– To exercise the right to a home in this society is equal to an “act of heroism” even for “ordinary” citizens, but particularly for the Roma population. This sometimes borders with the impossible, despite its in fact being a fundamental right, says Branka Inic (right) Lawyer in the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights of Bosnia and Herzegovina. (10-MAR-06)


This article, written by Lawyer of the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Bosnia and Herzegovina Branka Inic, first appeared in the last issue of the Journal of the BH Helsinki Committee. It has been translated for publication here by HRH / Mirsad Pandzic. Photo of Branka Inic and Nedzad: Mirsad Pandzic.

On that October afternoon, I was just finishing my work with clients. In my contemplation on which complaint for violation of rights to start from, I was interrupted by a child’s voice coming from the reception desk of the Human Rights House.
– Mummy stayed at the rubbish container. She will be here in a moment.

Going towards the reception desk, I saw a boy with beautiful black eyes explaining to my colleagues what he was doing there. He looked at me somehow sadly, but I noticed a slight smile on the corner of his lips. He sat on the chair with his head and eyes bowed. In order to encourage him to talk, I asked:
– Who dared to violate your rights?
 
NedzadI am not sure he understood my question. He shrugged his shoulders, but replied to other questions fluently – what was his name, how old was he and whether he went to school:
– My name is Nedzad (right). I am eight. I am in third grade.

Only his red cheeks gave out that he was not fully relaxed yet. Still, the ice was broken. He stood up and slowly approached the reception desk, only to return a second after to “our” chair standing next to me. It was now easier both for him and us. My colleague offered him a sandwich. He refused saying “not hungry”, but when I asked if he wanted a Coke, he thought about it for several moments and then accepted.

We took the Album of Human Rights, which is entitled “What can the state do to you and what it cannot”, off the shelf. Nedzad immediately started to the pages with great interest. It was obvious that he was drawn to the drawings in the Album, but it was also evident that he had trouble reading the accompanying text. I asked him to read for me the front page of the Album. I had a feeling he was anticipating that. He read out loud letter by letter, not managing to link the letters into a word.

Reprimanding him gently for not knowing to read fluently, although he was already in the third grade, we asked him how much he studied at home and we somehow mentioned a desk:
– I do not have a desk, neither has my sister, he said silently not raising his eyes off the Album.

– You are joking with us, I said the first thing that came to my mind in order to cover my discomfort before something was evidently the truth.

– I am not. You know, we don’t have a house. We have a room without electricity. My sister and I study under candlelight.

I ran out of questions and the desire to converse was gone. I wanted his mother to show up as soon as possible, but as there was a difficult break, at least for me, I asked Nedzad if he liked his school friends and his teacher. 
– I do, the teacher tells them off if they sometimes call me a Gypsy.
 
Then I asked him what he would like to have.
– I would like to have a house, a cupboard to put my stuff in, a TV to watch cartoons, and a pair of Adidas trainers. I would like to have water in my house and to be warm.

Luckily, his mother showed up in that moment. She was sent by, as she said, some “good people” to the Helsinki Committee, which could help her, they said. She was a single mother, she said and showed the evidence for that. She also showed us a social history chart made by the Novi Grad Municipality’s Social Welfare Centre in Sarajevo. She was seriously ill. She said that she had lived with her children in a destroyed house, in which she “made one room liveable”. Truthfully speaking though, the room was wet and water was running down the walls. The worst thing was, she said, that there was no electricity, water or toilet. She spent most of her time collecting wooden boxes. They heated well and she used them from time to time during the day and night to make fire, as “you can never collect enough”. She was very much concerned with her thoughts to send Nedzad and his sister to a home: “I would be sorry to leave them in a home, they are good kids”.

Listening to her story, I remembered a member of the Roma population, who has lived for over two years already with his five children in a “facility” he made himself of nylon. I remembered his children also studied under candlelight and did not have electricity, water, toilets … I knew he got very ill, but I also knew that his eldest son was a student at the University of Sarajevo and that other children were good pupils too. He often visited us in the House of Human Rights, as he and his family had only temporarily resolved their housing issue.

I also remembered one woman, also a Roma, especially her son, the youngest of her thirteen children. He was also eight, like Nedzad, when he came with his mother to the Committee to ask for protection of rights, as their improvised cabin fell apart in the winter. I remembered a Roma again, who was to move out in accord with decisions made by incompetent authorities as part of “an urgent procedure”.

To exercise the right to a home in this society is equal to an “act of heroism” even for “ordinary” citizens, but particularly for the Roma population. This sometimes borders with the impossible, despite its in fact being a fundamental right.

I registered a special complaint against violation of rights under the name of Nedzad. 

This was the start of the fight of the Helsinki Committee for Human Rights in Bosnia and Herzegovina for Nedzad’s home, his desk, cupboard and Adidas shoes, He, his sister and his single mother have to acquire this right and exploit it.