Hunting for food

There were very few things that we had any control of during those times. And as unusual as it may seem, there were not many things we can occupy our minds with. The life was dulled down to bare existence. The goal of each day was to survive just that day, in the best way we could. The main concern on our minds every single morning was what we are going to eat that day.

Since we were not able to secure a garden in the park area for us, we decided to go steal the vegetables from other people. Of course it would be too visible to try to do it in front of our building, so mom and I ventured on a nearby hill that had several gardens. The top of the hill had the most vegetables, but was also the most dangerous, because being up high we were exposed to snipers who were always looking for victims. We would hid between the berry bushes, and duck for cover when hearing the gun shots. Few areas had trenches used by Bosnian army at some point, so we also used those for cover when we could. The gardens had all sorts of vegetables, and we had to gather them fast, laying close to the ground. I became very proficient at digging out the carrots and potatoes in one piece, and mom would gather cabbage and other above the ground veggies. The only tool we had were kitchen utensils. The last time we went up there we were forced to rush, either by guns or owners chasing us, so much so that we left our special knife up there, and that was the end of our theft adventures.

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Humanitarian aid

To people who have not experienced it, the term "humanitarian aid" probably brings thoughts of hope. For me, those years in war left a bad taste in my mouth when thinking of humanitarian aid.

The most common items we have received through the regular humanitarian aid were flour, beans, rice, pasta (often with no eggs), lentils or peas, "kabash" soap - huge yellow smelly brick. Even now thinking back on these, I get that sense again of being disgusted with rice and beans. They were so often in our diet, that for years after the war I couldn't think of eating them again. Mind you that we didn't have spices or sauces to go with these, so plain boiled food was very tasteless. Fortunately we found few other sources for more nutritious food.

The Caritas humanitarian aid was not regular. They mainly distributed donations to those registered in a Catholic parish, and since there were not many of those in the city, the convoys were often routed to other, less dangerous territories. But we really looked forward to those distributions. They had items that I get excited thinking about even now. Things like jams, chocolate, cookies, sauces, canned meat, vegetable shortening, vitamins, cocoa, soups, milk powder, egg powder, instant mashed potatoes... All of these were rare, and in very small quantities, but for us at that time those were so precious and something we talked about for days.
Through Caritas we received help in more than just food. One or two times they have even distributed chopped wood, a cubic meter per household!

We were called, maybe a dozen times, for clothing and shoes distribution in Caritas. Many times someone from the church would first call those registered members to pick through the available items before opening it up to everyone in the community. Those were mainly second-hand items, with or without holes, barely clean, stuffed in huge boxes. As much as we needed clothing, especially my brother who was growing fast those years, I didn't enjoy being part of the crowd who elbowed through the piles of clothes, grabbing more than they can carry. I actually still have a pair of boots and have just a few months ago given away the last clothing item I got through them.

Some ten years after the war, the church choir I was in was replacing their old choir robes. Since they didn't know where to get rid of them, I asked if we could send it back to my choir in Sarajevo. Everyone was supposed to wash and fold their two layered robes and put them in boxes we prepared. When after the rehearsal I saw those boxes just piled up with tossed fabric, some still covered with B.O., it reminded me of the boxes of cloths we went through in Caritas. I stayed and re-folded every single robe, in an effort to make the gift more presentable to those opening it.

Handful of times through Caritas, the "children", the term that was used loosely, have also gotten packages that were supposed to be from other children in other parts of the world. I think this might have been part of "Christmas boxes" operation. It was an exciting event because the boxes were all nicely wrapped, it was a present, and not just a rationed distribution. The packages were all the same size, so we would just pick one, having no idea what was in them. Most of the boxes had a message from the child that put it together, but these were the "real" children, sometimes pre-school age, so messages only had a few words. The items were also interesting. One time I got a box that had a card, couple of gloves of garlic and one slipper!

Merhamet (Muslim) and Dobrotvor (Serb) organizations were also distributing packages to those who had background eligibility to receive aid from them, which my family had both, but we only received help from these organizations a handful of times.

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Look inside the flour bag

During my two and a half years in Belgrade, I had a status of refugee there. One of the benefits of having that frowned upon status, was that I had received some humanitarian aid from red cross, mainly food and toiletry items. Almost 100% of those I had sent to my family in Sarajevo.

I must have sent close to 50 packages during that time. They received probably less than 10 complete boxes. The first food convoy from Belgrade was in November of 1992, organized by "Politika", a large news paper agency. I had been anticipating this opportunity, and had gathered all sort of delicious food and even clothing for my teenage brother who had been outgrowing his shoes every few months. Some of the items I remember that were in those two boxes were potatoes, cabbage, onions, oils, canned goods, pasta, sauces, chocolates, jacket, jeans and tennis shoes. My family never got those packages. The package delivery didn't go through a secure post office delivery, but the agencies organizing them had to go through several check points before reaching their destination. At each of those, the army or whoever was patrolling them would take whatever they wanted from the convoy. Even when the boxes arrived at the storage place, those working there would often first take something for themselves before letting the recipients know they have the package waiting for pick up.

Over time, I got more wise about packaging. First, I would send few smaller boxes, instead of one large one. There was a bigger chance they would get at least one box if I send more than one, even if it's smaller. Then through conversations with other people sending packages to their family members, and through few messages I was able to get from my family, I learned to hide the 'delicatessen" items. I would put chocolate, coffee, or jams inside the large bags of flour. Some packages appeared from the top as if they only have flour, rice and pasta in them, and were not of interest to those who did not dig deeper. My brother would later tell me how exciting those moments had been when he'd bury his hands into those flour bags to discover a hidden treasure.

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Lack of food

After water, the second hardest aspect of living in the war was the lack of food.

Since there were no grocery stores, and people didn't work to earn any money, the few farmers markets that existed operated mostly on a trading system. The value of local currency deteriorated very quickly, so some companies paid some sort of a social aid (there were no real salaries) to their employees in cigarettes, which were very valuable in trading since we have had a large population of smokers. People were trading cigarettes and bags of flour for meat, vegetables, eggs, or cooking oil. People were also trading their clothing, books, or jewelry on the markets for food.

The monetary unit was Deutsche Mark (DM), a money used in Germany before the euro, because it was a stable currency. The prices for items on the markets were in DM, but since very few people actually had this money, the trading was done with other merchandise based on their estimated value in DM. For example, 1 pack of cigarettes or 1 kilo (2 pounds) of flour had a value of 1 DM for trading purposes. So, to purchase a can of pate, which was 25 DM, one would need to bring 25 packs of cigarettes or 25 kilos of flour to the market. During the worst times 2 eggs were 30 DM, 3 onions were 50 DM, and 1 liter of cooking oil was 70 DM. As the war progressed, and there was less food and resources available, the prices started to rise. The flour prices went down because people accumulated it through humanitarian aid. During the first two years of war, people lived mostly on bread. For comparisons, average European annually consumes 55 kilos of bread; people in Sarajevo were eating 180 kilos of bread a year.

Some prices I pulled out from other sources:
January 1993: meat 1 kilo - 50 DM, government monthly salary - 20 DM, 1 monthly pension - 2 eggs
July 1993: Oil 1 liter - 30 DM, flour 1 kilo - 10 DM or two packs of cigarettes
March 7th 1994: coffee 1 kilo - 120 DM
March 21st 1994 ("blue roads" opened): coffee 1 kilo - 40 DM
May 1994: 1 encyclopedia is worth 5 eggs (used to be 1 egg)
September 1994 ("blue roads" closed): all prices went up 100%, bananas 1 kilo - 6 DM
November 1994: average salary - 2 DM, cost of living 350 DM.

While I was in Belgrade, I had been sending the packages to my family that had both items to keep and to trade, such as canned goods or 'delicatessen" items, or flour for trading. But, by the time I returned, flour was no longer trading, and there were no more packages coming in to exchange them for nutritious food.

The worst, however, (which I avoided), was the first year of war, until the first humanitarian aid convoys made it into the city. It was particularly hard on my family because they were refugees in a different part of town than where we lived before and were no longer in our home where my mom has somewhat gathered non perishable groceries that could have lasted them through. Also, the apartments they were assigned to stay in after the exile was already emptied of all and any food, so they didn't even have a grain of salt to start with. Plus, it was a new neighbourhood, where they didn't know anyone, and unfamiliar people in bad situation themselves were reluctant to offer any help.

By the time they arrived there, all the green areas between the buildings had already been claimed by residents as their mini vegetable garden areas. All the trees in the parks have been cut down for fuel, and all the lawns converted in 10x10 gardens. Our family didn't have one, so we lived off of measly humanitarian aid or we had to find other ways of obtaining food. The humanitarian aid was neither regular, sufficient, nor nutritious enough to survive solely on it.

Two and a half years into the war, the aid was arriving into the city by NATO planes, but the air traffic had to be halted whenever there was an elevated level of danger, which in the war happens often. During the times where the aid was considered "regular", each household would have received it every 10 days or so. Since it was too dangerous for people to leave their homes, the aid was distributed at the entrances of every building.

The town's main bakery, which used to supply almost 100% of all the grocery stores with bread before, never stopped operating throughout the war. However, since it was located on the opposite side of town, it was too dangerous for regular bread delivery into our subdivision until the second part of the war. Once we started receiving bread as part of the distributed aid, it happened once a week and each person would get about half a loaf, per week.
December 1994: 1 kilo of rice, 200 grams of beans, 0.15 liters of oil, 1 can of spam 340 grams, 2 kilos of flour.
July 9th 1995 (last round of humanitarian aid): 400 grams of beans, 300 grams of peas, 300 grams of rice, 0.2 liters of oil, 1 kilo of flour.

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You only need the phase

Streets in Sarajevo were shadowed by myriad of cables spread above them. These were referred to as "wild power". Most apartments didn't have electricity, but there were "priority" locations that were almost always powered. These included hospitals, police, and military offices which were located, at least in our neighborhood, on the ground floor of many buildings. There were also some privileged army people, who for whatever reason, were allowed to connect cable on the exterior of the building from the office downstairs to their apartment. Most of them didn't even try to be discrete about it, and would have no shame that in the entire building was in the dark and their windows were the only ones beaming with light.

We happened to have one of those privileged individuals living right above us. He was some officer for moral in his unit - a title that real didn't' fit his behavior among civilians. A cable going into his apartment was right in front of my bedroom window. I didn't understand at first how just one cable can be used to have power, when all outlets have two holes. My brother enlightened me that all that is needed is the phase cable, which, when connected to the outlet, will form the circuit with the ground cable that is already there.

So, we finally decided to give it a try one evening. We got some long insulated wire and I connected one end to one wired in an outlet. On the second end I removed an inch of insulation and shaped the wire into a hook. That evening, around 10 PM, I reached for the wire in front of my window, made an incision on the insulation, connected the hook on my wire, and wrapped it with the electrical tape. Then we put the shades down, so that no one can see that we have a light in the house, and we plugged in a lamp into that outlet. And voila - there was light!

Since we knew there is only so much power we can draw from this cable while our neighbor uses it as well, we only had one light and portable burner and/or TV plugged in. Before going to bed, we’d disconnect the cable and protect the cut outside table with the tape.

Our innovation didn't happen until close to the end of the war, so we didn't get to enjoy our little secret for too long. Having the power on all the time afterwards, however, was way better than stealing it every evening.

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Life without power

Majority of time, we didn't have electricity, and would have to mange without it.

It was great when we at least had natural gas, which was during about half of the war. We used it for cooking and baking, since we had a gas stove. Gas stove also heats up much quicker huge pots of hot water for showers, and the oven was a good supplemental heat source during winter.

We used gas even for "lighting". We used an IV tube connected to gas line on hour stove and with a metal straw at the other tip. It was connected to a doorpost, and controlled with a slider clip on the IV rubber tube. A small amount of gas lit would give enough light to move freely around the room. If we wanted to do any reading, we had to have another light source. We often used a glass filled with water on the bottom and oil on the top (because we often didn't have enough oil for the full glass) with a woven string threaded through a tiny metal plate to hold it in place. We called this "kandilo", like those vigil lamps lit before icons. It is a very low light, which probably contributed to both me and my brother needing glasses after the war. Some of you may think "Why didn't we use batteries or candles?" There were none. There were no stores to buy anything, including light sources.

When we didn't have natural gas, nights were so long, especially during winters when we also had to sit fully clothed under blankets until it was time for bed (we couldn't sleep 12 hours). The cooking was challenging, too. Most households obtained a hand-made aluminum box-stove during the first couple of years in the war. There were handyman who could make those from scrapped metal, for example from gutters or aluminum roofs. It was about 2 feet tall, with an oven and a compartment bellow for fuel material, and a little flue pipe at the top. Since the chimney in our apartments was busted, we kept this stove on the balcony until it became too dangerous. When one day mom and my brother were being shot at while on that same balcony, we decided to move the stove inside, and make a hole in the wall for the flue pipe.

After the first couple of years of war, there were no more trees in our neighbourhood to cut down for burning. The kids were even hammering down doors and windows frames on an old construction site nearby. But, in the second part of the war we had to improvise. We burned everything from encyclopedias to rubber to clothing. One tennis shoe would last enough for the bread to bake. We sometimes had those fuel cubes people use for camping, but they were rare. One cube would be enough to boil water for coffee and make scramble eggs (those with sour cream were the best breakfast ever!). But many days we didn't have a hot meal.

Without power, there was no TV of course, which made boring days even longer. We figured out we can listen to a radio for a short time by plugging it into the phone outlet. Also, old batteries when boiled, would run a small radio few a few minutes. Radios were the only way to find out important information about the fighting and danger threatening a particular area. My brother and his friends hooked up a boom box to an exercise bicycle, and made someone paddle so they can all enjoy the music.

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4 hours of electricity

The electric power was mostly unavailable to us mere mortals during most of the war. At best, the electricity was rationed for 4 hours every 4-5 days. At worst, it would be weeks or even months until we would have power again. So, when the power is on, we made sure we made use of it to the fullest.

When we were on 4 hour/4 day schedule, there would be times when the 4 hours would fall during the night, for example 2-6 am. We always had to be very organized during those 4 hours to make use of the electricity to the fullest, and it had to be the same way even if it was in the middle of the night. We'd turn almost all the lights on, plug in all sorts of devices and be busy with chores because we knew after those 4 hours it's all going to be dark and silent again.

Mom would have several meals prepared to be cooked when the hour strikes. My task was to vacuum and/or iron and monitor the washing machine and add water when it needs (majority of time we didn't have water at the same time as electricity, and the machine needs a running water to operate). My teenage brother would sometimes take over vacuuming but most of the time would just use the power to watch TV and play electric guitar. And even though we'd be groggy at first, because it's hard to get going at 2 am after sitting in dark since sundown, we knew it had to get done, and we'd do it.

The best hours to get power were in the early evening, when we can get everything done, get ready for bed at normal time with lights on, and just then it will all go black.

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