Arrows may not center when in edit mode. Once site is published, the arrow will be centered on the tab
When the site is published, this border and note will not show up.
Drag & drop your tab 1 content here
‘I went home a free man’
July 1995. Wound care worker Johan de Jonge is 21 when he is captured by the Serbs during the fall of the enclave of Srebrenica. "I thought then that it would be the end of the story. I wrote a farewell letter to my parents. I still have it. Here. Unopened it is. I have no idea what's in it. Just leave it closed I guess. I'm still here."
DutchbatIII, the Dutch battalion of UNPROFOR, the UN peacekeeping force in Yugoslavia, defends the Muslim-inhabited enclave of Srebrenica in Bosnia. As a medic, Johan's job is to care for the wounded, assist in operations or distribute medication. Regularly, they also independently set up a post in a village, so that residents can drop by with their problems. Johan spent three months in the enclave. "Srebrenica was an open-air prison. We couldn't and weren't allowed to do anything. The Serbs determined what entered the enclave. There was too little to eat, too few things for external care. Too few plasters and bandages and medication did not come in. I was frustrated that I could help so few people. But nobody could do anything about it, and nobody did anything about it."
On 8 July, the Serbs attack the enclave and Johan is called to join the Quick Reaction Force team. On the way to OP-foxtrot, an observation post on the edge of the enclave, they hear over the radio that the post has been attacked and that a colleague has been killed.
"As a wounded carer, you want to come to the rescue when you get there, but you couldn't. At the same time, we were being attacked on all sides by the Serbs. But what did we have? We had a rifle with ten bullets. On the other side was much more equipment. We were not allowed to shoot, but neither were we allowed to retreat."
The Rules of Engagement (ROE) only allowed force to be used for self-defence, counting on NATO air support to make the mission successful. However, air support could only be requested when its own positions were under attack. "What that did to me as a human being? It is about powerlessness. That powerlessness frustrates in the long run. That's something that comes into play. Still does now. I can't stand injustice. I will never again be able to stand by passively. I know that now. I jump in at the risk of my own life. Looking on, I can't anymore."
The team spends the night on the outskirts of the enclave. They hear bullets ricocheting off their YPR armoured car. The next day, they are ordered to move to Swedish Shelter, an emergency encampment for refugees. Arriving at the encampment, they are captured by the Serbs. Anxious hours and days follow. A trek on foot through the mountains. Hours of interrogation somewhere in a barracks. Finally, they are moved to a village hotel where they are held captive for a week. "An interpreter told us that if UN airstrikes came again, they would execute us. We thought it would be the end of the story. That's when I wrote my farewell letter. That week I lived on autopilot. Purely on adrenaline. You're basically a kind of machine. And that's a good thing, that's your survival instinct, you need that as a soldier.
The strange thing is: you also get bored. We had these black turtlenecks with a zip up to your neck. We tied those together into something that looked like a football. We killed time with those. Humour. That helps, too. And making plans on how to get away. As far as I know, we got out after a week through mediation by Ukrainians. A television crew came in with an interpreter and said, 'A bus is coming this way, get your things, you get on it.' No idea where we were going. Afterwards, we were taken to Novi Sad, a suburb of Belgrade. There we were taken to some kind of Center Parcs cottage with the announcement: “Tomorrow you will fly back to the Netherlands.”
When I got home, I argued with my parents over a broken VCR. What were they worried about, I thought. Even there, for the first time, I saw the footage of what had actually happened right under our noses. I had no idea. I had seen the bodies on the road, but did not know then on what scale it had taken place. The press fell all over us, but we were not allowed to talk. We had been told this emphatically from higher up. I had witnessed a piece of history, but I had contributed nothing of value to the big picture. Only on a micro level had I added value."
10% of Dutchbat soldiers struggle with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder, after returning home. Johan too. Ten years on, he is diagnosed with this. "I was an international truck driver in civilian life, but suffered very much from muscle tension and a very short fuse. I slept badly. At one point, through a meeting for ex-Dutchbatters, I ended up at Barry Hofstee's theatre production “Home Front”. It seemed my own story was being played there on stage. A button flipped. Everything came out. I had been showing signs for a long time, and those around me had seen it, but I didn't want to see it myself."
In 2008, after the first Dutchbat soldiers confronted the population for the first time in 2007, the mayor of Srebrenica invited a number of former Dutchbat soldiers to join the March Mira. That is a 120-kilometre trek through the mountains from Tuzla to Srebrenica, the same trek the male refugees walked on their way to safe territory in 1995, in the opposite direction. Upon their return, the commemoration and reburial of people found in the 1995 mass graves and those still being found will take place in Srebrenica on 11 July.
"We hired a bus and set off with eight more ex-Dutchbatters. The best choice I had made in ages. I went there with sweat in my hands. I was afraid they would blame me very much. I'll just get kicked out again there, that was my idea. I could have really imagined that, but the opposite was the case. We were welcome everywhere. To come and eat and drink. The man we met first even took us into the pub to show his fellow villagers that he had met us. Yes, we sat there, you do sit there a bit timidly in that bar, because you don't want to draw attention to yourself. For the same money, someone with old hurts is sitting there. Nothing of the sort. I discovered that with me, time had stood still. But the people we met had picked up life again despite everything. I put my backpack at the exit of the former enclave when we left. Symbolically. With all the sorrows and miseries I had been dragging with me all this time. I also insisted on driving the vehicle myself the moment we left the enclave. To have a grip. I drove the first 40 kilometres myself. I went home a free man. That's what it really felt like. So much fell off my shoulders. I was a different person when I got home."
Since his trip, Johan has been actively working, under the banner “Building a Bosnian Dream”, for people in Srebrenica who urgently need help. He also organises trips for former Dutchbatters to the former enclave. Johan returned to Defence, where he currently works as a Transport Planner at the General Major Koot Barracks in Garderen. He wants to be deployed again. "I volunteered two years ago and now I hope to be deployed to Mali. I want to know if I stand my ground. And I also realise after all this time that this is who I am.
A soldier. 'It's running through my veins'."
Speaking of resilience.
July 1995. Wound care worker Johan de Jonge is 21 when he is captured by the Serbs during the fall of the enclave of Srebrenica. "I thought then that it would be the end of the story. I wrote a farewell letter to my parents. I still have it. Here. Unopened it is. I have no idea what's in it. Just leave it closed I guess. I'm still here."
DutchbatIII, the Dutch battalion of UNPROFOR, the UN peacekeeping force in Yugoslavia, defends the Muslim-inhabited enclave of Srebrenica in Bosnia. As a medic, Johan's job is to care for the wounded, assist in operations or distribute medication. Regularly, they also independently set up a post in a village, so that residents can drop by with their problems. Johan spent three months in the enclave. "Srebrenica was an open-air prison. We couldn't and weren't allowed to do anything. The Serbs determined what entered the enclave. There was too little to eat, too few things for external care. Too few plasters and bandages and medication did not come in. I was frustrated that I could help so few people. But nobody could do anything about it, and nobody did anything about it."
On 8 July, the Serbs attack the enclave and Johan is called to join the Quick Reaction Force team. On the way to OP-foxtrot, an observation post on the edge of the enclave, they hear over the radio that the post has been attacked and that a colleague has been killed.
"As a wounded carer, you want to come to the rescue when you get there, but you couldn't. At the same time, we were being attacked on all sides by the Serbs. But what did we have? We had a rifle with ten bullets. On the other side was much more equipment. We were not allowed to shoot, but neither were we allowed to retreat."
The Rules of Engagement (ROE) only allowed force to be used for self-defence, counting on NATO air support to make the mission successful. However, air support could only be requested when its own positions were under attack. "What that did to me as a human being? It is about powerlessness. That powerlessness frustrates in the long run. That's something that comes into play. Still does now. I can't stand injustice. I will never again be able to stand by passively. I know that now. I jump in at the risk of my own life. Looking on, I can't anymore."
The team spends the night on the outskirts of the enclave. They hear bullets ricocheting off their YPR armoured car. The next day, they are ordered to move to Swedish Shelter, an emergency encampment for refugees. Arriving at the encampment, they are captured by the Serbs. Anxious hours and days follow. A trek on foot through the mountains. Hours of interrogation somewhere in a barracks. Finally, they are moved to a village hotel where they are held captive for a week. "An interpreter told us that if UN airstrikes came again, they would execute us. We thought it would be the end of the story. That's when I wrote my farewell letter. That week I lived on autopilot. Purely on adrenaline. You're basically a kind of machine. And that's a good thing, that's your survival instinct, you need that as a soldier.
The strange thing is: you also get bored. We had these black turtlenecks with a zip up to your neck. We tied those together into something that looked like a football. We killed time with those. Humour. That helps, too. And making plans on how to get away. As far as I know, we got out after a week through mediation by Ukrainians. A television crew came in with an interpreter and said, 'A bus is coming this way, get your things, you get on it.' No idea where we were going. Afterwards, we were taken to Novi Sad, a suburb of Belgrade. There we were taken to some kind of Center Parcs cottage with the announcement: “Tomorrow you will fly back to the Netherlands.”
When I got home, I argued with my parents over a broken VCR. What were they worried about, I thought. Even there, for the first time, I saw the footage of what had actually happened right under our noses. I had no idea. I had seen the bodies on the road, but did not know then on what scale it had taken place. The press fell all over us, but we were not allowed to talk. We had been told this emphatically from higher up. I had witnessed a piece of history, but I had contributed nothing of value to the big picture. Only on a micro level had I added value."
10% of Dutchbat soldiers struggle with PTSD, post-traumatic stress disorder, after returning home. Johan too. Ten years on, he is diagnosed with this. "I was an international truck driver in civilian life, but suffered very much from muscle tension and a very short fuse. I slept badly. At one point, through a meeting for ex-Dutchbatters, I ended up at Barry Hofstee's theatre production “Home Front”. It seemed my own story was being played there on stage. A button flipped. Everything came out. I had been showing signs for a long time, and those around me had seen it, but I didn't want to see it myself."
In 2008, after the first Dutchbat soldiers confronted the population for the first time in 2007, the mayor of Srebrenica invited a number of former Dutchbat soldiers to join the March Mira. That is a 120-kilometre trek through the mountains from Tuzla to Srebrenica, the same trek the male refugees walked on their way to safe territory in 1995, in the opposite direction. Upon their return, the commemoration and reburial of people found in the 1995 mass graves and those still being found will take place in Srebrenica on 11 July.
"We hired a bus and set off with eight more ex-Dutchbatters. The best choice I had made in ages. I went there with sweat in my hands. I was afraid they would blame me very much. I'll just get kicked out again there, that was my idea. I could have really imagined that, but the opposite was the case. We were welcome everywhere. To come and eat and drink. The man we met first even took us into the pub to show his fellow villagers that he had met us. Yes, we sat there, you do sit there a bit timidly in that bar, because you don't want to draw attention to yourself. For the same money, someone with old hurts is sitting there. Nothing of the sort. I discovered that with me, time had stood still. But the people we met had picked up life again despite everything. I put my backpack at the exit of the former enclave when we left. Symbolically. With all the sorrows and miseries I had been dragging with me all this time. I also insisted on driving the vehicle myself the moment we left the enclave. To have a grip. I drove the first 40 kilometres myself. I went home a free man. That's what it really felt like. So much fell off my shoulders. I was a different person when I got home."
Since his trip, Johan has been actively working, under the banner “Building a Bosnian Dream”, for people in Srebrenica who urgently need help. He also organises trips for former Dutchbatters to the former enclave. Johan returned to Defence, where he currently works as a Transport Planner at the General Major Koot Barracks in Garderen. He wants to be deployed again. "I volunteered two years ago and now I hope to be deployed to Mali. I want to know if I stand my ground. And I also realise after all this time that this is who I am.
A soldier. 'It's running through my veins'."
Speaking of resilience.
By Sonja van der Sar
Drag & drop your tab 2 content here
Johan de Jonge meets Aniek Maren
Johan meets singer songwriter Aniek Maren at Echo Home Base 'De Landing' in Schaarsbergen in the presence of humanist counsellor Emma Heemstra. Johan told Aniek about his time in Srebrenica, about the letter to his parents, about his return and about resilience.
Aniek Maren wrote and composed the song “Eyes Open Wide”.
And there was more, more story and a project. Building a Bosnian Dream. Read more about it at Extras.
Johan meets singer songwriter Aniek Maren at Echo Home Base 'De Landing' in Schaarsbergen in the presence of humanist counsellor Emma Heemstra. Johan told Aniek about his time in Srebrenica, about the letter to his parents, about his return and about resilience.
Aniek Maren wrote and composed the song “Eyes Open Wide”.
And there was more, more story and a project. Building a Bosnian Dream. Read more about it at Extras.
Drag & drop your tab 3 content here
|
Eyes Open Wide - Music & Words by Aniek Maren
It feels like a movie So surreal Homeless stories A white house on a hill Endless moments Trapped alive Hold on till tomorrow No goodbyes After all these years of silence Irritation and denial Always ran away Now he’s turning back, back again This is where he let his heart speak Left his bag, it set him free Facing all his fears Turning them into new dreams |
Unspoken words Memories Chapters untold Books all filled with this Finding a new world Eyes open wide Carrying his letter With goodbyes http://aniekmaren.com |
Drag & drop your tab 4 content here
The making of 'Eyes Open Wide' bij DIGG Oosterbeek.
door Monique Mulder
|
Aniek Maren
"Arnhem-based singer-songwriter Aniek Maren writes all her songs herself. Accompanying herself on guitar, she sings about all the good things in life and the sharp edges it brings. Aniek Maren has a very pleasantly sultry voice, hoarse when it needs to be and flawlessly high-pitched.":Arnhemsmuziekplatform For years, Aniek Maren has lived for music. She has been on stage with many different musicians, from small pubs to large venues, from jam sessions to festivals, at home and abroad. For instance, she toured Germany, Switzerland and Italy, played at festivals such as the Horizontoer and the Uitboulevard and was support act for Minor Majority (Norway), Wallis Bird (Ireland) and Signe Tollefsen, among others. She was also a guest on several radio programmes including Radio 2's Music Matters and was filmed by Eyeworks Germany for a new TV format and played sense in venues such as Paradiso and Luxor Live. ‘Building a Bosnian Dream’Since his trip, under the banner “Building a Bosnian Dream”, Johan has been actively advocating for people in Srebrenica who desperately need help. He also organises trips for former Dutchbatters to the former enclave.
"I myself have walked the Mars Mira about three times. A very positive experience. I wanted to share that. Therefore, together with a colleague, I organised a number of ex-Dutchbatters to join the march in 2010. For 2015, I want to organise a return trip to walk the march. Then it will be 20 years ago. I am also looking for finances for that, so that a number of ex-Dutchbatters on Military Disability Pension can make that trip. Furthermore, under the banner “Building a Bosnian Dream”, I am raising money for those in need in Srebrenica. Mostly for refugees from 1995, mostly women and children who no longer have male relatives and cannot or dare not return and live in reception camps in the Tuzla area. I am currently looking for finances to refurbish a concrete sports field. Earlier, we refurbished a house, bought school supplies for children and did shopping for the winter season." Every little bit helps, so if you want to donate, you can! More information about Building a Bosnian Dream can be found here. |
Helende Muziek
Gelderse Koppen met Harm Edens voor Omroep Gelderland kwam op bezoek tijdens de video opname van 'Eyes Open Wide'. Bekijk hieronder het hele item. By Aniek Maren "On Facebook and Twitter you could already see a few things passing by about the project I have been working on lately. Some time ago I was asked to participate in Your Song powered by Humanism. In this project, (ex)military people are paired with singer songwriters who write a song about what these (ex)military people have been through.
I was allowed to write a song about the story of Johan de Jonge who told me about his time in Bosnia, returning home and eventually returning to Bosnia years later. It was very impressive to hear such an intense story from someone personally and very special to write a song about it. The making of 'Eyes Open Wide' pt. 1, 2 & 3 on vine |
Drag & drop content here











