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In 1992, we were taken to the concentration camp in Omarska

I was never worried about what could happen to me in that dreadful place, but I was terrified that my daughter and grandson would be badly beaten or executed.

One day I saw a high-ranking officer who I recognised from my work. I believe God sent him to help us. He selected us for an organised ethnic group exchange and we were sent to Glamoc. My daughter left to join her husband and I stayed here. I was hoping that the war would end soon and that I would be able to return to my home. But it didn’t happen. I stayed here.

Before the war broke out, life had been very good to me. I could afford things for my children and myself, things that I can only dream about today.  After the war, rent, utilities and medication ate up most of my pension and covering the rest of life’s expenses was a juggling act. I didn’t have much grocery money to work with. After many years, I couldn’t do it anymore. I’m old and I am so tired.

That’s when I sought help from Mission Without Borders and they welcomed me to their Soup Kitchen. The lunch is important but so is the feeling that I’m not forgotten and abandoned. I have made new friends, and we share our joys and our sorrows. These are friendships without borders.

Kata, who lives in Glamoc, Bosnia-Herzegovina

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