Friday, March 27, 2015
A Little Gold Necklace
I was born in Bosnia in 88 and was 4 when I, my mother, and my sisters fled the north of the country. Our bus was stopped on the border to Croatia and armed men boarded. They demanded everyone's money and valuables. Not being pleased with the take, they demanded that everyone strip naked to make sure that no one was hiding anything. If they found anyone hiding valuables, they told us, even if it was just one person, the entire bus would be shot.
One of these armed men paced back and forth on the bus, looking at each of us as his comrades rummaged through our clothes. He stopped by an older and rather saggy looking lady and extended his rifle. He raised her left breast with it to check if she had been hiding anything under it. She hadn't. Satisfied, he moved on and passed me, sitting there completely naked except for my little white socks. They returned our clothes, smiled, and handed us our "exit visas."
When my family and I finally reached a shelter in Zagreb we all collapsed from exhaustion. Before I went to sleep, however, I complained that my feet hurt. My mother took off my socks to massage my feet and out fell a little gold necklace.