Genocide a haunting, lasting memory
Delmar Muslim mom, educator fled civil war in former Yugoslavia
Until a savage war ripped the former republic of Yugoslavia into pieces, it was praised as a cool, chic travel destination by National Geographic and Travel+leisure. The 1992 conflict between Bosniaks (Bosnian Muslims), Serbs and Croats continued until NATO negotiated a 1995 cease-fire.
This month marks the anniversary of the Srebrenica massacre of more than 8,000 Muslim men and boys from July 11-22, 1995. The United Nations had declared the town of Srebrenica under UN protection. This did not stop the Bosnian Serb army from executing thousands of Muslim civilians.
Delmar’s Alma Kanic Franco was born and raised Muslim in Bosnia. She fled her homeland — and that massacre — with her parents and younger brother when she was 13. The family arrived in America in 1998. She now has bachelor’s degrees in international relations and German language and culture from Syracuse University and a master’s in educational psychology from The College of Saint Rose, where she worked more than a decade. She manages student success initiatives at the Office for Community Colleges and Education Pipeline at the SUNY system. She and husband, Victor Franco Jr., have two children, Dino, 12, and Shayla, 7.
The UN declared Srebrenica a safe area under UN protection right before the massacre. Did Muslims believe that?
“Survivors in my family (recall) Srebrenica was able to defend itself the first year of war,” Kanic-franco said. “It was flooded with Muslims escaping from nearby villages. The UN declared Srebrenica a safe zone in 1993 and stationed itself inside. At the time, Muslims felt safe. Until they weren’t. In July 1995, panic set in when the Serb army announced it was taking Srebrenica.”
Q. When did you realize you would need to flee?
A. In 1992, I realized something was happening when there were closed-door conversations among grown-ups. They were strategizing what to do if the worst happened. We lived in Vlasenica, in eastern Bosnia. Our house was near a stadium. One morning it was filled with military tanks. My brother and I got to school and there were no Serb children there, only Bosnian Muslim children. It was a very strange day. My dad was away on business. My mom consulted my grandfather and decided we wouldn’t go to school for now. The next day, military officials went door to door and took away the men. My dad came home from his trip. My mom packed toothbrushes and a change of clothes for us. My parents fought over whether to stay. My grandparents convinced my dad we should leave. We fled by car the next morning, driving through Bosnia, aiming for Croatia… heading to an uncle in Germany. We had some scary moments, including threats to our lives and going through checkpoints. We were able to leave before the border was closed. In Croatia, my dad sold his beloved car, a yellow Lada, for our travel expenses.
Q. How was life in Germany? A. We settled in a refugee camp in a large apartment building. Refugees were given a room or had to share a room depending on family size. We shared a bathroom and kitchen with refugees and asylum seekers from all over the world. We lived there nine months. My father created a schedule for everyone using the bathroom, kitchen and cleaning. My brother and I learned German and translated for social service workers, who loved us for that. They provided soccer and volleyball.
On Christmas, which was my 14th birthday, a German named Reinhart Richter came to our room with a huge package of goodies. He wanted to help refugees and got our names from our social worker. He invited us to his house for Christmas dinner. I celebrated my birthday with his family.
They found us an apartment and a taxi driver job for my father. The authorities made an exception and allowed my dad to work. (Reinhart became a close family friend who later attended my Albany wedding). We moved to a one-bedroom apartment, a huge accomplishment given the restrictions for refugees. My brother and I started school and were soon translating for banks, schools, refugee camps and social services.
Q. What brought you to America?
A. The war in Bosnia ended 1995. In 1997, the German government said it would start sending Bosnians back home. (Our home) was now under Serbia. It meant going back to the same people who tried to kill us. My parents got permission to go to Bosnia to explore. My brother and I stayed in Germany. I was 18, he was 16. My parents came back extremely discouraged and worried. The country was not stable, could not offer us a good life.
The Clinton government was accepting applications from refugees. My parents’ hearts were back home but they chose America for a better future for my brother and me. The International Rescue Committee made travel arrangements for us to Albany. My mother’s brother was in Albany a year before us, a genocide survivor. His only son, Samir Huremovic, was killed. The church that sponsored us secured an apartment. They welcomed us. We had to start life all over again. Life in America was very hard at first. I had built a life in Germany, gone to school there, made friends.
At 19, the International Center of the Capital Region hired me as a case worker and translator for refugees. I was helping settle refugees as I was integrating myself here.
Q. How has the massacre affected you and your family?
A. Twenty men on my mom’s side of the family were killed, and my two first cousins, Samir and Enes Huremovic, both 17. It’s a heartwrenching trauma that will follow us forever. Our souls are scarred. It is difficult to imagine the suffering the genocide inflicted on Bosnia. My observation is that the genocide happened 26 years ago but those who survived, including my family, their lives stopped 26 years ago. They live with it every day. My two uncles had 17-yearold sons. They fled through the woods. The boys were separated from their fathers. The fathers survived, the two boys did not. My cousins were considered missing. Eventually, parts of their bodies were found in a mass grave in 2010. The boys were later buried next to each other. In many cases, people were not able to bury whole bodies. I am passionate about raising awareness. I don’t want the victims forgotten.
Interfaith activities I truly believe in one human race and one god for all of us. The Sisterhood of Salaam Shalom, Jewish and Muslim women, serves as a second family for me, the ultimate example of what we can accomplish as a community. Our differences enrich my life and enable us to support and foster interfaith dialogue during difficult times.
Q. What’s the local Bosniak community like?
A. There are about 200 Bosniaks in the Capital Region. We have a community center in Watervliet. My dad, Sakib Kanic, was a founding member of our Bosnian Association. My brother, Sado Kanic, is board president. Its mission is to preserve our religion, language, culture, and traditions. Every July 11, the center holds a commemoration and prayer for genocide victims. My children spend time with my parents, so they understand Bosnian. They also learn the language online from a Bosnian school. I want them to be able to communicate with my family and friends when we visit.
Q. Your hope and dreams for your home country?
A. I have been back to Bosnia a few times and consider myself a global citizen. A piece of my heart will always be there. But home is where the family is. I want the region to heal, to cultivate meaningful relationships with the entire region, including Serbia. Today we see glorification of war criminals, their crimes tolerated by perpetrating countries. Justice and accountability are necessary for healing. Serbia should admit the genocide so the healing can start. Until this foundation, there will not be reconciliation. The hatred will pass from generation to generation.
Q. You’ve been through so much. Did the situations ever make you question your faith?
A. All I have been through has made my faith stronger and more profound.