The girl who could not speak properly

(Bosnia)

When I first settled in Sarajevo, I stayed in Medresa district of the Old Town, in a house owned by a family of four.

One day, I talked to the oldest daughter, who was 15 years old.  I asked her a few simple questions and received answers in short sentence, broken up by, seemed like, excessive hiccups.  I paid little attention to this  detail and guessed  she either did not speak English well or was nervous when speaking in a foreign language to a stranger.

Occasionally I went downstairs for coffee with the family or casually struck trivial greetings with the girl.  Over time, I  got used to her string of hiccups.

One night I waltzed downstairs for a quick chat. The mother, Alma, was cleaning the house as usual. We had homemade baklava.  Since we were eating baklava , we talked about food.   Because we were discussing food,  Alma started telling me about the time when Sarajevo was under siege resulting a huge food shortage.  She and the daughter left to the countryside while her husband, Elmir, stayed behind to take care of the house.  When the siege was over, Alma returned home; the first thing Elmir said to her was: “Cook some thing for me.”   She then filled the kitchen with foodstuff and meals, and her husband could not stop eating and eating for a long time after that.  “He did not have anything to eat during the siege.”  Alma explained to me.

Now, what kind of war it is if there is no bomb, guns and shell.   Alma excitingly recalled an incident when a shell hit one of her bed room, located next to the room I was standing.   “She [Alaj, the daughter] heard the blast and shrieked.  She got so scared and then started speaking like that.”  Alma pointed to the “hiccup”girl and suddenly the eyes of this forever-cheerful woman got all red and swollen up with tears.

“Mom! It’s okay.”  The girl smiled.

And this was how I knew why the girl could not speak properly.