1/6 ”Our house and village got destroyed at the very beginning of the war. We escaped from the Serb soldiers in time, but we had nowhere to go. We wandered through many different villages, and we would sometimes stay in the woods. The area was already under the control of the Bosnian Serb forces, so we had no other choice but to go to Srebrenica in March 1993. When we arrived, there were so many refugees. We found a small garage next to a school in which to live. I remember that year as a constant search for food and water. It felt like a concentration camp without wire. Still, from a young boy’s perspective, there were some interesting elements. My friends and I were impressed by the UN soldiers. We would ask them questions about cars, soccer, and their rifles—things that interested me as a 15-year-old boy. We would often go to their base during lunchtime. Sometimes, when the soldiers had some leftovers from their lunch, they would give them to us. After a year, we left the school and went to live in a refugee camp built by the Swedish government. We stayed there for one year. It might sound strange but this was the best period of my life. The camp was next to the river, so we had clean running water. I used every moment I could to go swimming. My friends and I would sometimes play soccer with the Dutch soldiers. That year Ajax played in the Champions League, going on to win the competition, and that was exciting for all of us. We talked a lot about soccer. One of the soldiers gave me a poster of one of the players. At the time, I had no idea who he was, but I put it up in my bedroom. Later, when I was able to watch TV again, I found out it was Jari Litmanen.”