Two weeks ago, I introduced you to DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT’S guest writer, Naida Sekic, a member of the Bosnian diaspora living in Sweden who was forced to flee war torn Bosnia & Herzegovina at eight months. Through determination and conviction Naida has become a success in keeping her cultural identity and at the same time assimilating her new country. See “Home is Where the Heart Is, One Woman’s Story,” By Susan Sacirbey diplomaticallyincorrect.org/films/blog_post/home-is-where-the-heart-is-one-womans-story-by-susan-sacirbey/41925 DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT received a high volume of “Facebook Comments” from Naida’s previous essay; and we decided that she would be contributing to the benefit of diaspora at large and the process of healing by including another story by Naida, “A PLACE TO CALL HOME.” This will be presented in installments, and we welcome your further feedback. ---Susan Sacirbey “A PLACE TO CALL HOME,” By Naida Sekic ----To my Mother, my Father and my Brother – the Gemstones of my life “Verily, after hardship comes ease” To write is a courageous act of man for not all possesses the faculty that permits one of being utterly candor with oneself. To write is a science that not all master for the hardship of letting go and accede the pen to work one’s most intimate truths of life. Writing counts, it counts for a meaning that shall live on even after life itself as it engraves its ink onto forever. My fate has fostered me to bare such courage. It lies deep within me solid as stone, for the instilled teachings and values of my parents discourage me from fighting the injustices of my people except with the writings of my heart. My memories and experiences as, both a victim and survivor of war are worth for something as they are the only means by which I can do my sheer best and give my all in the making for a better tomorrow. Never shall I walk the steps of evil for the pen will forever remain mightier than the sword. “A parent’s love is whole no matter how many times divided” Spring, such a beautiful time with soaring birds across all skies ready to welcome life – a precious time that clears away all darkness and makes for the blue to smile with a thousand rays of mercy. Yet, the early spring of 1992 chose to frown upon Bosnia and Herzegovina with the outbreak of a pitiless war. Amidst hostilities, terror and hunger, my Mother faced a problematic pregnancy due to the constant fear of obscurity, clueless to whether one was to live before sunset or vanish before sunrise. Given the immense loss of blood, in addition to grave pains, my Mother feared the loss of her child. The only way of saving the unborn was to get explicit drugs in Sarajevo – the future nest of death. Despite war, my Father had no choice but to drive to Sarajevo and get the prescribed medication for his wife. Later I was to know that one day after my Father leaving Sarajevo, the capital was besieged by the Aggressors, which was to be known as the longest siege of a capital city in the history of modern warfare. In September 1992, my Father drove my Mother to Mostar where she was put in hospital to remain for several days due to medical care. A sense of utter despair and emptiness ruled the hospital along with its inadequate supplies. Continuous fire and death befriended the people of Bosnia and Herzegovina as the best of friends. They were almost inseparable; what an unimaginable love. --- -----To be cont’d. Facebook: Become a Fan at “DIPLOMATICALLY INCORRECT” & “BOSNIA TV”” Follow on TWITTER @DiplomaticallyX More Film & Blog Reports: Diplomatically Incorrect Channels: diplomaticallyincorrect.org/c/diplomatically-incorrect Bosnia Channels: diplomaticallyincorrect.org/c/bosnia