July 13, 1996

Muslim Widows in Bosnia Try to Rebuild Lives Without Men

By MIKE O'CONNOR

OZUCA, Bosnia-Herzegovina -- Compelled by the laws of courtesy, Mila Ahmetovic dropped her remaining coffee beans into the 12-inch cylindrical grinder. Sitting on a homemade bench, she cranked the handle of the grinder as she spoke with her guests, seven women dressed in the long pantaloons, billowy blouses and head scarves that nearly conceal traditional Muslim women in rural Bosnia.

Though they can seldom discuss it, they are connected by something more than being new neighbors in a village far from home. Of the eight, seven became widows in the massacres in Srebrenica last July, and all of them lost many of the men in their families to the executioners.

A year later, the survivors, mostly mothers and their children, are trying to find ways to repair their lives. But they say that even with their efforts, delayed for months by the analgesia of shock, repair seems unattainable.

Even for the younger, better-educated women like Mrs. Ahmetovic, 25, have their doubts about the future. Her husband is gone, as well as her father. Her three sisters are also widows.

There is not one man left in her extended family, the essential social network in the hamlets and tiny villages they were forced to flee in eastern Bosnia. Without the men, and with the survivors scattered around Bosnia, the families are fragmented. The village society that sustained them has vanished. And fellow Muslims who lived here before they settled here, have taken advantage of many of the refugees.

Mrs. Ahmetovic, with her sharp mind and her strong personality, is a leader among survivors here.

As she moved the pot of sweetened coffee along the line of outstretched cups, it was obvious that the other women had come to sit for a while with someone they hoped would be able to impart some of her grit.

But the leader doesn't have the answers on how to reconstruct her own life, let alone help the others rebuild the society of a village.

"I used to be afraid of the nightmares," she said after her guests were gone. "Now I am afraid of reality. I don't know how my family will survive."

In their old lives, the women depended on men for nearly everything. Many of the women and children had never seen a street light or used indoor plumbing. They were not prepared for life outside of their home village, and the rest of Bosnia was not prepared for their arrival.

Counseling is available, especially to Srebrenica survivors, through some of the nongovernmental organizations aiding Bosnians. The therapists began treating the survivors for trauma, in tents, refugee centers and sometimes in well-equipped offices. Now their focus has changed to helping the survivors plan a future.

Therapists counseling some of the women say that their patients continue to see themselves only as part of something bigger -- the wife in a family, or a member of a village -- never as an individual. Now the larger entity is gone, and with it their sense of belonging.

Irfanka Pasagic, a psychiatrist who has worked with these women, said, "From the time she could speak, the woman was told in words and examples that her value was based on what a man thought of her."

The men were educated because they were the ones who dealt with the outside world and brought in the money. Girls seldom left the village, and local schools seldom went past the fourth grade. By challenging tradition and her mother's counsel, Mrs. Ahmetovic reached the eighth grade. Still, she married at 15, which was not unusual for the area.

"The women did not think we were controlled by men. It was just the natural way," Mrs. Ahmetovic said. "We were responsible for the house, the men had everything outside."

She, herself, does not feel as tough and confident as she appears.

"Inside of me, way inside, I don't think I can do very much for my family because my man is gone, and I can't be strong enough as only a woman," she said.

After Srebrenica fell to Bosnian Serb troops, last July, she and her three small children joined perhaps 30,000 other Srebrenica survivors packed in tents and foul refugee centers in Tuzla.

Eventually, Mrs. Ahmetovic took a bold step. She got on a bus, rode two hours and got off in this village where about half of the homes had been abandoned by their Bosnian Serb owners. She and her children just moved in, and others followed. Now there are about 2,400 people from the Srebrenica area here.

"I have trouble seeing as far as tomorrow. My children and I think about little things, like making a meal, but everything else is empty," said Mrs. Ahmetovic, exhibiting a symptom therapists find in almost all the women they treat.

For many of the women, to have a life is to have a husband. But they have a traditional view of second marriages: The women doubt that there are good fathers for their children, and many men are reluctant to marry a woman with children.

The more clearly Mrs. Ahmetovic sees things, the more sure she is that her family's future is completely in her hands, and the more convinced she is that she will fail.