25/03/1993 | Voices from the Drina

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I’m begging Mum to leave on the UN convoy. “I can’t go without you,” she said, her eyes full of tears. “How can I leave you here? We’ve been through all this together, and that’s how we should continue.” She won’t go.

I’m begging Mum to at least try to get out of Srebrenica on the UN convoy with my sister. My only plan is to stay, because I’m certain that it will be easier to take care of myself alone, knowing they’re both safe. Mum refuses. Our arguments end with her crying fits. I weep too.

It’s suddenly my responsibility to take care of my mum and sister. They’re the only thing I have left in my life, in a situation where our lives have been made worthless and all three of us are vulnerable. This is why I cry.

Uncle Hasib and Aunty Zehra are leaving Srebrenica on the UN convoy. Hasib is placing himself at huge risk as a Muslim man. “What if the Chetniks take you off the truck in Bratunac?” I asked him. “Let’s hope they won’t,” he said. Aunt Zehra was silent.