30th anniversary of the massacre in the cut: generation after genocide

30 years ago, on July 11, 1995, the Crane Genocide began. At least 8,372 Bosnyak: the troops of the Bosnian army were killed inside. Dutch soldiers watched the UN camp. The world turned away. 30 years later, this is higher than all young people who give hope. They never experienced war, but they want to continue their memory.

“I heard the first stories from my father”

Recently, I sat with my father in the cemetery in Potocari. The dead genocide are buried here. We tried to list how many family members we lost. We came to more than 50 close and distant relatives. The closest to me were two uncles, whose whereabouts we know nothing. My grandfather died of hunger in 1993, also in a cut. Probably, in Bosnia and Herzegovin there is no one who is somehow connected with the graves.

Until 2009, I lived with my family in Tuzl, about a hundred kilometers from the cut. Then we returned to the cut. The school here was a change. I had to study the Cyrillic scenario and get used to a more eleval mentality of people. Today I can say: I am a real holes – from here. But life in the hook is not easy. Especially for young people, there are hardly any prospects. My sister plans to emigrate. My father and I understand them, of course.

I am 22 years old, and I still have a feeling that I still do not understand the hard one who has the word “genocide”. I heard the first stories from my father when I was about 18 years old. He told how he fled through the forest, hid after the attack in the bushes, drank from the stream at dawn – and only later saw that the corpses were traveling in a stream. Since then, he has never drank normal water again. I see only he drinks mineral water. History was deeply burned in my memory. I also often tell you visitors: inside I spend excursions in the memorial.

I came to work in the memorial by chance. Since I studied in Turkey for two years, I actually wanted to transfer the Frinkers, but then this position appeared in June 2024. Now I will help with exhibitions, translates from Turkish into English and will conduct excursions.

Work in the memorial center means a lot to me. Here we retain the memory of genocide. Everyone who works here knows how important it is. Many of them are talented and have a degree with which they could easily live better abroad. But this work here means more. At the moment, I can’t imagine what other work and no other life. This is a special feeling to sit on my balcony in Potocari. Here I feel at home.

Arnel Sanjich, 22 years old

“Everyone lived far in my childhood”

I study software development and hope to finish this year. I work as a graphic designer and supports him on a memorial. I spent the first four years of elementary school in Tinja, a place between a cut and a point. Then my mother, my brother and I moved to the cut. My grandfather was already there, he was one of the first returning in 2003: inside Bosniyk: inside. My other grandfather, my mother’s father, was killed in a genocide.

Honestly, I did not plan to work in the memorial center. Last summer I just helped mom in the store,, When Amra Begich came, deputy director and asked if I wanted to work for her because she was looking for a graphic designer. Therefore, I only came up with the idea that I can stay in a cut.

Even if I do not work directly in the archive, I often get materials for visual content. As soon as I prepared a presentation for the Bosnian diaspora, with photographs that I have never seen before. It hit me a lot. But just the fact that I work here – I drink coffee every day in the office and look out the window at the cemetery is enough to stay in touch with what happened here. I was born after the war, but I still feel the consequences of the genocide. Genocide determines our life.

The story of my family is formed by this. Many relatives live abroad, like refugees – aunts in the United States and France, a grandmother in Denmark. As a child, I often assumed how it would be if everyone were here with us. It is strange for me when someone says that his uncle lives a 20 -minute drive. In childhood, everyone lived far.

The journalist once asked me if I suffered here to live here. But no – my soul nourishes this place here. The cut gives me strength. This is my house, a place that I always return to. I could imagine to live somewhere else, but I always dreamed of returning. Like people in the diaspora who work all year round, only to spend a month in Bosnia in the summer.

With peers who grew up in another place, mutual understanding is sometimes difficult. In the memorial center, on the other hand, there is a lot of work in college: inside the one who, like me, was born after the war and had similar family stories. We get along well with each other, experience similar worries and similar grief, we can exchange each other about the family injury.

Hajrunis Dzhananovich, 24 years old

“I have only four photos from my grandfather”

The days until July 11 are emotionally more complicated than July 11. Especially if the coffins of identified people arrive here in Potocari every year before the anniversary. For me, this is the most emotional moment. Only then I will understand that these people returned. 30 years old. It is almost like relief. Mother can now bury and mourn her son, not asking herself where his bones are. Every year I come here around July 11th.

The trip was almost normal. This is tiring, but I can’t do anything. And I miss my people when I do not see them for a year. I was born and raised in the Netherlands and live there, but I hardly have Dutch friends. This was not a conscious decision, but rather happened. But over time, I noticed: I feel more comfortable with bosnins. Contact with the Dutch man slowly fell asleep. Different values, different mentality.

The genocide of the hook was never mentioned at school. It was almost a taboo to talk about it. The boy from my class, who knew where I came from, and annoyed himself, mentioned the holes, the teacher only said: “Psste, we are not talking about it.” And that’s all.

But cut and the memory of genocide have always been part of my life. I remember very well the arrests of Ratko Mladic and is pleased with Karadzhich. When Mladich was arrested, I came from school and saw my mother cried in front of the TV. These memories remain.

We have only the only picture of the tangible memories of our previous house, which means a lot for us. It hangs in our apartment in the Netherlands. This is not a classic painting, rather a relief. During the first or second visit of my grandmother, after the war, the Serbs lived in the house. They used all our furniture. The picture was still hanged. At the end of the visit, my grandmother took a picture from the wall and ran out. The Serbs ran after her, one threatened her, but she did not let go of the picture. She brought him to the Netherlands. This is all that remains with us from our house.

I have only four photos from my grandfather. The rest were burned by the new inhabitants of our house. Fortunately, there is still a video cassette that my father recorded in the war. Then you can see my grandfather when he says, my grandmother, as well as my grandfather of my cousin. These records are what gold is.

Edin Galilov, 26 years old