The Siege

This morning's tour was rather somber. We left by bus to reach a site near the Sarajevo Airport where the Bosnian Army built a 800 meter long tunnel from the city. This was known as the "Tunnel of Hope," the "Tunnel of Salvation," or sometimes, the "Tunnel of Life."

Along the way, Samra, our local guide, explained to us the "Sniper's Alley" and other realities of the four year siege, during which Serbian forces surrounded and shelled the city. It was through the tunnel that meager supplies entered, and that those who could, escaped.

At only three feet in width and five feet in height, the entire half mile had to be traversed in a crouching position. Frequently, the floor of the tunnel was covered with six inches or more of water. And yet, it was the city's only lifeline.

Samra told us her own story as a child in the besieged city, and of her escape through the tunnel at age 9, with her mother. They first spent two months living with strangers in Zagreb, awaiting paperwork. Then to New Jersey, as arranged by an uncle who had become an American citizen. Her mother had vowed never to return to Sarajevo, but as soon as the war ended, they did so.

Samra's father had become a soldier, defending the city, but was MIA in the first year. His body was not identified until 2005, about the time of her graduation from high school. After her presentation, we had opportunity to walk through a short section of the tunnel, which has been preserved. It was a moving experience.

Having seen pretty much what we wanted to see in Sarajevo, we spent the afternoon resting and reading in our room. About 6:30 p.m. we boarded the bus once again for a home-hosted meal. The meal was with a Muslim family, living in one of the tall, gray, socialist-era apartment buildings that were in the heart of "Sniper Alley" during the war. The hallways were run-down and filled with graffiti, and the old elevator was painfully slow. But the inside of the small, 2-bedroom apartment was well-kept and nicely decorated. 

Because of Ramadan, we thought that they would not able to eat until after sunset, but either they aren't observant or they counted it as close enough. Our hosts were a retired couple, probably pretty close to our age. They were joined by a younger cousin -- a woman probably in her mid- to late-40s -- who acted as translator, and by their eldest grandson, age 13, who only lives two blocks away and clearly spends a lot of time there.

Grandma was an excellent cook, and our translator was very adept. So, it was a good meal and a pretty lively conversation. We were back to the hotel about 9:30 p.m.