ON THE CURSED BOSNIAN LAND (4)

TUZLA

AIM, SARAJEVO, July 13, 1994

Only one journey to Tuzla is enough for you to see why the local population speaks with such respect of their drivers who have, for two war years now, despite all obstacles, been linking this surrounded region with the remaining part of Bosnia and Herzegovina. For, the macadam road which starts right outside Vares leads through the beautiful but wild landscape of the Zvijezda and Konjuh mountains, the slopes and canyons of which are a test even for real professionals. The numerous convoys travelling along this section have practically ploughed over the road so that even a light rain turns it into such a mud-pit that any advance is almost impossible.

I saw that for myself a few days ago when it suddenly got cold and when due to an unexpected summer shower several cisterns with fuel remained hanging over the edge of an abyss on Mt.Zvijezda. I tried to imagine how it must be in winter when the region is covered with snow.

Apart from a few burned down houses on the outskirts of Vares and the multitude of Bosnian soldiers who, mostly idle, hang around the control points, nothing indicates that you are passing through a war zone. Still, the proximity of Serbian positions is at places at rifle range so that UNPROFOR at times provides escort on the most critical section, leading the convoys through between their transporters.

Several kilometers before Kladanj, at the edge of the road two youngsters hiking. In uniform, with an empty stare, wearily leaning back in the seat. - Where are you from? - We are both refugees from Zvornik. We are on our way back from the battlefield, friend... We are dropping off from fatigue. - What is the situation like here, is there any fighting? - No. Only there, in front of us, on one section they sometimes shell the road...There, in front of Stupari.

While they were explaining the exact place to me,we had already reached the asphalt part of the road. Several kilometers before Stupari, hairpin curves with camouflage nets along the edges so that vehicles cannot be spotted from the surrounding slopes. - They are shelling from Pelenis, see that highest elevation there ...some five hundred meters from here. Only, our men have recently pushed them well back so that now, although they have recaptured their positions they do not dare take out any heavier artillery.

I stop at Zivinice and find some old, pre-war acquaintances: Cvijeta, Zeljko, Enes, Mira, Viktor...They are having their afternoon coffee on the porch of one of the houses. We have not seen each other for more than two years.

• How did you get through this war? - To tell you the truth, during this whole war maybe five or six shells fell on Zivinice. We had water all the time, electricity most of the time and flour was the only problem. A kilo used to cost as much as DM 30. - What about the inter-ethnic relations? - Mostly good. True, there are more and more girls in the town wearing scarfs on their heads due to the strong propaganda from the mosques that every Moslem must live in accordance with his faith. There are constant provocations on that account, but it is still tolerable. - There are problems with the drafting and calls to the B&H Army. The moment they serve a draft call on a Croat he disappears that same night and several days later writes from somewhere in Croatia.

There are practically no Serbs here. - The few that are left have mostly registered on lists for exchange. Consequently, they are occasionally exchanged for Moslems from Bijeljina. A novelty has been introduced- now they can first send documentation on ownership of a house and when they find someone from the other side who wants to come over here, they simply exchange houses. It is painful, but still better to go to someone's house by agreement that to move in as a miserable refugee. - See, I wouldn't go anywhere from here, no one bothers me or forces me to go. But, for two years now I have not heard from or seen my family. I cannot stand this isolation any longer and being separated from the others. Every day is like the previous one, the children have finished school, there is no work, no prospects.

Sorrow gnaws at these people. They tell me what I have seen for myself long ago: it is not the shells that are the worst in this war, but life which has been turned upside down. Everything is just one huge humuliation, the basic aim is to survive from one day to the next, find enough food and firewood. There are no phone calls, no letters, no travelling. Life stripped to the bone.

Some time later I go to visit Dubrave Airport, a few kilometers from Zivinice. There is a fence around the building, the "blue helmets" at their positions, but the planes with humanitarian relief are nowhere in sight. The airport is still within range of the Serbian artillery so that no one dares decide on its opening.

The next day I start for Tuzla. By road over Husino I come to the entrance of the city. On the side, huge chimneys of the HAK - the industrial complex which manufactures chemicals and some plants are still partly engaged in production. People say that only a few shells fell near this facility, since not even the Serbs dared aim at this part fearing that the chemicals could spread all over the region.

To my great surprise I find Tuzla almost intact. Only by careful observation can the scars of deadly missiles on asphalt be seen, here and there. Later, I heard that someone had calculated that some three thousand grenades had fallen on the urban part of Tuzla during the entire war. As many as on Sarajevo in only one day. The fighting has mostly moved to the slopes of Mt.Majevica, ten kilometers outside the city. I drive to the eastern part, to the modern settlement Senjak.

It was there, they say, that everything started on May 15, in the now distant 1992: a YPA convoy which was leaving town in agreement with the authorities of Tuzla was attacked. It was later called the "column of death". Now, corn is growing on the grass beside the road along which the mentioned YPA column moved. A common scene of ingenuity and survival, so characteristic of the surrounded cities in Bosnia.

In the UNHCR headquarters there they tell me that there are about six hundred thousand inhabitants in the region of Tuzla. The city itself is, they say, excellently supplied , because humanitarian organizations largely came to Tuzla. That was a matter of prestige. The situation is critical in the outlying villages. They say that ten shells hit the city the day before last. - We were scared, because they fell after almost two peaceful months. They hit the very centre of the city, but fortunately there were no victims. - How did that happen, all of a sudden? It's hard to say. According to some information, it seems that the B&H Army shot at Lopare, a place under Serb control, about thirty kilometers to the north of the city, towards Brcko. It seems that retaliation is in question.

I decide to pay a visit to Simin Han , an outlying settlement towards Pozarnica and Bijeljina . On the exit from it, ramps and military police asking for special permits to pass. Actually, the tiny village of Pozarnica, which was mainly populated by Serbs, and which was burned down at the beginning of the war, marks the beginning of the dangerous zone. - There is nothing to see there anyway - one of them tries to dissuade me from going.

In Simin Han I find only Voja, the only villager among the many I used to know. He says that all the others had left. He has three brothers, their houses are beside his. - They burned down the house of my eldest brother because he was a reserve officer. My other brother fled to Vojvodina, and the youngest asked for asylum in Germany, as a refugee. Now refugees have moved into their houses. I know that trouble made them come here. They did not leave their homes voluntarily. But, I do not feel well either, when they look at me with reproach, as if I were guilty for having stayed.

While we were talking the well known whistle of a howitzer missile pierced the air. A hollow detonation was heard, from somewhere behind the hills. - It's like that all the time. They just fly over us. The frontline is near, and we are somehow in-between.

How much longer will the language of weapons echo through Bosnia? On the radio I listen to a heated debate on whether the plan of the contact group on the division of the country should be accepted or not. I know that there is no just solution any more.The chance for that has been lost long ago.

I set out towards Sarajevo by the same rugged roads over Mt. Zvijezda.

GORAN TODOROVIC