Together to live as one

Solidarity, solidarité, solidarnost… Perhaps it’s an instinctive human reaction to inexplicable horror. Shock at the appalling events in Paris on 13th November turns to grief, confusion. What vile brand of evil could target people enjoying a Friday night? In the city of love and light? At a rock gig, in restaurants and bars, at a football match?

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All across Europe, we were doing similar things. In our house, the whole family was watching the first leg of the Euro 2016 playoffs. Insofar as it could be seen through the fog in Zenica. The Ireland versus Bosnia game was heading towards a draw. We were joking that the result wouldn’t serve as grounds for a Bosnian-Irish divorce. Until, just before the final whistle, our screens began to fill with scenes of chaos. Paris… Sirens screeching, carnage unfolding in real-time. Unreal. Young fans at a concert, taken hostage, brutally slain.

We mourn for the victims. But our tears are crocodilian if they don’t flow for the quarter of a million Syrians slaughtered in almost five years of conflict. Those murdered by ‘Islamic State’ extremists, who’ve now added the attacks in Paris to their catalogue of terror. And the tens of thousands more who’ve been killed by the forces of President Assad and his allies. It’s no wonder that families trek to Europe to escape this. From Syria and elsewhere – fleeing bloodthirsty fanatics and oppressive regimes. What would you do if a hazardous journey was the only hope of a future for your children? If the other options were either the daily fear of death or indefinite displacement and destitution. When all you want, as a parent, is to give your kids a safe home. To ensure that they have health, education, peace.

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Photo: UNHCR

The chance of a new life. It’s the destination sought by the adults and children crossing the Mediterranean, the families and individuals making their arduous way through the Balkans. Up to 800,000 so far this year. And over 3,400 lost at sea. Like at least two Titanic-scale disasters in less than twelve months. Though drowned infants are no longer headline news. Numbers become numbing. Words seem, at best, useless and, at worst, sinister tools to redefine the innocent as threats. From refugees, back to migrants, now potential terrorists – the terms bandied about by journalists and politicians seep into public opinion.

But the people keep on coming. Although the waves are rougher and temperatures are falling. Despite an atmosphere that’s growing colder. After Paris, the challenges they face may be greater. Yet, if Europe is to boast of any ethical values, these must hinge on cherishing our brothers and our sisters. Treating them equally. Sharing with them the liberty that we take for granted. Not closing our doors and turning them away. As European citizens, we should play a part in shaping these critical moments in our history.

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Photo: UNHCR

On a personal level, I find it’s not enough merely to talk or write about this issue. I need to act. That’s why I’ve decided to go back to Croatia and do some voluntary work with refugees there. I’m travelling to Slavonski Brod at the end of December. It’s a town that I last visited in 1994 when I was volunteering with Bosnian refugees who’d fled to Croatia during the wars in the Balkans. Now, it’s the location of a new camp to accommodate people en route to countries, such as Germany, in which they hope to stay.

This tragic cycle of world conflict has prompted my plans to return. I might be twice as old but I’ve acquired significant experience since the nineties. In fact, the course of my life owes much to those turbulent times. I’ve spent the intervening years with someone from Sarajevo. He came to Ireland, for urgent medical treatment, through a resettlement programme established for people who were affected by the Bosnian war. My three daughters are the children of a former refugee. Thus, the present crisis hits straight home. I’ve got to put my energy into practical action.

So I’ll be joining volunteers with the ‘Dobrodošli’/’Welcome’ initiative which has been supporting refugees since their arrival in Croatia this autumn. Over the next few weeks, I’ll also be fundraising for donations to aid refugees in the Slavonski Brod camp. More on this to follow very soon!

Meanwhile, I’ll leave you with a small example of solidarity. On Saturday (14th November) I went to an event at the Islamic Cultural Centre of Ireland. It was a festival of food hosted by the Syrian community and Human Appeal Ireland, an organisation which has done remarkable work in bringing essential supplies into Syria. From speaking to Syrians, Irish people and attendees from other countries, it was clear we were united in revulsion at the atrocities in Paris. We were also linked by concern for those still suffering in Syria and an awareness of the ongoing plight of refugees. Above all, though, we were simply fellow humans engaging in conversation. We talked about common interests over sweet Middle Eastern cakes on a wet afternoon in Dublin. Together – irrespective of our origins or beliefs. And this was welcome.

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Reflections – Sarajevo to Cavtat

I’m not much of a photographer. I lack the skill and patience to capture telling moments in an artful way. Phone-snapping is no substitute. I simply prefer to remember and, if time permits, scribble some notes afterwards. Most of the detail is lost. But the feelings sparked by these memories – whether written or unrecorded – retain their colour. And Bosnia and Croatia are very vivid places. A few fragments from the summer…

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Bajram
We arrived at the end of Ramadan. Despite the heatwave and the fasting, Sarajevo throbbed with joyous energy. After sundown, fairy lights twinkled across the main street. Folk dancers performed their kolo in Baščaršija. The bakeries sold fresh somun and the char-grilled air was balmy.

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Bajram, as Eid is known here, fell on a Friday. For the kids, in particular, it was a memorable experience. Apart from our eldest, who’d lived in Sarajevo when she was a baby, this was the first time they’d been in Bosnia for the festival. They were happy to get involved in the family celebrations. As far as they were concerned, the occasion meant dressing nicely, eating plenty and receiving gifts. Across the world, irrespective of cultural background, the protocol for feast-days seems pretty similar. Although, I have to admit, the gathering of clans they often entail freaks me out a bit. Even in Ireland I’ve always recoiled from what’s considered a ‘traditional Christmas’. Bajram with my in-laws is along those, rather hierarchical, lines.

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Or perhaps it’s just me – the vegetarian foreign feminist who’s been bringing strange ideas to Sarajevo since 1996. An outsider, she makes weird observations. Like noticing how the men do all the sitting while the women serve the food. Or questioning, albeit furtively, who ‘entertains’ the children. Listening to the differences between ‘male’ and ‘female’ topics of conversation… lamenting, under her breath, those poor calves whose destiny is teletina.

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Maybe she’s hyper-sensitive, maybe she over-interprets. This is purely a personal, filtered snapshot. Still, from talking to Bosnian women, it’s clear they face many challenges relating to gendered expectations. These issues are by no means exclusive to Bosnia. They’re globally relevant. Rigid concepts of culture and strict social institutions breed injustice. Women and men must, together, create fairer alternatives.

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Above the city
Temperatures are in the high thirties. The tinderbox motif is more than mere historical cliché. Wildfires have broken out in Herzegovina. Sarajevo is a hothouse. We hit the hills. Jahorina. Walking along the mountain track, there’s no shelter from the sun. Shadowy valleys simmer under a diaphanous veil of haze. Insect-buzz – bumble bees, wasps, hoverflies, green bottles. Flitting among a riot of flowers, butterflies… speckled, white, brimstone and meadow brown. Nervous grasshoppers spring from our tread as we step off the path. A stunted fir tree offers minimal shade. Beside it, a lonely rose.

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The woodland way is cooler. We go as far as the wishing well. Under the creaking cables of the ski-lift which – to the kids’ delight and my dismay – seems to be functioning.

‘Can we? Please!’

Overhead, pulleys strain.

‘Are you totally insane?’

The children don’t give up. Soon I’m outnumbered, four to one. Even their father, who usually claims he suffers from vertigo, joins their campaign. He wants to relive his youth.

‘There was loads of snow when you went on it. At least that’d break your fall…’

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The scree slope looks merciless. But no-one heeds my muttering. The ‘safety bar’ descends. The gondola rises. Swaying… The distribution of our weight is skewed. What genius came up with these seating arrangements? The younger two are screaming with excitement. The little one is skinny enough to slide out underneath the transparent hood. Cold feet swing in the breeze. Each time we pass the supporting poles the whole contraption rumbles.

‘This is a horror movie!’

Ovo je super!

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At the top, the scenery is phenomenal. But there’s only one thing scarier than going up. It’s the downward lurch. This where the allegedly ‘responsible’ parent resorts to expletives and prayer… So much for Zdravo Marijo – the last line is too ominous, ‘at hour of our death’ etc.. Not appropriate. Better to stick to daily bread and temptation – hoping that we might survive to get some.

‘OH SHIT!’

My offspring snigger at maternal meltdown as the gradient steepens. And this is the radio edit of our tale. To be honest, I’d enjoy the ride if I didn’t have to hang on to the youngest. By sheer miracle, we make it back alive.

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Mount Igman a few days later. Malo Polje – the venue for the ski jump competition in the Winter Olympics of 1984. The commentary box now looks upon an overgrown piste, rusting equipment, a small playground. The sports reporters have long gone. Sadly, they missed my gymnastic debut on a trampoline for kids. A picnic on the fringes of newly cut pasture. The fragrance of haystacks wafts into the forest. Birdsong blends with the rasping of grey-backed crows. The clearing echoes, it prompts reminiscences. The middle child decides that having two parents from troubled places is ‘so awesome’. Or so messed up. These are mountains of dry thunder and grim memories – warring peaks. Still beautiful… still scarred. The mind wanders through the uplands.

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Cavtat
I first swam in the Adriatic with kids displaced by the conflict in the Balkans. Coming from Ireland, it was a thrill to be submerged without the risk of hypothermia. Returning over the years to the Dalmatian coast, I mastered a frog-like version of the breaststroke. Neither athletic nor elegant, but it lets me glide with my head above the surface. A retired couple chat in deeper water, talking about how glorious it is here. How peaceful… ‘nema galame’. The sea absorbs thoughts. Its warmth soothes.

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The children become amphibious. The older two plunge to the seabed. The youngest learns to swim without armbands. Ecstatic, she splashes unaided, stays afloat. Swimming into the sunset until the burnished swell slowly turns to twilight. Climbing rocks into the stars, the trail of a blue moon tapers, shimmering, towards the shore. On the last day, the seascape is four-dimensional. The glittering panorama of the bay gives perspective. Cloudless heights flow into fluid depths. Two decades of hopes and promises are refracted. Tears drown in salty slap-kisses of waves.

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Ireland commemorates Srebrenica

Our call on Ireland to officially mark the Srebrenica genocide was answered on Tuesday 7 July. That day, members and friends of the Bosnian community arranged to hold a small commemoration of the twentieth anniversary of this atrocity. We gathered at 1pm on Molesworth Street, just across the road from Leinster House (the Irish parliament building). Many of the Bosnians who attended had suffered greatly during the conflict in their country and had come to Ireland as refugees. Some of them brought their children – the new generation of the post-war diaspora – to this memorial event. I was glad our three daughters were there. It’s essential that young people learn about their history. It’s even more important that they learn from the past. Among us were Irish activists who’ve campaigned for Bosnia since the early nineties. Other friends, from Ireland and beyond, added to our number.

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The skies were ominous. The forecast of ‘scattered showers’ soon translated into a torrential downpour. We took refuge on the porch of Buswells Hotel. Trying to sort out posters in a stiffening breeze, I asked the doorman if we could leave our bags at the side of the steps. Assuring him that we wouldn’t cause an obstruction, I told him the purpose of our event. He said that he remembered Srebrenica… that it was terrible. His comment struck me. Twenty years on, the name of that tortured Bosnian town still lingers in the memory of all of us who watched it fall. It was time to honour the 8,372 victims – the sons, brothers, husbands, fathers, uncles, grandfathers – of the genocide at Srebrenica.

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We waited, rather nervously, hoping some politicians might drop by over lunchtime. We’d been to Belfast on Sunday 5 July, and joined with the Lord Mayor, Arder Carson, the Northern Ireland Inter-Faith Forum and representatives of other cross-community groups in commemorating Srebrenica. One of the survivors of Srebrenica, who now lives in Dublin, had spoken powerfully about the trauma he’d experienced. On Tuesday he was with us, before going back to bury a close relative who was killed in the massacre. This year, 136 recently identified victims will be laid to rest at the annual ceremony of commemoration at the Potočari cemetery on 11 July. The youngest of them aged just sixteen.

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Teenagers, in Europe, at the end of the twentieth century… We owed it to them. We owed it to all of them – to call on the Irish government, to call on every member of the Oireachtas to hear the cries of the mothers of Srebrenica who, for twenty years, have begged the world not to forget. And, this time, Ireland listened. On 7 July the Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade, Charles Flanagan, issued this ‘Statement on 20th Anniversary of the Genocide at Srebrenica’:

In July 1995, one of the most appalling atrocities ever to take place in Europe happened in Srebrenica. As we approach the 20th anniversary of that dark time, we remember the 8,000 men and boys who died in that terrible massacre, and their families and wider community, whose lives were irrevocably changed by those days in July 1995.

It is important that we challenge and condemn any attempts to minimise or deny the genocide that took place at Srebrenica.

This genocide took place within living memory. The tragic impact of the conflict on its many victims should serve as a stark reminder of the need to learn the lessons of the past. We must redouble our efforts to promote tolerance and respect as fundamental values.

Ireland continues to support the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina and the wider region in their efforts to build a sustainable peace and achieve economic and social progress. We encourage them on their path to accession to the European Union, a community which is founded on the principles of justice and peace.”

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We read the statement just minutes before our event was about to start. By remembering the victims of Srebrenica and recognising the genocide that occurred there, it sends out a strong message from Ireland to the world. This expression of solidarity with those still affected by the war in Bosnia was also reflected at our memorial on Tuesday. Despite the inclement weather, many TDs and Senators (26 at the last head-count) came in person to remember Srebrenica. All the major political parties – both government (Fine Gael and Labour) and opposition (Fianna Fáil and Sinn Féin) – were represented, as were Independent members of the Oireachtas. The Minister for Education and the Minister for Employment, Community and Social Support attended. So did officials from the Department of Foreign Affairs. At the end of our short ceremony we met with Ireland’s Deputy Prime Minister, Tánaiste Joan Burton. She too lent her support to the Bosnian community in its efforts to commemorate Srebrenica.

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The event was quite impromptu, but very poignant. It began with a minute’s silence in honour of the thousands who were murdered in Srebrenica. This was followed by a poem in their memory, which was read by a Bosnian teenage boy. Then a speech recalling the horror of July 1995, but also appreciating Ireland’s role in ensuring that Ratko Mladić – one of the main indictees on charges of genocide at Srebrenica – is brought to justice. Links were made to the current focus on commemoration in Ireland, as the centenary of the 1916 Rising approaches, and verse by W.B. Yeats was recited in this, the year of the 150th anniversary of his birth. The rain lashed down relentlessly. We concluded with a prayer which was delivered by the Grand Mufti of Bosnia and Herzegovina at the burial ceremony in Srebrenica. Its lines transcend all religions and beliefs. It ends with words now inscribed in marble among the long rows of headstones in the Potočari cemetery…

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‘That Srebrenica never happens again’. Throughout we emphasised that the world must strive to prevent such acts of violence. We paid our respects, on the tenth anniversary of the 7/7 bombings in London, to all victims of terror including the three Irish people who died in the recent attack in Tunisia. We remembered Syria – a place which has become more forsaken today than Bosnia was in the nineties.

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No words can ease the pain of those whose dear ones were slaughtered when the promise of international protection was broken. Nevertheless, we can’t forget their loss. In 1995, the screams of Srebrenica were ignored. It may be two decades too late, but at least now, by officially marking the anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide, Ireland is atoning in some way for its past silence. After our event, one of the Bosnian women told me, ‘we’ve waited twenty years for this’. She was right.

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In addition to the Irish government’s announcement on 7 July, the cross-party Joint Foreign Affairs Committee which, as a result of our call, had raised and discussed the commemoration of Srebrenica, issued this further statement on 8 July:

The Oireachtas Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs and Trade this morning marked the 20th anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide. The killing of 8,000 Bosnian men and boys in July 1995 was one of the darkest days of the terrible conflict that engulfed the former Yugoslavia.

Noting that this was one of the worst atrocities to take place in Europe since the Second World War, and the failure of the international community to prevent the genocide, the Committee reaffirmed support for the international efforts to bring to justice those responsible. The Committee stands with members of the Bosnian community in Ireland in remembering those killed, and acknowledges the loss of their families and loved ones.

The Committee supports Ireland’s commitment to a European perspective for Bosnia and Herzegovina, along with the other countries of the Western Balkans. The Committee encourages those countries to continue implementing the democratic, political and economic reforms that will advance them on their respective European paths.

The official ceremony of commemoration takes place in Srebrenica on 11 July, and Ireland will be represented by Ireland’s Ambassador to Bosnia and Herzegovina Mr. Patrick Kelly.”

The Committee’s tribute to the Bosnian community in Ireland – whose members have survived Srebrenica, the siege of Sarajevo, death-camps and other horrific forms of torture – is indeed appropriate. We hope that these statements will strengthen our efforts to keep the memory of Srebrenica alive in Ireland.

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ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Thank you to:

  • The many politicians who read and responded to our postcard appeal, who corresponded with us and asked parliamentary questions to the Minister of Foreign Affairs
  • The members of the Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs who were particularly active in relation to Srebrenica
  • The Senators who spoke on this issue in the Seanad
  • All at the Department of Foreign Affairs who took an interest in Srebrenica
  • The members of the Oireachtas who attended our gathering of remembrance
  • The Tánaiste for taking the time to meet us
  • The journalists who covered this story (please see media links below)
  • The Northern Ireland Inter-Faith Forum and everyone involved in the commemoration of Srebrenica in Belfast
  • Remembering Srebrenica UK for their support

Above all, hvala puno to:

  • The members of the Bosnian community in Ireland who came to the memorial event and spread word about it
  • The three speakers from the Bosnian community who made such an impact at our gathering
  • The wonderful poster designer (and one of the three speakers above) who also contributed so much to organising this event
  • The one-woman powerhouse and human rights activist extraordinaire who founded Ireland Action for Bosnia in the 1990s and is a tireless supporter of the Bosnian community
  • All our friends who braved the stormy conditions to commemorate Srebrenica
  • Anyone else I’ve inadvertently forgotten while writing this at 4am (the norm in recent weeks)
  • My Bosnian-Irish offspring who now accept that mealtimes are very movable feasts (i.e. in between emails)
  • The Bosnian I live with

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And huge thanks to all of YOU who contacted your TDs/Senators or shared information about our appeal. Or even just read a little about Srebrenica… And remembered.

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Media links:

“We owe these victims, we are their voices now”. TodayFM News, 7/7/15:
Irish Bosnian community commemorates Srebrenica genocide. Newstalk, 7/7/15:
Srebrenica genocide remembered 20 years on. The Irish Examiner, 7/7/15:

Srebrenica 2015 – events in Ireland

11 July 2015 is the twentieth anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide. Please join in efforts across Ireland to remember the victims of this atrocity which still haunts Bosnia and Herzegovina, Europe and the world.

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 5 JULY – BELFAST

A memorial ceremony for Srebrenica will be held on Sunday 5 July at 6.00pm in the Belfast City Hall. This event is organised by the Northern Ireland Inter-Faith Forum, with the support of the Lord Mayor of Belfast and the charity Remembering Srebrenica. We’re hoping to attend along with other Bosnian guests. This is the first official commemoration of Srebrenica to take place on the island of Ireland.

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The First Minister and Deputy First Minister of Northern Ireland have also made a joint statement on this issue:

“As we mark the 20th anniversary, we mourn those who were lost and share our thoughts and prayers with those who were left behind and most importantly, respect their ongoing pain and share their hopes for a better future.

We must keep the memory of the victims of Srebrenica alive and work to eliminate prejudice and discrimination. It is important we all learn from the past so we can create a safer, better and more hopeful future for everyone.”

Kudos to Peter Robinson and Martin McGuinness! The leaders of Northern Ireland don’t always agree, so their harmony in relation to Srebrenica is all the more welcome. Anything Belfast can do, (we hope) Dublin can do equally well. Which brings us to the next event, south of the border…

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7 JULY – DUBLIN

On Tuesday 7 July, from 1.00 to 2.00pm, members of the Bosnian community in Ireland and Irish friends are organising a solemn gathering for Srebrenica in front of Leinster House. Twenty years ago, we stood outside government buildings, calling on Ireland to urge powerful international institutions to save the people under attack in Srebrenica. Two decades later, history compels us to remember the terrible fate that awaited those who’d taken refuge in this UN ‘safe area’.

The least we can do in Ireland is to honour the victims of the Srebrenica genocide. We’ve gathered in a similar way in previous years but this twentieth anniversary is particularly significant. Please stop by and express your solidarity with survivors of the Bosnian war. We’re inviting both members of the public and members of the Oireachtas to spend a few minutes with us.

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We deeply appreciate the efforts that many Irish politicians have made in response to our call for Ireland to officially commemorate Srebrenica. The cross-party support this appeal has received has been truly heartening. Hopefully, it’ll lead to a positive outcome. But keep asking your T.D.s and Senators to raise this issue!

If you’ve ever been to Bosnia and Herzegovina or you’ve got an interest in the country, you’ll be aware of its difficult recent past. Irish history further informs us that remembering in a respectful way is a vital part of any reconciliation process. Commemorating Srebrenica is thus essential in dealing with the painful legacy of the 1990s in the Balkans. Bosnia’s living memory is also a reminder of atrocities perpetrated in current conflicts – contemporary war-crimes that, in a decade or so, will no doubt be recognised as acts of genocide. We can never forget what happened in Srebrenica in 1995. To our shame, it’s still too relevant now.

Looking forward to seeing you at these Srebrenica memorial events in Belfast and Dublin!

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Useful links:

Eventbrite link for event in Dublin: 20th anniversary of Srebrenica genocide

Press release for event in Dublin: Srebrenica 20th anniversary event in Ireland

To contact politicians in Ireland see: Commemorating Srebrenica

Remembering Srebrenica website – features Belfast event and N.I. statement: Remembering Srebrenica

Press Release: Srebrenica 20th anniversary event in Ireland

Bosnians in Ireland mark 20th anniversary of Srebrenica genocide

Date/time: Tuesday 7 July 2015, 1.00–2.00pm
Place: Leinster House, i.e. end of Molesworth Street (due to new regulations), Dublin 2

Bosnians in Ireland will mark the twentieth anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide with a solemn gathering in front of Leinster House from 1.00pm to 2.00pm on Tuesday 7 July 2015. This event will commemorate and honour over 8,000 Bosnian men and boys who were brutally killed when the UN ‘safe area’ of Srebrenica fell to Serbian forces, led by Ratko Mladić, in July 1995. This massacre has been recognised as genocide by the International Court of Justice and the International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia. It is the worst single atrocity to have been perpetrated on European soil since the Second World War.

In its resolution of 15th January 2009, the European Parliament called on EU states and countries of the Western Balkans to ‘commemorate appropriately the anniversary of the Srebrenica-Potočari act of genocide by supporting Parliament’s recognition of 11 July as the day of commemoration of the Srebrenica genocide’. This resolution highlights the need for Europeans to remember the victims of Srebrenica and all who died in the wars across former Yugoslavia in the 1990s. It also acknowledges that recognising the Srebrenica genocide is an essential aspect of any effort towards reconciliation in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Given the failure of the international community to protect people who sought refuge in Srebrenica, it is important that countries around the world mark the anniversary of this genocide. Ireland will be represented at the main commemoration ceremony which will be held at the Srebrenica-Potočari Memorial Centre and Cemetery in Bosnia and Herzegovina on 11 July 2015. It is also hoped that the Irish government will follow the example of Britain and other states by officially commemorating the Srebrenica genocide in an appropriate way here. The Bosnian community in Ireland invite members of the Oireachtas and members of the public to join them in their gathering of remembrance for Srebrenica on Tuesday 7 July.

– Ends –

For further information please contact:
Bronagh Ćatibušić via this blog http://www.bronaghcatibusic.wordpress.com or via Twitter @BiHIrishcoffee

Commemorating Srebrenica

This is a post with a difference. Rather, it’s one in which YOU can make a difference! How? Simply add your voice to this appeal for Ireland to commemorate the genocide in Srebrenica. Almost twenty years ago, over 8000 men and boys were murdered in this now infamous Bosnian town during several days of slaughter that began on 11 July 1995. The atrocity unfolded under the gaze of the global media. It was perpetrated in a designated UN ‘safe haven’ – a place where people expected they would be protected. Instead, they became victims of the worst act of terror in Europe since the Second World War.

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The failure of the international community in Srebrenica shames us all. We who share a continent with the families bereaved by this crime against humanity bear a duty to remember. In a resolution passed in 2009, the European Parliament called on EU states and countries of the Western Balkans to mark the anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide. We urge Ireland to follow the example of Britain and other nations in this regard. An annual commemoration would be an appropriate gesture of solidarity with the survivors of the war in Bosnia. It would also be a reminder that the lessons of Srebrenica still need to be learned. That the human faces of conflict aren’t mere images to ignore… That refugees fleeing persecution can’t be abandoned. That, in the wake of horror, the pursuit of justice is the only route towards reconciliation.

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So let’s take action! Here are a few ideas based on what we’ve already done… As an ‘odd couple’ of regular correspondents to the Oireachtas (Irish parliament), we’ve previously received positive responses from politicians in relation to Srebrenica. These have indicated cross-party support for a memorial event in Ireland. This year, we’ve started our campaign a little earlier so that such an event can be organised by 11 July. Last week, we sent a postcard to all our parliamentary representatives, reminding them about the twentieth anniversary of Srebrenica and asking them to ensure that it’s officially commemorated. We’ve also written emails to the members of both the Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs and Trade and the Joint Committee on European Union Affairs, with further details of our proposal. It’s not a huge demand – a small ceremony, attended by figures from the across the political spectrum and Bosnians who live in Ireland, would suffice.

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Now we need your help! All you have to do is to write to Irish politicians – a short letter, email, or a message on social media – requesting that they do their utmost to persuade the government to agree to an official commemoration of the Srebrenica genocide. The postcard above can serve as a template. I’ve also provided the text in a reproducible format which you may like to copy and/or adapt. Plus you can use the photos included in this post, which we took at the Srebrenica memorial centre and cemetery in Potočari, for the purpose of this appeal.

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The Oireachtas website, with contact information for members of the Dáil and Seanad, can be accessed via the link below – please write to representatives from your own constituency and beyond. In addition, there are links to the relevant committees and ministers. You don’t have to be Irish or resident in this country to get involved. The more correspondence, the stronger the call! Your words can offer support to the survivors of Srebrenica and show awareness of the suffering caused by ongoing conflicts today. As together we say that Ireland must never again turn away.

Postcard text:

Dear Deputy/Senator …,

This July marks the 20th anniversary of the Srebrenica genocide. The European Parliament passed a resolution in 2009 calling on EU states to commemorate this atrocity in which over 8000 Bosnian men and boys were killed. We ask that Ireland join other countries in organising an official memorial event. As a small but symbolic annual gesture, this would show Irish support for those who lost loved ones in the Bosnian war (1992-1995) and for all who are affected by present conflicts. Please use your power, as a member of the Oireachtas, to ensure that Ireland commemorates Srebrenica from this year onwards.

Kind regards,

Your name
For further information, please contact: your email address

Web-links:

Oireachtas website – email addresses of all T.D.s and Senators: 

http://www.oireachtas.ie/members/

Joint Committee on Foreign Affairs and Trade – list of members: 

http://www.oireachtas.ie/parliament/oireachtasbusiness/committees_list/foreign-affairs-trade/members/

Joint Committee on European Affairs – list of members:

http://www.oireachtas.ie/parliament/oireachtasbusiness/committees_list/eu-affairs/members/

Minister for Foreign Affairs and Trade – Charles Flanagan, T.D.: charles.flanagan@oireachtas.ie

https://www.dfa.ie/about-us/contact-us/contact-minister-flanagan/

Minister of State for European Affairs – Dara Murphy, T.D.: dara.murphy@oireachtas.ie

https://www.dfa.ie/about-us/contact-us/contact-minister-murphy/

See also – Remembering Srebrenica (UK): 

http://www.srebrenica.org.uk/

Sarajevo for academic purposes

Nineteen years of travelling to Sarajevo and the city never ceases to enchant me. My first solo trip was no exception. Not the typical expedition en famille – this time it was just me and a sample of my research. I was off to the fifth Foreign Language Teaching and Applied Linguistics Conference (FLTAL’15) held at International Burch University. I’d heard about this event, by chance, last May. Tweets from Bosnia posted by the renowned Harvard professor, Steven Pinker, had aroused my curiosity. I discovered he’d been one of the FLTAL guest speakers in 2014. Well that was sufficient impetus to submit an abstract for this year.

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What a joy to receive an invitation to FLTAL’15! Plus it meant another visit to Sarajevo. The conference ran from Thursday to Saturday, 7 to 9 May, but fortuitous scheduling of flights via Istanbul and accommodation with my in-laws allowed me to stay a little longer. On the Wednesday I had the freedom of Sarajevo – welcome headspace before my presentation. Though it took me a while to remember how to relax… to wander around and reminisce, appreciate.

It was warm for spring but the heat was lilac-scented. Neither tourist nor native, I enjoyed retracing the centuries of history embedded in the cobbles of Baščaršija. Coffee and rahat lokum refreshed my way to Vijećnica. I’d watched this city hall and former national library as it slowly rose from ruins to magnificence. It drew me in again and, empty for a few minutes on a quiet afternoon, I was treated to a private exhibition of its splendour. Perfect calm before a busy conference!

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FLTAL’15 indeed proved lively. Global experts from a spectrum of fields in linguistics and language education delivered excellent keynote speeches. Names I knew as citations from reading their work and recommending it to my students. I never imagined I’d have the opportunity to meet them and listen to their insights in Sarajevo. It was also wonderful to make new contacts among the conference participants. They were a diverse bunch – from Brazil to the USA, to China and Japan, to all over Europe, many nations were represented. I found it very interesting to hear presenters from across the Balkan region speaking about their studies on issues of relevance to this area. In particular, the involvement of institutions from various parts of Bosnia was important. From the outset, the focus was on language as a means of communication which can foster greater understanding between people(s).

It was a pleasure to present my research into second language acquisition by immigrant children in Ireland and to talk about the need for plurilingual and intercultural approaches to education. Strangely, I felt more nervous than usual, even though I’ve co-authored a book on this topic and spoken about it at a Council of Europe intergovernmental seminar and other events in Cambridge and Dublin. I think it was due to a certain emotional investment in bringing my work to Sarajevo. Having taught English in one of its language schools, being a regular visitor and eternal learner of Bosnian (which happens to be ‘father tongue’ of my kids), I’ve got a deep connection to this city. But, above all, I was excited. The thrill of being in Bosnia, exchanging ideas with colleagues from such a range of places and situations, made this prodigal’s return seem worthwhile.

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I also managed to become an unofficial tour guide. Many of the foreign participants had never been to Sarajevo before, so I offered tips on what to see during their short stay. An Irish vegetarian’s suggestion of Željo as the best ćevapi restaurant went down well! Back on campus, the staff and students of International Burch University did an impressive job not only organising in a stimulating conference but in promoting the potential of Bosnia and Herzegovina. The closing ceremony was followed by a concert in which young musicians provided a taste of the country’s cultural heritage, showing how this remains a source of mixing and innovation.

The next day, for those who didn’t have to leave immediately, a trip to Mostar was arranged. It included a brief stop at Počitelj – a town rich in both mediaeval and Ottoman influence – and lunch at the picturesque site of a dervish monastery on the River Buna. Visiting these places in new company was uplifting. Standing on Mostar’s famous bridge, I gazed below me into the emerald Neretva. Swollen with seasonal rain and snow-melt, it was flowing with fresh energy.

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Then the bus back to Sarajevo. By this stage, I was tired. Worried too. I’d heard, when I phoned home the previous night, that my eight-year-old daughter had lost a piece of her permanent front tooth in a minor accident. Throughout the journey to and from Mostar, I was trying to keep up with her search for emergency dental treatment – difficult to come by in Ireland on a Sunday. Verdant slopes turned to stone as they stretched towards reproachful peaks. I felt guilty that I wasn’t there to hug my unfortunate youngest. Illogically but inevitably, I blamed myself for being away. Asking ‘why?’ Realising the damage could’ve been more serious, yet it was lasting. I was caught between two worlds, amid the jagged mountains of Herzegovina aware of the fragility of my child.

A few days concentrating solely on work-related matters, rather than multitasking, had been delightful. But now I wished my that Bosnian-Irish darlings were with me. Hopefully, we’ll all be back in the summer. For the kids, it’s vital to maintain their sense of belonging. Also, from my own perspective, I’m eager to develop further professional liaisons with Bosnia.

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In the meantime, it’s lovely to feel familiar in Sarajevo. When the assistant in the Svjetlost bookstore recalls you as a loyal customer, when you know exactly where to find a special present for a brave little girl… This is a city whose streets forever hold significance – troves of idiosyncrasy which can frustrate but make you smile, often at yourself. It’s somewhere of stories galore. And of unfinished chapters.

Congratulations to the organisers of FLTAL’15 – for information about the conference see: http://fltal.ibu.edu.ba/

Link to my research, published as Volume 3 of the Cambridge English Profile Studies series: http://www.cambridge.org/gb/cambridgeenglish/professional-development/immigrant-pupils-learn-english/immigrant-pupils-learn-english-a-cefr-related-empirical-study-l2-development-paperback

Down with all sorts of intolerance

Pillow talk, 1.30 a.m.. But it’s no night for sweet nothings. Not after the Charlie Hebdo massacre. This cold-blooded slaughter of journalists, artists and police officers has chilled the heart of Europe. Reading some reactions, it sounds like civilisations are clashing all the way from Paris to our bedroom. Maybe we should draw a line along the mattress between two rather errant adherents of the world’s most (deservedly) maligned religions.

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On one side of the bed, a tired ‘foreign’ soul is trying to get to sleep. A ‘native’ near-insomniac natters into the wee hours. Midnight browsing through Twitter is rarely soporific. Though this evening? Among the words of rightful condemnation, there’s a burgeoning and self-righteous streak of hate. Coming from erudite voices who’d consider themselves ‘liberal’. Comments from across the globe, from Ireland…

‘You’d love to say something. Like start a conversation about this.’

He stifles a yawn but, despite his fatigue, he’s worried. ‘So why don’t you?’

Submission. Fear of what others will think. Often we violate our freedom of expression by obsessing over perceived social norms. You wouldn’t want to be labelled as… Disrespectful? A crank? Some kind of sympathiser? OMG(od-or-Western-Values) no! The perpetrators of terror are a threat to everyone. Yet a little dialogue mightn’t hurt. Especially here in Ireland where there’s a tendency to brush over cultural difference with a laissez-faire approach that silently advocates assimilation. Fáilte… if you’ll act like us.

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It’s reminiscent of the ‘Father Ted’ show about the reception that people from China got when they arrived on godforsaken Craggy Island. Broadcast in the mid-nineties, while Ireland was at the beginning of a wave of immigration, this episode of the sitcom featuring three eccentric priests still sums up Irish attitudes. ‘The Chinese – a great bunch of lads!’ Ted declares at the conclusion of his ‘multi-ethnic’ slideshow in honour of the newcomers. His Asian guests are unimpressed – the presentation was held to make amends for the cleric’s racial abuse of them. But cross-community relations are salvaged by pints in the local pub, where Ted’s earlier gaffes are forgotten (until closing time). ‘More drink!’ Cheers ensue. Sure doing as the Romans do is grand.

The series, which ridiculed certain bizarre aspects of Irish life, was a huge hit with my Bosnian. It constituted a major part of his intercultural education. He learnt that ‘down with this sort of thing’ (written on a placard outside a small-town cinema) is a priceless response to any form of blasphemy. He still laughs out loud at the reruns – knows the lines better than I do.

‘Shows how much time you’ve spent watching TV.’

‘Careful now!’ quotes the Balkan Ted-head.

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In Ireland, Ted and Co. were instantly popular. Only the most conservative moralists objected to their irreverence. The rest of the country chuckled at this Anglo-Irish production. The main actors were Irish comics, so everything was fine. We were just slagging ourselves and the idiosyncrasies of an era which, by the end of the twentieth century, was on the wane.

More hallowed topics such as the tragedy of the famine of the 1840s could, however, prove less hilarious. At least in the minds of some who view a proposed British comedy about the ‘Great Hunger’ as a wound to Ireland’s psyche. How dare the ‘ould enemy’! Though, looking back, their aversion to this type of joke isn’t surprising. Historical portrayals of the Irish as simian drunks by English cartoonists don’t seem too funny. ‘Punch’ magazine, for example, printed masterpieces in the art of racist offence. But satire, even if tasteless, can never be something to die for…

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Two days later – further attacks in France. Concern at terrorism in our midst, rising Islamophobia. It’s strangely familiar. I’m telling the non-radical-Muslim in the house about sectarian strife in Northern Ireland. How it spread a similar sense of dread, how it unjustly implicated whole communities. The killing of workers in Kingsmills, the murder of musicians from a seventies show-band – the region where I grew up is haunted by such barbarity. And, also, the bombs in England which left Irish people who lived there the target of derision and suspicion.

Then we’re satirising each other again. No shortage of skit material in a ‘mixed marriage’. Yeah, it might’ve been easier if he’d met a Muslim girl and I’d fallen for a Catholic guy, preferably of our own nationalities. But probably there’d have been less dark humour. Anyhow, that’s not how fate operates. With us, it was coup de foudre… followed by a work in progress. Varying perspectives always need to be negotiated. Dealing with cultural diversity in pre-millennium rural Ireland, awareness of identity in post-war Bosnia, and after 9/11… It hasn’t exactly been a ‘garden of roses’ relationship but it’s forced us to challenge prejudice.

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Free speech. Well maybe now it’s time to talk. About the violence in Paris. About the brave blogger, Raif Badawi, who was flogged and imprisoned this week in Saudi Arabia. About those killed by Boko Haram in Nigeria. About Syrian refugee children dying of the cold. To question why some issues get prioritised by the media. To be liberated from our insulating ideologies and respect all people as equal brothers and sisters.

Because life is a constant lesson in trying to understand. Sometimes – perhaps through love’s smiles and tears – it makes us re-evaluate things we’ve taken as given. And that can help us create unique pieces in the mosaic of co-existence which illustrates humanity. Teaching us to say in a personal, meaningful way ‘Je suis…’

In the bleak midwinter

So this is Christmas… and my penultimate offering of 2014. The ‘elves’ in my house are planning to hijack this blog for a final yuletide message. Though, already, the making of their surprise post has sparked rebellions in elfdom. As the saying goes, ‘girls wreck your head’.

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Sometimes, so do places. Like my old ljubav, Bosnia. It’s been an eventful year there. The country has featured in international news for a range of reasons. Protests in February. Devastating floods in May. The commemoration of the assassination in Sarajevo which triggered World War I. Euphoria as the Bosnian football team played in its first World Cup. The hopes and hype of Rio gleamed… but soon faded. Reality gushed in again.

Elections in October saw the constellations of power in Bosnia and Herzegovina shift slightly, although nationalist parties remain dominant. Just another case of plus ça change? Or could 2015 auger progress for a country hamstrung by the legacy of conflict? An initiative seeking to kick-start Bosnia’s flagging EU accession process has recently been proposed by Britain and Germany. Understandably, after years of fruitless negotiations, scepticism prevails as to whether this scheme can prompt the reforms required for EU membership. However, any renewal of interest which might lead to a more effective European approach towards Bosnia is welcome.

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Bosnia’s present stagnation benefits no-one but its ruling elites. Instead of trying to build a functional state, they thrive on generating insecurity. Two decades since the end of the war, many of the divisions it caused are as raw today as they were in 1995. But despite undeniable differences, there’s much scope for unity. Demonstrations and plenums in the spring highlighted how most people in Bosnia face the same socio-economic problems – unemployment, poverty, limited prospects. The massive voluntary response which brought relief to those affected by flooding further proved that citizens from all ‘ethnic’ backgrounds can co-operate.

From a personal perspective, I’m glad my family and I were able to fundraise in our local area for the Irish Red Cross Balkans Floods Appeal. In Bosnia during the summer, we witnessed some of the damage left in the wake of the deluge and spoke to people involved in dealing with its aftermath. It was clear that the country needs ongoing support to recover from this disaster. We also went to Srebrenica and were struck not only by the scale of the atrocity that occurred there but by the questions it still poses… How? Why? Is it possible that healing can follow genocide? Such queries hovered in the sultry air above a cemetery which is now lodged in our human conscience.

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No matter how many times you visit Bosnia, it’s somewhere that always astounds… and disturbs. This year more than ever, it’s plagued me with a yearning to forge connections that extend beyond family trips – a desire to do something constructive. I’ve been investigating a few potential avenues in this regard. So far without success… lack of finances being a major drawback. But I’ll continue to explore these ideas. Perhaps I should ask Santa to send me a wealthy philanthropist! Along with a helping of luck, a marriage counsellor and a good night’s sleep. Though, if these demands defy even the magic of Mr. Claus, a book token will do fine.

Well, now, I ought to get my Meryl Streep skates on and rustle up an Oscar-winning Christmas!  Writing often seems pointless, yet I’m not sorry to have ‘wasted’ time, amid the commercial frenzy of December, on this series of short pieces (see links below). They’re chronologically arranged, based on the events to which they relate, but their topics also reflect the symbolism of the Advent wreath.

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Entwined in pine, the first two purple candles signify hope and peace. Hopefully, 2015 will bring both to Syria. And, although we can’t stop the war, we can still show solidarity with the Syrian people by donating to humanitarian organisations which work with them and by raising awareness of their plight. Meanwhile, here in Ireland, it feels like we’re on the cusp of a rising thought wave. We’ve got a rare chance to challenge established currents. Are we ready to take risks to create an equal, harmonious society? Or will we just go with the flow and put up with the status quo?

Globally, 2014 was grim. Fighting in Ukraine, attacks on Gaza, institutional racism in the USA, floods in the Balkans, worrying predictions about climate change – there was little cause for rejoicing. Even on an individual level, I must admit, it was a year I’d rather forget. But when all seems dark, brief instants of respite become more meaningful. A pink birthday candle. Or this, the last of the purple ones… The candle that stands for love.

Please check out previous posts in this series at:

An Advent miscellany: http://wp.me/p3NO7M-ma

Happy Xmas (war isn’t over): http://wp.me/p3NO7M-md

We’re dreaming of a better Ireland: http://wp.me/p3NO7M-mf

On a twelfth birthday at Christmas: http://wp.me/p3NO7M-mh

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From the Latin Bridge

Heads turn here. No longer for a glimpse of visiting royals… Not at the shock of shots. One hundred years since the wearer of a feathered hat slumped against his dying wife in their open-topped car, this is history’s junction. The silt-heavy Miljacka flows past, too shallow to drown an assassin and his bungling accomplices. The disturbance as the culprits were apprehended, choking on non-lethal doses of cyanide, has dissipated among the city’s ghosts.

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Now there are just pedestrians, checking the traffic. The impatient gauging their distance from the oncoming tram before they dash across the road. Those prepared to wait glance to make sure the boy racer roaring along the quay in a turbo diesel hits the brakes at the red light. You never know. He could be the son of a politician. Festina lente, as it says on the new bridge downstream – požuri polako in Bosnian tempo. At least dodgy drivers are ordinary hazards. Unlike the sniper-fire that hailed on Sarajevo in the nineties. Or the bullets that heralded the Great War.

They stand at ‘the street corner that started the twentieth century’. So the poster wrapped around the museum proclaims.

‘But it started in 1900.’

Their eldest child questions the logic of the notice. Yet she grasps its metaphor. She’s five years younger than Gavrilo Princip was when he raised his weapon. And took aim. He glowers – a hollow-cheeked teenager – above the entrance. Franz Ferdinand’s whiskers curl on the other side of the building. His stare inspects the river as it gurgles through the capital of his empire’s annexation.

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A thunderstorm threatens. The air has grown oppressive. The vibe between the couple on Latinska ćuprija is tempestuous. That’s become their norm – a dynamic of power and revolt. It wasn’t always like this. But difficult years have led them to their July crisis. She feels she’s borne the brunt of it… as a woman, as the mother of his children. The balance that was vital to their marriage has been shaken.

‘You’re as smug as he was.’

‘Who?’

She casts a rueful eye at the archduke. ‘His highness.’

‘Tito dragi!’

Exasperated, he invokes a dead dictator – now icon whose omniscience may extend to secessionist wives. As if that’ll stop her launching into another of her tirades… She blames him, by default, for much of what’s gone wrong. These days he hasn’t a clue what she wants. Nor does she.

Freedom? Or maybe just to be free to be lovers again. Like the first time they came together to Sarajevo. It was 1996. He was returning to his war-wrecked hometown. She was enthralled by the indestructible beauty beneath the ruins. The city was rooted in him and they were joined by its trauma. But, full of joy, they were reckless. At the crenellated husk of the national library, he’d pulled her away from the dust of incinerated words. Even today, you must be wary of the unexploded. Especially in more isolated areas.

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‘Don’t pee on a landmine.’

She’d instructed their youngest daughter a few days earlier. Half joke, half advice for the inevitable emergency as they reached an ancient fort atop a peak in Herzegovina. The thrills of travelling with kids! From flying back like swallows every summer, their children are familiar with the drill. The chances of detonation by urination may be slim. Particularly for girls. If you’ve got to the point of squatting, you’re probably OK. As a rule, though, it’s safer not to walk on the grass. Unless you’re with someone who knows the territory.

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Bosnia remains a wounded country. Under the arched doorway of Vijećnica, a plaque testifies to an attack at the end of August 1992. The text is short but rancorous. It states that over two million books, periodicals and documents were consumed by flames. Irreplaceable thought and learning lost. But the edifice has finally been restored. The former city hall, which later became a repository of literature, gleams anew. An architectural jewel – connoisseurs remark on how its Austro-Hungarian grandeur adopts a ‘Moorish’ style. That meeting of East and West, a taste of the Orient in Europe… It’s been lavished with such stereotypical praise. The bricks are striped in shades of Bajadera nougat – hints of almond, hazelnut. Inside, the foyer rises to a hexagon of sky. She looks up, into its stained glass floral patterns. Dizzy, she sniffs back tears.

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This was where Franz Ferdinand and Sophie were received. In between two attempts to slay them – the second of which was successful. Some say that carelessness was their graces’ downfall. Flouncing around, they seemed blasé about security. You’d wonder why they headed to this peripheral province. It’s fanciful, but did the Habsburg heir and the humbler Duchess of Hohenberg think of their trip as a romantic break? A myth, yet it wouldn’t have been a bad way to escape Viennese snobbery and Emperor’s disdain for his niece-in-law. Poor old Soph… She always felt sorry for the forgotten collateral spouse. The role of snaha – female relative by marriage – isn’t easy.

Maybe she should’ve rebelled. Although often struggles only cause more pain, even if this was never their intention. Take Princip. His motives might be debatable, but he didn’t set out to spark a worldwide bloodbath. Hapless lad or terrorist, he died one-armed and tubercular – a prisoner in Theresienstadt – before the end of the war his actions had ignited. While millions of young men like him were gunned down, shelled and gassed.

‘Can we go to see the statue?’

‘What statue?’

‘The one they put up this year.’

She saw it on the news in Ireland. The British channels covered the story at the kick-off of their World War I commemoration fest. Most cameras focused on the assassination site on the Latin Bridge. But some lenses zoomed out further, to a monument erected in East Sarajevo. Aka Lukavica. Across entity lines, après la guerre, this erstwhile suburb appropriated the city name in a manner sounding rather Berlinesque. It’s not too hard to bypass. After a scattering of buildings, the road melts back among farms and thicketed countryside. This is the chunk of Bosnia defined as ‘Republika Srpska’ by the Dayton Peace Agreement. Detached red-roofed houses accommodate generations, floor upon floor.

Quiet, she gazes out the passenger window. Thinking of the unsaid between the pair of them… Cornflowers and bindweed mingle with garden gladioli. Errant petals brighten fences that can’t enclose roaming hens. In pastures beside some farmhouses a few cows graze. At one driveway a guard dog lies chained. Lazing in the heat, he shows no interest in his charge – an incarcerated beast.

‘Oh my God, a bear!’

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The children jump at her shout, straining to see if she’s right. But they missed it. They’re clamouring to go back. Their father isn’t pleased about having to do a U-turn on a dangerous bend. He doesn’t believe her. Now she’s hoping that the creature really is ursine. Otherwise he’ll devour her. Though who could imagine something so bizarre? They pull in tight along the verge outside the residence of – yes – a captive bear. It seems crazed, pacing up and down an iron cage. He gets out for a closer look. The animal lumbers into the hut at the top of its rusted confines. As if it’s scared of humans.

‘And wolves! Vukovi!’

The kids yell at two wildish dogs slinking across the overgrown lawn into wooden kennels. They’re leaner than the German shepherd sprawled on sentry duty. Grey-backed, buff at the chest, their legs are longer than those of domestic mutts. Their snouts are pointier too. Čuvaj se psa – ‘beware of the dog’ – reads the sign at the gate. An understatement, considering the menagerie, but they’re more nervous about the pet collector. One of those ‘bear-like’ Balkanites who populate foreign commentary on this region? Luckily it appears that nobody’s at home. So they won’t have to explain their borderline trespass. This mini-zoo isn’t open to the public.

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Then they resume their search for Princip. Though there’s no way it can compete with the attraction of neighbourhood fauna. But first, a stop for coffee… In a café called ‘Dublin’. It’s got the Irish flag printed on its sugar sachets and a window adorned with a scene from O’Connell Street. The waiter has no idea what inspired its Hibernian theme but he gives them clear directions to the statue. They find Gavrilo lording over a park across from rows of apartment blocks. He’s been upgraded from the sullen waif with a pistol stuck in his pants or drawn from the worn lining of his jacket. Here he poses, broad-shouldered, above his Cyrillic name. A wilting yellow bloom in one hand and ribbons in Serbian colours in the other, he seems a bit too burly, too mature.

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A pensioner in a blue singlet addresses her as ‘young lady’ – a welcome compliment for a mother of three kids. The old guy wants a photo with his hero. It’s a quaint request in the selfie era. She takes a couple of snapshots. He’ll bring them back to America, where he’s lived for fifteen years. Questions about why he left his homeland float unuttered. She guesses he’s more ex-communist than war criminal. She could be misjudging him. He might be neither. Or both. They talk about Ireland. She tells him the First World War was virtually deleted from Irish history. Until it got a retro-trendy revamp. Mostly for the sake of diplomacy, so that heads of state can honour… what? Heinous waste. The futility of fighting is tangible in the damage still visible throughout Bosnia. And lodged in innumerable hidden scars.

Any hope of ‘Stoljeće mira nakon stoljeća ratova’? ‘A Century of Peace after the Century of Wars’ – the title of a multimedia spectacle performed on 28 June. Back in the city centre its promotional banner hangs across the main street. Almost one month later it’s beginning to sag, eclipsed by an advert for the Film Festival and a Bajram greeting from the Islamic Community. A few more days until the end of Ramadan… At sunset each evening, cannon-shot rings out from a mosque in the old town. There’s an intake of breath before the muezzin’s call confirms it was fired in worship, not in warfare. Or maybe that’s just her over-reaction. Based on what she remembers – the blast of homemade explosives, the numbing thud of mortars. Perhaps it’s no coincidence that a girl from ‘bandit country’ got involved with a guy from Sarajevo.

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Their birthplaces are, officially, at peace. Armed conflict has shifted from Bosnia and Northern Ireland, back to the Middle East. Gaza under bombardment, Iraq riven apart… After over three years of carnage, Syria’s cries are ignored. So are those of other neglected ‘civil’ wars. The ‘fortunate’ get a fast-fading media spot, a flurry of hashtags – #PrayFor all in the plane that was blown to scraps of fuselage over Ukraine. They die as images ogled in cyberspace. But does the world give a toss about these viral martyrs, any more than it does about those who are mourned off-line? And even when outrage goes beyond a ‘share’ or a ‘retweet’ it seems so ineffective. The cronies of today’s great powers protect their interests regardless. As people are slaughtered.

‘Like in Srebrenica.’ He stubs out his cigarette.

‘Yeah, it’s happening again.’

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The headstones in the cemetery at Potočari date lives cut short in July 1995. White marble, except for the green wood stumps which mark where remains were buried on the recent anniversary – the earth is still fresh around them. The youngest of this year’s 175 identified victims was only fourteen, the age of their first-born. Over 6,000 others have already been laid to rest. Of the 8,372 known to have been massacred. The men and boys of entire families wiped out in a ‘safe haven’… under the watch of the United Nations.

They’re recorded in lengthy columns bearing the same surnames. Even if they can be seen and heard no more, their existence is inscribed on a crescent of giant slabs. Graves stretch into the hills and the horror can’t be counted. But there’s a presence. And its weight is what visitors carry with them. Forever. A reminder. In front of the rose-rimmed gathering space, a fountain gently weeps. He holds out his hands in Muslim prayer. She blesses herself. Useless gestures… Yet this place demands them. Humanity has failed here. So has God, many would argue, though men did the killing.

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Confronting the reality of genocide stifles personal strife. They leave in silence. Their children are no strangers to Bosnian graveyards, but the little one whispers at the exit:

‘Mama, are there any wars in Ireland?’

‘No, lovie. Not now.’ She hugs the worried child. ‘There used to be… A long time ago.’

The twentieth century is aeons away for kids of the twenty-first. Though, with her Arabic name and big, dark eyes, their youngest could pass for Palestinian or Syrian. And all three of them look Bosnian – post-war by the serendipity of the decade of their birth. A peaceful childhood, it’s the least that they deserve. Everyday disputes seem so petty in Srebrenica.

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A land of tough love – the spectre of war gives a sharp sense of perspective. In Bosnia, you don’t quarrel about what can still be mended. They want to fix things but, when passion sours to bitter accusation, it’s impossible. Enemies are often those who had the most in common. Rebuilding any relationship, whether intimate or international, needs trust… and commitment.

‘You must be strong.’

She’s been told. She resents the implication that stoical strength is a female obligation. Along the lines of ‘stay alive for our children’… or whatever Franz said to Sophie when she was fatally injured. But, by then, he was also doomed. Perhaps, for all their aristocratic flaws, there’s truth to the legend of their closeness.

‘This might be my last time in Sarajevo.’

He doesn’t listen, doesn’t want to hear. It shatters her to admit this about a city that’s seduced her, somewhere so ingrained in their children. A place that’s been their link for twenty years, since the siege… They could surrender to the friction that’s escalated between them. Break up. Balkanise. Be done with each other for good. She’s barricaded her heart in self-defence. Yet she wishes she could grab his sun-steeped hand and waltz away with him. To rediscover their kiss, to try to reconcile.