Zlata's Diary (10 page)

The birthday party wasn't bad, but it would have been even better if that shell hadn't spoiled it. Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

That's how we celebrate birthdays here and try to forget the war. We try to brighten up this life of ours, a life that's getting harder and harder by the day. Sometimes I say—this isn't life, it's an imitation of life.

The electricity went off again today. BOO-HOO!!! SNIFFLE-SNIFFLE! MORE DARKNESS! WHAT NOW???

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

The electricity came back on last night. YESS!

But ... it went off again this morning. SNIFFLE! I HOPE IT COMES ON AGAIN TONIGHT! We have no problem with water. (KNOCK! KNOCK!—that's me, knocking on wood for good luck.)

YESSS! The electricity is back on! I'm going to watch
What Others Say About Us
on TV. YESSS! Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

YIPPEE! I crossed the bridge today. Finally I got to go out too! I can hardly believe it. The bridge hasn't changed. But it's sad, sad because of the post office, which looks even sadder. It's in the same place, but it's not the same old post office. The fire has left its mark. It stands there like a witness to brutal destruction.

The streets aren't the same, not many people are out, they're worried, sad, everybody rushing around with bowed heads. All the shop windows have been broken and looted. My school was hit by a shell and its top floor destroyed. The theater was also hit by some disgusting shells, and it's wounded. An awful lot of wonderful old Sarajevo buildings have been wounded.

I went to see Grandma and Granddad. Oh, how we hugged and kissed! They cried with joy. They've lost weight and aged since I last saw them four months ago. They told me I had grown, that I was now a big girl. That's nature at work. Children grow, the elderly age. That's how it is with those of us who are still alive.

And there are lots and lots of people and children in Sarajevo who are no longer among the living. The war has claimed them. And all of them were innocent. Innocent victims of this disgusting war.

We ran into Marijana's mother. They didn't leave. They're alive and well. She told me that Ivana had gone to Zagreb—with a Jewish convoy.

We also went to see our friend Doda. She, too, was surprised when she saw me. She cried. She says I've grown. Slobo (her husband) was wounded, but he's all right now. There's no news of Dejan (her son). It makes her sad.

Dear Mimmy, I have something to confess to you. I dressed up. I put on that nice plaid outfit. My shoes were a bit tight, because my feet have grown, but I survived.

So, that was my encounter with the bridge, the post office, Grandma, Granddad, and with a wounded Sarajevo. If only the war would stop, the wounds would heal!

Ciao!
Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Yesterday's outing into the streets of Sarajevo made me happy, but sad too. I keep seeing the school, the post office, the nearly empty streets, the worried passers-by, the looted shops.

I boasted to Bojana, Maja and Neda how now I had also seen our school, because until yesterday they had been allowed out but I hadn't. My parents were afraid for me. Still, Maja and Bojana are older than I am.

But now I can say like the others that I'm brave. I walked bravely through the streets of Sarajevo.

They said on the radio yesterday that the last long-distance power line that supplied the city with electricity had been destroyed. That means no electricity tonight. Darkness again.

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

OOOOHHHH! No electricity, no water! The water didn't come on this morning. The “fine gentlemen” turned “Bačcevo” off. OOOHHH!

It was Lela's birthday seven days ago (she's a friend of Maja's). I had my hair cut that day. You know who my hairdresser was? My neighbor Alma, because not a single hairdresser's is open yet. And hair grows!

Two days ago it was Avdo's birthday (Lela's father), but there was shooting that day so we couldn't go. I'm sorry about that because birthdays are the only days when the neighbors relax, spend some time together and cheer up a bit. It's nicer than having us all in the cellar. That's why I look forward to birthdays so much.

Neda came today. It looks like she's really going to Zagreb. There's a Jewish convoy leaving at the beginning of October and she's trying to get on it. God, even Neda is leaving us. Mommy is very sad. Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

There's no electricity, and probably won't be any for a long time. The batteries ran out so Daddy brought in the battery from the car and hooked it up to the radio. Now we can listen to the news. Not music, because we have to save on the battery.

They just said on the radio that lots of Croats and Muslims have been expelled from Grbavica. We're expecting Mommy's relatives, Nedo's parents and Lalo (our friend).

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Spring has been and gone, summer has been and gone, and now it's autumn. October has started. And the war is still on. The days are getting shorter and colder. Soon we'll move the stove upstairs to the apartment. But how will we keep warm? God, is anyone thinking of us here in Sarajevo? Are we going to start winter without electricity, water or gas, and with a war going on?

The “kids” are negotiating. Will they finally negotiate something? Are they thinking about us when they negotiate, or are they just trying to outwit each other, and leave us to our fate?

Daddy has been checking the attic and cellar for wood. It looks to me as though part of the furniture is going to wind up in the stove if this keeps up until winter. It seems that nobody is thinking of us, that this madness is going to go on and on. We have no choice, we have to rely on ourselves, to take care of ourselves and find a way to fight off the oncoming winter.

Mommy came home from work in a state of shock today. Two of her colleagues came from Grbavica. It really is true that people are being expelled from there. There's no sign of Mommy's and Nedo's relatives or of Lalo. Nedo is going berserk. Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,
YESSS! It's not water!

YESSS! It's not electricity!

YESSS! YESSS! YESSS!

Mirna came to see me!

My bestest friend.

MIRNA

Her hair has grown long. She's become a real fashion designer. She has a Dalmatian dog in the neighborhood named Gule. She hasn't lost weight. She's even put some on. After we kissed, we didn't know where to start. We hadn't seen each other for such a long time. Since it was war that had separated us, that's mostly what we talked about. But the important thing is that we were together. I promised to come and see her this week (if there's no shooting, of course).

Love you, Dear Mimmy,

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Grandma and Granddad had gas heating. Grandma cooked at Neda's, because she has a gas stove. Well! No electricity, no water, and, wouldn't you know it, no gas!

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Neda has left after all. We're all sad about it. Mommy more than anybody. We'll miss her, but we have to accept that this war is separating us from our friends. How many more people will leave? I'm sorry, Mimmy, I feel sad, I can't write anymore. Love,

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Today is a day to be remembered in my family. Today we brought the wood-burning stove into the kitchen. It's nice and warm. Mommy and Daddy and I all had a bath. It was rain water, but it doesn't matter. We're clean, and we didn't freeze, like the past few days.

There's still no electricity or water.

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

I'm writing to you again by the light of one of my favorite candles. I lit it with a heavy heart. But we have to get light from somewhere. I went to Mirna's today. She showed me her fashion designs and her dog Gule. He's cute, but he hasn't got any spots on his head.

It was a wonderful two hours. Good news:

THE GAS IS BACK ON!

YESSS!

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

I sometimes go into the “dangerous room” now, where the piano is, and the notes keep me company. They take me back to the days before the war. Pictures flash through my mind of Jahorina, the sea, Crnotina, my friends. It makes me sad, it even makes me cry. God, they've taken everything away from me.

Mirna came today. YESSS!

There's still no water or electricity. But, luckily, the gas came back on so it's warm at Grandma and Granddad's.

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Today is Daddy's birthday. I gave him a kiss and a “Happy Birthday, Daddy.” We made little sweets
“à la Mirna.”

And now let me explain something to you Mimmy: as you know, I confide in you every day (almost). Well, you know the summer school in our community center? We had a wonderful time together there, did some acting, some reciting, and best of all, some writing too. It was all so nice, until that horrible shell killed our friend Eldin.

Maja is still working with our teacher Irena Vidovic. And the other day, Maja asks me: “Do you keep a diary, Fipa (my nickname)?”

I say: “Yes.”

And Maja says: “Is it full of your own secrets or is it about the war?”

And I say: “Now, it's about the war.”

And she says: “Fipa, you're terrific.”

She said that because they want to publish a child's diary and it just might be mine, which means—YOU, MIMMY And so I copied part of you into another notebook and you, Mimmy, went to the City Assembly to be looked at. And I've just heard, Mimmy, that you're going to be published! You're coming out for the UNICEF week! SUPER!

And now super good news: the electricity is back on. But it's 5:45 now and it's gone off already. Samra says it will come back on. Let's hope so. Ciao!

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

You know Lalo and Alma. They live in Grbavica, in the occupied part of Sarajevo. Lalo worked with a group of other prisoners. One day they were sent to collect the bodies of dead Chetniks and were arrested by one of “our” units. A few days later they let them go. That's how Lalo got to Sarajevo, to his mother's, but he left his family behind in Grbavica. He looked for a way to get Alma and the children out of Grbavica through some kind of exchange. And, and, and ... HE DID IT! SUPER!

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Today we went to see Alma, Anja and Maja (Lalo's family). They're close by now, they live in one of the Zvijezda tower blocks. They're still upset, although everything turned out all right. The important thing is that they're all together now. They're sad because they had to leave everything behind in Grbavica. Anja is little and she keeps asking when they're going home. How can they tell her when she doesn't understand anything? She wants her dolls, her bed. It's really awful!

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

There's talk at the Bobars' that Maja and Bojana might be going to Austria. Is that possible? Will they go and leave me too? I don't dare think about it. They're not crazy about the idea either. We'll see what happens. There's talk of another Jewish convoy leaving Sarajevo.

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Mommy and Auntie Ivanka (from her office) have received grants to specialize in Holland. They have letters of guarantee, and there's even one for me. But Mommy can't decide. If she accepts, she leaves behind Daddy, her parents, her brother. I think it's a hard decision to make. One minute I think—no, I'm against it. But then I remember the war, winter, hunger, my stolen childhood and I feel like going. Then I think of Daddy, Grandma and Granddad, and I don't want to go. It's hard to know what to do. I'm really on edge, Mimmy, I can't write anymore.

 

Your Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Mommy thought it over, talked to Daddy, Grandma and Granddad, and to me, and she's decided to go. The reason for her decision is—ME. What's happening in Sarajevo is already too much for me, and the coming winter will make it even harder. All right. But ... well, I suppose it's better for me to go. I really can't stand it here anymore. I talked to Auntie Ivanka today and she told me that this war is hardest on the children, and that the children should be got out of the city. Daddy will manage, maybe he'll even get to come with us.

Ciao!
Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

Mommy and Auntie Ivanka are trying to get all their papers, because to get out of Sarajevo you need a heap of papers and signatures. It's now certain that Maja and Bojana will be going to Austria. They signed up for the Jewish convoy. Maybe we'll leave on that convoy too.

Zlata

Dear Mimmy,

We were at the Bobars'. Maja and Bojana are packing their suitcases. They leave tomorrow. It was sad. We were all upset and cried.