Back then, Bosnians drank a lot of alcohol, listened to a lot of turbo-folk, and comforted themselves with Latin soaps.
“Baba Jela is Croatian?” I whispered to my mother, pulling on her sleeve. Both my mother and Baba Jela were too scared to say anything. “Baba Jela is our enemy!” I thought to myself.
"The only remedy for this malady is found in a man’s pants," said Baba Jela after peering into the coffee cup.
All of our meals were onion soup, and to this day, I have never wanted to taste anything more than that thin, slimy mixture of chicken liver pate. I even had a dream about it the following night, and woke up with the sour taste of disappointment.
Sep 25, 2013
In 1975, young people were recruited by Naples’ police headquarters to become the first members of a special, plainclothes mobile unit of butterflies and owls.
No one had any toys after the war. That is how almost all boys and girls in the small rural Herzegovinian town of Gacko became jugglers, zoo handlers, racetrack operators.