This weeks topic that I have chosen is:
What is one of the best things that happened on your trip to another county.
A better topic couldn't have fallen into my lap. Lately I have thinking an awful lot about some time I spent in Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia in the mid to late 90's. This rememberance was triggered by following @tarazkp's posts while he was in Croatia on holiday recently.
Now I wouldn't call my "trip" to Bosnia-Herzegovina and Croatia one for pleasure. Nor was it really one that I chose. There are memories from it I would rather forget.
However, there is one memory that is fondly recalled and it is one I remember more than any from my trip there. In fact I have allowed it to take up most of my memory space for the time there.
Part of our assignment was to backfill for a unit acting as Stabilization Forces (SFOR) within the warring countries of the former Yugoslavia at the time. While in Bosnia-Herzegovina we would occasionally patrol via vehicle and by foot to show our presence. On some occassions we would have public relations people with us from SFOR command who would want us mix with the public.
One of the most memorable of those occasions was when we stopped at a school, which if I recall was for war orphans. As we stood around, the interpreter was talking, giving both kids and us a dog and pony show of the school. That is when we noticed one of the kids holding a basketball. Back before the NCAA and NBA became a tattoo'd traveling garbage fest, I loved basketball.
It was on from there!
So what else was there a young Hoosier lad to do with a bunch of kids and a basketball in a foreign land and unable to speak their language? We had the interpreter ask them to the basketball court, split up the teams, and started to play.
A great time was had by all that day. It did all of our hearts good to know that we said fuck the candy and other shit we were passing out. These kids wanted to know adults really cared. And we did, we loved hanging with those kids, if just for an hour or so.
It also gave us an opportunity to put behind us all the destruction we had witnessed around the country up to that point. Time to forget some of the horrid reports we had been hearing about atrocities.
Now I often sit around wondering what happened with those kids? I think about where they are now? Do any of them still remember us and tell the story?
I sure hope they do remember and tell it. I hope it meant something. I hope it brought a light to a dark time just for a moment. I know it did for me, and still does.
The fighting continued for a while after we left, but stayed rather peaceful in the area of our responsibility. I do hope those kids made it fine, grew up to have amazing lives, played hoops to their hearts were content.
I want to hope they remember a big green shriek looking guy yelling encouragement to them. I want to hope playing ball for that short time made a fucking difference.
Note: All photos are mine and were originally taken with a Nikon Nikonos IV or V if I recall correctly. I could not scan them, so retook a photo of them using my iPhone.
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