Authors: Zlata Filipovic

Zlata's Diary (15 page)

BOOK: Zlata's Diary

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A puppy came to Alma and Dado's today. It's so sweet. It's yellow, with white socks, a white patch on its chest, white nose. Cici is jealous because it ate up all her food.

I liked it and thought it would be nice to keep it, but that's impossible these days. We don't have enough food for ourselves.

Ciao!
Zlata

Saturday, June 26, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Two pieces of sad news. First, Alma and Dado returned the puppy. It's a small pincher and Alma wants a big dog she can walk around the neighborhood.

OOOOOH!

The other sad news is that Nedo is leaving. He's going on vacation and he said he won't be coming back, he's going to run away. The “creep.” We've all grown so fond of him and now he's leaving. But, it's better that way. Now we'll “have somebody to send us packages and everything.” Still, I'm really sorry he's going. We've all come to love him, and he us, and now we're parting. There he is, he's calling me, I have to go. NEVER MIND, KEEP GOING, ZLATA, AND TRY NOT TO BE A CRYBABY!

CIAO, Mimmy,
Love,
Zlata

Friday, July 2, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Two pieces of news. One incredible, one “so-so.”

First the “so-so” one. Yesterday, when I was going down the stairs to the Bobars' I sprained my leg. My leg simply went that-a-way and snapped. I didn't go to school today because I can't stand on my foot, so I'm lying down. I can't stand and I can't walk. Compresses. Lasonil cream, I suppose I'll survive. Now the second (incredible) piece of news. The book promotion was supposed to be yesterday. But the gas went offâthe generators aren't working (you see, gas remembers), and the invitations can't be printed. So I tell everybody: “NO PROMOTION.”

I've been thinking about Nedo leaving. I keep telling myself “Oh, he won't go,” but then I sober up and I feel bad, so bad. Is he really going to leave?

Slobo has gone to Subotica for further medical treatment. I guess he'll finally be reunited with Doda and Dejan?

Your Zlata

Wednesday, July 7, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

What I wrote you about Nedo leaving, well it's happened. He left last night. He was working a lot these past few days, I hardly saw him.

He came at around eight o'clock last night to have our picture taken together and say goodbye. And all that, in half an hour. At eight-thirty he simply said: “OK, time for a kiss,” and smack, smack, smack, “don't cry, take care of yourselves, you take care of yourself too, write and send me some photos.” BANG! The door slammed shut and it was all over. Nedo was gone!

Everything has a beginning and an end, and so had this wonderful time I've spent with Nedo.

After that BANG I went BOO-HOO! SNIFFLE! SNIFFLE!. And everyone kept saying to me: “Don't cry, Fipa, he's going to a better place, imagine what it's like for him...,” where, oh, where is my hanky? I know, I know, but I'm still sorry. BOO-HOO! SNIFFLE!

I calmed down and began thinking. Thinking brought back memories: “Hey, you remember when...,” “He really was a wonderful guy...,” “Nedo is... ,” and so on and so forth.

I find it hard, I'm really sad, but I think it must be hardest for Auntie Boda. First Maja and Bojana, and now her adopted son, Nedo. I don't know, everything is so stupid, let's go kill ourselves! Let's, Mimmy.

Love,
Zlata

Saturday, July 10, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Well, now I'm left without Nedo as well. Slowly everybody is leaving while I stay behind. God, Mimmy, will I ever get out of this hell-hole? I've had more than enough. Nedo's departure reminded me that all my friends have left.

I'm sitting in my room. Cici is with me. She's enjoying herself on the armchairâsleeping. As for me, I'm reading through my letters. Letters are all I've got left of my friends. I read them and they take me back to my friends.

I have to tell you that I miss you, but I hope we'll see each other soon. I'm slowly getting used to this new life. Take care of yourself, Zlata, and be good to your parents.

Much love from your Matea

Dear Fipa, I think of you often and wonder what you're doing, how you're living. I miss you a lot, I miss the whole of Sarajevoâthe most beautiful city in the world, with the biggest and warmest embrace in the world, the heart of the world. It's now in flames, but it will never burn down. I know it's hard for you. All I can say is that I love and miss you.

Many, many kisses from your Martina and all the other refugees who want to come home!

I heard two of Dr. Alban's songs: “It's My Life” and “Say Hallelujah.” I don't know if they've managed to come your way. Maja thought today of taping a cassette for you with hit songs by Mick Jagger, Michael Jackson, Bon Jovi. Nothing new in the fashion world. Oh, Fipa, how I wish I could talk to you.

Much love from your Bojana

I'm sending these “Pretty Ladies” to my Fipa so she can see what people will be wearing this summer and what they'll be dishing out all their money for. Naturally, each of these “pretty ladies” carries a million kisses for my Fipa and will tell her how much Maja loves and thinks of her.

My Dear Zlata, You are and always will be my best friend. No one will ever be able to destroy our friendship, not even this war. Although you're in Sarajevo and I'm in Italy, although we haven't seen each other for more than a year now, you are still my best friend.

Much love from your Oga

My Darling Little Girl, I'm sending you this flower from our garden and this butterfly from the woods. You can make a picture with them. If I could, I'd send you a basket full of flowers, the forest, trees and lots of birds, but these people here won't let me. So I'm sending you my love with the gentle butterfly and the red flower.

Don't worry about the future. Remember that good and happy times come to all good people, and you and your parents are good people and you will be well, cheerful and happy. I think of you often.

Much love from your Keka

And so, Mimmy, in their letters they send me their love, their thoughts, pictures of a normal life, songs, fashion, best wishes for happiness and an end to this madness. I read them and sometimes I cry, because I want
them,
I want life, not just letters.

Now all I'll have left of Nedo, too, are letters. Still, letters mean a lot to me, I look forward to them.

Ciao!
Zlata

Tuesday, July 13, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

I'm sick again. I have a temperature, a tummy ache and a sore throat. The thermometer and medicine are by my side. God, why do I have to be sick on top of everything else? I miss Nedo and am waiting for your book promotion.

Your Zlata

Thursday, July 15, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Today I heard that the promotion is on Saturday. Yes, Saturday. And here I am sick. What will it be like, Mimmy?

Saturday, July 17, 1993

Dear Mimmy,
PROMOTION DAY,

Since I didn't take you with me (just a part of you was there) I have to tell you what it was like.

It was wonderful. The presenter was a girl who looked unbelievably like Linda Evangelista. She read parts of you, Mimmy, and was even accompanied on the piano. Auntie Irena was there. Warm and kind, as always, with warm words for children and adults alike.

It was held in the cafe Jez, and was packed with wonderful people, family, friends, school friends and, of course, NEIGHBORS. There was electricity (a generator), and the lightbulbs made it all even nicer. You and I, Mimmy, have Gordana Trebinjac of the International Peace Center to thank for the good organization, and for having made it as nice as it was.

Naturally, there were film cameras and photographers and a huge bouquet of flowers, roses and daisies, for us, Mimmy.

At the end I read my message. This is what I said:

Suddenly, unexpectedly, someone is using the ugly powers of war, which horrify me, to try to pull and drag me away from the shores of peace, from the happiness of wonderful friendships, playing and love. I feel like a swimmer who was made to enter the cold water, against her will. I feel shocked, sad, unhappy and frightened and I wonder where they are forcing me to go, I wonder why they have taken away my peaceful and lovely shores of my childhood. I used to rejoice at each new day, because each was beautiful in its own way. I used to rejoice at the sun, at playing, at songs. In short, I enjoyed my childhood. I had no need of a better one. I have less and less strength to keep swimming in these cold waters. So take me back to the shores of my childhood, where I was warm, happy and content, like all the children whose childhood and the right to enjoy it are now being destroyed.

The only thing I want to say to everyone is: PEACE!

There was a âSpaniard at the promotionâJulio Fuentos. He photographed me standing on some jerrycans (full of waterâa precious liquid in Sarajevo), and the woman to whom they belonged almost went crazy. “OOOHHHH, just so long as the jerrycans don't break!” They didn't!

All in all, it was nice. It couldn't have been otherwise, since it was your promotion, Mimmy. I represented you. You know how much I love you. I represented you with all the love I feel for you.

When I got home that afternoon, Auntie Radmila brought me a big flowerpot wrapped in colorful paper and tied up with a bow. Inside the pot was a tomato, a real live tomato. That was the nicest “bouquet” I ever got.

Love,
Zlata

Friday, July 23, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Even since July 17, various people have been coming aroundâjournalists, reporters, cameramen. From Spain, France, the US, England... and yesterday a crew came from ABC News. They filmed me for American TV as the “person of the week.” Hey, imagine, me a personality?

They filmed me in my room, by my piano, in my apartment with my parents. They talked to me. In English, of course. I have to boast and tell you that they told me my English is EXCELLENT.

And tonight the world will be looking at me (and that, you know, is because of you, Mimmy). Meanwhile I'm looking at the candle, and all around me is darkness. I'm looking in the dark.

Can that outside world see the darkness I see? Just as I can't see myself on TV tonight, so the rest of the world probably can't see the darkness I'm looking at. We're at two ends of the world. Our lives are so different. Theirs is a bright light. Ours is darkness.

Your Zlata

P.S. You know that Cici is pregnant? She's going to have kittens. I have to “get” Mommy and Daddy to take one.

Zlata

Tuesday, July 27, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

Journalists, reporters, TV and radio crews from all over the world (even Japan). They're interested in you, Mimmy, and ask me about you, but also about me. It's exciting. Nice. Unusual for a wartime child.

My days have changed a little. They're more interesting now. It takes my mind off things. When I go to bed at night I think about the day behind me. Nice, as though it weren't wartime, and with such thoughts I happily fall asleep.

But in the morning, when the wheels of the water carts wake me up, I realize that there's a war on, that mine is a wartime life. SHOOTING, NO ELECTRICITY, NO WATER, NO GAS, NO FOOD. Almost no life.

Zlata

Friday, July 30, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

A journalist has just left. I'm at the window. It's hot. I am watching the people lug water home.

You should see the different kinds of water carts they have. How inventive people are. Two-wheelers, three-wheelers, wheelbarrows, shopping carts, wheelchairs, hospital tables, supermarket carts and, topping them allâa sled on rollerskates. And you should hear the sounds! The various sounds and screeching of the wheels. That is what wakes us up every morning. It's all funny and sad at the same time. Sometimes I think about all the films that could be made in Sarajevo. There are loads of subjects for films here.

Love,
Zlata

Monday, August 2, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

More journalists, reporters and cameramen. They write, take photographs, film, and it all goes to France, Italy, Canada, Japan, Spain, America. But you and I, Mimmy, we stay where we are, we stay and we wait, and, of course, keep each other company.

Some people compare me with Anne Frank. That frightens me, Mimmy. I don't want to suffer her fate.

Zlata

Friday, August 6, 1993

Dear Mimmy,

All these journalists got me muddled and I forgot to tell you that school is over (July 4, 1993) . Sixth year is behind me. It was a wartime school year.

Mirna slept over last night. There was no shooting, but there's no electricity or water. THERE IS GAS! YESSS!

The gas came on at about 4:00 today. It's now 7:40 and we still have gas. As for electricity, we haven't had any for a LONG, LONG TIME. There has been no electricity, no water and no bread for three months.

Just try and imagine what it's like, Mimmy. Every day is hard.

We make do with candles and oil lamps instead of electricity, we lug water, the wood stove (what wood?) replaces the oven. AND BREAD. Bread is the biggest problem. You can only get flour for foreign money. And in order to bake it, we have to find a free oven in the neighborhood.

Rushing, running, worryingâall day long.

Imagine, Mimmy, it's August, and we're heating. Zlata

BOOK: Zlata's Diary

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