Voices from the Drina | Bosnian Genocide Education

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Dad told us to grab some essentials so we could leave to head to Mum, who wasn’t in Bratunac. We got in the car to head towards Sandići.

As we passed through the town, I saw that there were really trucks, military trucks, parked on the pavement behind the bus station. There were people in uniforms, JNA uniforms as well as some other camouflage uniforms.

When we reached Kravica our car was stopped by Serb police and some other men in uniform. My father is the traffic police commander and has worked for the police all his life. He said, “Colleagues, what’s the problem?” An armed reservist with an automatic rifle replied, “We’re not colleagues. Get out of the car and open the trunk.”

Fear gripped me. My father opened the trunk and said, “If you need the equipment, here it is.” Nothing. The guy with the rifle said, “Who’s in the car? How many of you? Where are you travelling to?”

Then my father addressed the two policemen in normal uniforms, saying, “Colleagues, you know I’m a policeman, why all this?” They just kept quiet.

It bothered the reservist that my father addressed the policemen. He ordered him not to talk and cocked the rifle. Then all three of us in the car started crying, screaming, begging m father just to get in the car and go.

The reservist also ordered Dad to get in the car and keep driving, or else he would shoot. My dad backed away, started the car, and we set off.

🧵 We’re on our way back from Sarajevo to Vlasenica. Mum is ecstatic to be going back home. We’re being driven by Relja, one of Dad’s Serb employees. Relja hasn’t looked at us through the rear-view mirror the entire journey. I think he knows something is up.

I think Relja thinks Dad is making the wrong decision. When we passed Kladanj, I begged for us to take the turning to Tuzla. Dad didn’t listen. I could see drops of sweat on Relja’s forehead. I’m terrified.

Arrived in Stoborani village.