[For Secondary LESSON PLAN: War Diaries]
from Zlata's Diary: A Child's Life in Sarajevo
Monday, September 2, 1991
Behind me-a long, hot summer and the happy days of summer holidays;
ahead of me-a new school year. I'm starting fifth grade. I'm looking
forward to seeing my friends at school, to being together again. Some
of them I haven't seen since the day the school bell rang, marking
the end of term. I'm glad we'll be together again, and share all the
worries and joys of going to school.
Mirna, Bojana, Marijana, Ivana, Masa, Azra, Minela, Nadza-we're all
together again.
Saturday, October 19, 1991
Yesterday was a really awful day. We were ready to go to Jahorina
(the most beautiful mountain in the world) for the weekend. But when
I got home from school, I found my mother in tears and my father in
uniform. I had a lump in my throat when Daddy said he had been called
up by the police reserve. I hugged him, crying, and started begging
him not to go, to stay at home. He said he had to go. Daddy went,
and Mommy and I were left alone. Mommy cried and phoned friends and
relatives.
Tuesday, November 12, 1991
The situation in Dubrovnik is getting worse and worse. We managed
to learn through the ham radio that Srdjan is alive and that he and
his parents are all right. The pictures on TV are awful. People are
starving. We're wondering about how to send a package to Srdjan. It
can be done somehow through Caritas. Daddy is still going to the reserves,
he comes home tired. When will it stop? Daddy says maybe next week.
Thank God.
Thursday, March 5, 1992
Oh, God! Things are heating up in Sarajevo. On Sunday (March 1),
a small group of armed civilians (as they say on TV) killed a Serbian
wedding guest and wounded the priest. On March 2 (Monday) the whole
city was full of barricades. There were "1,000" barricades.
We didn't even have bread. At 6:00 people got fed up and went out
into the streets. The procession set out from the cathedral. It went
past the parliament building and made its way through the entire city.
Several people were wounded at the Marshal Tito army barracks. People
sang and cried "Bosnia, Bosnia," "Sarajevo, Sarajevo,"
"We'll live together" and "Come outside." Zdravki
Grebo (President of the Soros Foundation in Sarajevo and editor-in-chief
of ZID, the independent radio station) said on the radio that history
was in the making.
Monday, March 30, 1992
Hey, Diary! You know what I think? Since Anne Frank called her diary
Kitty, maybe I could give you a name too. What about:
ASFALTINA PIDZAMETA
SEFIKA HIKMETA
SEVALA MIMMY
Or something else???
I'm thinking, thinking. . .
I've decided! I'm going to call you
MIMMY
All right, then, let's start.
Dear Mimmy,
It's almost half-term. We're all studying for our tests. Tomorrow
we're supposed to go to a classical music concert at the Skenderija
Hall. Our teacher says we shouldn't go because there will be 10,000
people, pardon me, children, there, and somebody might take us as
hostages or plant a bomb in the concert hall. Mommy says I shouldn't
go. So I won't.
Monday, April 6, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Yesterday the people in front of the parliament tried peacefully to
cross the Vrbanja bridge. But they were shot at. Who? How? Why? A
girl, a medical student from Dubrovnik, was KILLED. Her blood spilled
onto the bridge. In her final moments all she said was: "Is this
Sarajevo?" HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE, HORRIBLE!. . .
Since yesterday people have been inside the B-H parliament. Some
of them are standing outside, in front of it. We've moved my television
set into the living room, so I watch Channel I on one TV and "Good
Vibrations" on the other: Now they're shooting from the Holiday
Inn, killing people in front of the parliament. And Bokica is there
with Vanja and Andrej. Oh, God!
Maybe we'll go to the cellar. You, Mimmy, will go with me, of course.
I'm desperate.
WHEW! It was tough. Oh God! They're shooting again!!!
Zlata
Thursday, April 9, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I'm not going to school. All the schools in Sarajevo are closed. There's
danger hiding in these hills above Sarajevo. But I think things are
slowly calming down. The heavy shelling and explosions have stopped.
There's occasional gunfire, but it quickly falls silent. Mommy and
Daddy aren't going to work. They're buying food in huge quantities.
Just in case, I guess. God forbid!
Zlata
Saturday, May 2, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
Today was truly, absolutely the worst day ever in Sarajevo. The shooting
started around noon. Mommy and I moved into the hall. Daddy was in
his office, under our apartment, at the time. We told him on the intercom
to run quickly to the downstairs lobby where we'd meet him. . . The
gunfire was getting worse, and we couldn't get over the wall to the
Bobars', so we ran down to our own cellar.
The cellar is ugly, dark, smelly. Mommy, who's terrified of mice,
had two fears to cope with. The three of us were in the same corner
as the other day. We listened to the pounding sheels, the shooting,
the thundering noise overhead. We even heard planes. At one moment
I realized that this awful cellar was the only place that could save
our lives. Suddenly, it started tolook almost warm and nice.
When the shooting died down a bit, Daddy ran over to our apartment
and brought us back some sandwiches. He said he could smell something
burning and that the phones weren't working. He brought our TV set
down to the cellar. That's when we learned that the main post office
was on fire and that they had kidnapped our President.
Thursday, May, 7, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
I was almost positive the war would stop, but today. . .a shell fell
on the park in front of my house, the park where I used to play and
sit with my girlfriends. A lot of people were hurt. Dado, Jaca and
her mother have come home from the hospital, Selma lost a kidney but
I don't know how she is, because she's still in the hospital. AND
NINA IS DEAD. A piece of shrapnel lodged in her brain and she died.
She was such a sweet, nice, little girl. We went to kindergarten together,
and we used to play together in the park. It is possible I'll never
see Nina again? Nina, an innocent eleven-year-old little girl-the
victim of a stupid war. I feel sad. I cry and wonder why? She didn't
do anything. A disgusting war has destroyed a young child's life.
Nina, I'll always remember you as a wonderful little girl.
Love, Mimmy,
Zlata
Monday, December 28, 1992
Dear Mimmy,
. . . You know, Mimmy, we've had no water or electricity for ages.
When I go out and when there's no shooting it's as if the war were
over, but this business with the electricity and water, this darkness,
this winter, the shortage of wood and food, brings me back to earth
and then I realize that the war is still on. . .
As I sit writing to you, my dear Mimmy, I look over at Mommy and
Daddy. They are reading. . Somehow they look even sadder to me in
the light of the oil lamp. . .I look at Daddy. He really has lost
a lot of weight. The scales say twenty-five kilos, but looking at
him I think it must be more. I think even his glasses are too big
for him. Mommy has lost weight too. She's shrunk somehow, the war
has given her wrinkles. God, what is this war doing to my parents?
They don't look like my old Mommy and Daddy anymore. Will this ever
stop? Will our suffering stop so that my parents can be what they
used to be-cheerful, smiling, nice-looking?
This stupid war is destroying my childhood, it's destroying my parents'
lives. WHY? STOP THE WAR! PEACE! I NEED PEACE! I'm going to play a
game of cards with them!
Love from your Zlata
Wednesday, September 29, 1993
We waited for September 27 and 28. The 27th was the Assembly of Bosnian
Intellectuals, and the 28th was the session of the B-H Parliament.
And the result is "conditional acceptance of the Geneva agreement."
CONDITIONAL. What does that mean?
Once more the circle closes. The circle is closing, Mimmy, and it's
strangling us.
Sometimes I wish I had wings so I could fly away from this hell.
Like Icarus.
There's no other way.
But to do that I'd need wings for Mommy, wings for Daddy, for Grandma
and Granddad and. . .for you, Mimmy.
And that's impossible, because humans are not birds.
That's why I have to try to get through all this, with your support,
Mimmy, and to hope that it will pass and that I will not suffer the
fate of Anne Frank. That I will be a child again, living my childhood
in peace.
Love,
Zlata
Filipovic, Zlata, from "Zlata's Diary: A Child's Life in Sarajevo,"
Translated with notes by Christina Pribichevich-Zoric; Penguine Books,
New York. 1994.
(note: Zlata was 11 years old at the beginning of her book and 13
years old at the end. She survived and moved to Paris.)