THE VIRGINIAN-PILOT
Copyright (c) 1995, Landmark Communications, Inc.
DATE: Wednesday, September 13, 1995 TAG: 9509130406
SECTION: FRONT PAGE: A1 EDITION: FINAL
SOURCE: BY SANJA OMANOVIC
DATELINE: SARAJEVO, BOSNIA-HERZEGOVINA LENGTH: Medium: 97 lines
A little white table in the middle of the street is covered with flowers. People are passing by. Somebody stays and prays.
This is the place where 39 Sarajevans died two weeks ago.
``I was there selling cigarettes as usual when the shell fell,'' Subhija Alic, 62, said. ``Fortunately, I went around the corner one moment before, because I met my friend and we wanted to talk for a while. That chatting saved our lives.''
Alic is one of the people who earn their living in the central marketplace in Sarajevo. Some of them sell fuel, cigarettes or chocolates. They earn no more than a few German marks daily.
Many of them are dead now. But the others are there again.
``I can't believe that I survived. I saw human arms and legs, torn bodies. I saw the death and I survived,'' said Suada, a young woman who didn't want to give her last name. She added, ``I have to be here. I have to sell, because I have children. My husband is a soldier. He doesn't have a salary. Of course I'm afraid, but I have no choice.''
After the marketplace massacre and the NATO airstrikes that followed, Sarajevans are trying to find hope in themselves. But the first reaction after the killing, like never before, was the wish for revenge.
``Serbs have to get what they deserve. If it isn't so, I would stop believing in justice, in truth, in God,'' said Edhem Husovic, 32, one of the wounded civilians who is now in Kocevo Hospital. His arm was amputated. His legs are bandaged.
The largest city hospital is filled with wounded people. Little Andrea Svoboda, 2 1/2, cries all the time, ``Mama, Mama.'' Doctors say her life is still in danger.
The shell doesn't choose. It's all the same for it. And it's all the same for the people who launch it.
``Why are they doing this to us?'' asked Violeta Dudic, 17. Her story is like many others. She heard the marketplace explosion and fell in the street. She didn't lose consciousness until she arrived at the hospital. Her leg was amputated; her spine was seriously injured. Two months ago, she lost her father.
While she lies in the bed, Dudic listens to the NATO airplanes. A little smile appeared on her lips.
``Who knows? Maybe they will bring the peace,'' she said.
Sarajevo is probably the only place on Earth where people believe that F-16s can bring peace. But that is Sarajevo.
The streets are full of people again. They pay little attention to the sharp sound of NATO planes or the explosions in the hills around the city. Their ears are trained to recognize the sound of the mortar shells that can bring death. These are some new sounds now, and from time to time, Sarajevans stop and listen. It is so good not to feel helpless as before.
For almost four years, this city has been faced with death. Death is an everyday thing, like going to the office or to the market. Sarajevans have been afraid, but they didn't want to show that. It was a question of pride.
Now there is a little hope that they will be able to walk down the streets without fear. Yet Sarajevans are afraid to believe it. They have felt betrayed so many times. So many times there were empty promises. Why would things change now?
The F-16s are still flying across the sky over Sarajevo.
``They should have done this before. It's never too late, but if they stop now, I don't want to know that there is something called `international community' anymore,'' said Jasmina Kosovac, 35.
But Sarajevans can't help themselves. If there is any hope, they will hope that things will be better. They say there has been too much evil here. It has to stop.
The sun is shining above the city. That is good for Sarajevans. The pilots will be able to hit their targets. But there is something else. The sun will warm their apartments. That's all that can warm them. There is still no gas or electricity in Sarajevo.
But everything is easy if there are no shells - easy, that is, for those who have survived.
``The world is late. It is tragic that all those people had to die. Why did they wait so long?'' asked Mirsad Milak, 23, while he walked down the street on crutches.
Many Sarajevans are trying to believe that this time, Sarajevo won't be betrayed. They say, while the F-16s fly across the blue sky, ``Look. It's sunny today.'' ILLUSTRATION: Color photos
REUTERS
Bus service has resumed in Sarajevo after a six-month suspension
caused by shelling and sniping. The bullet-marked windows are a
reminder of the violence that came before the hiatus.
Sanja Omanovic, a Bosnian journalist, is back in Sarajevo after
completing a National Forum Foundation visiting fellowship at The
Virginian-Pilot.
KEYWORDS: YUGOSLAVIA CIVIL WAR by CNB