Yes, I See There's Been Some Bickering Between

Annual Balls Signal Winter Fun

By SHERICE L. SHIELDS sshields@leader.net
 Monday, November 27, 2000 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;Page: 3A 





KINGSTON - Nusret and Senka Sehic recall the day in 1992 when a grenade
shattered their window and pierced a bookshelf in their third-floor apartment
in Yugoslavia. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The bitter war between Yugoslovian and Serbian forces was raging throughout
their country. It was that moment when they realized the war was no longer
contained outside their apartment walls. It had entered their lives. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; Today, the Sehics live in a comfortable high-rise apartment on Wyoming
Avenue, close to their son, Elmir, and his family. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 They beam proudly as they speak of their two grandchildren, Nadan, 14, and
Emir, 16, who attend Wyoming Seminary. They would rather focus on the
children's accomplishments in orchestra, soccer and chorus than recall that
horrid day. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 But the 73-year-old Nusret feels compelled to retell the story. Speaking
about the war, he says, is a sort of therapy. And now he plans to share his
memories. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 A former historian in his homeland, Nusret has written four books and
multiple magazine articles about his country's history. He is now working on
his fifth book, which will detail his family's plight during the Yugoslovian
civil war, which ended in 1995. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 His face darkens as he recalls neighbors killed by Serbians, who were
accused of trying to create a ``perfect race'' of Serbs. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``Every day for two years we lived in fear of being hit by a grenade,''
Nusret says, speaking slowly in his newly learned English. ``For two years!'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``Careful, Nusret!'' his wife Senka, 71, says in her native tongue. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``She gets worried that his blood pressure will rise from talking about
Bosnia,'' says their son, Elmir, 43, translating for his mother. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Elmir felt he could help his parents if he became a doctor. He is
completing his residency in internal medicine at the Department of Veterans
Affairs Medical Center in Plains Township. His wife, Azra, 41, is a
pediatrician in Kingston. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Family and humor help erase the Sehics' dark memories of Serbs who wanted
to purge them from their native home. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Afraid another grenade would whiz through their glassless panes, the Sehics
spent many days and nights in their apartment building's basement with their
neighbors. The couple planted cabbage on the third-floor balcony for dinner
and burned their furniture for heat. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Nusret has heart problems and recently recovered from prostate and other
health complications that stem from the two years he and his wife dined on
scanty meals such as clear soup and beans. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The Sehics lived in Bosnia all of their lives, enduring years of rule under
the iron-fisted Slobodan Milosevic. Because of Nusret's health problems, they
were permitted to come to the United States five years ago. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Milosevic led a federation that favored the manufacture of tanks and rifles
over cars and computers. He also allowed Serbian tanks to surround Yugoslavia,
pointing their cannons towards the nation. When Vojislav Kostunica recently
stepped in to preside over the war-ravaged country, the Sehics were relieved. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The high-school and college sweethearts came to America while Milosevic was
still in power. The couple only recently began talking of the photos they took
chronicling the first year of the war. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``We ran out of film and couldn't buy any more to document the rest of the
time we were there,'' Senka says. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 People depicted in photos snapped in their underground haven maintained
strained grins for the camera. Some are alive, but others died from heart
attacks during the war. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``There were no nice stories,'' says Senka, a trace of resentment in her
voice. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 They explain how Nusret hauled wood from the forest when furniture didn't
generate enough heat to fight Yugoslavia's bitter cold, adding to his growing
list of health problems. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Nusret's maladies went untreated in Bosnia because of the war, so the
couple sought to come to the United States on an American Red Cross convoy for
medical care. Although their son, Elmir, and his family were in the United
States, the Sehics were denied immediate access because Elmir and his family
were not American citizens. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 In December 1993, the Red Cross finally included Nusret and Senka in what
they said was the last convoy of 16 buses to be sent out from Sarajevo during
the war. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``They could only bring one bin each. My father wanted to bring a
dictionary and tapes, but the Bosnians said they couldn't bring them with
them,'' Elmir says. ``During the three-day voyage to Croatia, they had no food
and no water. After 16 hours of driving, it stopped to let them urinate. After
traveling two days, the drivers turned on the hoses to let them drink and
bathe. It was worse than being animals.'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Then, for the first time in two years, they were given fruit, breads and
chocolate to eat. ``People were so hungry that they hurried to eat and vomited
the food. It was a tragic-comic situation. In spite of the vomiting, they ate
again and vomited again,'' Elmir continues. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Nusret and Senka left Croatia for New Jersey, where they stayed six months.
They next stayed in Memphis, Tenn., with Elmir, before both families moved to
Kingston. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``If you saw them when they arrived, they looked like ghosts,'' Elmir says. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 While in Yugoslavia, the Serbs burned their books, but Nusret still filled
journals with personal thoughts and newspaper clippings - the basis of the
latest book he is writing. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Each day, he sits at his computer, analyzing the history of his country and
connecting it to the present. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 He and Senka have lived through many political developments in Yugoslavia:
The Kingdom of Yugoslavia, which lasted from 1929 to 1941; World War II; the
Socialist Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, which was led by Marshal Josip Broz
Tito; and Milosevic's maniacal monarchy, which began in 1991 and eventually
shattered the country. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 His books analyze these periods, including the formation of Yugoslavia in
1918. His fifth book will complete the set. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Nusret has completed almost 300 pages of text, and hopes to fill the last
page by next year. ``I would like to forget, but every time I work on my book
and read my diary, I see that what is written is not forgotten.'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Since this is his first American publication, Nusret says he needs a
translator and publisher to make the history known to those who did not live
it and to remind those who endured it that: ``We made it through all of this
in our history, but we are still here.'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Senka, a retired pharmacist, uses her survivor mentality daily. Every
American experience is wonderful to her and Nusret. She spends hours in
grocery stores while Nusret patiently walks outside. ``Everything is packaged
and I am not used to it ...'' Senka says. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 Her grandson, Nadan, who visited Sarajevo in the summer, says everything
from the milk to the meat sold at the open-air markets was fresh and
unpackaged. ``Since refrigeration is a problem, we had to go to the market
every day.'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``It's a pleasure for her eyes to see all of the food and products we have
here. For my father, it's boring, but he knows it's important to her,'' Elmir
says. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 The Sehics are a close family, sharing a life of mutual interest. Each day
the couple grab a pair of binoculars to watch their other grandson, Emir, walk
to school. &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp; 
 ``The kids are learning the history and getting social support, love,
understanding and spending time with their family,'' their son says. ``Money
can't buy that.'' &nbsp;&nbsp;&nbsp;

`every Day For Two Years We Lived In Fear Of Being Hit By A Grenade.' Bosnian Duo Recount War In Homeland