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“Bosnia is under my skin. It’s the place you cannot leave behind. I was obsessed by the nightmare of it all; there was this sense of guilt, and an anger that has become something much deeper over these last years.” — Paddy Ashdown

STORY TIME

Today’s story takes us to … you guessed it, Bosnia! 

ALWAYS REMEMBERED

Once upon a time, in a small town in Bosnia, there was a young man named Abdul. Abdul, a man standing well over six feet tall, had blond hair and deep-set blue eyes. Despite being called “Sunny Boy” due to his irresistible smile, he disliked the nickname and usually suppressed his smile. He had just finished his studies and was starting his new job as a professor at the local community college. On his first day, he walked into his classroom and his eyes met those of a beautiful young woman named Hata. Hata was one of his students, but Abdul couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. Hata was lean with a narrow beautifully sculpted face. She kept her hair in a soft, wavy swinging bob that curled under just above her shoulders. She wore it straight back from her forehead. He adored absolutely everything about her.

Over the course of the school year, Abdul and Hata spent more and more time together. They talked about everything from books to movies to their dreams for the future. Before long, they were inseparable.

After graduation, Abdul and Hata decided to go on a road trip together. As they traveled across the country, they fell deeper in love. They talked about getting married and starting a family someday.

A few years later, Abdul and Hata tied the knot in a beautiful ceremony surrounded by their loved ones. They exchanged vows, promising to love each other forever.

A year after their wedding, Hata gave birth to their first child, a beautiful baby boy they named Azmir. They were over the moon with joy, and they knew that they wanted to have more children. A few years later, they welcomed another son, Almir, into their family.

Abdul and Hata’s love continued to grow with each passing year. They faced challenges and hardships, but they always stood by each other’s side. They raised their boys with love and kindness, and they looked forward to watching them grow into strong, confident young men.

On the 11th of July 1995, everything changed. The Bosnian Serb forces, led by Ratko Mladić, took over their town. Hata and her family were among those affected. As her husband and sons joined the Column – a group moving through the woods and mountains towards the nearest safe area in Tuzla – Hata was separated from them.

Recalling the moment of separation, Hata remembers how her youngest son held onto her tightly, pleading with her. “Mother, please let me go with dad and Azmir, I beg of you!” he said, his hands wrapped around her, an image that still haunts her to this day.

Hata decided to go to the area protected by the UN in a neighboring town.  

Nearly a year after the war’s end in 1996, she received a phone call informing her that her youngest son, Almir, had been found in a mass grave. Although mostly complete, Almir’s remains were the only ones to be found. It wasn’t until 1998 that Hata would learn of the fate of her husband and her other son. Her husband’s remains consisted of only a few bones, while Azmir’s were only two leg bones. Due to the Bosnian Serb forces’ use of mechanical diggers to move bodies from primary to secondary and tertiary mass graves, Hata’s family members’ remains were scattered across kilometers, often in different locations with only partial remains.

Hata waited almost 12 years, hoping that more of her family’s remains would be found. But in 2010, she laid her husband and two sons to rest at the Potočari Memorial Complex. The Bosnian Serb army had not only taken away her husband and sons, but also her brothers, their sons, her cousins, and their children. The suffering was immeasurable.

Despite everything, Hata returned to her beloved town in 2003, fighting to reclaim her home from a Serb family who had claimed it as “spoils of war.” For Hata, the place was more than just a house; it was where her children had walked, where she had built her life. She has three trees that her youngest son had planted. He was small then and the trees are big now, she thought each time she looked at them. 

This story was inspired by Hatidža Mehmedović, her husband, Abdullah and their sons Azmir and Almir.

Hatidža founded the Mothers of Srebrenica Association to support other women who had lost their families during the genocide. She led campaigns and projects, including the establishment of the Srebrenica-Potočari Memorial Complex and Cemetery, and civil lawsuits against the UN and Dutch government for failing to protect the people of Srebrenica.

Hatidža’s story is a powerful testament to the horror of the genocide done in Bosnia, and her campaign for justice for her family members challenges those who would deny its occurrence. Despite witnessing the worst of humanity, Hatidža never gave in to feelings of revenge and discouraged others from doing so. Even in the face of a long battle with breast cancer, Hatidža continued to fight for justice for the victims and survivors. She passed away on the 22nd of July 2018 in a Sarajevo hospital at the age of 65, leaving behind a legacy of courage and strength.

When I was fifteen years old, my whole life changed in a blink of an eye…

I truly believe that I survived for one reason and one reason only: to tell our story, to give a voice to those who don’t have it anymore. I was there as a witness. As a survivor, I have an obligation. I have to talk about what happened in Bosnia in the early nineties, no matter the cost.