Two War Buddies
By Ljiljana Kovacevic, Banjaluka




Suad Jasarevic, 10, says he wants to be a painter when he grows up. Then, he says, he could repaint the Rada Vranjesevic Centre for Children Without Parents in Banjaluka, where he has been living ever since war broke out in Bosnia-Herzegovina, which is to say a whole decade ago. His friend, Aleksandar Krajisnik, who also lives in the centre, is 11 and does not know what he wants to be once he grows up. Right now he only wants to see his grandmother, the only relative he has left after the war. Unfortunately, his grandma is too old to look after him and Aleksandar has been living in the centre for several years.

"I would paint it yellow," says Suad. When asked why, he just says:
"It's my favourite colour." Maybe the answer lies in the fact that his childhood was deficient in light hues. Immediately after he was born in the town of Kljuc, western Bosnia, he was transferred to Banjaluka because he had symptoms of cerebral palsy. When he was hospitalised, the war broke out, and Suad could not go home.

In the cruel war between the three Bosnian peoples, Suad's relatives, Bosniaks, could not come to Banjaluka, the biggest city in Republika Srpska, to fetch him. He could not stay in the hospital because his had condition improved. Thus, without any documents or permission from his relatives, he was transferred to this facility.

The centre's managers could not get in touch with Suad's family during the war. Only after peace was restored in Bosnia could he learn something about his family. His father was killed as a soldier, and his mother left the family, never to get in touch with it again.

Yet in this flood of bad news there was a sliver of hope-Suad has a grandmother and a sister, Seherezada, in Kljuc. "My sister is in grade seven now. I often talk with her and my grandma over the phone. I sent them some photos of me. In a couple of days they are coming to visit," he says.

Suad knows that there was a war in Bosnia, but in reality he knows very little about what goes on outside the centre. He is aware that most of the Bosniak children left the centre and Republika Srpska as soon as the conflict was over and they could safely reach relatives in the other Bosnian entity, the Muslim-Croat federation. "My name is Suad, but everybody calls me Suljo," he says, and adds that he has no problems with other children living in the centre or the personnel because he is a Bosniak.

Suad says he often thinks that somewhere beyond the centre's door, in some other world, lives his sister, still unreal and unseen. "I sometimes wonder if I look like her. I can't wait to see her and my grandma. My grandma lives hard, she is old and cannot take care of me. I will stay in the centre, but will visit them in Kljuc from now on," says the boy.

Suad and Aleksandar, caught in the midst of a war without a family or support, were brought together by the tragedy they shared. Left without any protection in a bloody conflict fuelled by ethnic hatred, the two of them in their hearts found room for entirely different emotions-understanding and a feeling of closeness.

Aleksandar has never met his father because he left his mother even before he was born, in 1991. When he was two years old, his mother left the town of Olovo with him, because it was controlled by Muslim forces, and went to the Serb-controlled town of Nevesinje, where his grandmother now lives. "It was a time of war, and mom and I had to leave Olovo. That's where I was born, but I don't remember leaving because I was very small," he says.

His mother was killed shortly after arriving in Nevesinje. His grandmother could not take care of him. "I have been here for several years. It's OK now, it's not boring, I have plenty of friends and like playing soccer most of all," he says.

Initially he had a hard time adjusting. He was so homesick that after only several days they had to send him back to his grandmother. But being old and unable to look after him, she had to send him back to the centre. "They promised to let me visit my grandma. I would like to see her very much," says Aleksandar and repeats that this is his only wish at the moment.
Suad and Aleksandar do not want to talk about the war. For them it is just a war, and they either cannot or will not go into any details. They run off together to play soccer.

For now, their world consists of the neat building housing the centre, whose walls are made of ornamental red bricks. In front is a large playground and lawn. There is always a boy at the entrance, keeping track of who goes in and out. There are house rules everybody has to follow. The centre, the only such institution in Republika Srpska, shelters 134 children of various age groups. The youngest is a one-month old baby, and the oldest are eight university students whose education is paid for by the centre.

"We have children from all over Republika Srpska, the Muslim-Croat federation, and Croatia, the region of the former Republic of Serb Krajina," says director Danko Ponjarac.
About 60% of the children do not have parents, while others are there because their families are extremely poor, or because their parents are alcoholics or suffer from nervous disorders. Most of the children are Serbs, but there are Croats and Bosniaks as well. The director says they all live in the same conditions and are not exposed to any kind of discrimination.

A total of 310 children in Republika Srpska have lost both parents, but they are not officially listed as "war orphans," because no such category exists. After they come of age and finish secondary school, the children from the Rada Vranjesevic centre, including Suad and Aleksandar, will face a new stage in their lives when they will have to make their own decisions.

They go through childhood without loving parents and a family home. Together and thanks to the staff, they are able to discover their own world, probably not perfect, but safe and quiet nevertheless. One of the centre's former wards who left in 1974 recently brought his son to show him the place where he grew up. Others leave and never go back to the place that was to replace their home. "It's easy to understand both," says director Ponjarac.

(BETA)