What I have to say has never been more important to me, but I am not trying to gain anything. Nothing, except to see compassion in your eyes. I did not call you my brothers, although you are that now more than ever, but rather the sons of Adem, invoking that which we all have in common. We are men, and think in the same way, especially when we are in distress. You have waited, and wanted for us to be together, to look one another in the eye, sorrowful about the death of an innocent man, and troubled by a crime. And that crime concerns you as well, since you know: whenever someone kills an innocent man, it is as if he has killed all men. They have killed all of us countless times, my murdered brothers, but we are horrified when they strike our most beloved.
These words are spoken by Ahmed Nurudin, the protagonist in Meša Selimović’s novel Dervish and Death, upon learning about the murder of his brother.
It is the greatest sorrow, because it is mine, said Nail Kajević on the 27th anniversary of the murder of his brother Nijazim Kajević, one of the twenty passengers taken from the Lovćen 671 train in Štrpci on 27 February 1993. Who knows how many times, constantly, persistently, for 27 years, Nail has been speaking these words to responsible institutions, state and local authorities, the powers that be, speaking them, to this day, in vain.
Crimes concern all of us
This time, he speaks them to people he had perhaps least expected to speak them to, and perhaps does so for the first time. To his “brothers”, a mixed group of thirty or so war veterans from once warring armies, to people who listen, who have come to learn about his suffering and about his struggle, to share in his pain through compassion.
Veterans of the Army of the Republic of Bosnia and Herzegovina (ARBiH), the Croat Defence Council (HVO), the Croatian Army (HV), the Army of Republika Srpska (VRS), the Army of Yugoslavia (VJ) and the Yugoslav People’s Army (JNA), together with activists from the Centre for Nonviolent Action Sarajevo/Belgrade, took part in the commemoration in Prijepolje at the invitation of the Municipality. They paid their respects to the victims taken from the train in Štrpci, expressed solidarity with and support for their families, and called for the prosecution of those responsible and for finding the remains of the victims.
Why? Because innocence cannot and must not be tainted by nationality, must not have political connotations or religious contexts, for it is solely human and therefore beyond nationality and politics and religion. Because, though the crime should primarily concern those who keep mum, who do not look you in the eye, those unprepared to share in the pain, those in seats of power, it concerns the families of the victims, it concerns the politicians and religious leaders, and war veterans, it concerns all of us.
Walls of silence
The war veterans attended the commemoration “Štrpci without graves” and the silent procession following it, they laid a wreath at the memorial in Šarampovo near the Old Bridge on the Lim river in Prijepolje.
There was no place for Nail or other victims’ families, not at the commemoration or among the speeches at the memorial. All of them, and their stories and struggles remained invisible, side-lined, mentioned as an aside, a polite formality. They are not among the organisers of the commemoration; nor, as we found out, did it occur to anyone to ask them about how they would like the commemoration dedicated to their loved ones to look. A wall of silence!
Members of the victims’ families are impacted by a discriminatory law of the Republic of Serbia that denies the victims the status of civilian war victims simply because they were killed outside its territory, though they were citizens of Serbia, and deprives their families of even the symbolic amount of monthly benefits and social assistance. Another wall of silence!
Victims of the crime in Štrpci and members of their families are invisible in most of the memory policies and practices in the Republic of Serbia. While local officials take part in organising commemorations and hold speeches to mark anniversaries of the crime (Prijpolje is a rare positive example when it comes to how municipalities treat victims that are not from the Serb ethnic community), they remain invisible in state-level memorialisation practices. The latter are predominantly focused exclusively on Serb victims and on glorifying the role of the Serb military, as well as convicted and indicted war criminals. A third wall of silence!
Commemoration
The term commemoration comes from Latin and denotes remembrance, memory. Commemorations usually say something about the life of the deceased, his work and merits. The victims from the train in Štrpci lived ordinary lives filled with ordinary problems, travels, cares and responsibilities, similar or varied needs and hopes, which is what makes them no different from any of us. On the day when they are remembered, there was no room for their ordinary stories, for “common” people and their lives, so similar to the lives of “others”, so much like our own lives, so much like us.
The life stories of the victims are no less important than the political aspirations so clearly articulated at the commemoration. Their tragic end is no less important than the results of the upcoming elections, just as the struggle of their families for truth and justice is no less important than the war waged by political and religious leaders and activists, the only speakers at the commemoration. The compassion that the victims’ families would like to see in our eyes is more valuable than any call to close party, national or religious ranks. Compassion brings greater relief than mere mentions at commemorations. The mission to find the remains of their loved ones is more sacred than invoking God’s justice from the microphone. Making the whole truth about this crime public is a greater right and responsibility, a better and bigger investment in the future, than the condemnation spoken as a curse to hound the criminals and their descendants. On the day when we remember the victims, the voices and words of their families should have been heard loud and clear.
A document testifying to humanity
Members of the paramilitary formation “Osvetnici” led by Milan Lukić intercepted train 671 and took off twenty non-Serb passengers, citizens of what was then the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, and subsequently killed them at Višegradska Banja, on the territory of Bosnia and Herzegovina (BiH). The victims were citizens of Prijepolje, Bijelo Polje, Belgrade and Podgorica. The oldest was 59 and the youngest 16 years old. To date, the remains of only four victims have been found. Although (only) two of the direct perpetrators have been convicted, the names of those who ordered and organised this crime are still unknown.
One of the victims was Tomo Buzov, the only one, according to testimonies, who spoke up, stood up against the violence, tried to prevent people being taken off the train, and who was killed for doing so. His response, his human act in a time of madness and inhumanity, should be held up as proof of heroism, of humanity and hope.
Another document testifying to humanity is Nail’s struggle to make sure the criminals are punished and the remains of his brother and the other innocent victims are found and properly buried, which he pursues without so much as a word of intolerance or impatience. This demand was also taken up by members of the mixed group of war veterans. They have called for finding the remains of the victims to allow for proper burials, for prosecuting the criminals, for allowing wounds to heal. Their joint participation at commemorations shows that fear and distrust can abate, that hatred dies down, that mutual respect and coexistence are slowly being taken off life-support.
A monument to responsibility
In 2009, the local authorities unveiled a memorial to the victims in Prijepolje, next to the Old Bridge on the Lim river. The inscription on the monument reads: “Who forgets 27 February 1993 in this country and the station in Štrpci has given up on its future.”
We are grateful to Nail for sharing the experience of his struggle and that of his family with us and for showing us how the commemoration could look. We also thank him for his responsibility and perseverance, for not giving up on the future. We would like to thank Nail and the group of war veterans for showing us that the burden of crimes and suffering, the duty of compassion for another’s pain, and the responsibility for generations to come are borne easier together.
Nail never advocates hatred. His words never call for revenge or caution, his messages do not mobilise or discourage, he does not single out or warn “the others” and their descendants. He only seeks justice and the body of his murdered brother, just like Ahmed Nurudin: Maybe I should hate them, but I cannot. I do not have two hearts, one for hatred and one for love.
THE PHOTO GALERY IS AVAILABLE HERE
ANNOUNCEMENTS:
http://www.glaszapadnesrbije.rs/vest506532.html
https://www.danas.rs/drustvo/secanje-na-otete-u-strpcima/
https://www.vesti.rs/Hronika/Secanje-na-otete-u-Strpcima.html
REPORTS:
http://sandzacke.rs/featured/u-prijepolju-obiljezana-27-godisnjica-zlocina-u-strpcima/
https://jugpress.com/ratni-veterani-iz-regiona-odali-pocast-ubijenim-civilima-iz-voza-u-strpcima/
https://www.listpolimlje.info/index.php/drustvo/3460-secanje-na-strpce-jos-jedna-godina-tisine
https://ppmedia.rs/u-prijepolju-obelezena-godisnjica-zlocina-u-strpcima-nova-godina-tuge-i-tisine/
http://pvportal.me/2020/02/u-prijepolju-obiljezena-godisnjica-zlocina-u-strpcima/
https://impulsportal.net/index.php/kolumne/drustvo/22343-strpci-27-godina-poslije-nepostovana-djeca-sa-stanice-strpci