The International Day of Friendship, established in 2011 by the UN General Assembly, is celebrated annually on July 30th. It promotes the idea that friendship between peoples, countries, cultures, and individuals can inspire peace and foster connections between communities. The War Childhood Museum’s collection includes numerous stories highlighting the significance of children’s friendships during wartime. Here are some of these stories.
Friendship Brooch
Right before the war started, we learned to make brooches in art class. We would outline desired shapes on paper and then paste them onto thicker cardboard. Then, we would affix the safety pin to the back of the cardboard to make an improvised brooch.
I managed to hold onto one such brooch throughout the war. I kept it to remind me of my friends from school.
Today, Selma, Sanela, and Džanela live in Sarajevo. Jelena is in Serbia, and Maja is in Norway. Because of the war, which separated our lifepaths, our friendship now “lives” only on social networks.
Amina, 1980
BiH
Rock@War
At the start of the war, I met several up-and-coming musicians and like-minded people. Friendships developed quickly, and these friendships soon resulted in musical collaboration. We formed a band called Rocket, alluding to both the missiles and the rock music we played. Most of our gigs took place between ’93 and ’94, and many people came to see us play despite the wartime circumstances.
All of the band members grew as musicians during that period. Some of them continued to play music professionally after the war ended.
In those dark days, music was our priority, our “soul’s sustenance” — something that brought us closer together while also helping us to overcome the absurdity of war.
Damir, 1977
BiH
Pencil Case – Symbol of a Friendship
The war started when I was in fifth grade. I stopped going to school until, I’m not exactly sure, but until they said I’d have to start again. We were no longer in the same neighborhood, and my new “school” was held in the basement of a building. I knew nobody there, so, naturally, I never wanted to go. I just wanted to be back in my old classroom, with my old classmates. My mom told me that it was only temporary and that I’d be back soon. But, of course, I never did go back to my old school. The war wasn’t so short.
I was completely uninterested in school, and I’d leave home utterly unprepared—sometimes even without my school supplies. The girl who sat next to me had this beautiful, light pink plastic pencil case that opened at both ends. I still remember my disbelief when she opened it—it was full of pencils, markers, and colors. She even had an eraser! It was organized so neatly! “Could you lend me a pencil? I left mine at home,” I asked. “Sure,” she said and opened her pencil case.
That girl’s name was Selma. We got to know each other better, and I learned that she lived in my building and had also moved from a different neighborhood. Knowing that she, too, had been separated from her friends and classmates made things a bit easier. We went home from school together that day. From that day on, we went to and from school together. It was the beginning of a friendship that lasts to this day.
Melisa, 1980
BiH
Tina
Tina was a few years younger than me. We spent the beginning of the war in the same apartment building and in the street where our friend group would regularly meet up. Although our moms frequently got angry over our late-night escapades, we would meet in the building’s entrance hallway every night to hang out until late—ours was a special kind of closeness and loyalty, a true friendship. It was there that Tina and I had our first crushes and kisses, and our first parties too. We even made our own disco club in the building’s basement by painting a neon ceiling light pink and playing music using a car battery. It was so wonderful that even teens from different parts of the city came by.
It was September 1992. My mom left the apartment early to make bread using our shared stove in the entrance hallway. Then came a loud crash—a well-known sound and feeling. A couple of seconds later, I heard a scream and then crying coming from the stairwell. Mom ran inside and said that Tina was wounded. A shell had exploded nearby, and a piece of shrapnel from it hit Tina while she was playing elastics with her friends. They couldn’t save her. From that moment on, nothing was the same.
Our group from the hallway gradually began to break up. We decided to name the disco “Tina,” and we gathered there to talk about her, recall her defining traits, and think about what she would say or do in certain situations. These are some of Tina’s personal belongings. They remind me of the friendship and closeness that, I’m certain, no generation has experienced since.
Naida, 1975
BiH
Letter From Italy
Besides the various humanitarian aid packages we received during the war, we also got letters from our peers in different countries. In November 1995, I received a letter from Esther Calabrese, a girl from Italy. I replied to her immediately, and that’s how our friendship began.
We continued sending letters to each other even after the war ended, and we stayed in touch despite never having met. Sixteen years after her first letter, Esther visited Sarajevo, and we met in person for the first time. Our friendship, which started during the war, continues to this day.
Naida, 1985
BiH
Friendships
It is hard to make friendships when you are always on the move. After leaving Iraq, my family and I passed through many different countries and refugee camps, where I met and became friends with many children.
When we were staying at the refugee camp in Greece, I had two friends—Eland and Hassan. We attended classes together and we loved to play football. But when my parents decided that it was time for us to leave, I had to say goodbye to my friends. Just like with the other friends I met while on the move, we never knew if we would see each other again.
After arriving in Bosnia and Herzegovina, at the camp in Ušivak, I began to recognize some of the children that I met in Greece. We reconnected here in Bosnia. I have a big family and my siblings and I all play together. We have very few toys, since we can’t take any with us when we travel. My parents bought this yellow ball for my little sister Huda when we first arrived in Bosnia. As we hope to continue our journey soon, we want the ball to stay at the Museum, where it will be well taken care of.
Ahmed, 2008
Iraq
