Srebrenica. Never Forget.

So I’ve been debating about posting this. It’s kind of one of those experiences in life that’s almost too much. Too much visually. Too much sorrow. Too much to take in. Too much. Too much. Too much.

The reason I decided to post about this experience is because I think people at home – you – need to understand – or attempt to understand why I am here. Of course you all know I work in anti-trafficking and in women’s rights, but that’s not the sole reason I’m here. I’m here because there was a horrific war that took place less than 20 years ago. I’m here because there was genocide. I’m here because I think we forget about others in the world and what they have gone through. I know I’ve lived a privileged life, but I’m always struck with how privileged when I hear stories from individuals who have survived massacre and genocide.

On Friday I went to Srebrenica. I’m not going to write out a lengthy explanation of what happened at Srebrenica. At the risk of sounding un-academic, Wikipedia it. All I will say is that in 3 days over 8000 Bosnian Muslims were murdered in what was supposed to be a UN safe zone and no one did anything to stop it all based upon the orders of Ratko Mladić. He is currently on trial at the Hague for the part he played - he has been in hiding for the past 20 years since the indictment and was found last year. He shows no remorse for his crimes.

Having been to Cambodia and seeing the Killing Fields there (in which well over a million people died and more than 20,000 mass graves were found in a senseless genocide), I figured I was more prepared than most for this experience. I wasn’t. I don’t think one can ever be prepared or get used to visiting sites of senseless killings and genocide. I don’t think we’re meant to. 

Our guide was a Bosniak who had survived the trek from Srebrenica to Tuzla. His father and brother did not. 

The explanation from the museum.

Carved into the wall at the battery factory - right next to the UN housing facilities.

A memorial - women and children survivors looking for, praying for, crying over their lost men and boys.

The only Catholic grave at Srebrenica - all of the others are Muslim.

There are still identifying bodies - every year in July they bring those identified bodies here to bury them in this memorial and cemetery.

These pictures were difficult to take - and to be honest, I didn't take nearly as many pictures as I normally do on these outings. The point was to have just enough so I wouldn't forget - anything.

I spent a significant amount of time wandering throughout the cemetery. In these situations I tend to need to get out my emotions in the form of song. It sounds strange - whatever - but music is my emotional release. I wished I knew some sort of Muslim hymn or song as a sign of respect to the victims of the genocide, but since I didn't I found myself singing Amazing Grace. Not loudly - just enough for me to mourn with those who were there visiting their relatives who were lost in the massacre.

I ended my day reading over this passage, as it had been going through my head the entire time: 

Do you not know?

    Have you not heard?

The LORD is the everlasting God,

    the Creator of the ends of the earth.

He will not grow tired or weary,

    and his understanding no one can fathom.

He gives strength to the weary

    and increases the power of the weak.

Even youths grow tired and weary,

    and young men stumble and fall; 

but those who hope in the LORD

    will renew their strength.

The will soar on wings like eagles;

    they will run and not grow weary,

    they will walk and not be faint.

Isaiah 40:28-31

This post is probably more for my sake than yours - but I hope it helps you to understand more of what has happened here in Bosnia. I hope you don't forget. I know I never will.