Book Review: After the Fall

Srebrenica Survivors in St. Louis After the Fall

I devoured this book on the way to Vienna. I could not have found a more perfect book. It follows several Bosnian families who became refugees and settled in St. Louis. The pictures of them in St. Louis are at the end of the 1990's. They are sitting on porches of classic St. Louis brick houses.

Their stories are harrowing, not as harrowing as the one from the delivery guy, but awful. The book starts out giving a chronology of the genocide that took place in the town of Srebrenica. I must say that my knowledge beyond the fact that there was a war in Bosnia in the 90's was very limited. I was shocked to find that the U.N. didn't help the matter, they made it so much worse.

First, there was an arms embargo on all of the former Yugoslavia, so when they were attacked by the Serbs, they had no weapaons with which to protect themselves.  (The Serbs - the attackers - had obtained most of the arms from the Yugoslaves People's Army arsenal.) Bosnians had no organized militia. 

The U.N. set up Srebrenica as a protected zone, so Bosnians flocked to that area as their home towns were being invaded. The population swelled. Despite promises, the U.N. provided no help at all to these people. There was little to no air protection. The ground troops did practically nothing. And the unarmed men of Srbrenica were systematically killed by the thousands within a few days. Think about that - thousands in just a few days. The U.N. troops allowed the Serbian army to separate the men from the women and children, put them all on buses and then dropped them off killed them all. Then they buried them all in mass graves to hide what they had done.

After going through the history then the people give their accounts of how they escaped. You find out which family members were never seen again. Did I already mention that this book made me cry?

One thing I found odd is that many of them said that they would go back to Bosnia if they could. That life there was easier. There was much less crime. Children played outside without fear. That in America they have to work all the time and they never got to see their children. In Bosnia they had their own houses, and before the war, they were happy. I could tell that they were very family oriented. As I read this on the airplane, I thought it was odd that they would want to go back. Despite living abroad for 2 years, there is still that part of me that thinks that America has got to be preferable to anywhere else.

That was until we landed in Sarajevo. The still beauty of that city is remarkable. As we drove through the sleepy mountains into the farmlands I could see why they would never want to leave this place. The houses are largely made of some type of cinder block. It is simple, but adequate and so very charming. Many places still use clothes lines. Many places had piles of hay and wood stoves. 

The people are social and friendly. You can tell there is a lot of love and sociability among them. 

On my flight from Munich, Germany to Washington, D.C. I sat next to a Bosnian refugee who was on his way back to St. Louis. He looked to be about my age. He was both handsome and kind. He still has a slight Bosnian accent. He was traveling with his mother and sister who were a row over. 

I asked him the question that had piqued my curiosity - would you ever move back? No, he said. His life is in America; he has spent more than 20 years of his life in the U.S. I asked him what nationality he is? Bosniak, he said. Muslim? I inquired. Yes, he is.

While in Sarajevo we visited a museum specifically about the genocide in Srebrenica. I had read it in the book, but still, to see the pictures of warehouses full of systematic piles of skulls, bones, and clothing remains was just incredibly sobering. To think about how hard it must be to locate the mass graves and piece together lives so their families can have proper burials. They had pictures of warehouses full of coffins ready to be interred. To think through and let it really sink in that these atrocities happened during my lifetime. And what was I doing? Living an almost totally oblivious life.

You can't help but wonder - what could I have done? I feel like I really should have done something. I should have been more educated and aware of what was going on in the world. I should have been an activist. But at the time, I really was too into my own life.

As we were leaving there was a video montage of what is going on in Syria. And as we exited the building by way of the tiny, grey elevator - all I could think was that I must do something for Syria after I did nothing for the Bosnians.