Nagrada je uručena danas u Tuzli, na svečanosti povodom Svjetskog dana slobode medija, u organizaciji Društva novinara BiH. Prepoznat kao projekat koji kroz lične ispovijesti donosi poruke pomirenja, serijal “Ožiljci” govori o ratu na način koji izbjegava senzacionalizam, a umjesto toga donosi tihe, ali moćne priče onih koji su izgubili najviše.

“Ova nagrada je veliko priznanje za rad našeg tima, ali i snažan podsticaj da istrajemo u vrijednostima odgovornog, etičkog i antinacionalističkog novinarstva”, poručili su iz redakcije Gerile.

Pored redakcija Gerile i Hercegovina.info, nagrađeni su i brojni drugi novinari i mediji koji su, prema ocjeni stručnog žirija, svojim radom dali značajan doprinos slobodnom i odgovornom informisanju.

U kategoriji online i printanih medija nagrađena je Branka Mrkić, novinarka magazina Žurnal, za seriju istraživačkih tekstova o femicidu u BiH, kao i za koautorski rad na dokumentarnom filmu “Pomozite, ubiće me!”. Žiri je posebno istakao njen analitički pristup temi, sagledavanje sistemskih uzroka, institucionalne neodgovornosti i društvenih posljedica femicida.

Za nagradu “Novinar godine” u kategoriji istraživačkog novinarstva odabrani su Jelena Jevtić i Mubarek Asani iz Centra za istraživačko novinarstvo (CIN), za dokumentarni film “Gdje je Sara” – potresnu priču o roditeljima koji, u potrazi za nestalom kćerkom, nailaze na zid institucionalne šutnje.

Nagradu za radijsko novinarstvo dobio je Darko Đerić, novinar BH Radija 1, dok je nagrada za životno djelo pripala Bori Kontiću, jednom od najistaknutijih novinarskih imena u Bosni i Hercegovini.

Specijalna priznanja za zapažen rad dobile su novinarke Anisa Mahmutović i Barbara Pavljašević, kao i portal Hrvatski glasnik.

Iz Društva novinara BiH poručeno je da ove nagrade dolaze u trenutku kada je profesija izložena brojnim pritiscima – od prijetnji, ucjena, pokušaja ušutkivanja, do zakonskih inicijativa koje ograničavaju slobodu mišljenja i medijskog izražavanja.

Gerila

The post Portal Gerila dobitnik prestižne novinarske nagrade povodom Svjetskog dana slobode medija first appeared on Gerila.info.

In conversations with returnees from the areas of Sanski Most, Kotor Varoš, and Mostar, despite geographical and ethnic differences, a few things remain consistent. Returning home has been a struggle full of challenges, but they have managed to overcome them successfully.

Although Croatian villages once thrived with life, today, in Kotor Varoš, it is mostly elderly returnees who remain.

Kotor Varoš

Mato Marić from Vrbanjci near Kotor Varoš spent decades working in Germany, and upon returning to his hometown, he restored his house, which had been destroyed during the war, using his own funds.

“There's no youth. Those of us who are here are all retirees and elderly people. Maybe those who stayed have a total of nine children among them,” Marić laments.

He describes coexistence with neighbors as positive but points to the lack of infrastructure as a significant issue.

“As for living with the neighbors, there are no problems; we all get along well. The only issue is infrastructure. For example, there’s asphalt in front of my house, but others can't reach their homes. The return of Croats is extremely difficult because these Croatian villages have no roads, they’re not maintained, and it’s hard to rebuild them. Before the war, there were over 11,000 Croats in Kotor Varoš, and now there are 180. That number speaks to the scale of Croat return to Kotor Varoš.”

A persistent issue faced by returnees in recent years is illegal logging, which authorities either cannot or will not prevent.

“Private property is being destroyed without anyone's knowledge, roads are being ruined, forestry officials and private sawmill owners are causing havoc. We repair roads with our own funds, and within a month, they’re destroyed again. If we set up a barrier, the municipal police come and cut it down so the logging can continue.”

A similar story is told by Zlatko Bujdo, who divides his time between Switzerland and the village of Podbrđe in the Kotor Varoš municipality. He, too, restored his property without any assistance. Despite his efforts, he faces institutional neglect, contributing to the feeling that returnees are left to fend for themselves. His home is surrounded by logged forests and poorly maintained infrastructure.

“I have my property here; I rebuilt my house on my own, received nothing from anyone. Everything was self-financed. I own some land, a small forest, and some meadows. What we can do, we handle ourselves. Two years ago, my forest was logged. We called the commission, police, forest rangers, and other relevant authorities, but nothing came of it. To this day, I haven’t even received a report. We no longer trust institutions; we feel abandoned,” he comments bitterly.

“When the war began, my family was forcibly displaced, and I was abroad. I had property, my tractor disappeared, weapons were confiscated, and no one has returned anything. I inquired about it, but to no avail. Ten years ago, my car was stolen from the garage, but no one did anything. I haven’t been physically abused, except for one threat when I was intercepted because of the forest. They asked me what I was doing there and told me to watch myself. Podbrđe was 98 percent Catholic before the war. Now it’s mixed, with a predominantly Orthodox population. There are few returnees; we spend weekends and holidays here, but only a handful of us live here permanently. During every election, promises are made for road repairs and water supply, but after the elections, everything is forgotten. Forests are being logged, springs are drying up, and if this continues, there won’t be any water in ten years. What they cut from us is one thing, but what about protecting nature and wildlife? No one is doing anything. Bears come around, deer have disappeared; there aren’t five deer left to count. About 300 hectares of forest have been illegally logged near me, and even more further away. Around 85 percent of the forest has been cut, it’s been massacred,” he says while showing the cleared forest.

Sanski Most

Vojislav Kondić, who returned to the village of Podovi from Slovenia, is rebuilding his property and preserving the memory of his father, who died during the war. Although returnees like him try to rebuild the community, institutions have shown little interest in providing support. Kondić maintains good relations with neighbors and emphasizes that ordinary people have always sought cooperation, regardless of past conflicts.

“Our father was killed here, murdered in 1995. He was buried in a neighboring village because it wasn’t possible here. He lived here alone. None of us four brothers were present—our eldest brother was in Germany, I was in Velenje, the third brother was in Belgrade, and the fourth in Ljubljana. I decided to return in 2002, moved my father from the Kozice cemetery, took him to Banja Luka where the cause of death was determined, and then relocated him to our family cemetery.”

Mitar Popović, who also returned to Podovi from Slovenia, speaks of an unprosecuted war crime that affected his family but is grateful for a donation from Republika Srpska for house restoration. Although returnees are a minority, he emphasizes that they live without any community issues.

“My mother died here, as did two or three uncles and a cousin from a neighboring village—five were killed in total. This happened on September 21, 1995. No one has been prosecuted for the crime. We gave statements, three of us from here, but nothing has been initiated. I don’t know if the process ever started, but there’s no information about who did it.”

Mostar

Enes Rahimić, a former handball player and private entrepreneur, has been building a life in Gubavica near Mostar since returning from Switzerland.

In a rugged area, he built a property that was initially intended only for himself and his family, but over time, it has also been adapted for tourism.

“This house was originally meant for me and my brothers, as a family home and a place to gather with friends. However, things went in a different direction, and the property expanded, so now it can even generate income. If this is a good way to return to one’s own, then I’ve succeeded. I spent six and a half years in Switzerland, and that helped me when I started this project. It’s a country where the law is respected, everything is regulated, from the smallest to the largest matters,” he notes, comparing the situation there to what he encountered in BiH.

Although he has achieved financial stability, he faces issues such as poor roads, the construction of solar plants near his property, and frequent water shortages.

“People have returned en masse because this is a suburban area near Mostar, close to everything. However, returnees received homes and houses, but we all know you can’t live off a house. The roads are terrible, and the water supply doesn’t function properly. This year was tough; there were periods when we were without water for 15 days, and in Herzegovina, when the temperature is over 40 degrees, that’s a huge problem. I suffered massive losses. As for the solar plants, as an individual, I have no moral right to forbid anyone from building them, but I can demand that investors follow the law. If they have to build solar plants, let’s make an agreement, place two or three, and stop there. Living space must be preserved for the people because I don’t plan on leaving. I came here to live, work, and die,” Rahimić tells investors.

Enes expresses a desire to attract family and young people from the diaspora, calling on politicians to recognize the importance of the diaspora for the future of BiH.

“My greatest wish is for my brothers to be with me. That’s when I’m happiest. When the brothers are here, the children will also want to come back. This is an opportunity to send a message to politicians—the diaspora is important. Our people are educated, have good jobs and incomes. Attract them, establish proper legal frameworks, and let the youth return. We have everything we need for BiH to become another Switzerland in Europe.”

The post Scars: Stories of Returnees first appeared on Gerila.info.

Those who survived were left to remember. And they bear witness to the horrors of war.

Bahrija Jakupović from Kozarac was 23 years old in August 1992, when he was among 1,200 inmates who left the Prijedor camps for exchange in Travnik.

From the convoy of buses and trucks, conducted by the Police Intervention Squad, about 230 people were later separated and taken to be shot at the Korićanske stijene site on Vlašić.

“I was there at the shooting. That's where they took us off the bus. They lined us up in two rows. I was in the second row. Then we crouched down. Suddenly, the shooting started. Moans and all. I grabbed the guy in front of me and jumped. If I had seen how deep it was, I might not have jumped down,” testifies Jakupović 32 years later.

He adds that after that jump he hid in a mill and waited for some time, after which he came out to check if there were any survivors.

“In the meantime, they returned. They were also returning to Prijedor, stopped again and they were shooting down and throwing bombs. Then someone shot from that field over there and shouted: There is someone else alive. He shot at us,” says Jakupović, who was caught again after a few days, but was soon exchanged through Merhamet and the Red Cross.

Later, it turned out that only 12 people survived the triple execution, as stated by the Association of Prisoners of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and 11 members of the Prijedor Police Intervention Squad were convicted for this crime.

The crime against civilian victims and prisoners is also remembered by the Serbs who were expelled from the area of ​​southern Ozren and the Krivaja river valley.

In July and September 1995, members of the BiH Army captured a large number of members of the Republic of Srpska Army and civilians in the area of ​​Vozuća near Zavidovići.

In just one attack, almost 70 people were captured and taken to the camp of the “El Mudžahedin” detachment in the village of Gostovići. From that group, only 10 bodies were found and identified, while the rest are listed as missing.

Several mass graves were found on Vozuća, with decapitated bodies. Civilians were also killed on their doorstep.

“My dad went to look after the cows. The cows came home by themselves, and he was not there. Later we found him, lying dead on the road. My mother was found dead in the house in 1995. They buried her here in a mass grave in Stog. They killed her in the house when Vozuća fell,” testified Smiljka Marković from Vozuća.

She says that they found her mother's body only after two years, and according to her, she noticed wounds in both lower legs.

The search is still on for 129 persons of Serbian nationality who are listed as missing on Vozuća.

“In the 21^st century, it is unfathomable to me, in this country as it is, that one man cannot be found, who was alive, lived, worked, created and then after those crimes, all his traces are lost. Even after 29 years, I haven't been able to find my father, Miloš Pejić,” says Veselko Pejić for the Scars series.

He says he received various information about his father's fate, but they all turned out to be false.

“The real truth is that he was captured by the El Mudžahedin squad. You've heard of that infamous detachment that committed terrible crimes in this area, where the whole world could see the footage of those crimes and the ritual beheadings and everything else. And he ended up in that unfortunate camp Gostović, like many other fighters and civilians, and from there every trace of him is lost. I know reliably from witnesses who survived that he was liquidated in that camp,” said Pejić.

Only two people were convicted for the crime in Vozuća. Commander of the Main Headquarters of the BiH Army, Rasim Delić, was sentenced to three years in prison in The Hague, and General Sakib Mahmuljin was sentenced to eight years before the Court of BiH, after which he left BiH and went to Turkey.

The commanders of the crime in the village of Grabovica near Jablanica also escaped from justice.

During the “Neretva 93” operation, members of the Army of Bosnia and Herzegovina entered the village and killed 33 civilians, including a four-year-old girl, Mladenka Zadro. There is not a house in Grabovica that did not lose someone in that terrible crime.

“I lost my mother and sister from my home. Also, my uncle and aunt were killed, as well as their daughter and son-in-law”, says Ante Marić from Grabovica for our series Scars.

The manner in which they were killed testifies to cruelty, and after this crime, all entrances and exits from the village were blocked, so that the event would not be known immediately.

“From what I hear, a bullet is nothing compared to what they did, because we see that from the bodies that were exchanged. Those were body parts. We only received a couple of whole bodies. In the first delivery, we received 11 bodies. That was in 1994, and they could not decompose like that in just one year. It's hard for me to even think about how they were killed,” adds Marić.

Since 1994, no new body of those killed in Grabovica has been found. Marić notes that it is impossible not to know where they are buried, as well as who ordered this crime against civilians.

“My aunt was found, but my uncle was not, nor were their daughter and son-in-law. My mother and sister have also not been found. Maybe we walk over them, over their bodies, and we don't know they are there. That bothers us the most,” says Marić.

Five members of the Army of Bosnia and Herzegovina were convicted for the crime in Grabovica, however, General of the Army of Bosnia and Herzegovina Sefer Halilović was acquitted of the charge of command responsibility.

According to the data available so far, more than 36 thousand civilians were killed in the war in BiH, often in mass crimes. Investigations and trials disappointed their family members. They say justice is still elusive for the victims.

The post Scars: Three decades of waiting for the justice for civil casualties first appeared on Gerila.info.

Getting to know each other, as one of them says, was not through gun sight. And each of them says, they defended their houses and families.

Spasoje Kulaga from Derventa was briefly in the Army of the Republic of Srpska, right at the beginning of the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina. In March 1992, he celebrated his 23^rd birthday on the front line.

“My identities have changed over time, as we veterans measure time before the war and after the war. Until 1992, Spasoje was an athlete, a secondary school student, a worker, a neighbor, a friend and a brother. At the beginning of the 1992 war in Derventa, I, like many at that time, joined the ethnic group to which I belong – the Serbs, entered the Army of the Republic of Srpska as a young man,” says Spasoje, whose war journey lasted a few months, but enough to leave an indelible mark.

“I fought that spring and summer. In the battles near Derventa in the summer of 1992, I was seriously wounded. During those combat operations near Derventa, I stepped on an anti-personnel mine and as a result of that explosion, after treatment, my left lower leg was amputated,” says Spasoje for our “Scars” series.

According to him, from that moment on, his identities and life views began to change. The rehabilitation, which lasted for a year, also brought new challenges – how to return to normal life courses.

Spasoje Kulaga, former member of the RS Army

“I was in a position where I had to learn to walk again, because I couldn't function, I lost one lower extremity. It had to start again, that is, to function. I was learning how to bring myself a glass of water and a plate of soup when I took off that orthopedic aid I was given. You should have seen me later, when I got married and had a family of my own and children, I learned to take care of those children because I could never run after my child,” says Spasoje.

Some 100 kilometers away from Derventa, Mirko Tadić Zečević met the war as a minor in Brčko.

“The war itself, I won't say that it took me by surprise. We live close to Vukovar, which is about 80 kilometers from us, so I had been listening to detonations for a couple of months before that. I was 17 and a half years old. In addition to the fact that I was somehow aware that there would be a war, I did not realize that it was something so pernicious, so dangerous. I thought it would be quick, it would pass shortly if there were any conflicts. When the conflicts started in our country near Brcko and when I saw that the months were passing by, I saw that it was not at all harmless, that it was already going to extremes, that you could die every second, as well as your closest ones,” says Mirko.

Unlike Spasoja, Mirko's war journey lasted longer, but ended in an identical way. During night observation and reconnaissance, he entered a minefield.

“I came to the edge of a forest. I ran across the road, jumped over the canal and took about 7-8 steps, through some grass and hedges, which were already overgrown there, and at some point, I stepped on an anti-personnel landmine, the so-called pâté mine. She threw me maybe half a meter in the air, and I fell down to the ground. I was lucky that I didn't fall on the other landmine, which was nearby, a meter away,” says Mirko.

He adds that already at that moment, while he was on the stretcher, he told his war comrades that the war was over for him.

During that time, Asim Parlić, a former YNA officer who served in Priština before the war, was still on military duty in the vicinity of Zavidovići, and after the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina began, he returned to his home and joined the newly formed Army of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Unlike Spasoja and Mirko, Asim, fortunately, did not have a “close encounter with a mine”, but the war left lasting consequences on him as well.

“One grenade fell in front of me about 3 to 4 meters away, and the three couriers were about 5-6 meters away from me. She wounded three of them very badly, but all three survived. It's also interesting to me, since I'm a soldier and I know the picture of falling shells scattering, I was only thrown on my back by the detonation of that shell, so that none of the shrapnel, which was incomprehensible to me, caught me. And that moment remained etched in my memory,” says Asim.

However, another event caused him much more serious consequences.

“It happened to me in 1993, during the conflict with the HVO and the Army of Republic of Srpska, that after withdrawing from the position where I was in a place just above the city, I could not sleep for 4 days and 4 nights. So, the dream was absolutely eluding me and I sought professional help. It wasn't until I received the cocktail of injections that I fell asleep. A very difficult and traumatic experience, among other things, on the basis of that, I retired in 1997”, says Parlić.

Asim Parlić, former officer of the BiH Army

Today, 30 years later, Asim, together with Spasoja and Mirko, participates in the activities of the Association for the support of war veterans, families and victims of the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina “Real Fire”.

They mostly work with young people, veterans, women and other categories of the population who in some way are either victims or have consequences from the war.

Among other things, one of the activities are workshops with young people, where they talk about war experiences and horrors.

“Even today, we often remember those moments when we were burying our friends who died in the war, and their family and their children were looking at us at that moment. Those looks of those people when you carry their father, husband, son, to the grave and they know that they will never see him again, and you are someone who at that moment, perhaps, was lucky to survive and that at that moment you also carry that burden, some kind of guilt, because you are alive,” says Spasoje.

Through the work of the association and lectures, Spasoje, together with his colleagues, often points out that it is necessary to work on mistakes and correct them, so as not to enter into that kind of spiral again, which could again lead to any conflicts.

Mirko Tadić notes that we should work especially with young people, present them with positive things, with the message that conflict is out of the question.

Mirko Tadić Zečević, former member of the HVO

“I just hope that through those 3-4 years of war, we realized that we simply cannot go to that extreme anymore. I cannot force a person who is not a Catholic, a Croat or whatever, to leave me, because we are so mixed that it is an impossible mission, that we would have to create 15,000 small states within the scope of Bosnia and Herzegovina so that everyone can have their own peace, or some corner of his own, says Mirko for Gerila.

Asim Parlić thinks similarly, with the message that everyone suffered in the past war.

“If we look at those human losses, what people suffered in that war, that war really didn't bring anything good to anyone. The area that was agreed upon in Dayton, the Republic of Srpska, or the Federation, or the Brčko District, that's still the deal. The deal is Bosnia and Herzegovina, we live in this area and will continue to live in this area, we cannot fight against each other and only together can we build our future and a happier tomorrow”, notes Parlić.

According to him, relations need to be relaxed in this country and this is one of the key reasons why he works with war veterans because they are honest people, regardless of which formation or army they belong to.

The post SCARS: Three post-war pals first appeared on Gerila.info.

In the heart of Mostar, in front of the monument dedicated to children killed in the war, Marijofil Šarić evokes memories that do not fade even after 30 years. He says he still relives every detail of the tragedy from his childhood.

“I can't say that I remember it, because I live it every day,” admits Marijofil, remembering the day when a grenade took the lives of the children he was playing with.

The grenade did not choose, and the pain remains present in every corner of Mostar…

Ilija Kožulj, the initiator of the construction of the monument, did not lose anyone in the war or in that place, but he felt a deep need to leave some trace for future generations.

His engagement is not limited by national borders. “As a Croat, I am building a monument to the children who died, regardless of their nationality,” he emphasizes, stressing the importance of common memory in the fight for peace.

The artistic stamp of the monument was given by Dalibor Nikolić, whose mosaic interweaves memories and symbolism.

“Ceramics, mirrors, everyday objects… symbolize the moments when children played carefree”, says Nikolić and adds that his goal was to create a work that carries the dignity of memory, but also reminds of the fragility of life.

The special weight of the monument was added at the end by Marijofil Šarić. Even though he is in pain, he decided to lend a hand to whoever is responsible.

“If you ever meet whoever is responsible, tell them I forgave them on my behalf,” he says.

A similar story unfolds in Banja Luka, where people gather every year to honor 12 babies who lost their lives due to lack of oxygen during the war.

The monument to the babies has become a symbol of universal sadness and a reminder of the fragility of life.

“This baby was neither a Serb, nor a Croat, nor a Bosniak – she was just a baby,” says one of the interlocutors, stressing that the tragedies of war know no borders.

Through these stories, the monuments in Mostar and Banja Luka serve as a permanent reminder of suffering, but also of the importance of building a common future based on memory and hope. The memory of children and babies who died carries a universal message that tragedies must not be forgotten, but also that such memories can lead us towards reconciliation and lasting peace.

The post SCARS: Monuments to child victims of the war in Mostar and Banja Luka first appeared on Gerila.info.

Serijal, zajednički produciran od strane Hercegovina.info iz Mostara i Gerila.info iz Banja Luke, pokušao je da kroz sedam epizoda i svjedočenja običnih ljudi podsjeti na civilne žrtve rata, kao što su djeca i žene, i da upozori kako danas mnogi od onih koji su doživjeli i preživjeli strahote rata žive na marginama društva.

Promociji su prisustvovali i o svojim iskustvima i lekcijama za nove naraštaje govorili i trojica ratnih veterana, protagonisti jedne od epizoda.

Prisustvovali su takođe i drugi protagonisti serijala, kao i predstavnici udruženja žrtava rata te druge organizacije civilnog društva.

Serijal Ožiljci istražuje duboke i trajne posljedice rata u Bosni i Hercegovini, kako na individualnom tako i na društvenom nivou. Kroz različite epizode, serijal se fokusira na emotivne, društvene i političke “ožiljke” koji su ostali kod pojedinaca i zajednica i nakon završetka rata. Priče prikazuju živote ljudi koji se suočavaju s traumama, gubicima i izazovima reintegracije u društvo koje još uvijek nosi tragove sukoba.

Serijal takođe ispituje uticaj rata na međuljudske odnose, problem selektivnog pamćenja, kao i kontinuirano prisustvo nacionalističke retorike koja ometa proces pomirenja i suživota. Kroz svjedočenja i analize, Ožiljci nastoji osvijetliti kako prošlost i dalje oblikuje sadašnjost Bosne i Hercegovine, pokazujući kako društvo može napredovati samo uz iskreno suočavanje sa svojim traumama.

Gerila.info

The post U susret Dejtonu – Ožiljci kao opomena i lekcija za budućnost first appeared on Gerila.info.

Every year on September 14^th, the Prozor Rama village of Uzdol remembers the murdered residents. Years have passed, but memories haven’t faded, and deep scars are still visible.

Registrar Kazimir Zelenika lost three family members in one day – father, mother and eldest daughter Jadranka (b. 1981), but what hurts him the most is that the commanders and perpetrators of the massacre are walking free.

“I am Kazo Kazimir Zelenika. I was born in 1956 here in Uzdol. I am married, I have a wife, eleven living children, fifteen grandchildren. One of my children died, my oldest daughter Jadranka, who was born in 1981, she was 12 years old when she was killed. She was killed on September 14, 1993. My father Ivan, who was born in 1930, and my mother Ruža, born in 1931, were killed also with my daughter Jadranka. They were killed in my house.

My father and mother were killed in the room where they were sleeping. I guess the little one got up earlier, she ran out into the hallway and she was killed in the hallway of the house. And that's why I feel bad when the BiH Army says we defended Bosnia and Herzegovina. How did they defend Bosnia and Herzegovina and at the same time attack their own country? They attacked Uzdol, the population, old people, the infirm, grandmothers, grandfathers, children. And they say they defended that, they defended Bosnia and Herzegovina. Who did they defend against? This is my house, my country, my parish,” says Zelenika.

The rest of the family took refuge in Prozor, and if it hadn't been for that, there would have been many more victims. Little Jadranka returned to Uzdol on one weekend to be with her grandparents.

All dead

It was Kazimir who found murdered family members on his doorstep.

Registrar Kazimir Zelenika

“I came here with my cousin, my two cousins. When we entered the house, the little one was in the hallway, still showing signs of life, snoring, foaming. My father was dead, dropped lying on his stomach. His nose was bent as he was laying on his stomach. My mother was on the double bed, she was shot in the head. Her forehead was blown off, her whole hair, she had longer hair, she was wearing a scarf, a shawl. I guess she was hit with a burst fire, her brain flew up into the ceiling. We whitewashed that a dozen times, but it couldn't be covered. Some fat, I guess. When our sisters and children would come so they couldn’t see it. When we buried them, one bone remained. Later, when we disassembled the bed, one bone of the skull remained there, like a matchbox, five by five centimeters, a parietal bone stuck to the side of the bed. And that's how it was, everyone was dead…”, recalls Zelenika, who lives with his wife in the same house where his loved ones were killed.

Uzdol is a purely Croatian village that had about 500 inhabitants before the war. There they killed 41 people, 29 civilians, 12 soldiers. And no one was held accountable for that massacre. Sefer Halilović was accused as the leader of the Neretva operation, but he was acquitted.

“Then on September 14^th, they massacred us, set us on fire, and even tried to lie that we dragged civilians from central Bosnia, Busovača, Vitez, Travnik, ask God where from, but all of them were our locals, my best man, godfathers, my relatives, my friends. I know everyone by heart. Wake me up in the middle of the night, I'll open my eyes and say: It's Mijo, it's Ante, it's this one, it's that one, it's Franjo, it's Martin, I know everyone, godmothers Kate, Perkuša and everyone else…” states Zelenika.

Only those who were not at Uzdol on September 14^th survived the massacre at Uzdol.

“They knew where everyone lived. That's what they were attacking. There is a village here called Budim, no one was in three or four houses, they didn't even come there, they knew there was no one there. One hundred meters above me was my neighbor Zelić, little Marija, she was a year older than my Jadranka, her brother Stipo was a year younger than my Jadranka. He was born in 1982. They were running, poor things, with their mother Ruža down this road where you turned to get to my house. And that's when they turned to the road. Maria almost ran across the lower road that goes towards Here and then a burst of fire cut Maria down. Little Stipe started running away to my house, up here to me. He was wearing yellow shorts. He dropped his blue tracksuit, I guess he didn't even manage to get dressed while they were running away.

We found two or three automatic rifle magazines and two M57 grenades. That's what they dropped when they chased those kids. They met them down on the road and killed them there, and they killed their mother right up there. There's a monument down in that creek. You can see Ruža, Marija and Stjepan Zelić.

Down in Raiči there was one Ivka Raič, née Marić. She was immobile for about 10 years, we found her dead too. She couldn't go anywhere because she was immobile. There is a chair and a bed where she was sitting. She was sitting on that chair, her husband moved her to the chair so she could sit for a while, she got fed up laying down. Mijo was killed in front of the house, he had that hat on, he was lying in front of the door, killed. Ivka was sitting dead. And immobile for ten years, she couldn't go anywhere…

They killed those Raičs then, and here in Križ, they killed Martin, Franjo Stojanović, Ante Brko, my aunt down there, my father’s aunt actually, so we called her aunt too. She was Luca Zelenika, born in 1906, she was the oldest, and little Stjepan was the youngest…”, Zelenika continues listing.

After the massacre, the civilians were transferred to Prozor, and further to Split for autopsy.

“We immediately buried the soldiers in the Prozor cemetery in Prozor, 12 of them. We couldn't dig graves here, they were shooting. They immediately returned, while they killed them all, butchered them, as soon as our army arrived from Makljen, they ran away and left the corpses behind,” Zelenika recalls further.

The victims were buried in the Prozor cemetery. “Then there weren't enough concrete slabs, so we were cutting boards. It wasn't even a five-centimeter-wide board, but a 2.50 centimeter one, so we were cutting them with a chain saw, so that they could be placed and then covered with earth. They were there for ten years, then we transferred them here to Uzdol”.

His Jadranka would be 43 years old today. Her life was taken before she met her brothers and sisters.

No one was held accountable for the crime

Before the war, Kazimir, who was the registrar, knows best that Uzdol parish had about 1,700-1,800 Croats, a total of about 2,000 with Bosniaks.

“Now there are about 250-300 of us here. There used to be 700 students in the school. When I was born in 1956, 157 of us were born here in our local community of Uzdol, and several of them in Travnik. Most of the births were at home, but critical pregnancies were sent to Travnik. Now, not so many people are born in the whole municipality in the whole year. Currently, we have about fifteen students in the school,” says Kazimir. The locals are most hurt by the fact that no one was held accountable for the crime.

“What hurts me the most is that no one answered and no one will answer. Politics got involved, politics don’t want to have it solved and that's it. Unfortunately! All that was, all that was recorded and all that was done, but in vain. Don't touch us, we won’t touch you and that's it. Buza answered a little, then they put everything on Buza, so that he would be the sacrificial lamb. “Buza did not kill, we know who did,” he concludes.

The Archbishop of Vrhbosna, Cardinal Vinko Puljić, made the decision to declare this place of suffering a place of special reverence for the victims of war in 2016, a year that was also declared the year of divine mercy, and when this Parish celebrated its 160^th anniversary.

The post Scars on Uzdol: ‘What hurts me the most is that no one answered and no one will answer’ first appeared on Gerila.info.

U razgovoru sa povratnicima s područja Sanskog Mosta, Kotor Varoši, te Mostara, uprkos geografskim i etničkim razlikama, nekoliko je stvari uvijek slično. Povratak na svoje bio je borba prepuna izazova, no oni su je uspješno prevladali.

Iako su nekad hrvatska sela bila puna života, danas su u Kotor Varošu ostali uglavnom stariji povratnici.

Kotor Varoš

Mato Marić iz Vrbanjaca kod Kotor Varoši proveo je decenije radeći u Njemačkoj, a povratkom u rodno mjesto vlastitim je sredstvima obnovio kuću, koja je tokom rata bila uništena.

„Mladih nema. Ovo što nas živi, sve su penzioneri i starci. Možda neki koji su ostali, imaju možda devetero djece ukupno”, žali nam se Marić

Suživot sa komšijama opisuje kao pozitivan, ali ukazuje na problem nedostatka infrastrukture.

„Što se tiče življenja sa komšijama, nikakvih problema nema, svi smo u dobrim odnosima. Jedino je infrastruktura malo veći problem. Meni je, naprimjer, asfalt pred kućom, ali drugi ne mogu doći svojim kućama. Povratak Hrvata je jako težak jer ta hrvatska sela nemaju puteve, ne održavaju se, i teško se obnavljaju. Prije rata je u Kotor Varošu bilo preko 11.000 Hrvata, a sad nas je 180. To znači da broj govori koliki je povratak Hrvata u Kotor Varoš.”

Da stvari nisu idealne pokazuje i problem s kojim se suočavaju povratnici posljednjih godina. Ilegalna sječa šume koju nadležni ne mogu ili ne žele spriječiti.

„Privatna dobra se uništavaju bez ičijeg znanja, putevi se uništavaju, šumarija i privatnici koji imaju pilane uništavaju. Mi popravimo puteve svojim privatnim sredstvima, a za mjesec dana ih unište. Ako se postavi rampa, komunalna policija dođe i odsiječe je da mogu dalje sjeći šumu i raditi.”

Sličnu priču priča i Zlatko Bujdo, koji boravi između Švajcarske i sela Podbrđe u opštini Kotor Varoš. On je takođe obnovio imanje bez ikakve pomoći. Uprkos trudu, suočava se s nebrigom institucija, što doprinosi osjećaju da su povratnici prepušteni sami sebi. Njegov dom okružen je posječenim šumama i slabo održavanom infrastrukturom.

„Ovdje imam svoje imanje, kuću sam obnovio samostalno, od nikoga ništa nisam dobio. Sve je samostalno finansirano. Imam posjed, malo šume, malo livada. Što možemo, sami radimo. Prije dvije godine mi je šuma isječena. Zvali smo komisiju, policiju, šumara, nadležne organe, ali od toga ništa. Do danas ni zapisnik nisam dobio. Nemamo više povjerenja ni u institucije, mi smo odbačeni“, ogorčeno komentariše.

„Kad je rat počeo, moji su se prisilno iselili, a ja sam bio vani. Imao sam nekretnine, traktor je nestao, oružje je oduzeto, niko ništa nije vratio. Raspitivao sam se, ali ništa. Prije deset godina, ukraden mi je auto iz garaže, ali niko ništa. Nisu me fizički zlostavljali, osim jedne prijetnje kad su me presreli zbog šume, pitali su me što tamo radim i rekli da se pazim. Podbrđe je prije rata bilo 98 posto katoličko. Sad je mješovito, pravoslavno stanovništvo preteže. Nas povratnika ima malo, vikende i praznike provodimo ovdje, ali malo nas je koji živimo duže. Stalno nam se za svako glasanje obećava pomoć za puteve, dovod vode, ali nakon glasanja sve bude zaboravljeno. Šume su isječene, izvori presušuju, i ako ovako nastavi, za deset godina nestaće vode. Ono što su nama isjekli, u redu, ali što je sa zaštitom prirode i životinja? Niko ne preduzima ništa. Medvjedi dolaze, srne su nestale, nema pet srna da ih nabrojimo. Nelegalno je isječeno oko 300 hektara šume, bliže meni, a dalje još više. Oko 85 posto šume je isječeno, masakrirana je”, govori on dok nam pokazuje isječenu šumu.

Sanski Most

Vojislav Kondić, koji se u selo Podovi vratio iz Slovenije, obnavlja imovinu i brine o očuvanju sjećanja na oca, poginulog tokom rata. Premda povratnici poput njega pokušavaju obnoviti zajednicu, institucije su pokazale malo interesa za podršku. Kondić sa komšijama održava dobre odnose i napominje kako su obični ljudi uvijek tražili saradnju, bez obzira na prošle sukobe.

„Otac nam je ovdje poginuo, ubijen je 1995. godine. Sahranjen je u susjednom selu jer se ovdje nije moglo, živio je ovdje sam. Niko od nas četvorice braće nije bio prisutan, najstariji brat je bio u Njemačkoj, ja u Velenju, treći brat u Beogradu, a četvrti u Ljubljani. Donio sam odluku 2002. godine da se vratim ovdje, preselio sam oca iz groblja Kozice. Vozili smo ga u Banju Luku gdje je utvrđen uzrok smrti i onda je premješten u naše groblje.”

Mitar Popović, koji se u Podove  takođe vratio iz Slovenije, govori o neprocesuiranom ratnom zločinu koji je pogodio njegovu porodicu, ali zahvalan je na donaciji Republike Srpske za obnovu kuće. Premda su povratnici manjina, ističe da žive bez ikakvih problema u zajednici.

„Moja majka je poginula ovdje, kao i dvojica, odnosno trojica stričeva, te jedna rođaka iz susjednog sela. Ukupno pet ih je ubijeno ovdje. To se dogodilo 21. septembra 1995. godine. Niko nije procesuiran za taj zločin. Dali smo izjave, nas troje odavde, ali ništa se nije pokrenulo. Ne znam je li postupak ikada započet, ali nema saznanja ko je to napravio.”

Mostar

Enes Rahimić, bivši rukometaš i privatni preduzetnik, od povratka iz Švajcarske gradi život u Gubavici kraj Mostara.

U kršu je izgradio imanje koje je najprije trebalo služiti samo njemu i članovima porodice, no s vremenom je prenamijenio imanje i za turizam.

„Ova kuća je prvobitno bila namijenjena za mene i moju braću, kao porodična kuća i mjesto za okupljanje prijatelja. Međutim, sve je otišlo u drugom pravcu i objekat se proširio, pa se sada od toga može i zarađivati. Ako je to dobar vid povratka na svoje, onda sam uspio u tome. Proveo sam šest i po godina u Švajcarskoj, i to mi je pomoglo kada sam započeo ovu realizaciju. To je država u kojoj se poštuje zakon, sve je regulisano, od najmanjih do najvećih stvari”, primjećuje on i upoređuje stanje u toj zemlji s onim što je zatekao u BiH.

Iako je ostvario finansijsku stabilnost, suočava se s problemima poput loših puteva, izgradnje solarnih elektrana u blizini imanja i čestih nestanaka vode.

„Ljudi su se masovno vratili jer je ovo prigradsko naselje van Mostara, blizu svega. Međutim, povratnici su dobili domove i kuće, ali znamo svi da se od kuće ne može živjeti. Put je strašno loš, vodovod ne funkcioniše kako treba. Ova godina je bila teška, bilo je perioda kada smo 15 dana bili bez vode, a u Hercegovini, kada je temperatura preko 40 stepeni, to je veliki problem. Imao sam ogromne štete. Što se solara tiče, kao čovjek nemam moralno pravo nikome zabraniti da pravi solare, ali mogu tražiti od investitora da, ako već to rade u mom kraju, rade po zakonu. Ako već mora biti solar, daj da napravimo dogovor, da se postave dva ili tri, i da se s tim zaustavi. Mora se ostaviti životni prostor za ovaj narod jer ja ne mislim ići nigdje. Došao sam ovdje, želim ovdje živjeti, raditi i umrijeti”, poručuje Rahimić investitorima.

Enes izražava želju da privuče porodicu i mlade iz dijaspore, pozivajući političare da prepoznaju važnost iseljeništva za budućnost BiH.

„Moja najveća želja je da moja braća budu sa mnom. Tada sam najsretniji. Kad su braća tu, onda će i djeca imati želju da se vrate. Ovo je prilika da pošaljemo poruku političarima – dijaspora je važna. Naši ljudi su obrazovani, imaju dobre poslove i zarade. Privucite ih, sredite zakonske osnove i pustite omladinu da se vrati. Imamo sve što nam treba da BiH postane druga Švajcarska u Evropi.”

The post Ožiljci: Povratničke priče first appeared on Gerila.info.

Hercegovina.info in cooperation with gerila.info brings a new story to raise awareness of the current situation of those who lost the most valuable thing they could lose in the last war. Our interlocutors are parents who lost their minor children in the most painful ways, and even thirty years after the suffering, they are having a hard time coping with the loss or in some cases, they don't even know where their children's bodies are.

“I was there at all my neighbors and I am convinced that every single one of them knows where the bodies are. They may not be able to show a square meter, but they can show a plot of 10 dunams (11,000 sq ft). Let them show me and I will dig up all 10 dunams”, Fikret Bačić told perhaps the cruelest fact of this series, because even after several decades he does not know where the bones of his wife and two children are.

“Shoot me”

“The worst was the day of my daughter's funeral. There was so much shelling, we stopped in the cemetery and I dispersed all the people so that no one would die. I stopped, raised my hands and knew they could see me; those were all my neighbors. If they're going to kill me, let them kill me, but let me bury my child,” Behram Skalonja from Konjic recalled the sad event 30 years ago.

The first civilian/child victim of the war was a boy of Croatian nationality, Aleksandar Macipura, who lost his life as a result of a mortar shell. He and two children hid behind a building, but even there he was not safe. The last victim of the war is Aida Jusufović, the daughter of our interlocutor Irfan. She was wounded on September 28^th, 1995, and after 40 days, she succumbed to her injuries in the General Hospital in Konjic.

When the school bell stopped ringing in Konjic in 1992, it signalized an unhappy childhood for many children. Unfortunately, in addition to the cessation of children's shouting and games in the city on the Neretva, many young hearts that have not yet set foot in life also stopped beating. In Konjic alone, 16 children died, whose names are on the monument.

“She and her mother were on a workers’ bus returning from the vicinity of Konjic, and they wanted to avoid the shelling of the city. After the bus entered the street where we lived, a shell hit the building above the bus and all the shrapnel returned to the bus, which fell into the Trešanica river. My wife was wounded, but slightly. She saw that the late Aida was wounded and immobile, the driver as well. Wading upstream of the Trešanica river, his wife called for help. At that moment, people who lived nearby appeared and searched for help, and they were taken to the hospital. Doctors fought for Aida's life for 40 days,” says Irfan Jusufović in the documentary, who points out that little Aida was only 11.5 years old at the time.

Premature death

“Before dawn, around 3:30, she lost her fight for life. I came up there every morning in front of the hospital asking for information about how she spent the night, but that morning no one came out because they knew I was sitting outside. A friend passed by and asked me how Aida was doing, I said that I didn't know because no one came out to tell me how it’s been, as the custom was for all those 40 days. She entered the hospital, called a doctor on duty in the hall and said “Irfan, sit on that bench” and gave me her earrings. She died at half past three. My wife asked me how Aida is, I said she's gone”, he returned with a sad memory to the last days of Aida's life.

The most difficult category among war victims

“Those people are unnoticed all the time, we see that through the rights they have. Those who lost their children as soldiers have some appreciation. It's not like in the system where there were families of warriors, but they have some status, some respect, some privileges to go through the line at the counter, some disability benefits. These people, as parents of child civilian victims, have nothing, they have no resolved status rights and are invisible. In the public space, they rarely get the opportunity to be in the media, they are not organized into groups, they do not have associations like there are veterans’ associations that are financed by the government. They can rarely do something,” said Edin Ramulić, a journalist and human rights activist and one of the main initiators of the initiative ‘Because it concerns me’ and the celebration of the Day of White Ribbons in Prijedor.

She went to feed the kitty

“It was February 7^th, 1994, I was stuck in Zenica for two months before that and I wasn't there for the whole of January and February, I came the day before the tragedy. My neighbors told me that a grenade fell, my daughter came in to feed the kitty, the grenade fell on the first floor. She went to the hospital and died within three hours. It's hard to say what that means, I'm not the only one because there are a lot worse cases than me, but life is like that”, says Behram Skalonja about the moment of his daughter's death, who also died in Konjic.

The Army of the Republic of Srpska came to the village of Zecovi near Prijedor for the first time on July 23^rd, 1992 and took away all the adult men. 150 Bosniak civilians were killed, and torture, sexual abuse and other inhuman acts were committed against the civilians of this Prijedor village. The trial for these crimes began in 2015 and had its epilogue in 2023. In the Court of Bosnia and Herzegovina, the first-instance verdict was pronounced against eleven accused former members of the Republic of Srpska army. Five defendants were sentenced to 59 years in prison for crimes against humanity.

Most of the Prosecution's witnesses spoke about the murder of 32 women and children in the hamlet of Gradina, after which the bodies were moved to a mass grave and still have not been found. One of those who lost their loved ones on that fateful July 25^th, 1992, was Fikret Bačić, whose wife and two children, a 12-year-old son and a six-year-old daughter, were taken away that day.

“The murder took place on July 7^th, 1992, and I only found out about it at the beginning of September, because the telephone connections were cut. I used to be on the phone until 1 after midnight or 2 because I heard that someone from Zecovi and Čarakovo came out who knows me and my family, so I got the phone number. But no one would tell me. A total of 15 children and 14 women were killed, three children survived. 32 of them were taken out to be shot, all women and children…”, Bačić tells us.

Unlike Prijedor, in Konjic, a monument to children killed in the war was still erected. It has 16 names engraved on it, and is located near Second Elementary School.

“If we were to talk about what happened in Konjic, then we cannot erase the date of April 20^th, when the school bell stopped ringing from this school. This is the symbolism and this monument to the civilian victims of the war near the second elementary school. The monument does not bear any national sign and on it are the names of children of all three nationalities, i.e., when it comes to children – there is only one nationality because children are innocent and not guilty of anything. If anyone is to blame for war conflicts, then it is us old people – each in his own way,” said Irfan Jusufović, today a member of the Association of Civilian Victims of War from the Konjic municipality.

“When the Assembly of Civilian Victims of War from Konjic made the decision to build a monument on my initiative, money started to be collected. After the war, no one had cash. I came to my friend's construction company and he told me to ask for material, not money. That's how it was, we made that monument so that future and current generations know how many children died in Konjic”, added Behram Skalonja.

Citizens submitted signatures for the construction of a monument to the murdered children of Prijedor to the Assembly in November 2014. Ten years later, the local authorities still refuse to face what happened in 1992. The bodies of a large part of the Prijedor victims have never been found. It is a secret that many have taken with them to the grave.

“No one paid attention to us victims, from the local community to the state. We are discriminated against and discrimination is being carried out more and more against the victims. From 2013 until today, we have not received a single letter from the city authorities, and I wrote 236 pages, asked, urged and all kinds of things… For us, the families, surviving members, it would be a satisfaction for them to have their own grave, to be able to go to the grave, to be able to pray there, to honor them like this monument to the murdered children of the city of Prijedor does”, emphasized Fikret Bačić, to whom the war took three of the dearest people in his life, and he added that he would ask the neighbors who will watch him that they can give him information in different ways about the bodies of his wife and children. “They may not know an exact square foot, but they know a plot or a field. They can do it in different ways so that it will never be known that they said it, and even if they say it to my face, no one will know that so and so said that to me”, he concluded.

Edin Ramulić, an activist for human rights, believes that the process is important for all monuments, and that most often the monument becomes part of an environment, and later the story about the victims subsides for a while and stops. He also believes that the monument should remain for generations to come as a sign that we want to leave a memory of the murdered children, but also that the state of our monuments is such that we should all be ashamed of the message we are leaving through these monuments to future generations.

The post THE MOST PAINFUL VICTIMS OF WAR – CHILDREN: “The doctor told me to sit down and gave me her earrings…” first appeared on Gerila.info.

“I can't deal with this pain alone because I was a witness of it all. Furthermore, my parents were left humiliated dead. Because of all that injustice and pain, I have decided to write this and send it to someone who really cares about human tragedies and destinies. I didn't ask anyone for decorations or anyone's pity”.

This is how Š.Č, from the vicinity of Nevesinje, begins her story (name known to the editorial office), who was arrested in 1992 together with her family members and taken to one of the war camps in BiH, which was under the control of the Serbian side in the previous war.

She spent almost four years in war camps, and after the signing of the Dayton Agreement, she was released, after which she found out that she was the only survivor from her whole family.

After her release, she initiated lawsuits and court proceedings to exercise her rights, and sought justice for the murdered family members, however, as she says, it is still not possible to get justice.

“I was just looking for some justice for my parents. No amount of money in the world can compensate my family and everything I've been through. Since I could not find justice in court, I decided to put my story on paper. I am writing this with the hope that dear God will help me again, that it will fall into the right hands. If I manage to do that, it will be enough for me to know that maybe someone will read this someday”, she says while reading a letter (diary) in front of journalists about the circumstances of imprisonment and stay in the war camps.

In the aforementioned letter, she states that she was a victim of wartime torture and was beaten several times.

“They started taking them out one by one. After my brother, they took me out. Since it was night, I could only see their shadows. They took me to a room, they started throwing me away from each other cursing and insulting me. Then they were throwing me to the floor. I just cried and begged them to leave me alone and that I didn't do anything wrong to anyone. I felt so miserable, powerless and desperate as if I had fallen among wild beasts that have no mercy for their victims. They just laughed and threw me from one to the other as if I were a soccer ball and not a living being,” notes Š.Č, who was 22 years old at the time.

She mentions that she would never wish the pain and fate she had to anyone, because she lost everything she had in her life, and above all her family, and that her youth and girlish dreams passed away in the war camp.

“When people ask me which detail from the war is the most difficult for me, I don't know what to answer. Every detail of my life is very difficult. Having death thoughts, and you have just begun to live your life. The thought of your life turning upside down in one moment. You become powerless in your pain,” Š.Č. adds.

According to research by the Center for Democracy and Transitional Justice, there were more than 950 war camps and prisoner facilities in Bosnia and Herzegovina during the last war (in the period of 1992-1995).

According to the estimates of various international organizations, more than 200,000 people who survived wartime torture passed through those camps, and it is stated that a large number of prisoners, as many as 25,000, were victims of sexual abuse in the war camps.

Women who are victims of wartime torture continue to face great trauma, and only a few are willing to share their story publicly.

During the research on women victims of war, the research teams of the Gerila.info and Hercegovina.info portals contacted a large number of Associations that gather this population, as well as some of the individual victims, however, they refused to discuss this topic.

“When the war ended, it was somehow easier to talk about it because the circumstances were different. People were full of enthusiasm to return, to restore their houses and to somehow start to normalize their lives, but then, as time passed, those things started to change drastically and it started to be much more difficult to talk about it,” says Emsuda Mujagić from Kozarac, president of the “THROUGH HEART TO PEACE” (“SRCEM DO MIRA”) Women's Association.

Through its activities, the association “Through Heart to Peace” from Kozarac gathered a large number of women from that region who went through the horrors of the war camps.

“All and one went through. There are maybe two or three women that didn't happen to be there, and all of them went mostly through the Trnopolje, Omarska, Keraterm camps,” adds Mujagić, who says that in the public is the institutional ignoring of the victims, and the systematic suppression of facts about the past war, and that political representatives are repeatedly generating a crisis as was seen in the early 90s of the last century.

Deep political division has led to the fact that there is still no precise and official data on the number of victims or war crimes from the past war, as psychologists state, noting that in such an atmosphere, society did not even deal with the issue of victims and PTSD, as a consequence of war camp imprisonment.

“We don't have data that has been verified and accepted within the whole society, for example, about the number of dead, not to mention wounded, victimized, raped. This shows how much the system is oriented towards the state, entities, politicians, and how important the victims actually are,” says psychologist Srđan Puhalo.

As he said, constant political tensions have contributed to the fact that there is no desire among ethnic groups in BiH to face the past, and therefore, we do not want and cannot understand what not only our victims went through, but others as well.

“I even think that the victims understand each other the best and that there is the least amount of hatred and strong words,” adds Puhalo.

A large number of victims of war torture have still not managed to regulate their rights, and in the Republic of Srpska, the deadline for reporting lasted five years. The experiences of other countries warn that victims must be given more time to be encouraged, especially when it comes to former camp prisoners, but also victims of sexual violence., it was stated recently during the promotion of the Analysis of the Law on Protection of Victims of War Torture.

“People should be given the opportunity to be able to report the terrible things that happened to them tomorrow and the day after tomorrow and in 10 years and get reparation and social recognition. Sometimes recognition that you were a victim is a kind of satisfaction, and for those who do not realize those monetary rights, but only have the status of having suffered, being a victim, is sometimes a satisfaction,” says journalist and researcher Radenko Udovičić, who is also one of the authors of the aforementioned Analysis.

Only a small number of people received the status of victims of war torture under the aforementioned law.

We received an information that 301 victims have achieved status by the law. 211 of those are women and 90 are men. 202 victims have registered rights based on which payments are being made. That’s 157 women and 45 men. We could not get the information from the Ministry on how many applications were submitted in total, so that we could count how many were rejected, says Gorica Ivić, executive director of the “Associated Women” (“Udružene žene”) Foundation from Banja Luka.

Besides, according to international practice, which has been pointed out several times by UN bodies and reporters, the five-year limit should not be in the law, it is also stated in the aforementioned analysis.

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