To Survive The Life

When last in Sarajevo, a month ago, I thought that people no longer lived here. Deserted streets, shells, a frenzied runner here and there. No one walked, only ran. A chance of escaping a sniper bullet. But, what business would one have outside, anyway? There was nothing besides rationed bread. Not a single shop in sight. Only shattered glass of shop windows and window panes, burnt and ruined furniture, thousands of wrecked cars, buses and trams.

It is somehow different today. Thousands of Sarajevans have been lured to the streets. Women in fancy dresses, men wearing ties, and children kicking the football. There's no danger of bombs and unexpected sniper bullets of several days ago, but there is a danger of cars, which have remained in one piece and whose drivers, aware that a fast ride just like the running of pedestrians is the best way to survive, racing along one way streets in the wrong direction. The life has survived in Sarajevo. For how much longer?

The security people are in front of the synagogue. The Bosnian Muslim leader Alija Izetbegovic is arriving for Seder, the biggest Jewish holiday. The highest representative of the Muslim and Catholic faiths, ministers and the representatives of the public and cultural life, the phraseology that the state news agency Tanjug used when reporting on similar events, are also there. They are joined by many members of the Sarajevo's Jewish Community, the Jews, naturally, but also by the Serbs and Muslims, and a scarce Croat. In spite of everything that has taken place a division along ethnic lines does not have a civic right in this community. At the same time a gathering organized on the anniversary of Sarajevo's tragedy is starting in the Academy of Sciences building in Bistrik. In the city centers, the buildings which have not been ruined and could host foreign ambassadors are being registered for the city records. The French Ambassador is already here looking for suitable accommodation. He has an appointment at 9 a.m. tomorrow to see whether a half of one villa would do.

UNPROFOR units at the Sarajevo airport are on alert. They have to provide protection to the delegations of the warring sides, which are arriving from Zagreb, Grude, Pale and Belgrade. Only the delegation from Sarajevo is not a top level one. "We shall not partake in the talks as long as Srebrenica is being attacked," said the emissary to the Bosnian Muslim Army Commander, General Sefer Halilovic. A semi cease-fire has come into effect in the area, according to the reports from Serbrenica, but no one can wait for the information to be confirmed.

A friend gives me a ride downtown. We pass the Holiday Inn Hotel, or, rather, what has been left of the beautiful building erected for the 1984 Winter Olympics. We drive by the burnt UNIS skyscrapers, the Library's skeleton and the exterior walls of the big army barracks.

We sped by Bas-carsija. "It's no use looking at", a friend says. "The window frames are glassless everywhere, often covered with some kind of plastic, stove pipes sticking out. The window frames are glassless everywhere, often covered with some kind of plastic, stove pipes sticking out. The system is simple: if you have a tin drum stove, you start a fire in one room, where you live with your family and friends. Few big trees, which have remained, testify that Sarajevo used to have tree-lined alleys and parks. The scarce trees have remained mostly in those places where the snipers are fond of shooting. Instead of trees, graveyards have sprouted in some parks.

An eight page daily paper of the small format is put together in the remnants of the once glistening "Oslobodjenje" building. Two pages are reserved for obituaries. "We try to be as objective as we possibly can," says the editor, who together with his staff works in the cellar. There is a power cut during our conversation. A minute later, pale light bulbs are turned on thanks to the generator. The colleagues are inviting me for a dinner. It's half past two already. I hesitate, feeling embarrassed to take their badly needed food. "No, please come!" We mount the stairs and walk down an endless corridor. "Now, run! The snipers can see us here," they warn me. I take a peek through a bullet hole and see buildings a few hundred meters away. Several journalists were killed on the spot. To reduce the risk, the teams live and work here for a week at a time, when their replacement arrives. "Oslobodjenje" and bread are probably the only thing of essence which can be bought for dinars. All the rest is sold for DM. "One egg costs 4DM", a colleague informs me. "No, it's not", another one corrects him, "The price has dropped today. They cost only 3.5DM this morning. Dinner is waiting for me in the cafeteria. Beans, at first sight. On a second look: canned fish, a kind of codfish in gravy, which the cook improved somehow. And a piece of bread.

Bonn Appetit!

I make a phone call to the families of my acquaintances from France. The numbers starting with five and six are in order. An unfamiliar brother of the familiar refugee friend answers at the other end of the line. "Thank you for the news. Tell them that we are well, in good health, and, ehm, alive." And, in the end, "Could you please do me a big favor? Tell me where you are and I'll bring you 200DM to pass on to my brother." A brother from Sarajevo wants to send 200DM to his brother in France! "Listen to me, my friend," I tell him," please, don't. Keep your money. You'll need it." "But, my brother is ill..."

Many Sarajevans do not even think of leaving: there are those who can no longer bear it, who want to leave and go anywhere, only if they could. Every single night somebody tries to escape via airport. Every single night a few of them get killed. While I was writing these lines, 4 people were killed and another seven wounded. One UNPROFOR soldier was also wounded.

It was an exceptionally quiet day today.