War Torn

Authors Note: At school last year (2010) we read a book called No Gun for Asmir. We had to use it somehow as a stimulus for a story. This is what I came up with :) Enjoy. (Oh and just so you know, Sarajevo is pronounced sara-yay-vo)






Stimulus-Page 2 and war theme from “No Gun for Asmir”

I let the wind blow the loose strands of hair that had fallen out of my pony tail into my face. The summer breeze blew my skirt gently as I walked along the deserted streets of Sarajevo, my shoes making a soft, clonking sound as they hit the cobblestones.

My mind wandered as I listened to the soft rustle of the leaves on trees brushing against each other as the warm breeze made them dance like performers on a stage. I thought about my mother. I hoped she was okay. I thought about how I missed my father. I wondered if he would survive the war. Most of all I thought about Mathew. It’s been weeks since I had seen him, but it felt like only a day ago he was here with me, before the war started.

I remember the words he whispered as he held me. I wondered if they were true. I didn’t think Mathew would lie to me, but at times like these, I have to be careful who I trust.

My father is involved a lot in the war. He has gone off to fight the invading soldiers that are tearing Sarajevo apart. My mother and I are very proud of him, but we are constantly worrying about his safety.

My mother works at the paper shop. She sells newspapers headlining updates on the war. She also sells the little milk left in Sarajevo. “We are lucky if we get 4 bottles a month!” Mum would say after a long day at work. We are both very worried about how fast basic things like eggs, milk, bread and cheese are disappearing.

I first met Mathew just before war came to Sarajevo. I saw him at the supermarket when I was getting groceries. He smiled at me as I walked past him, his big brown eyes glistening. Then I saw him as I was waiting in line to pay for our food. “Hello, my name is Mathew,” he had said. “Uh, hi,” I replied, trying not to blush, “I’m Asmat.” After that I started seeing him everywhere. Until one day as I was walking around town, we spoke again, “I seem to be seeing you everywhere!” Mathew said with a smile. “It’s Asmat right?” I felt my cheeks grow hot. “You remembered,” I said shyly. “How could I forget?”

We walked and talked together for a while after that. We talked about our family, friends and the war. Finally I got the courage to ask him if he had a girlfriend. “No, but I have been seeing this great girl everywhere I go. I think it’s a sign.” Mathew said with the cutest crooked smile, so I could not help smiling back. He had little dimples on his cheeks that made him look like the most trustworthy and honest person in the world. “Me too,” I replied.

As the sun started to set we both knew it was time to go home. “My mother will be wondering where I am,” I told Mathew while trying to hide my disappointment. “Me too,” he replied as we slowly stopped and stared at each other under a chestnut tree. “Will you meet me here at 2 o’clock tomorrow?” asked Mathew, “because I would really like to see you again.” “Sure,” I said, and then we both walked off in separate directions, heading home.

I know I should not have agreed without asking mother first, but I was so excited that I am sure she wouldn’t mind. When I got home I explained to mother what had happened that afternoon while I helped her cook dinner. “May I please go see Mathew tomorrow mother?” I pleaded. “As long as your chores are done I don’t see the harm,” she said. “Thank you mother” I said and hugged her.

We met at the chestnut tree the next day. “I can’t stay long,” Mathew said. “My father needs help at his work, but I came to do something I was too scared to do yesterday.” “What’s that?” I asked curiously. He suddenly lent down until his face was inches away from mine. His soft, warm lips gently brushed mine. I could not believe it! Had Mathew really just kissed me? “I am very sorry,” he said. I was hoping he wasn’t sorry about the kiss. “Why?” “Because I have to go help my father now, but I will meet you here tomorrow, same time?” “Sure.” And just like that, he was gone, and I was left standing there, my fingers on my lip, speechless.

After that we met every day at 2 o’clock under the chestnut tree. Sometimes we would go for a walk or sit on a bench in the park. That is, until the war came to Sarajevo, we could no longer meet, and I missed him terribly.

We sent each other letters as often as possible, but soon there was no more ink or paper to write on and all the mail carriers had been shot. There was no more bread or milk or cheese either. It got so bad my mother and I had to leave Sarajevo.

We packed the car the next morning and headed to the airport. It was going to be a long trip. We could only hope that we would be let cross the border when we got off the plane and drove to Belgrade. Once we got to Belgrade we would drive across the border and keep travelling until we got to a little cottage-like house that my mother was given from my grandmother in her will. It would be cramped, but at least we wouldn’t have to worry about bombs anymore.
A few days earlier, the electricity had been cut. We couldn’t hear the Mecca and didn’t know when to pray. So my mother and I prayed in between the little meals we had these days. It as if they had bombed God.

We got off the cramped plane in Serbia and had plans to stop for the night and stay with a friend on mothers. We slowly pulled to a stop out the front of Nadeem’s house. It was made of wood, painted white with a light yellow door. The paint was chipping in some parts of the house, but I still thought it was beautiful. It was so peaceful looking that I didn’t think I would want to leave tomorrow.

We thought it would be a good idea to stock up on food so we could rest when we got to our little house in Vojovodina. After thanking Nadeem for letting us stay, we left to buy some food and water with the little money we had left.

My mother and I got a cart as we walked in and looked for things that would last. We bought some granola bars, four big bottles of water, two apples and some bags of dried fruit. As we were leaving to pay for our food we heard an all too familiar noise. My mother and I screamed.

It was dark. I was so scared; I was shaking violently in my mother’s loving arms. I could feel her tears drip from her chin and into my hair as she silently cried. I was crying too. The department store next to the one we were in had been bombed and the grocery store had collapsed. Tall soldiers were walking around outside. They had guns. I could hear their feet hit the ground as they walked, moving there muscle-rippled bodies closer.

My mother and I sat silently in the rubble. My mother whispered in my ear and told me to be very still, or the soldiers would find us.

I heard somebody moving behind us and prayed they couldn’t see the two Muslims who had managed to survive. Then I heard a shot. I looked at mother who was now sitting next to me. Her hand was cupped over her stomach. She was quivering. As her hands parted I looked down at her shirt. I saw the blood. Run! She mouthed, and I did.

I darted out of the crumbled grocery store. Maybe they had bombed God. I didn’t stop running until I was back at Nadeem’s house. I knocked on the door with the little energy I had left, and he opened the door in seconds. “I heard an explosion! What happened?” For a moment all I could so was cry. After about 5 minutes I finally spoke. I told Nadeem everything, starting with Mathew and finishing with mother.

“I am so sorry!” He said. All I could manage was a nod. I didn’t think I could speak without crying again. He suggested that I write Mathew a letter while I was here. Why hadn’t I thought of that? So I began writing.

Dear Mathew,
I am in Serbia, staying with a friend of mothers. Yesterday my mother was shot after the store we were in collapsed, (the shop next door was bombed.) I don’t know what to do anymore. My family has been torn apart by the war. My mother is dead; my father is a soldier and probably won’t survive the year and now I am all alone. I hope things are better in Sarajevo. I miss you.
Love Asmat.

As I walked to the post office to mail the letter to Mathew, I was stunned at what I saw. Dead bodies, crashed cars and small fires were lit in between the piles of rubble. The air was thick with smoke and the smell of burnt rubber. It lingered in my nose as I tried to step around the mounds of rubbish.

I was almost to the post office when I saw a very familiar sight in front of me. Mathew’s dark brown eyes looked into mine and my heart skipped a beat. Before I could think of what I was doing, I ran up to him and threw my arms around his body. “What are you doing here?” I asked while taking my arms off him. “I, uh, saw the bombing on the news. I had to make sure you were okay,” Mathew replied.

I walked with him back to Nadeem’s house. Nadeem wasn’t home; he had gone to see if his office was still standing.

Mathew and I sat at the kitchen table. I handed him the letter and got a puzzled expression in reply. “This will explain everything,” I said softly. He took it. “Oh my gosh!” Mathew said his brown eyes wide and his mouth open. “I am so sorry!” I was trying so hard not to cry in front of him that once again all I could manage was a nod.

“So how did you know where I was?” I asked Mathew, now that I trusted myself to speak in a steady voice. “It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that I am here,” he replied. I wanted to know but I didn’t want to get into an argument with him so I let it go.

A few hours later Mathew left and Nadeem came home. We had a short, silent dinner then went to bed, exhausted. Hoping that I wouldn’t hear guns tonight, I climbed into bed and lay awake, my mind alert and my eyes wide open.

I got about two hours of sleep that night and got out of bed at 6 am to find Nadeem already up and at the kitchen table. “Good morning,” he said. “How did you sleep?” I asked with a yawn. “I didn’t sleep,” he replied, “I gave up trying at 12:30.” I looked out the window to see that nothing much had changed. There were a few more fires and some more dead bodies here and there but nothing too extreme.

“I need to talk to you,” Nadeem said, his voice was stern but upset. “I am so sorry to do this to you after everything you’ve been through, losing your mother and all, but I’m afraid you can’t stay here any longer.” My mouth went dry. My voice was just above a whisper “I understand,” I said even though I wasn’t sure I did. “It’s just that I only expected you to stay a night and there is not enough food. I cannot afford to let you stay. I am very sorry.”

That day he drove me to the border, where we were let past. Nadeem dropped me off about twenty yards past the border. “Thank you,” I said, “for everything.” I took my bag out of the car and watched him drive off into the distance.

I was standing on the side of the road when a rusty, brown car pulled up beside me. It had three Muslims inside. A mother, father and a baby boy. “Where are you headed?” asked the man behind the steering wheel. “I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “Well we are going to Vienna,” he said with a smile. “You are most welcome to come along,” added the woman in the seat next to him. “Thank you!” I said and climbed in the back seat of the car.

I had no idea what I would do, or where I would stay once I got to Vienna but I was just happy to be going somewhere. I was moving forward, away from the bombs and the guns and the soldiers. Before I knew it I was asleep on the kind stranger’s back seat.

The car slowed to a stop at a gas station. I had woken up just moments ago, with no clue as to where I was. After opening my eyes and allowing them to adjust to the darkness, I remembered all about the kind strangers who had so nicely offered to take me to Vienna. I was so grateful. We began moving again, the gas station disappearing behind us.

I fell asleep again, but this time when I awoke, the sky was lit. A big beautiful sun hanging high in the clear blue sky. It was a new day.

We finally arrived in Vienna a few hours later. The kind strangers, whose names I still didn’t know, had dropped me off on the side of the road. Once again I was alone.

Suddenly another car pulled up. It was shiny, clean and black. Behind the steering wheel sat Mathew. “Hello Asmat,” he said, my favourite crooked smile stretching across his face as if he had just found gold.

Mathew and I drove for about an hour, ending up at a small, cosy-looking house. “Mathew,” I said “how did you know where I was?” “I didn’t. I was driving past and saw you standing there on the side of the road; I couldn’t just leave you there.”

That night it started raining. We ate a huge dinner. It was the biggest dinner I had eaten since the war started. We had potatoes, carrots, beans and steak. Where had Mathew gotten all this food?

“Mathew,” I said, “Where did you get all this food? There are countries starving out there and you have steak! What’s going on?” I sounded very suspicious, but I needed to know. “I, uh, can’t tell you,” he replied. “Well I need answers. Please just tell me what you’re hiding?” “I can’t. You will hate me!” “I could never hate you Mathew, I...I love you.” That was the first time I had ever told somebody I loved them besides my parents, but it was true.

That did it. With his face grim, Mathew said “I was payed, a few months ago, to go to Sarajevo undercover, to pretend I was a normal boy. I am a sort of secret soldier. They promised me food, safety and shelter if I went along with it. I would have said no, but they had my father, they said they would kill him if I didn’t do what they said.” He was almost crying now. “They shot him anyway! The soldiers are going to kill me too if I don’t co-operate, I’m so sorry Asmat!”

A glistening tear ran slowly down his smooth, warm cheek. “That’s how you knew where I was,” I whispered to myself. It wasn’t a question but he answered anyway, “yes, I am so sorry; I wanted to tell you the first time we spoke in the grocery store back in Sarajevo.”

My throat went dry. After that day I had seen him everywhere, I thought it was a coincidence, now I know better. “I saw you where ever I went after that day. It wasn’t a coincidence was it?” “No,” he whispered. I was suddenly furious with Mathew as his words ran through my head “I have been seeing this great girl everywhere, I think it’s a sign he had said. “You said it was a sign! Yeah right, some sign!”

I ran out of the little house, that just hours ago had been the safest place in the world for me. It wasn’t anymore. I didn’t feel safe around Mathew anymore.

He ran out after me. Tears were streaming down my face; I hoped the rain made it hard to see. For some reason, I didn’t want Mathew to see me cry. I still cared about what he thought of me.

My clothes were soaked through and clinging to my body. I self-consciously crossed my arms over my chest. “What are you doing?” He asked, raising his voice to be heard over the rain. “I can’t trust you anymore Mathew.” My voice gave me away; he could tell I was crying. “I know you’re mad at me, but it mean more that I risked my life so that I wouldn’t have to lie to you anymore?”

He had a point. After stubbornly standing out in the pouring rain for another five minutes, I followed him inside. As much as I didn’t want to admit it, I still loved Mathew and I don’t think there is anything that could change that.

I woke up the next morning to find Mathew on a walky-talky to a man with a deep, official-sounding voice. “Guess what!” He said when he was done talking to the man with the deep voice. “What?” I said, rubbing sleep from my eyes. “Your mothers alive!” He said it as if he was announcing that his favourite team won the soccer, and not as if he was telling me that my mother, who was shot a few days earlier, was alive.

He sat me down and explained that my mother was being held captive. That wasn’t good, but it was way better than dead. I was finding it hard to believe. I was there when she was shot. I had seen the blood coming out of her stomach. I had heard the shot being fired. It just didn’t seem possible that she had survived. Even after everything that Mathew had done, lying and all, I didn’t believe that he would tell me that my mother was alive unless he was sure she was.

We came up with a plan to free my mother. I wasn’t going to be easy. It involved a lot of persuasive lies and convincing arguments. It was a good thing that Mathew was an expert in that area. We were going to set mother free tonight. We could only hope she would survive until then.

Mathew made a call to a friend who is also a soldier against his will. Mathew told me his friends name was Tom and he was also threatened into becoming a soldier. Our plan involved setting him free as well as mother. He would also be able to help us get in to the place where my mother was being held. Mathew had described it to me as a big camp-like place. The soldiers held Muslims there and they were eventually killed. Most of them have relatives on the outside and can be tortured into telling the soldier where they are. That is why they keep them alive for a while. They want all Muslims dead. I was hoping they were not hurting mother. Would she tell them about me? I didn’t want to think so.

We had been driving for forty minutes and were almost to the camp. I was so nervous that my stomach felt sick. I ignored it. All I could think about was getting mother out of that place.

Mathew’s car pulled to a stop. Two men were guarding the gates at the front of the camp. We walked towards them and I thought I was going to be sick. Mathew whispered something in one of the men’s ears and we were let past.

We walked forward, the only light coming from the moon. Suddenly I saw a round light coming towards us and I hid behind Mathew. “Don’t worry,” he whispered, “it’s just Tom.” I relaxed a little but still walked with half my body guarded by Mathew’s.

“Tom, this is Asmat, Asmat this is Tom.” Mathew’s introductions made me calm down a little; they made this whole thing seem more casual. We continued to move forward, now with the light of Tom’s torch to help guide the way.

We came to a row of long rooms. Mathew and I followed tom to the door of one. “She’s in there,” he said softly. I couldn’t breathe. My mother was only a few yards away. All I wanted to do was run in there and give her a hug and tell her that I love her and that everything would be okay, but something told me that wouldn’t be a very good idea.

Tom, Mathew and I entered the room. It was filled with low cots from wall to wall. They weren’t very long or wide and could not have been comfortable. We walked along the rows looking for mother. We found her after about two minutes of looking. Tom held a file with a few papers inside, he saw me looking at it and whispered “her records.” That made sense. If they still had her records then they would realize she was missing.

My mother was awake. We didn’t have time to explain so we hurried as quietly as possible out of the room. We had just closed the door behind us when a large flashlight was pointed into our eyes. “What do you think you are doing?” The man’s voice was loud and deep, but I could detect that he was very tired by the way he finished the question. “I heard this woman was causing some trouble,” said Tom, his voice sounding much more official than before. I didn’t like this Tom. He scared me.

The man with the flashlight let us go after Tom told him a quick story of how my mother was causing trouble and told him to continue standing guard. Apparently Tom was very powerful around here.

After we got out of the camp I gave my mother a hug. “I was so worried about you!” she whispered to me. “Worried about me? I have been worried about you, until this morning I thought you were dead!” As much as I wanted to be angry at Mathew, after this I couldn’t be. He reunited my mother and me. I was grateful to him.

Mathew, Tom, my mother and I all slept in the small house that Mathew had gotten from the soldiers. We all had a big dinner with sausages and salad. We also had ice cream for dessert and some milk before bed. My mother and I slept very close. I was afraid I would wake up and find her gone. I didn’t want to lose her again.

A week later we were all still living in Mathew’s house. We turned on the TV and watched the news. It announced the end of the war. My mother and I rejoiced when the list of surviving soldiers came up on the screen and my father’s was on it.

Two days later we went to pick him up at the train station. We introduced him to our new friends Tom and Mathew. It was quickly decided that we would all live in Sarajevo. Our houses were now only a few blocks apart and we could see each other as often as we wanted, which turned out to be every day.

After living happily in Sarajevo for only two weeks Mathew said he needed to talk to me. We met at the chestnut tree, which was amazingly still standing. He got down on one knee and I couldn’t breathe. “Asmat, we have been through so much together. I don’t ever want to lose you, will you marry me?” I couldn’t believe it! “Yes!” I said.

“Tell us the story again mother!” yelled Zaafir and Alia. “No my darlings,” I said softly, time for bed.” “Listen to your mother,” said Mathew. I smiled. Everything was perfect.