Zlata’s Diary: Monday, July 20, 1992–Sunday, May 2, 1993

There are lots of beautiful pedigree dogs roaming the streets.

Even animals suffer here. Even they aren’t spared by the war.

Five months of brutal aggression against the independent, sovereign state of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

Five months of brutal aggression against the independent, sovereign state of Bosnia and Herzegovina.

The Bobars have had three other bullets. One tore through the plastic and lodged sideways in the wardrobe where it grazed Auntie Boda’s university degree and, finally, FELL!

Everything happens within that circle, it’s the circle you know, everything else is remote.

They gave me Abdulah Sidran’s “Sarajevo Prayer” to recite.

All the shop windows have been broken and looted.

She told me that Ivana had gone to Zagreb—with a Jewish convoy.

I boasted to Bojana, Maja and Neda how now I had also seen our school, because until yesterday they had been allowed out but I hadn’t.

They just said on the radio that lots of Croats and Muslims have been expelled from Grbavica.

The “kids” are negotiating.

Are they thinking about us when they negotiate, or are they just trying to outwit each other, and leave us to our fate?

Are they thinking about us when they negotiate, or are they just trying to outwit each other, and leave us to our fate?

Nedo is going berserk.

He says his mind wasn’t on his work, he was thinking about the Jewish municipal center, the departure point for leaving Sarajevo.

They are adopting some resolutions, the “kids” are negotiating, and we are dying, freezing, starving, crying, parting with our friends, leaving our loved ones.

A bit of philosophizing on my part, but I was alone and felt I could write this to you, Mimmy.

I got chocolate, vitamins, a heart-shaped soap (small, orange), a key chain with a picture of Maja and Bojana, a pendant made of a stone from Cyprus, a ring (silver) and earrings (bingo!).

You never know where or when this war is going to flare up.

Mommy said she’d go to the school headmaster on Monday and arrange something.

Auntie Radmila got me into the group of Caritas children, and so, thanks to her, I got to go to the UNPROFOR [United Nations Protection Force]—PTT [post office] Christmas show. And most interesting of all I got to ride in a real personnel carrier.

Then we moved on to Czerny, Bach, Mozart and Chopin, to the etude, the invention, the sonata and the “piece.”

Then we moved on to Czerny, Bach, Mozart and Chopin, to the etude, the invention, the sonata and the “piece.”

Daddy’s got frostbite on his fingers from cutting the wood in the cold cellar. They look awful.

Electricity has returned to the city, but only for priority consumers, and that’s not us.

I just wonder how Bojana celebrated it in Austria. Probably not like us, with an oil lamp, beef and Feta cheese sandwiches, rolls, tea, marzipan made of flour and wartime hurmasice cakes.

I got three letters from French children through a humanitarian organization.

All I can see are the poor people still lugging water, and the even poorer invalids—young people without arms and legs.

They mentioned some kind of radiation.

Branislava (history and geography)—lectures slowly and calmly, and is dreadfully strict during exams.

He just toppled over and that was it.

It looks as though she’s going to be evicted from Bokica’s apartment.

Now our food stocks have been fortified.

Our own tiresome sniper, we call him ‘Jovo,” was in a playful mood today.