painted white, sarajevo

after it all.

Copyright © Rio Aleksandro 2017

All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever without the express written permission of the author except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

THE FOLLOWING IS A LETTER GIVEN TO MY MOTHER YEARS AFTER THE WAR.

My dear Samrica,

I never thanked you for one moment during the war, when we met behind the National Bank. To remind you, my Hana was born on April 3rd, 1992. The maternity ward was bombed on April 4th. Before she turned one month old, Hana and her mom left Sarajevo with the UNICEF convoy. The only thing I had of them were twenty photographs received two years afterwards through the Red Cross. In days when death, despair, and hopelessness flooded all of us, I met you: "Would you like me to show you pictures of my Hana growing up?" I asked. You checked every photo very carefully, not missing a single detail. You found strength to encourage me: "Trust me, everything will be fine. Everything will end well for you and your family."

During that moment, several thoughts collided in me. Gratitude, a desire to believe in your words, and endless admiration for you. For me, that was a true—ecce homo—moment. Later, when I told Radica, my wife, about the meeting, we both cried.

Long before this war, your mom told a story to the late Blazo Dragojevic. He, in turn, told it to us. After the Second World War, communists took possession of your family estate in Vogosca. Your grandma and her children were shown a barn, the only thing of the estate left to them. Just as kids were about to start crying, your grandma proudly stated: "All this will be good when painted white!"

All this will be good when painted white! How many times have this been repeated to our children? We have taken the thought as part of our family tradition.

R&M

April 2014, Spokane, WA