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Tags: History, Lang:en
Summary
March 1996 Haydarpasa, Istanbul, Turkey I started to write this in 1996 after the events of my
Bosnian experience. I was hoping that I would have earned
enough money to get back to the UK and publish this work
through teaching English. But only after I have inspected all
the antiquities of this most fascinating city several times
over until I drop.
My name is on the cover I am sitting at a table in a photo.
I am middle aged, a divorcee, a bankrupt now a have been lorry
driver with an M.B.A! Currently drifting through Istanbul
formally Byzantine and Constantinople, Turkey and so happy to
be here after Bosnia. In fact I am probably the happiest person
I know as the last years has seen major changes in my life
which I couldn’t have possible foretold! Thank you God,
as I recovered from a serious mountain accident and a deep vein
thrombosis in Italy, December 1991 which I, family and friends
thought was the end of me, but not to be. Re-learning to walk
to become mobile again is truly the most wonderful of miracles
and challenges, along with the grant for International
Women’s Year that enabled me to study an M.B.A! Crazy but
true.
The terminology, ethnic cleansing is the most despicable
phrase ever formed by corrupt mankind. To experience the
following in reality is still incomprehensible to me and it
still intrudes significantly upon my day time and night time
thoughts. The following is a simple account of my life and
emotions in Croatia, Bosnia, Serbia, briefly Macedonia,
Bulgaria and now Turkey!
**
It was my dream in history lessons at a junior and then
comprehensive school in Glyncorrwg and Cymmer Afan, which
are/were mining villages in South Wales, to one day visit
Bysantine/Constantinople/Istanbul. And now 40 years later here
I stand in my humanitarian aid clothes feeling like royalty,
absolutely fabulous, unbelievable, wonderful a dream come true.
Who am I?
To be honest I’m not middle aged not unless I’m
going to live to see 100. I celebrated my 50th birthday driving
humanitarian aid convoys thus aiding the population of Sarajevo
the capital of Bosnia which was cut off from the outside world
by a most dreadful and destructive war.
Hateful terminology
Why write this?
I am writing these words not out of a sense of wanting to
relive those times. In fact I know that I don’t want to
write this. Something or someone is compelling me to do so.
What or who is driving me to put pen to paper I had no idea
until now! 9 months after Tony along with Neil was wiped off
Mt. Igman the life line for the survival of Sarajevo and Bosnia
in Samantha, my ex Bedford army lorry. I have been spiritually
grabbed by the scruff of the neck. I only pray I can go the
course as reliving this journal is hugely upsetting and
emotionally draining for me. Am I writing for someone else who
is not here? What an uncomfortable, compelling feeling.
Phoenix Aid International
Still in Istanbul
Just 3 days ago, for the very first time I reread my dairies.
The day to day account of my life as a volunteer with Phoenix
Aid International a Surrey based non-government (NGO) charity.
Their objectives were to provide aid to the poor people caught
up in that bloody place of former Yugoslavia. Phoenix Aid was
set up by the vision of several people. The vision being to
serve needy civilians who ever they may be and not on any
account let our aid fall into any non civilian hands. Muslims
or Christian were the same to us. I really thank God for the
people who along our road helped us without asking for reward
knowing we were not of the same faith as them. It did not
matter one bit only what we were sharing. What a marvellous
humbling experience you never ever read about in the
newspapers.
As I read and write on I laugh as well as cry at what was the
past is now my mental present life once more! Too much to bear
a second around time surely, let’s see!
Deep breath, pen in hand........