I never met Karadzic but know him so well.
| 31 July 2008 | By Nidzara Ahmetasevic in Sarajevo
When I heard the news of his arrest, I happened to be with people who were with me during the course of the war. We lived through so many things together, sleeping in a basement like sardines (five of us lying on two joined beds to keep ourselves warm), running away when the shooting started, sensing an enormous amount of fear, from the wounding, the killing of our friends and so on. It sounds as if though we were a hundred years old, but this is far from the truth.
We were teenagers when we first went to the basement and spent the following 24 hours in there.
This happened on May 2, 1992. When we finally came out of the basement, once the bombardment had stopped, we saw images that you rarely see even in movies. The windows were all broken, flats were demolished and cars were on fire.
Almost all pieces of furniture from Nedim’s, one of my neighbors, apartment were lying on the lawn in front of our building, as a grenade had hit his apartment, destroying everything. Among those things lying on the lawn was a big piano.
After this day, we spent an indefinite number of days and nights in that basement. It became nice, being down there and, what was most important, we felt safe.
On that day, May 2, I felt I met Radovan Karadzic. I saw his real face and got to know him better than all these people who are saying they met him during the war. Whatever happened after that day, including my own wounding (I shall tell this story when Ratko Mladic is arrested), was much worse than what happened to me on that first day.
When I heard the news about Karadzic’s apprehension I started crying. Then the wound on my leg started to ache severely. I don’t know whether it was my subconscious or the change in the weather that caused the pain to appear, but even now as I write this, I still feel that dull pain.
Since the day of his arrest, I have started dreaming about the war, too. I can hear the grenades and the shooting again and I have this strange feeling when I go out in the streets.
Had he been arrested 13 years ago, I might have become a totally different person. Had they prevented him from doing the things he did, maybe I would not have become a journalist, specialized in war crimes.
I would not have known what a multiple launcher rocket system was and my leg would not hurt me now because of the rain or sunshine.
This is why I am indifferent to all those tales of a grey old man involved in alternative medicine, his lover, the pancake shop in which he ate, or his drinking and sleeping habits. Instead, at this moment, more than ever, I wish to see the international court and prosecution in action.
I believe that justice exists. I am positive about that. And I want to see it, not only because of what I had lived through, but because of all of us, whose wartime stories I have been conveying. I want this to happen because of all those who did nothing to stop him.
I hope I shall be able to hear, during the trial, about the reasons of the war and why my best friends are those who I met in the war and not in peace. I hope that his arrest means the war is coming to its end and that peace may even come as well.




The issue of national identity is taken seriously by Balkan people – including the least serious among them.













2009-08-01 21:42:58