future.
Sonja listened, enraptured, not really hearing a word.
In December of that year, 1989, the entire Yugoslavian cabinet resigned. It was reported in the newspapers that, the Communist Party was losing its power, and this would lead to the breakup of Yugoslavia.
Yugoslavia was in turmoil.
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One spring day in 1990, Gordan and Sonja, and Bojan and Vesna, packed a picnic and set out in Bojan’s Lada, and drove to Trebevic Mountain; a journey of about twenty minutes, involving many winding roads. Near the top, they parked the car, and set off to explore the disused, Olympic bobsled track.
Later, the two couples stood together, and gazed out at the glorious view from the mountain, which took in all of Sarajevo. Then, they spent another hour wandering around the buildings and the bobsled track used during the XIV Olympic Winter Games. All around them was a glorious, verdant forest, which they wandered through, listening to the carolling of the birds, and the gentle swish of the breeze. When they were hungry, they sat with the forest behind and the view of Sarajevo in front, and ate their picnic.
When it was time for desert, the two brothers reached into their coat pockets, at the same time, and produced an apple, which they each held aloft. Then, Bojan presented his apple to Vesna, and Gordan presented his to Sonja. The sisters both understood that, they had received an Obiljezje.
An Obiljezje is an old Croatian custom, which their Baka had told them about in the most romantic terms. A piece of fruit, usually an apple with coins pressed into it, when presented by a man to his love interest, amounted to an offer of marriage.
Both Sonja and Vesna accepted the Obiljezje, and so, began the sister’s formal engagement with Gordan and Bojan.
In May 1991, a double wedding was held at the Sacred Heart Cathedral, in the Old Town, This church, had been modelled on Notre-Dame in Paris, but this place of worship, was but a short walk, from: a mosque, a synagogue and an Eastern Orthodox Church.
Sonja and Vesna’s parent’s, who flew in from Australia for the occasion, also, squeezed into Baka’s one bedroom apartment.
The sisters, who both shunned the more fashionable, strapless, wedding gowns, looked exquisite in their more modest dresses. But, Sonja was not sure, when she thought about it, whether her choice was free. Had she been overly influenced by her: upbringing, her culture, or traditions, in any of her choices? She wasn’t sure.
At the reception, all guests received a small bunch of rosemary, tied together with a white ribbon. But for the two couples, much of the event passed in a happy daze.
Sonja’s only problem of the evening was when her new mother-in-law offered her a traditional glass of rakija, a homemade alcoholic beverage. Vesna, when offered the drink by her mother-in-law, was successful at throwing the glass over her shoulder, which meant that both women would get on well. Sonja, however, managed to get the glass caught in her veil and she spilt the liquid. The glass fell to the floor.
Her new mother-in-law laughed throatily, and said, ‘Luckily, I’m not superstitious!’
Later in the night, Goran and Bojan found out that their wives were both virgins. Gordan simply said to Sonja gently, ‘for me, this was not necessary, as I have been no monk’.
This pleased Sonja immensely. Such words, promised the hope of an equal partnership. Marriage, she thought, was always a bit of a gamble. Then, Gordan continued, ‘though now we must be faithful to one another.’
There was no such conversation between Vesna and Bojan. The night simply passed.
In June 1991, Croatia and Slovenia both declared their independence from Yugoslavia. Yugoslavia was breaking apart; centuries-old prejudices were escalating and fighting soon broke out.
Bojan and Gordan could talk of nothing else except politics. Vesna, also, read every newspaper that she could find, but refused to talk about the growing turmoil, and increasing bloodshed. When they travelled on the tram to work, at the library, Vesna looked pale and strained, and she kept her head down. Sonja, however, was far too happy in her life with Gordan, and in her happiness, she believed that everything would work out.
The newly married couples moved together, into a small apartment, which had been used by athletes during the Olympic Games. It was in the Dobrinja neighbourhood and the opportunity had come about, thanks to some strings pulled by a relative. However, both Bojan and Gordan, were working long hours away from home, producing stories about the outrages happening around them.
The terrible truth which was emerging was that, Bosnian Serbs were eradicating non-Serbian people. Concentration camps and genocide had returned to Europe in 1992. It was so hard to believe that such savagery was occurring all around them.
Most of us have heard the tale about the frog in the boiling water. The story goes that, if you try to put a frog in boiling water, it will simply jump out. But if you put it in to cool water and add hot water incrementally, the frog will not notice and it will slowly die from the heat, having not noticed each small change. And in this way, life went on for Sonja; that is, until April 6, 1992, when the Bosnian Serbs began their sustained attacks on Sarajevo.
On this particular day, Sonja was walking arm in arm with Gordan; her sister was in front, holding onto Borjan’s arm. They were taking part, along with thousands of other people, in a peaceful demonstration. The march had begun with only forty people and had swollen to thousands, as so many others became motivated by action and hope. All spoke with one voice. The groups’ simple request, was that the Serbian forces remove the barricades, and leave the city in peace. The Serbian militia responded by opening fire on the peaceful crowd of people.
Bedlam broke out. Some people seemed to be glued to the spot, others crouched with their arms protecting their heads, and some fled in abject terror. The city had fallen from the knife’s edge.
Vesna and Gordan reacted straight away. Vesna grabbed her husband and her sister, and began to run. Luckily, Gordan was also running (although later, he would be unnecessarily ashamed, that he had seemed only to think of himself, when he took flight). And so, the two couples, incited by panic and fear, made their way back to their small apartment.
Before long, the reality of Sarajevo involved constant mortar fire. The city was under siege, controlled by 18,000 Serbian troops. Daily life was a constant stress of: extreme fear, suffering and misery. As food became scarce; the supply of water, electricity and gas faltered, and a walk down the street became a dice with death, because some sniper on a rooftop may choose you for target practice.
Sonja felt sad when she looked around, as the people she knew and loved become thin and gaunt. And some were killed by snipers and artillery. It was a time of endless fear and sorrow; of feeling lost in a free fall, as those things that she had believed in so firmly, suddenly showed themselves to be fragile, or an illusion.
Sonja worried about her Baka, who she could not visit, or contact. Daily life was one of endless worries, of sirens wailing, and exploding shells. Sometimes, Sonja would find herself lost in a kind of shrieking hysteria, and at other times, mute: bereft of words. Then, the water would return and she would rush around washing clothes and filling bottles.
In December 1992, Gordan and Bojan came home one night and told their wives’ about the Sarajevo Tunnel. This tunnel, which had been constructed in order to bring food, weapons, and aid into the besieged Sarajevo, could also take people out.
‘This tunnel’, said Gordan, must be entered from the basement of an old house. Then, we must go by foot for some way along a rough and muddy tunnel. It is very dangerous.’
‘Yes’, continued Bojan, tightly, there is a danger of flooding by underground water and because there is no ventilation, we must wear masks to protect us from possible poisonous fumes. He paused and closed his eyes for a moment. ‘We have paid for our passage through the tunnel, and we leave tonight.’
‘We must try to get to Australia!’ Sonja declared, ?
??we must get our passports, and any other papers we need’.
‘Everything is organised’, Gordan said simply. ‘You can only take a few things with you in a backpack, so go and get those together’.
The journey through the tunnel took about forty five minutes; they travelled single file, through dank, oppressive air, with great fear, sadness, and hope.
One week later, Sonja, Vesna, Bojan and Gordan flew to Australia.
As for Baka: they never heard from her again.
Richard
Richard slit open the envelope and looked at his final results. He was pleased. Not only was he Dux, but he had managed to beat William Chen in mathematics: his major competition. For some weeks afterwards, Richard pranced around, as his mother commented, ‘like the cock of the walk’, until, he suddenly realised that he had not seen, or heard from Therese, for two months.
He fell to Earth with a thud.
Richard had been blown up with confidence after, ‘that night’, when all his dreams with Therese had come true. But strangely, since then, he hadn’t thought much about Therese at all. It’s true that she had left a few days later on a holiday to Fiji, with her family. But Richard had not bothered to find out when she would return.
With a feeling of dread, Richard picked up the phone, and dialled her house.
‘Hello Mrs O’Brien, This is Richard