Many of my friends died on the spot, others were badly injured, and I was hit by shrapnel in my head, arm and stomach. The nerves in my left arm were irreversibly damaged and I lost most of my hearing.
A mass grave was found near our village and I had to identify my mother’s body. That was something that I wouldn’t wish for anyone to go through.
Years later, I was relaxing with my wife and some friends when everything turned black. It was as though I was inside a grey cloud where I did and said things that I have no memories of. I was taken to hospital and diagnosed with post-traumatic stress disorder.
At the start I just wanted to stay at home – that was my safe place. Sabina, my wife, my friend, started fighting against my illness. Whenever she felt that I was going down, she would take me under her arm and we would go outside.
Mission Without Borders began to support us in 2013. It has been a journey of happiness. I felt as though they tied such a strong knot between us and them – and whenever it felt like I was going down, whether materially or emotionally, they were there to pull us up.
Serif, who used to be part of our family project in Bosnia-Herzegovina
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