I smiled when I saw today’s reminder on Facebook. Twelve years of friendship with Vesna it stated. There was a cute picture of us there as well, representing our friendship. Funny, the picture Facebook picked from all the others Vesna and I had shared to be the one. And, surprisingly, it truly does represent us perfectly.
Vesna and I have been best friends since we were born, or, since I was born considering she’s a year older than me. She made my lonely childhood so much more bearable. It was lonely because I had no siblings to play with. Vesna lived next door to my grandmother, so every time I visited grandma, guess who I spent all of my time with. She’s not only a friend, though. She is also my cousin. Well, my mom’s cousin, technically, since her dad was my grandfather’s brother. Her dad, Esef, was the best; a quiet, strict guy. Nevertheless, Vesna and I had him wrapped around our little fingers. One day he put up a swing on his chestnut tree for the two of us. It was a great spot since the tree was located on top of the hill and when you’d sit on the swing, you could see the entire city of Prijedor, located just below. Vesna and I would spend hours sitting on our swing trying to locate my home in Prijedor. Never could though. My home probably looked as big as an ant from where we were sitting. One time when we were about seven or eight years old, in the middle of winter, we decided to go swinging. We sat on our swing and started singing – Lepa Brena’s songs, of course, as loud as we could. Swinging high and singing loud, we had no care in the world until the swing broke and we went off flying, face first, into the snow. It was, probably, the funniest thing that ever happened to me in my life. All of the sweet memories from my childhood consist of me and Vesna and sometimes her dad, my uncle, Esef.
The picture Facebook decided was appropriate to represent our friendship was a sweet memory too. The year was either 1998 or ’99. Vesna was visiting me in Chicago from Germany. This particular night, we had just come back from all night dancing at Excalibur. It was probably about 4 o’clock in the morning: our make-up was sweated off, our hair flat from dancing/sweating all night, I was still wearing my lucky charm around my neck, black Onyx, but was already in my sleeping shirt, ready to rest. I don’t know why we decided to take a selfie just then, but I’m so glad we did.
Funny how sweet memories can also bring out the bitter ones. Our childhood was cut short when the war started and nothing was the same after that. All of the sweet memories became bitter too. In 1992, Vesna’s dad was visiting one of his daughters, Sabina, in Biscani, a neighboring village by the city of Prijedor. The Serb-army shelled the village, then decided to go in and do the “cleansing” by foot. Came in by tanks, armed to their teeth. Went around destroying, raping, torturing, steeling, kidnapping, imprisoning …
They ordered all of the men to exit their homes and women and children to stay indoors. When the men went out, they were shot to death. Among them was Esef, his son-in-law and son-in-law’s father. When they got shot, Esef was still alive. Laying in a ditch all night, bleeding and slowly dying, his cries were heard by women and children who were not allowed to leave their houses. They heard Serb-soldiers mocking him, making fun of him and torturing him until they could hear no more cries.
The next day, all of those murdered were transported to a mass grave, an old coal mine, where they were later discovered by Bosnian authorities. Women were transported to a concentration camp, Trnopolje. Continue reading
