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In the 1950’s, my Grandfather (Mika’s husband) was in the Yugoslavian Army and was forced to join the communist party or be put in jail and/or killed. Mika and my Uncle stayed behind until he could make enough money to get them there.He was only in his early twenties, didn’t speak any English and didn’t have a trade.After we arrived at Mika’s (my Grandma) nephew’s house, my Mom stayed with me out front while we waited for the kids to wake up from their naps in the car. Turns out he’s one of my Mom’s cousins who she hadn’t seen since she was six!
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He began as a busboy, slept on park benches and worked his way up.
He didn’t ask for any government handouts, only the freedom to work hard to make a new life for himself and his family.
First they asked me for a cigarette, then they grabbed me, showed me their guns, told me to shut up or they would kill me and they forced me into a car.
They told me to keep my head down and not to look out the windows. We drove like this for two hours until we reached a village. They took me into some basement room and gave me half a piece of bread and a little meat, but I didn’t want it. After about an hour, they took me from this place, put me back in the car and drove to some other village. After four days they took me into another building and I heard a soldier say they were going to bring me to Pale.
We had hoped to go to the village Mika grew up in just a few minutes from where we were, but you can’t access it anymore by car because of all the remaining land mines.
There was heavy fighting there during the 1990’s Yugoslavia War and her village is literally no more. ) all the way from Bosnia to Austria, and then traveled on to Canada and later America.There was no more Hapsburg or Venetian influence here. Maybe neighbors are just really, really friendly here.The infrastructure gave away that this was once a place ruled by communists, but that was immediately forgotten in the warmth of every Bosnian we interacted with. He told us he lived next door and grew up there, and I joked that maybe we were family.They are all such warm and hospitable, lovely people.They had coffee, three different kinds of cakes and homemade baklava for us.I’ve been scanning old pictures from late 1992 and early 1993 of women and girls who were raped in the Bosnian war which means they were personally, brutally, and sadistically attacked, violated, terrified and humiliated for no reason, simply because they were women and Muslim, sometimes just once, in one case for 10 weeks. For those interested, here are stories from some of the women I met. 18 year old Muslim woman, Tuzla hospital, January 1, 1993 “It was June 30. I had been in Belgrade for close to two months, staying at my cousin’s house while my mother was in the hospital undergoing surgery for breast cancer.Tags: Adult Dating, affair dating, sex dating