THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Sunday, June 18, 1995 TAG: 9506160600
SECTION: COMMENTARY PAGE: J1 EDITION: FINAL
LENGTH: Long : 169 lines
The Bosnian civil war began as a fight between Serb nationalists bent on creating their own state and Bosnian citizens of many backgrounds who wanted their new country to remain undivided.
If there is hope for Bosnia, after a civil war that has claimed the lives of, or driven away, much of the population, it is in the resiliency of the people of Sarajevo, the besieged capital city.
Sanja Omanovic, a journalist with Sarajevo newspaper Vecernje Novine, is a symbol of that resiliency. She is visiting Norfolk as part of a summer internship through the National Forum Foundation in Washington. She wrote this column for The Virginian-Pilot and The Ledger-Star.
Sarajevans are Bosnians, Serbs, Croats, Jews and - at the same time - Muslims, Catholics and Orthodox Christians.
When you ask who we are, we say, ``Sarajevans.''
In Bosnia, you can learn someone's nationality according to his or her given name. But most people in Sarajevo have nicknames; it's not unusual to be friends with somebody and not know a given name.
Names? Who cares about that?
Some people do. To them, nationality was more important than anything else. They climbed on the hills and started to kill. It was spring when the war began.
They said that they had to live alone, without anybody else. They also said that they had been without their rights for a long time and they finally wanted them. And to live together was impossible. That was what they said.
Many Sarajevans, to escape the shelling, left the city and Bosnia. Sarajevans who stayed in Sarajevo believe it's not important what somebody's name is. It is important if somebody is a good person and good neighbor.
Now, it is the fourth spring at war. Bosnians and Sarajevans are still living together. LESSONS OF THE SIEGE
Sarajevo today has many things that it did not have before. It has three years of experience in living and surviving under siege.
Sarajevans are not afraid any more of nature - of earthquakes, floods, storms. They know now, they have learned, that nature has more mercy than warriors.
The siege of Sarajevo has lasted longer than the siege of Leningrad in World War II. The airlift to help Sarajevo lasted longer than the airlift for Berlin, even if you don't count the days Sarajevo's airport has been closed.
Sarajevo has a river that its people have been unable to cross for three years, and not because it's a deep river. Sarajevo has many new cemeteries; snipers; street ``roses'' made when mortar shells hit the sidewalk; and plastic sheets on the windowpanes.
Sarajevo has no electricity, water or gas. It has no food, no public transportation, no trees in the parks. A CITY OF SOLDIERS
Besides Sarajevans, soldiers also live in Sarajevo - members of the United Nations Protection Forces, or UNPROFOR. They are different.
``Unproforci,'' as Sarajevans call them, drive white vehicles and wear bulletproof vests and blue helmets. They wear shirts with short sleeves while Sarajevans are still in wool sweaters.
They don't have beans, rice and macaroni for lunch, as the Sarajevans do.
Sarajevo's children like them. They get sweets from them and climb on their white transporters.
Soldiers get angry at this, because it's dangerous - though the children are laughing - to walk down the street, go out in the park, dream in your bed.
Is there anything that's not dangerous in Sarajevo?
Sarajevans often get angry with U.N. soldiers, saying all they do is count shells and bodies. But for the most part, Sarajevans agree with Abdulah Hafic, resident of Sedrenik, a settlement in Sarajevo on the front lines of battle, always under sniper fire.
``Anyway,'' says Hafic, ``it's easier to me when I see them here. I know they won't do anything, but somehow I feel safer.'' IGNORED BY THE WORLD
Sarajevans think that nobody cares about them, and they are probably right. In the beginning of the war, it seemed that the world truly worried whether people in Sarajevo were starving. Big airplanes were full with food. It was the time when Sarajevo was big news for the media.
Now, for the past two months, the airport near the town has been closed, and it seems it won't be opened soon.
Sarajevans think that the world is ready to do something only if 60 or 70 Bosnians are killed by one shell, in the same place. Sarajevans like dark humor. They say: ``Let's make a deal. How many dead bodies do they need? Well, we'll let them kill us all at once. It's easier and simplier.''
And maybe, it would be a solution for a situation where nobody sees any solution. AMERICA'S POWER
Bosnians and Sarajevans have strongly believed, for more than three years, that America can stop the war but doesn't want to. We know that America is a big and powerful country. We probably know about America more than America will ever know about us, and we think that America should play a central role in the international community.
But when somebody asks what we think about America now, after three years of war, we shake our heads suspiciously. To have such power, and not to do anything, to have such a strong democratic tradition, and watch silently the new fascism in Europe - well, something's wrong there. With American power. Or with American democracy. A LONG HISTORY
America is far away from Bosnia. But Bosnia is a piece of the planet Earth, too.
It's in Europe, in the Balkans. There are many rivers and lakes, and a part of the Adriatic Sea. And there are many mountains, beautiful for skiing, but a big problem when U.N. soldiers are on them.
Sarajevo, the Bosnian capital, is in the heart of the country.
The history of Bosnia is thousands of years old. That means thousands of years of life, not war. This is important to remember.
After the Romans and Ilirics, Slavic people came to Bosnia. They accepted Christianity.
In the Middle Ages, Bosnia was its own state, a kingdom that lasted until it was conquered by the Ottoman Empire.
Part of the population accepted Islam then. The Ottomans stayed in Bosnia for 500 years. Later, Prussia came. Then after the end of World War I, Bosnia became part of Yugoslavia - the state we now put ``old'' in front of.
The end of World War II brought the socialistic Yugoslavia, with Bosnia-Herzegovina as one of its six republics. It lasted for 45 years, until 1992, when Bosnia became an independent state again.
That state is at war now.
The oldest monuments in Sarajevo are from the age before Christ. But Sarajevo became a real town during the Turkish age. Muslims, Christians and Jews lived in the town.
They lived together, and they built their temples - mosques, churches and synagogues. The oldest are from the 14th century.
There were wars along the way. Sarajevo couldn't avoid them. The city was exposed to destruction several times, but the people rebuilt it.
It's often said that the last three years are the most difficult period in Sarajevo's history. But Sarajevans still say, ``They cannot destroy as much as we can build.''
When the war started, Sarajevans believed that it would last a very short time. They know now that it won't.
Then, they believed that America would intervene with its military and send away those who killed their children. Now they know America won't.
Then, they celebrated each U.N. resolution and thought, ``It's over now.'' Winters would pass with Sarajevans blowing into their frozen fingers in dark, cold rooms and thinking, ``It will be peace when spring comes, and everything will be as it used to be.''
Now, during the summers, we think with fear about next winter.
Hope for tomorrows
If you like numbers, Bosnia offers many.
Three years of war.
Four and a half million citizens before the war, 2 million of them scattered all over the world today. Nobody can count how many people live in Bosnia now.
Sarajevo had about 600,000 people before the war. There are 300,000 now. Tomorrow, there will be even fewer. Sarajevans die every day.
Altogether, 10,000 have been killed in Sarajevo and 40,000 wounded. That means each fifth Sarajevan is a casualty of the war. About 1,500 of the dead are children - 500 dead boys and girls a year, 1.37 every day.
For them, there will be no tomorrows. For them, the war is over.
For the people who are still struggling in Bosnia, tomorrow is everything. Tomorrow is hope.
There have been too many yesterdays. Too many todays. The Bosnian people now deserve a chance at tomorrow.
But first, they need peace. ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
AGENCE FRANCE-PRESSE
A Sarajevo family dashes for safety amid shots on ``sniper's alley''
earlier this year.
A profile of Sanja Omanovic appears on Page A1.
by CNB