Survivor's Account of Srebrenica

And then that seventh of January came.

Every family had one male member fit for military service.

And Nasar, our commander, may glorious Allah

protect him and reward him against all the enemies in this world, said,

it was strictly ordered, women and children must not know.

They would ruin our

operation. Everything was planned. We would go in, seize it,

take out the food, feed those poor people in Srebrenica.

Then my brother-in-law said to me, "Fadila, we're going to Kravica tonight,

get ready." So every household, every family had

one male member who said, "We're going to Kravica," and Kravica was

America, the Promised Land to us. It was a strong Chetnik stronghold.

From there, they killed, looted, brought things back.

No one ever dared approach Kravica.

All the crimes were committed later, in the nineties, in Kravica.

And we get ready. During the night,

soldiers take up our positions, while the women and children form one

huge, huge column of women and children.

We enter Kravica,

we enter before a single shot is fired.

It's maybe 15 kilometers from Potočari to

Kravica, through the woods where we go. I'm in that group.

I have a son at home who will die of hunger if I don't bring him food.

Everyone has their children, everyone will for their own child.

And we enter that notorious Kravica,

and then it all begins. They

realize it's us. At that moment, naturally,

our fighters have to come to our aid.

That's where I experienced that hell,

hell on earth. When you see one person killing another, you don't know

who is who. You don't know who's a Chetnik and who's a Muslim.

You grab, you snatch. I entered a house.

I'll never forget that. They celebrate Christmas on January seventh.

All around, people are dying, all around, it's exploding. That's it.

It can't be described to anyone who wasn't there on January seventh in Kravica.

What panic!

So, the struggle is to catch that one chicken so that

you can take it home, slaughter it, eat it.

You'll survive for three days, then some new stroke of luck.

And not to mention the 50 kilos of corn that I brought

to last me until the end of the war. I thought, I planned.

So we enter a house. Chetniks

are sitting there celebrating. Piles of pork on the table. Who cares what pork is?

You've never eaten it, but you will. You'll eat anything, just, just to survive.

There are cakes, there are stuffed cabbage rolls. I hadn't seen stuffed cabbage rolls, then meat and

potatoes and cabbage.

You're a refugee. You have nothing to eat. You have no provisions.

You go for grain, you take off your jacket.

If you're mine, sell yourself for two or three kilos of grain to survive.

I go in too.

They're eating and drinking. There are men and women, older people too. There are younger Chetniks too.

There are some, you wouldn't even notice them. I remember one about your age.

Cheers. Give me some sarma, and I put one sarma from my hand into my mouth,

and the other one right in front of

her, into my pocket. Enes needs feeding at home.

That was my first encounter. You know,

those were horrific scenes. You have this feeling now that you don't know whether

to cry or rejoice. I mean, those are the feelings.

It's a feeling you can't describe. You understand.

It's fighting, fighting, simply fighting for survival,

for bare life.

At that moment, they don't know who you are.

They don't know, they're drunk, they're celebrating Christmas.

That Chetnik toasts me.

Come on, cheers, Merry Christmas to you, come on, let me eat.

Give me sarma, give me more to take home for the children.

And somehow, you survive that day. You can't go in anywhere.

Wherever you go, they say, "Go back. Everything's been taken. There's nothing."

People are dying. I don't know, a man looks at me and falls.

What a scene.

This is how you walk. There are masses, masses, masses of people surging toward

the houses. Kravica is enormous. There are several villages.

At one point, I feel a Chetnik sniper

firing from the church. I feel a bullet pass through my hair, I feel

my hair singe. But at that moment, a woman falls

in front of me, dead, looking at me.

Another, older woman approaches and says to her, "Fadila,

dear Fadila, dear, has she been hit? Whose child has she left behind?"

And then those are the moments when you think it's you.

I think I've fallen. I'm dead. Do you understand?

I think I've fallen. I'm dead. Do you understand?

Yes, you... you are Fadila.

Because I am Fadila. My husband was killed, and a child was left behind.

You have a child, yes.

My late mother begged me, “Don’t go, Fadila, you’ll be killed. Who are you leaving your

child with?”

And those are the moments when you think you’re dead.

A woman comes over, hugs her dead body and kisses it. The woman is dying.

Blood is coming from her mouth, Fadila says, “To whom?” A couple of soldiers come over,

saying we should move her off the road so it could be determined.

Fifteen years later, I will find out that it was Fadila

from

Plane, near Han Pijesak, who came

to Srebrenica with her child and husband. Her husband was killed.

At that moment, Fadila was killed in Srebrenica. And her child was left behind.

So, reality gets mixed up.

Reality gets mixed up with, with…

An indescribable state. You don’t know whether you’re in the afterlife

or on Earth, whether you’re in Hell or Paradise.

On mine.