PEACE MARCH THROUGH THE EYES OF OUR STUDENT EMMA ŠKALJO
My name is Emma Škaljo, I am a mother of two children, a second-year student of the Faculty of Philosophy, University of Zenica, study program Physical Education and Sport, otherwise employed in the insurance sector of the Penitentiary in Zenica.
In the last couple of years, there has been a stronger and stronger desire to go to Srebrenica, but not for 11.07. when it's crowded, come in peace and pay your respects, see and experience the greatness of everything. But our paths are not determined by us, and every step we take is already written in advance.
After the end of the July exams, I realized that the following week is exactly the week in which the Peace March is held and in which the 30th anniversary of the genocide in Srebrenica is commemorated. Without thinking, I called the professor from the University of Tuzla to check if there was room on the bus, and that was enough to leave. In half an hour I packed the basic things I thought I would need, some medicine, snacks and was already on my way to Tuzla. No one even knew that I left except for a couple of my closest friends and partners, I even told my mother only when we left Nezuka, who saw us off on our way with a prayer and wished us luck.
We set off for Nezuk very early, with members of the PD Konjuh association on one bus, and students and professors on the other. It was only when we reached Nezuk that I realized where I was, which inevitably led to a panic attack that, with the help of the wonderful people I set out with, I managed to overcome without anyone noticing. An endless sea of people, flags, women, but also children, buses, ambulances, military buses, but the unreal number of people and the silence that emphasized the magnitude of everything even more.
In that crowd, I see familiar faces and the inscription on KPZ-ZT ZENICA t-shirts, finally a relief, there is someone of mine, 15 of them, proudly raised heads with determination in their eyes.
After the anthem was sung, it was finally time to move.
Although these legs have run hundreds of kilometers, the first step into the forest proved to be the most difficult steps I will ever take.
It was allowed to play religious songs from the minaret of the local mosque in Nezuk, and the moment I hear the verses, the words of the great professor Mahmutović come to mind, where he says:
"Daughter, a coward will never become a martyr or a ghazi."
These words were exactly what I needed to realize that I was exactly where I was supposed to be.
Step by step, the kilometers were crossed, in front of every house there were silent faces, but still smiling, they were there to say thank you, that they were not forgotten, old hands to extend a hand, offer coffee, homemade cake, an apple.
The heat slowly began to take its toll, the column began to slow down around Crni vrh, where I was greeted by another familiar face, and not just any face, but those silent heroes who were with us all the way, which in the next two days will prove to be one of the most demanding jobs that they did with such ease, and those were the great boys and girls from GSS Zenica.
Finally, I continue calmly, but the column once again faces a new challenge: with the stormy wind comes the rain, but that does not slow down the participants at all, who continue on with a firm step.
That's where I first thought that I couldn't go on, not because of the weather conditions or the physical demands, but because of the silence that followed us every step of the way. I kept seeing images of my boys walking beside me. A key role was played by the support of loved ones who sent words of support and comfort all the time, and the network, which was overloaded, let me receive messages exactly when I needed them the most.
We stopped for a while, drank coffee, freshened up with some fruit, took some sweets for the rest of the journey and headed further towards the Liplje camp. Our journey was made easier by the fact that the rain had stopped falling, and the remaining part of the planned route was peaceful and dignified. Around 15:00 we finally arrived at the camp, where the ladies from the PD Konjuh chamber welcomed us with a smile, words of comfort, tea and a hot meal, and I must admit that I felt as welcome as if I had been hiking with them for years.
After eating, I decided to walk around the camp and find a few familiar faces, as well as colleagues from GSS Zenica, with whom I had coffee, agreed that I would stay with them at the camp tomorrow, and slowly got ready for the new day.
After the evening prayer to the sounds of the qasida, which tears apart the parts of the soul one by one, I realized that there was no sleep.
"For a long time there is no cheerfulness from the Drina, the water does not carry my sorrows,
the mother dreams of Nerma's son, as if they were drops of red.
Each July is heavier and heavier, the seeds of great evil are spilled,
it slips through the fingers, the mundane escapes, this time is too heavy a burden."
I couldn't have dreamed what challenges the second stage from the Liplje camp via Udrča to the Mravinjci camp would bring us.
Second day
At 04:00 I open my eyes and realize that it is raining, the forecast on the phone confirms what everyone feared the most - it will rain all day. I carefully check the kinesio tapes that I used to secure my feet from sprains and blisters, and I carefully choose tested shoes, clothes and a raincoat for the following day. The expected length is about 31 kilometers, but the most demanding part is the crossing over the hill Udrč. And the decision was made, most of the equipment I carry will be first aid, a spare raincoat, bandages, tapes, medicines, supplements that might be useful at any moment of the walk.
The convoy left earlier than planned precisely because of the weather conditions, and within the first few kilometers we reached the mosque, which stands defiantly and serves as a warning to everyone, so that it never happens to anyone and never happens again.
"From nearby, the heart senses that a behar will blow,
Our fields will be decorated with green Rahmet.
Our children will be given a bunch of violets as a gift,
and sighs of freedom and peace to me."
I tried to speed up my walking pace to reach the beginning of the column, to make it easier for myself and to move at a pace that suits me better, and the silence under the two hoods created a special feeling in which I was able to give full attention to my thoughts and prayers. Because when the drops form on the path that many have trodden before me, a person cannot remain indifferent.
When I went down to Kamenica, the valley of the tombs, I decided to take a break, to sit down and drink the coffee that my grandmother offered me and to eat the cookie that she had specially brought to me with a trembling hand from the table where it was served. At that moment, I realized that tears wet my face all the way, and that I was convinced that it was just rain. I owe a huge thank you to the people who wrote messages of support on the second day as well, because while I was looking at the mud that was slowly accumulating on the road, I realized the weight of today's section, many were already completely wet and the climb to Udrč hill hadn't even started yet.
I took a slice of watermelon instead of water and slowly moved on.
There is so much symbolism in this picture, somewhere in the valley of the graves, 30 years after the Srebrenica genocide, a watermelon represents the genocide that the world silently watches every day against the Palestinian people and innocent children.
And we said: "Don't forget!"
We have emphasized so many times:
SO THAT SREBRENICA NEVER HAPPENS AGAIN
Although I decided to cross the second stage from Camp Liplje to Camp Mravinjci alone, I soon met my work colleagues again, and what left the biggest impression was their first reaction and honest question: "Are you okay? Are your legs dry?", thank God I'm fine and dry, although I saw that some of them are not dry, and the hardest part is yet to come. I thanked for the offered food and continued on, a column slowly formed in front of us and the ascent to Udrč hill began.
From the morning departure to the foot of the hill at 214 m above sea level, 4 hours and 30 minutes passed, and we were only halfway there and we were waiting for the ascent to 70 6 m above sea level, which we crossed for the next 2 hours.
The members of the GSS played a crucial role here, helping the marchers climb to the top until late in the evening, placing ropes with which many managed to climb, but also personally carrying the participants on their hands over the steep slopes. I think they are not even aware of how big a role they played that day in the lives of many.
After 6 hours and 40 minutes of walking, I finally managed to reach the top and, although I'm not much of a coffee fan, the one at the top was the sweetest in my life.
Although the equipment managed to do its part, in knee-deep mud, my legs managed to stay as dry as my hair, but at the very top I was greeted by a terrible wind and I was very afraid of catching a cold, so I decided to continue on. The thought that in 1995 brave people surrounded by horrors, carrying children and leading the elderly, exhausted, hungry and barefoot, left a lump in my throat.
I silently thanked Him for all the blessings and slowly continued towards the camp.
The rest of the journey went without any major problems and after exchanging a few words of support with other participants, I reached the main road near the camp, where I was greeted by one of the most difficult scenes. Namely, a truck passed by me with the remains of genocide victims who will finally find peace on July 11th, along with the 6,772 victims so far.
SIX THOUSAND SEVEN HUNDRED SEVENTY TWO VICTIMS!
I didn't even have the strength to move, I don't even have a picture to show, I just stood there silently for a long time after they passed.
I stood so buried until I realized that I was cold, and that the camp was very close. I dragged myself step by step, when my mother called me on a video call, I turned the camera towards a group of locals who welcomed me with halva, candies, water but also dry clothes, shoes and socks, with tears in her eyes she told me: "Take care, son." and wished me luck.
Shortly after that, I entered the Mravinjci camp where the kind ladies from PD Konjuh welcomed me as their own child with a hot meal, tea, a blanket and words of comfort.
After the meal, I took my things and moved to the part of the camp where the Zenica part of the GSS was located, I listened to what they were doing today, and quietly promised myself that next year I would be one of them here.
I carefully checked the tapes on my feet and realized that thank God I still have no major blisters and pain, replaced those that needed it, packed my things, clothes, snacks and equipment for the morning, and retreated to the tent for the eagerly awaited rest.
When everything quieted down, the verses of the qasida came to mind again:
"We are all your mother Saliha, every month, the ring is shorter.
Justice will come, but it is silent, and the heart painfully returns the same day.
Martyr mother, your tears will extinguish the fires of the other world,
Beloved of your innocent souls, they are like the petals of a white flower."
I knew that I had to sleep, that there was still a demanding section ahead of us tomorrow, but deep inside I knew that there was no sleep for me on this ground in the silence of this night. Unfortunately, around 2:00 a.m., nausea woke me up from the tent, whether it was from fatigue, or from the cold, or from the water that I poured along the way.
The medical team was in the tent next to me and provided me with all possible assistance. Although at some point I was devastated by the fact that this might be the end of the road for me, with God's help, words of support, and a carefully packed breakfast from my colleague Amela, I decided to keep going.
And so at 7 hours and 30 minutes we set off on the third stage, the journey from the Mravinjci camp to the Potočari Memorial Center, for me the most difficult and challenging part of the journey.
Third day
The estimated distance of today's section is about 34 km, and when I left Zenica I had an image of what today would look like from the perspective of those who had crossed that part of the road before, which greatly facilitated my mental preparation, although there is nothing in the world that can prepare you for these three days until you come and witness for yourself what it means to cross 100 km on this terrain, and they were barefoot and hungry in the fight for their own lives and the lives of their loved ones.
After yesterday's early departure of the participants from the camp, today I decided that from the beginning I would try to move as close as possible to the beginning of the column, where I felt safer.
The first kilometers of the stage were very similar to the previous ones, asphalted narrow roads, locals in front of every house, everyone with sadness in their eyes but a smile on their face offering as much as they can, usually coffee, juice, cake or fruit, if nothing they offer the most important thing - words of thanks, support and comfort.
Step by step we reached the first collective break, where Mr. Samir from Kakanj joins my steps. I recognized Zagor on his shirt, which is also the name of his mountaineering club, and he asked what "we run above the clouds" means on mine, which is the motto of my running club. In the following kilometers, we managed to find mutual acquaintances, share breakfast and slowly entered the forest and reached Zloglasna Bukva.
A collective break is planned at that place, during which the history lesson will be held.
We took a place next to the column, fetched water, refused to eat something sweet, but without a single movement we sat as if petrified while we listened to what was done in this "small" place, how much blood soaked the ground we were treading on.
I secretly prayed that we would move on as soon as possible, because when we entered the forest, the road narrowed and the participants of the March entered one by one, and slowly everyone began to crowd around me. I felt a new panic attack approaching, the watch was reading an unusually high pulse, my breath was getting shallower, I was afraid to look down because I had the feeling that it was not rain on my feet, but blood, which is what they are talking about in this class. I raised my head, cowardly and slowly lowered my hands in front of me in the grass with the excuse that I was very sleepy and tired, I convinced myself that under my hands was only earth, grass and moss. I finally mustered up the courage to open my eyes, above me the sky was dotted with clouds, branches slowly swaying, I felt the wind on my face, and finally my pulse and breathing returned to normal parameters.
Exactly at that moment, the column continued to move, and one by one we entered the forest, and by the side of the road we could see the shoes and clothes of those who had passed the same way 30 years ago. We started going down the Kamenička brda to the stream one by one. A steep descent across the stream, then an even more difficult slippery uphill, secured by ropes that were placed the day before.
Exactly what they told me about at the appointment, and if there were 5, it seemed like 105 to me. At one point, I asked the medical team to give me another stomach pill because I had the feeling that I simply could not go on.
I carefully chose my diet and supplements, knowing that my body was pretty exhausted from everything that had happened in the past two days, that my energy reserves were at a minimum, and that I would have to balance my sugar and electrolyte intake very carefully if I wanted to make it to the end of today's stage. I put my trust in dates and nuts, which turned out to be the right decision in the end.
At that moment, I finally manage to catch a signal on my phone, where I am greeted by the most beautiful messages of attention from loved ones that give me the energy I need to continue my journey.
We crossed four hills and four streams, the biggest, the fifth, was left for us. It was as high as the previous four combined, and everyone in the running world around me knows that hills are not my forte, no matter how many times I looked above me, the hill just seemed bigger and bigger. At that moment, through tears, I start to laugh out loud and notice the surprised looks of the people around me. And the words of Mufti Zukorlić, which are on the wall of my room, and which are the first thing I see when I open my eyes in the morning, echo in my head.
"Every hill gets stuck and the best runner is out of breath in the race.
He coughs, then rests, then vomits his soul, then starts again.
Why? Because you are a champion, because you are a winner, because you are a hero!
Because you are not poor, because you are not a sold soul! That's why you don't give up!
Does it hurt? It hurts, if it didn't hurt everyone would be a hero.
But the difference between a hero and a coward is that they both hurt, and the hero keeps going!
And a coward sells his soul, his faith, because it's easier for him!"
Because you turn around and in everything you see the signs of His mercy - when I got to the top of the last fifth Kamenica hill, I heard someone calling me in a frenzy. Emma! Hey! Hello Zenica! I slowly turn around and I have something to see, with the guys who came to the most inaccessible part of the track with off-road vehicles to bring water, fruit and everything that is needed, there is my blood, a relative who at that moment bears the most symbolic last name "SREBRENICA".
"Well, what favor of your Lord do you deny?" Ar-Rahman
Seeing that I'm not very well, he offers me to sit down, brings me water, pours it into the bottles that are in my backpack, mixes the electrolytes, and with all the joy of seeing someone of my own, I finally continue on.
The second half of the journey went smoothly and after 2 hours I slowly started descending to Potočari, my legs feeling heavy as if I was carrying the entire weight of the world on them. At 27 km of the third stage, the clock stopped measuring the distance covered, rounding it to 84.15 km in 3 days, and I still had a big 6 km to go to the Memorial Center in Potočari.
We took our last break, during which I put on a T-shirt with the faculty's insignia, proud to represent my last name, my city, and the institution that gave me a huge opportunity and bestowed its trust on me.
Once again, familiar lines are heard from the speakers, which will follow me as a mother for a long time to come:
"Son, my dear son Nermin, every sigh of the soul is your mother's,
the birds of paradise are singing to you now, my name, the sadness of Srebrenica."
Soon the murmur that followed us all the way slowly dies down, only silence and the painful looks of the people who welcome us remain. On both sides of the column are those whose loved ones found their peace there, those who are still searching for the remains of their loved ones.
Around us, lined up members of the Armed Forces of Bosnia and Herzegovina who diligently assembled and disassembled our tents, making sure that we were not missing anything, lined up medical workers who generously helped every participant who needed help, members of the Mountain Rescue Service who carried on their hands those who could not cross this path on their own. Around us, children of Peace March members who run to their parents, and parents who proudly look at their children who have safely arrived at their destination. I close my eyes and see my loved ones, mother, father, grandmother, sister and my little ones Dino and Eden, Sara, Amar, Arman and I whisper quietly:
"Lord, thank You!"
I pick up the phone to say I've arrived, he asks me how I'm doing? Does everything hurt? Soul the most?
Exactly, in this place, in the valley of white niches, a part of my soul remained forever and a promise that as long as my health allows it, I will return here again.
And as I slowly pack my things, the only thing on my mind about returning home is a plea from a Balašević song that I played on the violin as a child:
"Just so that there will be no war, the madness among people offers great delusions, they scare us with various miracles and every fairy tale of harm, so that there will be no war!!!"
Written by: Emma Škaljo,
student of the second year of the study program
Physical Education and Sports of the Faculty of Philosophy, University of Zenica
