Editor's note: Paula Kreiner

and her husband Ray lived in Sarajevo for much of 1999. She says she is

still sorting out her memories of life amid the devastation of 10 years

of war, and may never really understand the complex problems of a society

that became fragmented along religious and ethnic lines.

When she stepped from a restaurant

recently, she had a moment of insight that helped her understand, if only

slightly, what soldiers experience when something reminds them of combat.

It's been more than a year since she left Bosnia, but she remembered how

it was there: "As we exited a coffee shop, we'd hear this horrible

clank in unison. It was the slamming of magazines into automatic weapons.

It's little things like that a smell, a taste. For the first time I think

I understand what the fellows coming back from Vietnam experienced when

they had flashbacks."

Kreiner has consented to The

Citizen's editing and paraphrasing a small part of the voluminous correspondence

she and Ray sent to friends and family during their stay. Except for the

first paragraph, written to an elementary school child, the goal is to

portray everyday life, and not to try to interpret politics.

A terrible thing happened here

just a few years ago. War broke out among the people of the nation known

as Yugoslavia after WWII.

It was a nation comprised of

many different small countries, and of people of vastly different religious

beliefs. After the death of the strong leader Marshal Tito the central

government weakened and finally fell.

The former countries that had

been pulled together to make up Yugoslavia, among them Slovakia, Croatia,

Bosnia and Herzegovina, decided to fight it out to try to control as much

land as possible. Along the way, they also decided they wanted all the

people in their country to be the same both by heritage and religious

belief.

Even if your family had lived

next door to people for hundreds of years, and if that family was different

from what your leader had decided your new county was going to be, that

"different" family was to be killed.

Many people fled to other countries

to escape. Many cities were attacked with artillery shells, and consequently

there is lots of damage. All this happened here about four years ago,

but it is still happening a few hundred miles from here today in Kosovo,

and may be starting up again in Croatia.

The damage from the war is

massive. It hurts to see buildings, hundreds of years old, blown apart.

Then you look at the houses. All I could surmise was the shelling was

indiscriminate. Almost every house has something wrong, and many are nothing

more than shells.

Most houses are built from

a concrete frame, where we use 2x4s, with a wooden roof covered with tiles.

Next the "shell" is enclosed with windows and doors, concrete

walls are painted, and pine tongue-and-grove flooring is installed.

The outside of the house normally

is stucco over the concrete blocks. Although the interiors are beautiful,

on the outside lots of stucco is missing from the houses that didn't take

direct hits, and many like ours have been rebuilt from the shell up. They

are still working on the fourth floor here, and we have no stucco.

The fact that a building is

not taxed until its restoration is complete is a disincentive to finish.

Our town house is very warm, really hot, and I have turned the thermostat

down. The cleaning lady said she was cold, but I think she was worried

the clothes wouldn't dry for her to iron. The laundry is hung outside

even in the freezing fog.

Across the drive was a line

full of baby clothes that hung for three days. I feel sorry for the little

one that is going to have to wear them. We are drying ours in the house,

in the spare bedroom.

I am enjoying the humidity.

The air outside has a mild irritant in it that causes most Americans fits,

maybe the constant presence of smoke in the air. You have to guess the

weather here, because we get no forecast. I am learning to guess what

will happen from TV maps that show where the high and low pressures in

this half of the world are located.

Food in the markets is very

expensive, but if you eat out, it doesn't cost very much. Go figure. The

locals don't seem to like vegetables except as a garnish. The restaurants

just don't serve green vegetables; they are for the peasants.

This peasant usually stir-fries

herself a fourth of a cabbage for lunch every day. I love the local spinach,

but it is sold with roots attached and a small serving takes over an hour

to clean and prepare. Never will I look at a box of frozen vegetables

in the same way.

Salads are usually several

leaves of leaf lettuce with a sliced tomato that is almost green, and

slices of carrot and cucumber. Oil and vinegar is the only salad dressing

they have, although you see Hellmann's Mayonnaise in all the stores. I

wonder what they do with it.

I have tasted two traditional

meat dishes here, both made from ground veal. One was like a Swedish meatball

with a prune and half a walnut in the center, served with thick gravy

that has a touch of tomato paste in it delicious. The other was a meat

loaf, made with a flat layer of ground meat with herbs, bread crumbs and

egg, on which was placed a layer of bologna and cheese, then rolled up

and baked as we do regular meat loaf. When you sliced it, it was most

attractive with the lunch meat in the middle.

I have really had a hard time

adjusting to the time and to sleeping. There are two roosters behind the

house and they crow at all hours of the night and day. If I could move

the bed I would, but it is huge and there is no place else it could go.

Both of our bedrooms are on

the back of the house. You quickly learn to sleep with one ear open, and

Mr. Rooster goes off for early morning practice about 3:30, 4:30 and 5:30

for five-minute sessions. All hell breaks loose at 6:30, and for the life

of me I don't know why we set alarm clocks except to confirm he is on

time. Of course, If he misses a session, and he rarely does, we just lie

awake waiting...

Also there are packs of dogs

that roam the streets, sending the tied-up dogs into fits. People keep

dogs here for protection, for one of the ways the ethnic cleansing occurred

was by bombing the houses of sleeping victims. A barking dog is not quieted

even if it barks all night.

In the market we visited today,

it was great to see so much stuff, but every stall has identical food

(unlike those in Germany where individual vendors offer their specialties).

Everyone sells the identical same vegetables, so we bought from one, then

another. Today I found fresh mushrooms and spinach, complete with roots.

My Bosnian word for the day

is "pola," which means half. At least today I was able to purchase

a half kilo of items instead of a kilo. Do you have any idea how many

prunes it takes to make a kilo? Half a plastic grocery bag would be a

close answer.

Most items cost more than in

the U.S., and some lots more, like a bag of soap powder, a little over

$9. A can of peaches costs $2.80. I just don't know how people do it on

what they have. It rained some while we were at the market, but things

are freezing again now at ground level and I don't want to walk back on

the ice by myself.

There is a fence across our

small street the street in front of our house is really our drive since

it dead-ends in the middle of the block with "street" on both

sides of the fence. There is a narrow walking path around the fence, and

all the water from the melting ice flows though that particular spot.

You have to walk about five feet on solid ice, and if you fall down, you

will slide until you are back where you started.

I walk to most of the places

I go and the ice and mud are horrible. To get down the mountain and on

to where Ray's offices are located, about two blocks of my journey is

along a muddy narrow path that runs beside a very busy street. The path

is so narrow two people can't pass, and the cars seem to fly by, often

within inches.

Thursday we went to a wonderful

restaurant and to the ballet. The two ballets, "Carmen" and

"Bolero," were well done. It was delightful and the tickets

cost next to nothing ($4 each for box seats).

As we rode through town after

the performance, there were thousands of people, of all ages, all dressed

in black, walking up and down the streets in almost total darkness. It

was about 9:30 and all the shops were closed. I couldn't figure why they

were out on a cold night like that. Later I was told that this is normal.

They just wanted to see and be seen, I guess a form of visiting.

We found out later that during

the war, no one could go out after dark. That is why they walk the streets

at night, just because they can.

We lose electricity about every

other day, but not for long periods of time. I think we also lose the

water a couple times a week, for when you turn the spigot on, you can

be sprayed. So far it isn't a big problem.

The work ethic of the population

as a whole is awful, thanks to the prior system of government. But, as

individuals, they are truly amazing.

If you wonder how Sarajevo

was defended, for years it was with homemade weapons. Sena's husband (Sena

runs a restaurant frequented regularly by the American community) made

a rifle from pipe to protect them. He is a mechanical engineer and keeps

all our small appliances going.

He has been out of work since

the war, as they haven't rebuilt the factory where he worked. Now he cleans

the restaurant, which is located in a building his uncle owns, and his

wife cooks. He is interviewing for jobs, but they pay very little.

Young people here go to work

usually at hard labor when they are finished with school, so going to

college could put a hardship on many families. When you are young and

can do such work, at least it is an income that is difficult to find here.

About 11,000 in Sarajevo lost

their lives here and most of those I am sure were young men. As awful

as it was, one of the favorite targets was the maternity hospital here,

so many newborns were victims also.

One thing I will never get

used to is the presence of a tank at each street intersection, with a

soldier armed with a large gun, his finger on the trigger. Whenever a

Serb leader comes to town, NATO must provide security. With things such

as they are, they are out most every day now.

Sunday we again ventured to

[an Episcopal] "church" in our borrowed space in a Franciscan

monastery. We had 16 attending this week, one of whom was some general,

a Brit from NATO whose armed vehicle was parked outside with guards with

rifles in hand, posted during our service. This time I felt it made us

more of a target than offered any protection.

On Friday morning, I went to

the American Embassy as part of a group of American women gathering to

help with a bake sale. Though the Residence House is lovely, all the windows

are covered with bars. To get in, I was escorted down the drive by three

different security personnel, I guess each guarding his own 20 feet.

There are two entrances, one

for locals and one for Americans, so after getting to the correct door

and being thoroughly searched, I was escorted to our location. We had

to have an escort to even go to the bathroom that was located 20 feet

across the hall.

There are Marines in the gatehouses,

but all others are locals, so now I am convinced that everyone either

drives a taxi or is employed as security for an embassy or some do-good

organization here.

Anne [the ambassador's wife]

is not here in an official capacity, so, believe it or not, she has to

hire her own driver, who is a local. That is one of the reasons it took

us so long to leave the place yesterday. His car has to be searched before

he can get in to pick us up.

You are always glad of the

precautions, for everyone's sake, but what all this does to what you can

accomplish in a day is disastrous.

I found out what they do with

all the mayonnaise I see about in the stores. They put it on French fries.

I tried it and though it isn't awful, I think I like my potatoes with

ketchup, please.

Valentine's Day. We have close

to two feet of snow on the ground now, and it has snowed in every variation

I know during the past few days, from fine spitting mist to large flakes

that float down so slowly as to dangle in the air.

All in all, it is a very beautiful

mess here.

[While Paula was in the States,

Ray wrote:] As I ate breakfast this morning, I pondered why, when I asked

for two bananas at the grocery store yesterday, I got three. This routinely

happens here. When I thought about it before, I figured that the vendor

was just trying to make an additional 50 pfennigs or was just being nice.

This morning it hit me like

a thunderbolt. When I ask for two, I hold up my forefinger and middle

finger to indicate two, something we all do. Europeans, especially from

Eastern Europe, count the thumb first, and then any finger held up. Therefore,

when I hold up these two fingers, the vendor is actually counting three.

I noticed today that the city

of Sarjevo has put out about 200 rose bushes in front of the bus station.

There are also many new flowers along main streets and beside government

buildings. This was the drabbest city, but so much color now that I am

amazed.

Growth and clean-up are unbelievable.

Many of the old, bombed-out buildings are being torn down or cleaned up

after parts of buildings in the downtown area started falling and hurting

or killing people. Most of the major war damage is starting to disappear,

and with spring just about here, people's attitudes are changing for the

better. People are starting to look up as they walk, and some will even

speak to you before being spoken to.

April: Last night as I walked

home I remarked about how warm it was. This morning I awoke to snow. We

have what appear to be cherry trees in the back yard which are covered

with beautiful white blossoms. This morning I could not tell which were

blossoms and which were snowflakes.

[June, and Paula is back in

Sarajevo:] I can't believe the wonderful changes a dozen weeks make. Even

from the air, you can see new roofs everywhere. At the airport, the front

row of apartments and houses have all been repaired and painted since

I left.

I really felt great until we

had to drive behind them and saw the totally destroyed units located away

from the view of the street. I actually think the contrast made it worse.

Roses! They are everywhere

and at times their wonderful fragrance just stops you in your tracks.

They come in every color, and when the buds open, they are as big as saucers.

Peonies are also in bloom everywhere.

In fact, the cleaning lady

had a beautiful arrangement of pink peonies and dark red roses on the

table for me. The house smells like a florist shop. What a nice change

from the smoke we had all winter.

On a road trip through the

mountains, we saw hundreds of cherry stands along the roadsides. Seems

everyone that has a tree was out. Some had boxes, but some just a jar

full.

It has been unusually hot for

early June, with temperatures in the upper 80s to mid-90s. The humidity

is high with afternoon sprinkles that don't even settle the dust.

None of the houses has air

conditioning. The saving grace is that our house is constructed of concrete

and sun exposure allows only the morning sun in one small window. Though

the back where our bedrooms are located has afternoon sun, the windows

are shaded by large cherry trees that, at the moment, are loaded with

huge bright red cherries that are too high to be picked.

We have a long balcony that

runs the entire length of the house where we sit most of the day and evening,

for it is on the north side. It is usually cooler than inside and the

view is breathtaking. We look down into the city or up into the mountains.

Living here is like a constant

scavenger hunt. We spent the past two weekends looking for an electric

fan, and finally had to ask Sena to see if she could find one for us.

She did, though it came in lots of pieces with the only instructions being

a small picture on the side of the box. Ray assembled it and fully deserves

accolades galore.

With the windows open at night,

every barking dog or crowing rooster seems right in the room with you.

I want to bake oatmeal cookies,

but Bosnian oatmeal is difficult to find and is so unrefined you must

put it in a blender and make a flour before you can use it.

Yes, we do now have a blender.

We have joked about wanting one and last week, while I was on my walking

jaunts about the town, the auto parts store had one in the window between

the new hubcaps available for 1980 model cars and distributor caps.

I rushed in and discovered

it was new and fairly priced. Of course, the box couldn't be located,

but they did pretend to look for it for 10 minutes. For all I know it

may have been smuggled in the tax rate here is out of this world.

If you remember my $49 muffin

pan, one of the new fellows here has just purchased a $10 potato masher.

The same problem, but it is funny that this was a real "bargain,"

for my wire whip cost me $18 last winter.

August: The Summit meeting

is being held here. About three weeks ago things started getting fixed

here. We have water most of the time and the electricity is only off for

short periods. Holes in the street I mean monsters that will eat a car

have been filled and on several main streets they have painted lane stripes.

Unfortunately it appears they

must have used water-based paint, for we had thundershowers all night

and I am sure the lines will be gone in the morning.

Here at the house, the phone

isn't working. When I pick it up, it is dead. But I have found that if

I pound on the cradle and shout in English that I must call the Embassy,

I seem to miraculously get a dial tone. Hey, you have to learn fast to

be the ugly American to survive this week.

One thing I have commented

on before are the differences in the sounds we hear. Of course, there

is the rooster that seems to tell time better than my Timex. In fact,

he is going off as I type, at 12:30 p.m. He hasn't missed a 30-minute

call all day.

Today must be National Rug

Beating Day. Yes, my neighbors own a nice vacuum cleaner, but today all

the rugs are hanging outside and are being beaten to death by every member

of the family. I want to cry when I see these wonderful old Persian carpets

suffering such abuse, but it is simply the way it is done here.

I still haven't adjusted to

the lack of many of the sounds from home. At the house, I don't hear the

whine of air conditioning units, or car engines, or buses, or televisions,

or airplanes, or lawn mowers, or leaf blowers, horns, or tires squealing.

I hear mainly conversation, birds, livestock and some construction sounds

like hammering, but no power tools.

One of the older men in our

village keeps a small herd of goats that are used to keep the weeds down.

When we lived in Germany, we often saw sheep grazing on the sides of the

road or in unused fields, but here they use goats. Why? I think it is

because sheep are very expensive, and goats aren't, and this place still

has lots of land mines.

I have also been told that

goats have the ability to avoid mines that sheep don't, and they thrive

on the weedy grass that grows here. Almost all the local cheeses are made

from goat's milk, which makes sense too.

All the Americans here often

say, "How can you talk to anyone about the Balkans who hasn't been

here?" I sincerely pray that solutions will be found quickly, for

the average Bosnian is as nice a person as you would want to know.