The Liberation of Bihac

By Julius Strauss in Bihac

9 August 1995

They stood in the streets, climbed on the balconies and hung on the roofs. For the people of Bihac, who have been surrounded for 1201 days, nearly a year longer than the siege of Leningrad, yesterday was the first day in the rest of their lives.

As the presidential convoy approached people began to tremble, cry and shout. The old wrinkled up their faces in the bright sun and the young jumped and waved.

Bosnian President Alija Izetbegovic, escorted by an armoured car decked out in the Bosnian colours, came to Bihac for the first time in four years.

"Bosna, Bosna," chanted the crowds. "Alija, Alija."

For Katka, 48, a secretary wearing a mottled green cotton top, the occasion was too much too bear, tears streamed down her face as she told of four years living on black bread and raw vegetables.

"What they did to us, to our children, is really genocide. We spent days in the cellars. Sometimes 40 or 50 of us had to cram into one room," she said.

"Every day I walked to work, I thought this can't go on. But it did. When I learnt that the siege had been lifted I fainted with joy."

President Izetbegovic stood in the main square. "This is not a day for politics but for emotions," he said. "We always tried to help you but I know it was never enough. Through this suffering you have earned the right to live."

For many that right, which became reality three days ago when the Bosnian Fifth Army linked up with Croat forces attacking the Serbian-held region of Krajina to lift the siege, has come just in time.

Earlier this year Bihac, starved of all humanitarian aid and unable to support itself, finally began to run out of food. The first deaths from starvation were reported last month. Emir, a student, used to be 92 kilos, today he weighs 71.

Many died too soon to see the liberation. President Izetbegovic broke down in tears as he spoke of military commanders who gave their lives defending Bihac and of the estimated 3000 civilians killed during the siege.

Katka said: "The worst thing was not the bullets and the shells. It was the thought of the Serbs entering the town. I begged my family to kill me if they broke through."

Today Bihac, with its old stone buildings barricaded against the shells, looks like a medieval town. Petrol is unobtainable and most people use battered bicycles or horses and carts to travel the short distances inside the enclave.

Their clothes are tattered and broken and the old have a haunted look in their eyes.

"Of course, us women always tried to look our best. We wore lipstick, if we had any, and did our hair," Katka said. "It was worse for the children. Many of them were wounded, or didn't have enough to eat."

Sead, 16, was standing in swimming trunks on a bridge where a little girl was killed by a sniper last week. "We spent a lot of our lives underground," he said. "We haven't been to school for months."

Some children have legs missing, others are gaunt from long-term fear.

Like the other children, Sead spent a lot of his time hungry.

In besieged Bihac, a kilo of salt cost more than £20, and a 50 kilo bag of flour £500. Many were force to scavenge for roots to survive.

"I have an eight month old little girl," said Amir, 30, a local official. "My wife is still breast feeding her. We just prayed that her milk would not run out. The least the Serbs could have done is let baby food in."

Bihac is now free but it will take a long time before the town returns to normal.

Perched on the north-west tip of Bosnia, the enclave is still under threat from Serb guns and yesterday heavy machine gun fire and shells still rocked the suburbs. But for its citizens the nightmare is finally coming to an end.

"I dream of the day I can taste a yoghurt or a pineapple again," Katka said.