Arna’s first question was why we picked this tour. I told her I knew it was an important event, and wanted to learn about it. She thanked us much more genuinely than I had expected. The drive was expected to take about 2.5 hours. The further out of town we got, the clearer the sky became. The Bosnian countryside was beautiful. It was almost hard to imagine it was ravaged by war during my lifetime. Arna gave us some background information on the Bosnian War (1992-1995).

By 1995, more than 100,000 Bosnians had been killed. Every ethnic group was fighting every ethnic group, but the Bosniaks sustained the most brutal slaughters. About 80,000 of those killed were Bosniaks killed by Serbs, and to a lesser degree by Croats.

Malaysia sent humanitarian aid, deployed thousands of troops to assist the Bosnian government, and took in refugees. It is an admirable stance from a small country considering many big powers declined to intervene in what they called a civil war. The United Nations did deploy some troops for “peacekeeping”.

Excavating the mass graves, and DNA analyses have taken a long time because many of those killed together were related, making identifying specific individuals very difficult. Years of effort yielded whole and partial bodies which have been reburied at Srebrenica Genocide Memorial Cemetery across the road from the factory where they had thought they would be safe.

When we arrived at the cemetery, there was a big group of tourists which I immediately recognized as Malaysians. The surrounding mountains made for a peaceful setting. We read as many of the thousands of names as we could. Many were so young. It was a very difficult morning.

We visited the big empty factory which is now a museum. The tears, the blood, the sweat, the human waste; the skeletal refugees who could barely hang on after years of war; their fear and the ultimate slap of betrayal; I tried, but I couldn’t even begin to imagine.

A large photo of a lady wearing a red sweater, white knee-length skirt with no shoes who hanged herself from a tree was chilling. I thought about the Chinese superstition that says the ghosts of people who died while wearing red are especially fierce. I hoped that that lady’s ghost haunted every one of the evil bastards.

After watching a video and checking out some of the exhibition rooms, we talked to a survivor, Hasan Hasanović, who is a curator at the memorial. He was speaking to the Malaysian group when we first arrived.

Hasan told us that when the Serb army descended upon his village, ethnic Serb villagers were given a chance to leave. Some Serb villagers were used as guards to make sure only the Serbs got to leave. Hasan was a teenager then. He and his family tried to leave anyway. On guard duty at the checkpoint was their Serb neighbor who knew that Hasan’s family was Bosniak and Muslim.

Eventually the major world powers finally found the political will to do something. In December 1995, the Dayton Accord was signed. Ratko Mladic, “The Butcher Of Bosnia”, was finally convicted of genocide and crimes against humanity at The Hague in 2017. The former President of Republika Srpska, Radovan Karadzic, lost his appeal in 2019.

Today, the country of Bosnia and Herzegovina has two different political entities as recognized under the peace agreement – The Federation of Bosnia and Herzegovina, and Republika Srpska. The population of the country in 2020 is down to 3.28 million.

We saw many dilapidated houses along the way to Srebrenica; the owners were either killed or dead, internally displaced, or living in their new countries. Srebrenica is now under the jurisdiction of Republika Srpska. While some Bosniaks have returned to their former homes, many moved to the Federation’s areas.

I had a really uneasy feeling when we stopped at a Supermarket for a bathroom break, and to buy food for our picnic lunch. Even middle-age housewives gave me chills. The way the locals sized us up was different from that of locals in other places. There’s only one reason tourists go to Srebrenica; to learn about their shame. They can’t be too happy about our presence.

I forced a smile and the cashier smiled back. She was in her forties. I wondered what she did during the war. I kept reminding myself that unless I know for sure someone did something bad during the war, I was to treat them as just another local. It was hard. We saw men working on small reconstruction projects around town. I wondered if those houses they were rebuilding really belonged to them. Teens and pre-teens went on their ways without a care.

A friendly kitty joined our picnic. Faris, a twenty-something, told us he visited his grandmother in Albania a long time ago and didn’t like it there. Kenric and I had a very different opinion of Albania a few weeks later. We asked Arna so many questions she really earned her money that day, but it was clear that she was not really doing it for the money. We were all very sad to say goodbye to kitty who followed us to the car.

After lunch we stopped by two of the many springs around Srebrenica. Arna warned that the mineral content in the water is too high to be consumed, but we could splatter it on our faces as the water can help with skin problems. Different springs have different mineral content, and were even prescribed by doctors for different ailments such rheumatism, anemia, skin problems, etc.

During the Austro-Hungarian time, bottled water from the local Guber Springs was exported to the United States and Canada. During Tito’s time, there were hotels and a sanitarium near the springs. Kenric recalls seeing the abandoned big buildings that Yugoslavians once visited for treatment which now serve as a reminder, and hopefully also as a cautionary tale, of how fragile peace can be.

When we arrived at the “more-modest” war returnee family’s farm, we were greeted by a young girl and her little brother. The girl, about 11, told Arna their parents had gone to the forest to chop wood that day; a dangerous task as there were still landmines that had not been cleared. Arna handed her the bags she brought. Among other things were loaves of fresh bread. She said, bringing them bread saves the mother a lot of time and effort. The girl was cooking the cows’ dinner – squash and potatoes. Farmers far away from big towns simply can’t sell all that they grow. We bought some peppers and tomatoes from them. So did Arna. It was nice picking them in the greenhouse.

Arna, Faris, Kenric, the golden sky, the fall foliage, the herd of wild horses that galloped beside our car for a fleeting moment, the genocide survivors, the war-returnee family, the 8,372 gravestones; the adult townspeople who knew what happened but don’t talk about it; the young townspeople who were oblivious to the atrocities but never curious enough to ask about the big cemetery; the haunting beauty of the Bosnian countryside; all for different reasons, make me want to be a better person every single day since that life-changing visit 999 days ago.