“On May 16, 1992, some 13 of us huddled together in an apartment as exploding mortar shells riddled Sarajevo with shrapnel. Two shells hit the building in which we had gathered for safety. Though we came from Croatian, Serbian, and Bosnian backgrounds​—the same three groups that were killing one another outside—​we were united in pure worship. By dawn, when fewer shells were falling, we abandoned the apartment in search of a safer location. As we had done the night before, we cried aloud to Jehovah in prayer, and he heard us.”​—Halim Curi.

“People are starving,” reported Halim Curi, an elder in Sarajevo. “Each month they are supplied only a few pounds of flour, four ounces [100 g] of sugar, and one pint [.5 l] of oil. Any available land in the city is used to plant vegetables. People cut down the trees of Sarajevo for firewood. When the trees are gone, they strip the parquet flooring from their apartments to use as fuel for cooking and heating. They use anything that will burn, even old shoes.”

“The test came when we heard that there would be water in the homes for a short time,” reports Halim. “Then everyone would have to take a shower, wash the clothes, and collect and store water in as many containers as possible. But what if this long-awaited moment was at the same time as our congregation meeting? We would have to decide​—either we go to the meeting or we stay at home to collect water.”

We Promised to Return

HALIM CURI

BORN 1968

BAPTIZED 1988

PROFILE He helped organize and distribute humanitarian aid in Sarajevo. Now he serves as an elder, a Hospital Liaison Committee member, and a legal representative of Jehovah’s Witnesses in Bosnia and Herzegovina.

IN 1992 the city of Sarajevo was under siege. When there were no literature shipments, we studied older magazines. Using an old typewriter, the brothers typed copies of available study articles. Although there were only 52 publishers, we had more than 200 at our meetings, and we conducted about 240 Bible studies.

In November 1993, during the worst of the war, our daughter, Arijana, was born. It was a difficult time to bring a child into the world. We had no running water or electricity for weeks at a time. We used furniture as fuel, and our trips to the meetings took us through dangerous areas. Snipers fired indiscriminately, so we had to run to cross certain streets and barricades.

One quiet day, my wife, our baby, Brother Dražen Radišić, and I were on our way home from the meeting when machine-gun fire suddenly erupted. We lay down on the street, but a bullet hit me in the stomach. The pain was intense. Many people saw what happened from their windows, and some courageous young men came running out of the houses to take us to safety. I was rushed to a hospital, where they urgently wanted to administer a blood transfusion. I explained to the doctor that my conscience would not allow me to take a blood transfusion. They pressured me to reconsider; but I was determined, and I was prepared to face the consequences. They operated anyway, for two and a half hours, and I recovered without having a blood transfusion.

After the surgery, I needed to rest, which was impossible because of the war. We decided to visit our family in Austria. However, the only way to leave Sarajevo was through a tunnel under the airport. The tunnel was a half mile [900 m] long and about four feet [120 cm] high. My wife carried the baby, and I tried to carry the luggage. But because of the surgery, she had to help me.

We can hardly describe the joy our stay in Austria brought us. When we left Sarajevo, we had made a promise to our brothers and to our Creator that we would return. It was very hard to leave our family in Austria, especially my mother. We explained, though, that we had promised God we would return to Sarajevo if he helped us to get out and get a bit of rest. How could we now say to God: “Thank you for helping us to come here. We really enjoy being here, and now we would like to stay”? Also, the brothers in Sarajevo needed us. In all of this, my wife, Amra, was a great support.

So in December 1994, we arrived at the tunnel in Sarajevo. This time we were going into Sarajevo from the outside. Seeing us return through the tunnel, people asked: “What are you doing? Everybody wants to get out, and you are returning to the besieged city?” I cannot find words to describe the wonderful reunion we had with our brothers at the Sarajevo Kingdom Hall. We have never regretted that we returned.