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Došla sam i sad, tri vojnika sjede, pitam ih je li to pokopno društvo, a oni odozgo varaju da jesu. Velim ja: “ Ma evo, umro nam jedan komšija, pa ne znamo šta ćemo.” Kaže on: “Jeli Musliman?”, velim ja: “Ma, nije.” “Dobro” kaže: “Šta je?” Kažem da je Hrvat.
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G: In fact, I was thinking about it the entire time, but man is tied to these cursed things. They are not simply things, it is your home, it is something that you have been building your entire life and it represents something. The question was to preserve your honour and give your own contribution to the city. The way time passed, there was little that I could build. I could have helped someone over there so that something would get done. When our neighbour died, no one wanted to go and bury him because they were all afraid. You had to go all the way to the top of Graca where there were snipers from our side and it was dangerous to get to the funeral home. How to say, “Come to bury a Croat?” No one dared. Then I said, “Okay, I’m going to go. I’m a Serb.” When I arrived, three soldiers were sitting there, and I asked them if that was the funeral home, and they replied deceitfully that it was. I said, “One of our neighbours has died and we don’t know what to do.” One of the soldiers asked, “Is he a Muslim?” I replied, “No.” He said, “Good. What is he then?” I tell him that the man is a Croat. He says to me, “No problem, we bury our dead the same.” They were actually very kind and insisted that someone come with them, to see how well they work and to prove that it wasn’t true that people were thrown into sacks. The daughter of the man who died actually went with them in their van. The soldiers had come in front of the house, brought with them a casket, and took him away to Lukavica. There were no funeral services. Muslims, Serbs and Croats buried themselves separately, but correctly. I could do some small things and expose myself more than could the others, but I constantly felt this terrible fear. I was afraid since there was this myth that existed that all children of mixed marriages were bastards, regardless that my father is Orthodox and my mother is Catholic; for them, I did not exist.
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