Forgiving the Unforgivable
She Lost Both Arms in an Explosion During a War, Yet Forgave Her Enemy
You can also watch the 30-minute documentary here.
Life was good for Belma. She had lots of friends, a loving family and, at 19 years old, had a bright future with big plans of becoming a fashion designer.
And then… In April of 1992, everything changed!
**HUGE EXPLOSIONS**
The power went out.
Gunfire was all around.
Explosions everywhere, far and near.
The water stopped flowing.
Businesses shut down.
The food supply became short in supply.
No school.
No work.
No money.
LIFE HAD GONE DARK. Very dark!
The country had been invaded by the Serbs, the bordering country. Belma and all the people of Bosnia & Herzegovina had become prisoners in their own country. Later the Croats joined the Serbs in the cleansing.
It was April 6, 1992, when the worst genocide since the Nazi regime of WWII began. Known as the Bosnian War, it was a cleansing of the Muslims of Bosnia & Herzegovina, where 100,000 people died and over 2 million were displaced; it included concentration camps, mass executions, and mass graves. It was a horrific war and tragedy.
I remember seeing the stories on the news in the early 90s but didn’t pay too much attention at the time. It wasn’t until I started working on the documentary, Forgiving the Unforgivable, when I met Belma and her family and friends that I began digging into the history of this terrible genocide.
I met and interviewed people who were in concentration camps, soldiers who fought on the battlefields, those who had lost family members, and women who were young girls at the time. The pain, anger, resentment and sadness ran deep, as I would expect. Through this process, though, I was able to see and experience fragments of the war through their eyes and experiences. It dawned on me just how horrible war is - and how horrible it is to victimize men, women and children like this one did.
Now…back to Belma — and how she forgave the unforgivable.
Let’s begin by imagining we “ARE” Belma:
We’re 19 years old, have many friends, love watching American TV shows of the late 80s and early 90s, like “Dallas” and “Beverly Hills 90210,” and are excited about the future.
Then… it happens. The war breaks out and everything changes.
Enemy soldiers are everywhere. Many women are repeatedly raped. There’s no power. No water. Very little food. Gunfire and explosions are going off all the time. Snipers are out there somewhere just waiting for their next victim.
No more going to hang out with friends at the coffee shop, going to the movies, or watching American TV shows. No college to attend.
Fear of dying or a family member dying is ALWAYS on your mind. You’re constantly on high alert mentally and emotionally.
Your adrenaline is working overtime. You think, “Am I going to get shot if I go to my friend’s house? To get water at the river? To get food supplies that were airdropped by the UN? Will our house get hit by a bomb? Am I going to die? Is my dad going to die on the battlefield?”
You are always on edge! Every cell in your body is feeling FEAR!
Pause reading this for a minute and think about it. I mean, really think about it. Let it sink in mentally, emotionally and physically. Feel it in your heart - your gut. Imagine how intense the fear must have felt.
Now, imagine you’ve been living in this fear for well over a year.
Every.
Single.
Day.
Then enemy soldiers barge into your home, start flipping all your furniture upside down, throwing personal items and toys every which way, screaming, cursing and yelling at you and your family and telling you that you must evacuate your home by noon the next day or they will kill all of you!
All of a sudden…
you’re homeless.
A refugee.
You’re aimlessly walking the streets not knowing where you are going to go or what you are going to do. Your dad is out fighting the war as a soldier, so it’s you, your mom, your 15-year-old sister, and your 11-year-old sister.
Your mom is doing all she can to hold it together and protect you kids - but she’s scared. Your youngest sister is crying as she tightens her grip on her toy doll. All of you are TRAUMATIZED! Yet again.
Finally, you all find a place to live (a family friend’s house).
Then in September of 1993, it happens: the bomb (shell) hits the house. Bricks and stones break away explosively from the wall and ceiling and fall on you and your sister Selma. You’re buried in rubble. Your arms are hurting REALLY BAD. You scream, “my arms, my arms!” You’re crying wondering if Selma is ok.
You and your sister are rushed to the hospital. You come to, realize you’re laying on a table in a hallway at the hospital. Chaos is everywhere! People are crying, some screaming, bodies lying on the floor, on tables, on stretchers in the hallway with you.
You’re confused. You’re in terrible pain and think you’re going to die while you slip in and out of consciousness. You overhear the staff discussing surgery and the fact you desperately need blood - and fast (you find out later, they thought you were not going to make it and almost left you to die in the hallway).
You vaguely realize that you're being taken to the operating room. Then darkness.
When you awaken, your mom, dad, and other family members are by your bedside. They give you the news: you lost one arm in the explosion — and the other one had to be amputated (by a dentist).
You’re in shock!
No arms?!!
What?!!
Think about that for a minute.
It was the hardest and saddest day of my life. — Essma (Belma’s mother)
As the shock of not having arms sinks in… you begin to think, “OMG, I don’t want anyone to see me. I don’t want to go outside or out anywhere I’ll be seen. I just want to stay inside and DIE.”
Your depression deepens.
After some time, you and your family are adopted by an organization in Abilene, Texas, meaning you will be flown there to live (it was common during the war that once wounded in the war you could be adopted and vacate the war zone).
When you arrive in America (Abilene), you are put up in the hospital where you will stay for 3 months.
The reality of being in a foreign land begins to set in as everyone around you is speaking a language you don’t understand. You have NO CLUE what the doctors are saying. What the nurses are saying. No one.
You’re safe, though. Your mom and sisters are given an apartment to live in, and you’re happy everyone is alive and safe.
As we were playing out this role of being in Belma’s shoes, did you feel hopelessness? Despair, perhaps? Or shame? Terror? Depression?
Think about how Belma went from basically living a normal life to being a prisoner in her own country, constantly fearing for her life. She got kicked out of her home. The explosion goes off. She loses both arms, almost dies, then is airlifted to a foreign country where she doesn’t understand a word anyone is saying.
How in the hell could you not be depressed and traumatized?!
And that she was. Her family finally settled down in Dallas, Texas, where her dad joined them after the war. Her sisters were in school and adjusting very well.
Belma, however, was at home. Not wanting to go anywhere. Not wanting to make new friends. Not wanting to go to college. She just sat in the apartment sinking further and further into the black hole of depression and despair.
Life was dark for her.
Then one day, she was reading the Koran. And she said, “It was then that God spoke to me. He said, “if I can forgive you for all you’ve done in your life, then why can’t you forgive your enemy who set off the shell causing the explosion?” “It was then,” she said, “that I made a decision to forgive that man or men.” “I said to God, I forgive them, God.”
Belma said, “From that point, something started to shift. I started reading the Koran more. I went to Mosque more. I’d pray for the men who hurt me. And my faith got stronger,” she added.
Little by little, Belma emerged from the depths of her depression and began, once again, as she had as a teenager, to embrace life. She sought to explore how she could help others. She started volunteering to help underprivileged kids after school, giving talks to troubled youth about overcoming traumas, started taking classes at the local junior college, started wearing different clothes, spent more time out with family and joined an amputee support group.
She once again had a life. A happy one, at that.
Justice may right the wrongs, but forgiveness heals the hurt. — David Schell
I think we can all agree that forgiveness is not an event — but a process.
People seem to do it using different approaches, methodologies or programs, such as therapy or support groups. Others, like Belma, did it through her religion. Her spiritual belief system. Her faith and devotion helped her heal the pain, the trauma, and the resentments of her past.
Trust me, during the shooting of the film, “Forgiving the Unforgivable,” I asked many people affected by the Bosnian War if they have forgiven the perpetrators, and Belma might be the only one who answered yes to that question.
And please hear me when I say it’s not a judgment. It’s just that Belma, through the help of God, or Allah, has managed to heal and do something very difficult.
I mean, I have a hard time forgiving someone for cutting me off in traffic, much less something like war.
Do you have a hard time forgiving?
I’ve been taught that forgiveness is not for “them” but for me. When I hang on to resentments, I continue to suffer. My anger and bitterness spill over into all areas of my life. You’ve heard the phrase, “I had a bad day at work, so I kicked my dog when I got home?”
I like what this article on the Mayo Clinic site says, “If you dwell on hurtful events or situations, grudges filled with resentment and hostility can take root. If you allow negative feelings to crowd out positive feelings, you might find yourself swallowed up by bitterness or a sense of injustice.”
To refuse to forgive is to continue to hurt yourself. Victimized once, your lack of forgiveness keeps you stuck as a victim, holding on to a victim’s identity. — David Schell
Forgiveness can be hard. But it starts with a decision to let go of the anger and resentment. With that, we free ourselves of the weight and burden of negative and toxic energy. The other person no longer takes up all that space in our heads.
A personal story:
I once had a situation in a relationship where I was having a very difficult time forgiving. I wanted desperately to forgive but was having a hard time doing so because my hurt and pain ran deep. Very deep. I read books on forgiveness. I prayed. I did all kinds of stuff. It wasn’t until we were in couples therapy that I got to hear her side of a lot of things. I was able to empathize and understand more about what was going on deep inside of her. I began to understand. And as I understood, forgiveness was a by-product.
So, if you feel you are carrying extra burdens or letting others who have harmed you take up space in your head, you can get relief. Remember, we don’t forgive for other’s sake, we forgive for ourselves.
During the filming, my wife and I got to know Belma and her family very well. They’ve become like family to us. They are without a doubt one of the sweetest families I know. We’ve all had coffee many times — the good kind (Bosnian, much like Turkish coffee). We’ve had them over for Thanksgiving, and gone out to dinner. Belma and I remain friends and talk frequently to this day. Salko (Belma’s father), Essma (Belma’s mother), Selma (sister) Hedija (youngest sister), Bralko (husband) nieces, nephews and friends — are all wonderful people. I’m a much better person for knowing them.
Forgiveness was a by-product of understanding. - EB