MY MOTHER’S DEFIANCE

A Bomb in the Rice

While Alisa was still living with Refik, my mother discovered a bomb hidden inside a bag of rice. She took it quietly, her hands shaking but her resolve unbroken. My father showed her how to open the safety catch, how many seconds to hold it before throwing, and how to reset it if needed.

Later, Refik confronted our mother, holding a bomb. “Tell Alisa she has three seconds to come,” he said.

My mother pretended to agree. Instead, she sent Alisa away and carried the bomb herself.

“What do you want from my child?” she demanded, pulling the bomb from her pocket.

She told me later: “I wanted him close to me, even if I died, so I could make sure he died too. I would rather be in jail or under the ground if it means my child is safe.”

When he saw the bomb, he panicked and ran. My mother chased him through the dark streets, but he escaped.

BLOOD IN THE HALLWAY

He always knew Alisa’s destination. When she went to my uncle’s house for coffee, he knew she was there. At my uncle’s house, Refik arrived again, armed, demanding Alisa. My uncle pretended to call for her while quietly taking a kitchen knife.

As Alisa approached the hallway door, my uncle shoved her into a room and lunged at Refik. He stabbed him. Refik fell and rolled down the steps, then staggered up and fled.

My cousin Suljo happened to be driving by. Without hesitation, he struck Refik with his car, stopping him long enough for Alisa to escape. Refik fled between the railway wagons near the Mramor coal mine, disappearing into the shadows of the coal trains.

Suljo was Halid’s brother. Two brothers stood on opposite sides of the same truth. One chose courage and justice, risking everything to protect Alisa. The other chose silence and complicity. Suljo did not look away. In a moment when fear ruled everyone else, he acted. He stood where justice should have stood.

I am forever grateful to him. Today, he is no longer with us, but his courage lives on as an example of what it means to stand up for the weak and protect those who cannot protect themselves. May God grant him peace, and may his soul rest in eternal peace.

KIDNAPPING IN WINTER

Alisa stayed with me, hoping for peace. We sat together with our children. Hers was two years old. Mine was one and a half. The house was quiet. Winter pressed against the windows.

I was in the living room watching the babies play while Alisa went into the kitchen to make burek. The smell of dough and warmth began to fill the house when, without warning, Refik appeared.

He stormed into the living room, gripping Alisa with one arm and holding a bomb in the other. “If you move,” he hissed, “I will throw the bomb on the children.”

She slipped on her boots and left with him, forced out by his threat.

I ran to my neighbor’s house. He was a police officer. Breathless, I begged him to call the police. “My sister has been kidnapped,” I said. “It is winter. They can follow the tracks in the snow.”

The officers came, took the report, and left.

For nine days, we heard nothing.

Every hour felt like a year.

The child cried for his mother, and I could only hold him, powerless. My mother prayed without stopping. My father drank more than ever. I walked through the rooms like a ghost, unable to sleep or eat.

Zerin, Refik’s neighbor, happened to see Refik and Alisa walking away down the street that led to the cemetery. It was night. The village was small, and everyone knew what was happening. He began to follow them, intending to tell the police where they were.

Refik noticed that someone was following them but kept walking. As they moved on, he activated the bomb and threw it toward Zerin. Shrapnel struck Zerin’s leg, but he survived, injured by fragments from the explosion.

Finally, police found them in Smoluća, near Ozren. Refik had tied a bomb around Alisa’s stomach, using her body as a shield.

Negotiators pleaded with him.

Our cousin, Halid Bajrami, appeared and promised Refik safety. How he found them, or why he was there at that moment, I still do not know. What I do know is that his presence was not accidental. By then, suspicion toward him had only grown stronger.

Refik released Alisa.

The police held him overnight and then let him go.

Alisa came home terrified and broken. Her body carried the marks of captivity. Her eyes carried the terror of those nine days. She clung to her child, refusing to let him out of her sight.

We thought the nightmare might be over.

It was only the beginning.