by Zinta Aistars
Published in LuxEsto Fall 2014
Kalamazoo College alumni magazine
Bakira Hasecic beckons Ivana Ivkovic ’95 to her garden in
Sarajevo and fills her arms with vegetables. She piles potatoes and zucchini
into the trunk of Ivkovic’s car, filling the crates crammed next to Ivana’s camera
equipment.
“You are like another daughter to me,” says Bakira, and the
two women embrace, holding back tears, a farewell until their next meeting. By
now, the women have met on three occasions, and the stories they have shared
are heart-rending. Bakira and Ivana are bonded in their shared cause of giving
voice to the forgotten women of Bosnia.
For 19 years, since
she graduated from Kalamazoo College, majoring in political science and women’s
studies, Ivana has held a burning desire to return to this story, to the story
of Bakira Hasecic and so many other Bosniak women who survived—or did not
survive—systematic rape as a form of genocide in the Serbian war of 1991 to
1995 in Croatia and Bosnia-Hercegovina.
In the Winter 2001 issue of LuxEsto, Ivana described her
experience while a student at K, when she was first drawn to the cause of
giving voice to women survivors of the Serb-run rape camps: “My life’s course
took a drastic turn during the summer of 1991, when the Serbian army moved into
Slovenia, then Croatia, a few months before I embarked on my Land/Sea
Experience at Kalamazoo College. Over the next two years, I made four trips to
Washington D.C. to lobby Congress to enforce sanctions against Serbia … After
graduation, I worked for the Croatian embassy in Washington D.C. and helped
open the first Croatian consulate in Los Angeles.”
For Ivana, those early learning experiences, at one point
culminating in her Senior Individualized Project about the women that Karadzic
attempted to crush, stayed with her, waiting for the right time to surface
again.
“It was always at the back of my mind,” she says. “Coming
from K, you have all these ideals, all these ideas about how things should
work. I wanted to change everything. I was unwilling to compromise. I was
impatient.” She laughs, remembering her younger, idealistic but less wise and
experienced self.
Born in Croatia, Ivana immigrated to the United States with
her parents at age 3. She went to law school in Chicago after graduating from
Kalamazoo College, but felt some of the same frustrations arise.
“In law school, I kept looking for courses on human rights,”
she says. “Later, I realized I was too impatient for change. I would have been
beating my head against a brick wall, frustrated at trying to change a system I
couldn’t change, at least not overnight.”
Ivana left law school to move to California, where she
studied playwriting at the University of Southern California, where she had
received a full scholarship. She later worked for 20th Century Fox,
Fox Sports Network, and the Rand Corporation.
“I worked in all aspects of the film industry, from
development to distribution, at both small and large production companies,”
Ivana says. “I was at 20th
Century Fox for four years, and my last two years there, all I could think
about was this documentary I wanted to do.”
Remembering that discontent, Ivana wonders if fate didn’t conspire
with the call inside her. Her employer downsized in 2010, and Ivkovic found
herself newly unemployed.
“Blessing in disguise,” she now says. “I could finally focus
on what had been simmering in me all along. I thought about these women and how
they must still be dealing with the repercussions of what had been done to
them, and I felt a sense of guilt at moving away from that.”
Ivana realized that all was as it should be, however. The
story was so powerful, so overwhelming—and she tears up as she considers it
even now—that she needed time and distance to gain some measure of objectivity
to allow for filming the documentary she had in mind.
In November 2010, Ivana returned to Bosnia and had her first
interview with Bakira Hasecic. “Bakira is a powerhouse activist,” says Ivana.
“She is a survivor of war rape, and today she is the president of Women Victims
of War in Sarajevo. Bakira is the focus of my documentary.”
As the documentary developed, Ivana titled it Persephone Speaks: The Forgotten Women of
Bosnia, for the mythological figure of Persephone, daughter of the god
Zeus, who was kidnapped by Hades and taken down into the underworld while her
mother searched for her.
“The title reflects that there is light at the end of the
tunnel,” Ivana explains. “That light is to bring the perpetrators of these war
crimes to justice. Most people don’t want to hear what these women have to say,
they don’t want to know the truth about what happened. They would rather sweep
it under the rug and forget, but it’s important to give these women voice. These
women deserve to be heard.”
And Ivana is listening, recording and filming. In a series
of interviews with Bakira and other women, she has accumulated about 50 hours
of film to be edited down to a cohesive documentary. The stories are chilling.
Ivana recalls the story of 80 men, women, and children
stuffed into a house that was locked and burned. A memorial stands at the site
today. And there are the stories of the hundreds of people executed and tossed
from a bridge into the Drina River, Ivana says, so that for weeks the river
flowed red with blood.
“You can still see the damage today, what’s left of burned
down homes,” she says about her many trips to the Republika Srpska. “Not a
single mosque anywhere, but what churches you see are mostly all new. It’s an
area that was carved out of Bosnia but is now under Serbia. Republika Srpska is
built on genocide.”
Bakira Hasecic reveals in her interviews with Ivana all that
she has survived. She saw the execution of many, and her family was forced to
watch the torture and death of people they knew, neighbors and friends. Bakira’s
daughter was hit with a rifle butt, splitting her head open after her family
was forced to watch her being raped repeatedly.
“Bakira returns to the home where her mother lived, on the
outskirts of Visegrad, by the cemetery where many of her Bosniak friends and
neighbors are buried. In spite of everything that happened, Bakira still considers
Visegrad her true home,” Ivana says. “It’s where she was born and raised and
where she buried her sister, her brother, mother and father. Her sister was held in a rape camp during the
war, and killed while there, her head put on display above the fireplace of the
former restaurant, to serve as an example to the other women what can happen to
them if they don’t follow the orders of the Serbian soldiers.
“Bakira gave me the best interview I’ve ever gotten, no
filters. We were also able to film her in her garden, in her own element, and
people would throw trash in her garden, trying to get her to leave. Her
strength amazes me. She receives death threats. Someone even left a sign there
that said she deserved what happened to her.”
Ivana visited Vilina Vlas, a hotel and health spa today, but
during the war one of the most notorious Serb-run rape camps and detention
facilities, where several hundred Bosniak girls and women were raped and
impregnated, and where prisoners were tortured and beaten.
“We went into the lobby of Vilina Vlas, and the sound girl
for the documentary pretended to be my translator,” Ivkovic recalls. “The
manager was a Serb. We asked if we could film there, you know, as a health spa,
but he was wary of us. I casually said—we heard a rumor this place was once a
rape camp? He got very defensive and refused to answer any more questions, but
we kept our cameras rolling. Even when I dropped my camera to my waist, my
cinematographer kept his rolling. When I said we had testimonies that Vilina
Vlas was a rape camp, he said firmly, ‘Lies! Lies! Lies!’ and asked us to leave
immediately.”
Ivana often would play ignorant during the filming of the
documentary. Sidling up and slipping in questions unexpectedly, her cameras
captured many uncomfortable moments.
“As we came out of Vilina Vlas, we saw Serb men sitting on a
bench near the bridge across the Drina, watching us. We pretended ignorance
again. We asked: Didn’t this used to be a Bosnian town? Where have they all
gone? They replied, Oh, we’ve lived here a long time. So we asked them where
they were during the war, and that’s when they all got defensive. One of the men
photographed me with his cell phone and said, Now we have your photograph, too.”
Nothing came easily. Ivana filmed, and interviewed, and then
returned to the States to work on what she had and to schedule more interviews.
Funding was an issue, and she organized two crowdfunding to raise money to
film, then edit the documentary taking shape in her hands. The first part of
the documentary’s production had been funded from her own savings.
When she had enough funding in hand to continue, Ivana took
on her growing list of interviews. She spoke to Lauren Wolfe, an award-winning
journalist and director of Women Media Center's Women Under Siege Project,
which was originated by Gloria Steinem. Wolfe serves on the advisory committee
of the International Campaign to Stop Rape & Gender Violence in Conflict. Wolfe
talked to Ivana about her work, writing about what happens to women during war,
how rape is used as a weapon of war. Wolfe had researched the fate of women in
Rwanda, Syria, and Congo as well as Bosnia.
Ivana interviewed Nerma Jelacic, who was 14 when she fled
with her parents to England just before the Serbian army came into Visegrad, in
Bosnia. Today, Jelacic is working as head of communications with the
International Criminal Tribunal for the former Yugoslavia (ICTY) at The Hague
in The Netherlands.
The most important interview Ivana tried to arrange was one
with Radovan Karadzic, the former Bosnian Serb leader, on trial at The Hague
since 2008.
“I came very close,” says Ivana. “I had to submit questions
to Karadzic beforehand, but he turned them over to Peter Robinson, his main
counsel. Robinson is an American criminal defense lawyer, based in California,
and he was also on the prosecuting team for the International Criminal Tribunal
for Rwanda. Robinson seemed like such a nice man. He obviously enjoyed what he
was doing.”
Ivana couldn’t resist. In an attempt to understand how
someone could rise to the defense of Radovan Karadzic, she asked Robinson: “If
someone asked you to defend Adolf Hitler, would you?”
Robinson answered her: “Absolutely. Even if I’m not in
agreement with the alleged actions of an individual, I believe everyone
deserves a defense.”
Roy Gutman, Pulitzer Prize-winning journalist and author of A Witness to Genocide, spoke to Ivana
about being one of the first to break the story about what was happening in
Bosnia. Gutman had talked to Radovan Karadzic and asked about the war crimes.
Karadzic had told him it was all lies. Only one woman had been raped, he said,
and she was Serbian.
Ivana sighs, rests from her account for a moment before
resuming her story. “In spite of all this, all the death threats, all the
accusations and harassment, these women continue to come forward to give their
testimonies at The Hague. They are not giving up. Too often the responses to
their persistence have ranged from continued denial or indifference to,
chillingly, an admission that sometimes borders on a celebration of the war
crimes. There have even been Serbian festivals, singing songs with lyrics about
how such events will someday happen again. To this day, according to Peter
Robinson, Karadzic insists that people left their homes ‘peacefully’ during the
war. Ratko Mladic, a Bosnian Serb military leader, on the other hand, who is in
the same detention center as Karadzic, sneers at the Bosniak women and has said
that they got what they deserved. The two of them spend time together every
day.”
Ivana hopes to have the documentary completed and submitted
to film festivals this year.
“Several people have given their time pro bono,” she says.
“The brilliant war photographer, Andree Kaiser, has allowed me to use several
of his photographs in the documentary for free. We have one editor, and we are
bringing on a music supervisor and possibly a composer. We have already hired a
translator and a transcriber. There are legal fees and licensing costs. But
these are all necessary expenses to bring the film to the audience so that the
voices and stories of these women deserve.”
If history is supposed to instruct us for a better future,
Ivana says, we have too often failed to learn her lessons. Ivana’s work to amplify
the voices of Bosniak women is meant to inspire people to take a stand against
the abuse of women as weapons of war, not just in Bosnia but the world over.
“Women and girls continue to be targeted. When you kill
someone, you kill one person, that’s it, they’re gone. To rape a woman,
however, destroys an entire family, which in turn, multiplied, destroys a
community, destroys a spirit and ultimately, can destroy an entire nation.”
Because of her work on the documentary, Ivana Ivkovic (now
Kelley) receives hate mail and threatening comments on her websites. That
hasn’t stopped her. The idealism she developed during her years at Kalamazoo
College is alive.
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Radovan Karadzic, former Bosnian Serb leader, was indicted
by the international war crimes tribunal for his war crimes, charged with
genocide in connection with the 1995 massacre of nearly 8,000 Muslims, Croats
and non-Serbs in the Bosnian village of Srebrenica and accused of overseeing
military operations from 1992 until 1995 that spread murder, rape and pillage
in the former Yugoslavia. He oversaw concentration camps that included
death-rape camps for women. At the height of the military campaign in 1992,
44,000 people were killed, nearly half of the 100,000 who died during the war.
Karadzic still awaits a final judgment, which, according to the New York Times, is not expected until
2015.
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