. These emotions just keep increasing and I’m really close to my limit. I decided this weekend to stay at home and watch Stargate. I’m trying to relax and put this under control.
All of this is a bit disappointing. The war finished more then decade ago, and I still struggle with these war consequences. As time passes by I really, really believe that there is absolutely no excuse for war. It messes up the people, it messes up countries, and it messes up life.
And on top of everything there is this idiot who got arrested. When I heard about it, my first emotion was huge disappointment. I was hoping that this guy was forced to spend this last decade somewhere hiding in some basement or at least that he was dead. I hoped that he did not live those years. Somehow I thought that was fair, because he stole five years of my life, heck, from every person in the Bosnia.
I never wished war, but I had to live trough it. I still suffer consequence from it. And to learn that one of the bastards who were responsible for that was living normal life was really huge blow. The second reason for the disappointment is that his arrest actually mean all this war shit, all that satanizing of Serbs will start again. So when people ask me about my opinion I usually answer that I wish that he dies, so that trail does not take place. I wish to continue with my life. I do not wish to be reminded of the war.

So in the way both of these things now increase my nervousness and fear. I stopped to watch news; I do not wish to see anything connected with the war.
For the last decade I was working hard to make something of my life, to minimize the destruction war left on my life. And now, when I’m at the brink of the success (I actually started to get a job offer from respectable scientific institution across the world) I’m forced again to relive something I never caused, never was guilty of, never wished to live trough. Not only that I had to live trough the hells of war, but also later, when I faced the foreigners - the people who just heard the politically colored news about Bosnian war – I had to face judgement and accusation, just because of my ethnicity.

So I grow tired of explaining what I believe that is real cause of the war in Bosnia. The answer is actually very, very simple. But forgotten and buried below all those nationalistic and religion crap. The true was that in former SFRJ economical situation declined from late 70th of last century. Approximately at that time economy in country stopped progress and communist ‘economical planning’ caused that situation slowly became worse. In the years before war unemployment was so high that some bands made pop songs of which topic was desperate search for any kind of job. But since economy did not grow for decades before that there were simply no jobs. And of course, it is always simpler to put blame to those ‘others’. That is unfortunately in human nature. And that opened a road for all those blood-sucking politicians to increase ethnicity and religion tensions and ultimately start the war.

So that’s why I believe war started.

And now I have to face it again. I really have no idea how I will survive if I have to be here in Birmingham when that trial starts. I’m really worried, because I have no idea how to control my fear – caused with those war memories and experiences – if that fear is fuelled with all those war reminiscences. At the moment, when I’m walking on the Birmingham streets, I’m trying to keep my eyes on the pavement in front of me and I’m walking fast. That way I’m keeping probabilities that I will be reminded of war on the minimum.

I’m just afraid that’s loosing battle.

September 1993

So the war continued. In 1993 we were already sick of it. And start to wonder when it will end. Then there was news that international community suggested certain peace agreement and that the end of war is in sight. The proposal was to give around 60% of territory to Serbs, without Sarajevo. As I remember we all thought that is grand deal and wished to accept it.
No one in Banjaluka or surrounding areas did not saw the point of losing lives because one silly city.
Then in September, our town was once more flooded with the army. One morning I woke up and again there was the army on the streets. One of the explanation offered to us was that the 16th battalion rebelled against the Karadzic’s decision to refuse the peace proposal. I know I was happy to hear that, because this battalion was the largest and the majority of the soldiers in it did came from Banjaluka region. So we all waited to hear what would happen.
Three days later soldiers went away. And the peace agreement was refused. The rumours said that Karadzic bought the commanding officers of the battalion so they terminated the rebellion.
Then my brother came home and said that he heard different story. The battalion was set into the town to capture some deserters.

It is a bit ridiculous that took me almost more than decade to find out the truth. And I found it out outside Bosnia. At the time when larges Serbian centre, Banjaluka, was occupied by Serbian army, international community and representatives believed that referendum was taking place, the referendum in which people were supposed to decide about the acceptance of peace agreement. And until today the international community believes that referendum took place.
It never did.
It wasn’t even mentioned.
I’m still angry because of that. We, people wished the peace and were willing to accept the agreement. But no one asked us. No one even told us that our opinion matters. No, our ‘lovely’ leaders asked us to continue dying while they controlled the black market.

And during this time I was physically threatened. I was in one of the largest shops in town, called Boska, when some armed soldiers from the battalion came into the shop. Few meters of me there was newspaper boy. Actually the young man, but he was disabled and therefore never went to army. Soldiers started to pick on him, to tear his newspapers and to push him around. I could not just stand aside and watch. I approached them and start to yell at the soldiers that they should be ashamed for what they doing. One of them attacked me, physically. I wasn’t his match. There was no way I could even slightly hurt him. So I started to cry and continue telling all of them that we thought that they suppose to defend us, not attack us, us who cannot defend ourselves. After those words other soldiers dragged the soldier who attacked me away. And some shop staff took me away to help me. Later I heard that one of the soldiers came back and paid the damage to the disabled newspaper boy.

Even today I do not like armies and soldiers. Once I was discussing this sentiment of mine with a UK soldier. He insisted that not all soldiers are bad. Yeah, I agree they are not. But it takes just few bad ones to do the damage. And I have no intention to let any soldier close to me anymore to find out is he/she good or bad.

First horrors

Around that time my first cousin came home, the one who was in the Croatia when the first trouble started. He was finally back home. After troubles started in Croatia, he ended up in the army barrack under siege in Zadar, from 1991 until March 1992. In March 1992 Croats finally allowed barrack to be evacuated, so soldiers from that barrack were retreated in Sarajevo. And of course, Sarajevo exploded just one month later. So my cousin was trapped there too. Again under siege. Only in 1993 he finally managed to come back to his family. And then he decided to visit all relatives who were still around. So he came to visit us too.
His stories about fighting were the first ones I ever heard from the war. After seeing so many films with all those special effects, stories my cousin told were nothing special. The worst part was total lack of the emotions in him. He was describing killing other humans, as he would describe a route to a picnic site.
What I did not know then was that at the end of the war I would have same coldness and indifference towards killing as he did.

Another blow

Since I was kid I dreamed of becoming the astronaut. Today I got another blow.
Right now there is an opening for the job at ESA, and guess what?
I have wrong nationality.
I do tick all other boxes and that makes me even more bitter.