up. God, are we going to go hungry to boot???
Zlata
Wednesday, June 10, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
At about eleven oâclock last night it started to thunder again. No, not the weather, the shells. We ran over to Nedoâs. I fell asleep there, but Mommy and Daddy went back home.
Thereâs no electricity. Weâre cooking on the wood stove in the yard. Everybody is. The whole neighborhood. What luck to have this old stove.
Daddy and Žika keep fiddling with the radio, listening to the news. They found RFI (Radio France Internationale) in our language. Thatâs at nine oâclock in the evening and they listen to it regularly. Bojana and I usually play cards, word games or draw something.
Love,
Zlata
Sunday, June 14, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Thereâs still no electricity, so weâre still cooking on the stove in the yard. Around 2:00, when we were doing something around the stove, a shell fell on the opposite corner of the street, destroying Zokaâs wonderful jewelry shop. We ran straight to the cellar, waiting for the barrage. Luckily there was only that one shell, so we went back at around 4:00. Your Zlata
Tuesday, June 16, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Our windows are broken. All of them except the ones in my room. Thatâs the result of the revolting shell that fell again on Zokaâs jewelry shop, across the way from us. I was alone in the house at the time. Mommy and Daddy were down in the yard, getting lunch ready, and I had gone upstairs to set the table. Suddenly I heard a terrible bang and glass breaking. I was terrified and ran toward the hall. That same moment, Mommy and Daddy were at the door. Out of breath, worried, sweating and pale they hugged me and we ran to the cellar, because the shells usually come one after the other. When I realized what had happened, I started to cry and shake. Everybody tried to calm me down, but I was very upset. I barely managed to pull myself together.
We returned to the apartment to find the rooms full of glass and the windows broken. We cleared away the glass and put plastic sheeting over the windows. We had had a close shave with that shell and shrapnel. I picked up a piece of shrapnel and the tail end of a grenade, put them in a box and thanked God I had been in the kitchen, because I could have been hit ... HORRIBLE! I donât know how often Iâve written that word. HORRIBLE. Weâve had too much horror. The days here are full of horror. Maybe we in Sarajevo could rename the day and call it horror, because thatâs really what itâs like.
Â
Love,
Zlata
Thursday, June 18, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today we heard some more sad, sad news. Our country house in Crnotina, a tower thatâs about 150 years old, has burned down. Like the post office, it disappeared in the flames. I loved it so much. We spent last summer there. I had a wonderful time. I always looked forward to going there. We had redone it so nicely, bought new furniture, new rugs, put in new windows, given it all our love and warmth, and its beauty was our reward. It lived through so many wars, so many years and now itâs gone. It has burned down to the ground. Our neighbors Ziga, Meho and BeÄir were killed. Thatâs even sadder. Vildanaâs house also burned down. All the houses burned down. Lots of people were killed. Itâs terribly sad news.
I keep asking why? What for? Whoâs to blame? I ask, but thereâs no answer. All I know is that we are living in misery. Yes, I know, politics is to blame for it all. I said I wasnât interested in politics, but in order to find out the answer I have to know something about it. They tell me only a few things. Iâll probably find out and understand much more one day. Mommy and Daddy donât discuss politics with me. They probably think Iâm too young or maybe they themselves donât know anything. They just keep telling me: This will passââit has to passâ????????
Your Zlata
Saturday,
Zlata
Wednesday, June 10, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
At about eleven oâclock last night it started to thunder again. No, not the weather, the shells. We ran over to Nedoâs. I fell asleep there, but Mommy and Daddy went back home.
Thereâs no electricity. Weâre cooking on the wood stove in the yard. Everybody is. The whole neighborhood. What luck to have this old stove.
Daddy and Žika keep fiddling with the radio, listening to the news. They found RFI (Radio France Internationale) in our language. Thatâs at nine oâclock in the evening and they listen to it regularly. Bojana and I usually play cards, word games or draw something.
Love,
Zlata
Sunday, June 14, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Thereâs still no electricity, so weâre still cooking on the stove in the yard. Around 2:00, when we were doing something around the stove, a shell fell on the opposite corner of the street, destroying Zokaâs wonderful jewelry shop. We ran straight to the cellar, waiting for the barrage. Luckily there was only that one shell, so we went back at around 4:00. Your Zlata
Tuesday, June 16, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Our windows are broken. All of them except the ones in my room. Thatâs the result of the revolting shell that fell again on Zokaâs jewelry shop, across the way from us. I was alone in the house at the time. Mommy and Daddy were down in the yard, getting lunch ready, and I had gone upstairs to set the table. Suddenly I heard a terrible bang and glass breaking. I was terrified and ran toward the hall. That same moment, Mommy and Daddy were at the door. Out of breath, worried, sweating and pale they hugged me and we ran to the cellar, because the shells usually come one after the other. When I realized what had happened, I started to cry and shake. Everybody tried to calm me down, but I was very upset. I barely managed to pull myself together.
We returned to the apartment to find the rooms full of glass and the windows broken. We cleared away the glass and put plastic sheeting over the windows. We had had a close shave with that shell and shrapnel. I picked up a piece of shrapnel and the tail end of a grenade, put them in a box and thanked God I had been in the kitchen, because I could have been hit ... HORRIBLE! I donât know how often Iâve written that word. HORRIBLE. Weâve had too much horror. The days here are full of horror. Maybe we in Sarajevo could rename the day and call it horror, because thatâs really what itâs like.
Â
Love,
Zlata
Thursday, June 18, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today we heard some more sad, sad news. Our country house in Crnotina, a tower thatâs about 150 years old, has burned down. Like the post office, it disappeared in the flames. I loved it so much. We spent last summer there. I had a wonderful time. I always looked forward to going there. We had redone it so nicely, bought new furniture, new rugs, put in new windows, given it all our love and warmth, and its beauty was our reward. It lived through so many wars, so many years and now itâs gone. It has burned down to the ground. Our neighbors Ziga, Meho and BeÄir were killed. Thatâs even sadder. Vildanaâs house also burned down. All the houses burned down. Lots of people were killed. Itâs terribly sad news.
I keep asking why? What for? Whoâs to blame? I ask, but thereâs no answer. All I know is that we are living in misery. Yes, I know, politics is to blame for it all. I said I wasnât interested in politics, but in order to find out the answer I have to know something about it. They tell me only a few things. Iâll probably find out and understand much more one day. Mommy and Daddy donât discuss politics with me. They probably think Iâm too young or maybe they themselves donât know anything. They just keep telling me: This will passââit has to passâ????????
Your Zlata
Saturday,
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