DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT’s guest writer, Naida Sekic, sends her fourth installment of “A Place To Call Home” for the New Year. This part expresses Naida’s emotional conflict in writing her essay. Her emotions and love for family, city, and countrymen come through as her gift from the heart. A picture of Naida at eight months leaving Bosnia & Herzegovina for Sweden in 1993 is included. - -Brought to you from Susan Sacirbey and DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT “A PLACE TO CALL HOME,” --By NAIDA SEKIC “The Ink of the Scholar Is More Sacred than the Blood of the Martyr” Quite often do people ask me what Bosnia and Herzegovina means to me? The answer has varied, as it has often been too hard to convey my love into words. Some feelings cannot be described; rather, they can only be felt by the heart alone. What does in fact Bosnia mean? Who is “she” that my heart unconditionally cares for? As I imposed such questions on myself, I recalled my uncle saying that Bosnia is paradise -- such a peaceful saying about a people that have lived through hell. Verily, Bosnia is paradise to me. Oh, if she only knew how I long to walk her grounds, to swim her waters and to gaze upon her streams of beauty. Truly, I do. Her strength heartens me to be the best of my abilities; her shine lightens my path toward peace and justice, and her never-ending greenery enriches me with faith in the goodness of man. The one thing I love about her the most is her beautiful smile, for despite all hell she still smiles for us. She always smiles for us. She even smiles when having nothing to smile for. She stands strong no matter what, and it is her strength that I wish to take on. She is all I wish for in a friend, she is all that I want and more than I need; and as her friend, I must do my best to be the friend that she deserves. This is why I chose to write about the Srebrenica Genocide for my academic essay. The writing process was one of the most challenging times of my life. Hours upon hours of reading literature and watching footage and documentaries made me think of Srebrenica nonstop. My heart ached every time I was to write about the grave inhumanity of Srebrenica. In addition to such emotional hardship, I faced difficulties from individuals around me who did their best to misguide me from writing about this grave matter. During this period I could not recognize myself. The lack of sleep and the loss of appetite made me question myself. I was on the verge of letting Srebrenica go, yet all that appeared before my eyes were the victims and the mothers of Srebrenica. How was I not to do this for them? In fact, how was I not to do this for us? My darling parents have always supported me and believed in my potential, even when I had a hard time believing in myself. If it were not for them, my academic piece on Srebrenica would most likely never have been finished. “Though We Travel the World Over to Find the Beautiful, We Must Carry It with Us Or We Find It Not” My aunt used to live in Grbavica, Sarajevo in high buildings known as the “rockets.” As she lived on the 19th floor, one was able to see the whole of Sarajevo. As a kid, I used to spend my summers at my aunt’s place and at night I would sit by the window and gaze at the lights that covered the surrounding mountains of Sarajevo. The scenario was exceptionally striking and peaceful. I could stay there for hours. To my great despair, my aunt is no longer with me, yet I wish to thank her for opening up her home to me and allowing me to witness the breathtaking beauty of her city. This memory was brought back to life when I, for the very first time experienced wintertime in Bosnia and Herzegovina. My flight was in the afternoon, and once it arrived in Sarajevo, everything was already pitch- black. As the stewardess announced that we were about to land, I opened my case and looked through the window to witness the same view I had enjoyed from the 19th floor in Grbavica seven years earlier. Such warmth ruled my heart. Next thing I knew I could feel the wheels hit the ground and a voice saying “Welcome to Sarajevo, Bosnia and Herzegovina.” I believe I smiled my entire stay. It was an odd winter; the snow was yet to fall. In fact, it was a rather warm December. I remember sitting on the Sarajevo tram when three older men sat before me. Their way of talking and their entire conversation reminded very much of my Mother’s sayings of her Sarajevo and how it used to be, especially when she went to University. They were talking about the warm weather and how it felt very much like August instead of December. They spoke with such a happy voice, and it was amazing to hear something other than the tragedy of war. Next day, the snow fell. As a child I remember dreaming of being in a snowflake-covered Sarajevo together with my family. I am so grateful for that winter. Everything was perfect. ---To Be Cont’d. --From Susan Sacirbey Facebook: Become a Fan at “DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT” & “BOSNIA TV”” Follow on TWITTER @DiplomaticallyX More Film & Blog Reports: Part I – “A Place To Call Home,” By Naida Sekic: diplomaticallyincorrect.org/films/blog_post/more-from-naida-sekic-a-member-of-the-bosnian-herzegovinian-diaspora-from-susan-sacirbey/42329 Part 2 “A Place to Call Home” By Naida Sekic diplomaticallyincorrect.org/films/blog_post/a-place-to-call-home-part-2-by-naida-sekic/42873 Part 3 “A Place to Call Home” By Naida Sekic diplomaticallyincorrect.org/films/blog_post/a-place-to-call-home-part-3-by-naida-sekic/43124 Diplomatically Incorrect Channels: diplomaticallyincorrect.org/c/diplomatically-incorrect Bosnia Channels: diplomaticallyincorrect.org/c/bosnia