The besieged city of Sarajevo

The hatred and hostility finally boiled over. The Serbs moved over the mountains and besieged Sarajevo.

The war stories maybe have been reiterated countless of times ;the pains and sufferings ,nevertheless, remained fresh everytime. Especially for someone like me who faced the people for the first time. They told what happened to their parents and grandparents. Immediately my heart went to the people of Gaza who are suffering as we speak.

The people suffered alone and wondering why the world went silent. But they fought with what little they had. I read about the war and watched the horrific scenes shown on TV but Sarajevo seemed so far away and we were made to believe everything would be alright. Sadly, it didn’t and we left them suffered to death in the cold. The stories, even after three decades, would still make the tears rolled down the cheeks. Just could not imagine of what happened to them during the moments and time of the war itself. Utterly devastating.

But they defended their homes and their lands until the last drop of their blood. War can never be a good thing but in the end it defines the  land and the people who live in it. My thoughts went to my homeland and how we are vulnerable to the conflicts. Just like them, we live  harmoniously one day and might start to kill each other the next day. We need to prepare our future generations to fight for their rights and face whatever consequences that prevail.

The tunel spasa stood to witness the atrocities of the war.It was built all day and night to move people and supplies in and out of Sarajevo. It was built under a house of an old lady in a village next to the airport. Nowadays the old granny has gone but the tunnel remained to tell the stories. I just could not sit and watched the videos ; too painful just to understand the complexity of their society that led them into the bloodied war. The narration of the war itself crippled the essence of humanity. 

I scooted away to let the crowds have their chance to listen what the tour guide was saying. In the mean time, the photographs caught my attention. I browsed them one after another as if the images were trying to tell me their stories as well. Strangely, in not so many words the sufferings were relayed with the art of photography.

This trip has opened up my mind and deepened my understanding of the conflicts in Bosnia. Also, a proof that Islam exists here and there are people pray to Allah and praise Rasulullah saw. Alhamdulillah. Somehow I was proud to relate with them as a Muslim and had the opportunity to join the Friday prayers. Standing shoulders to shoulders with them to prostrate before Allah in a complete submission.They also seemed to have recovered from the war although the emotional scars will remain for generations.

Finally, as we drove to the airport on our final leg of the trip, the sun was bright to paint a beautiful September afternoon. The thick forest and winding roads made me realise that we are living on the same planet. We need the same thing and breathe the same air. Only greed and stupidity made us less human. I may not return to feel the air here again but now I know somewhere in between the trees someone would get up early in the morning to pray and praise Allah.

I saw what I came to see and glad to have this opportunity. Some kind of closure sank into my heart mainly due to inability to help my fellow muslim. But now I know they are alright.

Goodbye Bosnia!