English
MEMORY OF THE 72 YEAR OF THE ARREST OF MY FATHER PETER BOBAN MAY 31 1950 – MAY 31, 2022.
Hrvatski
SJEĆANJE NA SEDAMDESET DRUGU GODINU HAPŠENJA MOG OCA PETRA BOBAN 31 SVIBNJA 1950 – 31 SVIBNJA 2022.
Français
MÉMOIRE DE LA 72 ANNÉE DE L’ARRESTATION DE MON PÈRE PETER BOBAN 31 MAI – 31 MAI 2022.
My Determination = Moja odluka =Ma Determination
As a kid of 11 years of age, I had always been working with my dad in the field hearing so many stories from my father related to the beginnings of World War 2, the events during WW2, and the happenings after WW2 from 1945 to the 1950’s. In my young brain in my head, there were a lot of wonders why all of this had to happen. When I asked my dad some specific questions about the missing Croatians from my village, the answer was “You are too young to understand this, my son. Once you’re a little bit older you will know a lot of those answers. Now I cannot tell you too much because you would not understand.”
I am putting a pict. of my father Petar from 1931., Seraing, Belgium. My father is sitting second from the right. First from the right is famous Croatian general during WW2 Rafael Boban 1907-1946?
On Wednesday, May 31st, 1950, my father, and I were working in a vineyard called “Padina”. Around 6:30pm, with still a couple of hours of daytime left, three policemen came, passing through someone else’s land (trespassing on someone’s land), and walked straight to my father asking, “Are you Comrade Petar Boban?” As soon as my father answered, “Yes, I am Petar Boban ”, they pulled out tie-wire from their belt and tied up my father’s hands behind his back. When I asked those 3 policemen where they were taking my father, the answer was “You will find out.”
That evening, a score of Croatians from our village were arrested and were taken to the station of Posušje. From that day on, the men’s job fell on my shoulders as an 11-year-old boy. My mom was pregnant. My oldest brother, Jerko, was in school in Zenica while my oldest sister, Jakica, was in school in Sarajevo. My mom did go as many times as it was permitted by the regime to visit my father in jail. He was in jail as an “enemy of the state” and was released on Saturday, July 3rd, 1953. During that time of 3 years, through my teenager’s head, I went through so many things and why’s; questions that I didn’t have the answer to. During that time, I was working in the field, plowing and hoeing with men who were 25 years of age and on. Maybe those 3 years did help me to sharpen my brain to be determined in my thinking. During that time of 3 years, as a teenager, in my village going to church, going to the field, talking to the people, neighbors and friends, I became a rebel. When I say, “a rebel”, I didn’t mean to say “a rebel” to fight with the rifles against someone. When I say, “a rebel”, with these words I try to say that I was not a “yes sir” man. If I did not like something that is going around me caused by the communist regime of Yugoslavia, then I speak up my mind. I knew very well that all those acts I did intentionally, boycotting the regime and its representatives (in this case, the police), I was not conscious, as a teenager, of the consequences of my behavior. So, when I heard from my mom inside the house with closed doors, telling me about the Croats, our friends, relatives, and neighbors, disappeared during WW2 and that we do not know their fate whether they’re alive, dead, or missing.
Picture of my parents, July 1967. in front of their house. Behind their back you can see grapes and tobacco.
And that the regime was particularly against any pronunciation of the word “Croats” and so on. Then when I go out in the street in the evening or during the day when I work with the elders in the field, I feel very equipped and superior of them to talk about Croatia, Croatians, WW2, missing of 23 Croatians from my village of Bobanova Draga, then I start to talk about it. One man by the name of Ikan Boban (born in 1917) Mišin told me “Milan, I’m going to tell you something. I was a soldier of the Croatian armed forces during WW2, and I know for a fact that Croatians armed forces with the civilians surrendered to the English army in Austria in May 1945. Then, the English army surrendered the Croatians to Tito’s army of Yugoslavia which slaughtered a few hundred thousand Croatians in Slovenia.” Then Ikan Boban (Mišin was his nickname) told me one song which is: Slovenia puna si borića i kostiju hrvatski mladića” which translates to “Slovenia, you are as full of trees as you are of Croatian soldiers’ bones.” Then again during the dinner, Ikan (Mišin) told me one other song: “Mene moja naučila mati, pjevaj sine živjeli Hrvati” which translates to “My mother taught me to sing long life to Croats”. That song, with my cousin and friend, Ante Grubisic, Lukin we started to sing through the village and through the region without thinking that this song might cause us problems. When I say problems, I must explain this that Yugoslavian communist regime did not allow to Croats to express their nationalistic feelings through any means whatsoever (cultural, folkloric, historical, singing, talking, etc.). There were some people who did approach us telling us that we shouldn’t sing that; it was forbidden, and the police might stop us. Ante and I, as teenagers, we didn’t think that a simple song would hurt someone’s feelings. We were naïve.
So, on Friday, June 29th, 1956, in my village of Bobanova Draga there was a celebration of St. Peter and Paul holiday. As tradition dictates, after the mass which started at 11am, we went home for lunch and after lunch, around 2pm, we go to the main road which is about a few hundred yards away to meet with friends and neighbors at traditional croatian called Dernek (sort of Fair) to walk, talk and sing. We celebrate St. Peter and Paul, every year in our village on June 29th. This particular day, my cousin Ante and I, we sang that song “Mene moja naučila mati, pjevaj sine živjeli Hrvati.” Suddenly, three policemen came to us and stopped us in the middle of the road. One was named Đuro (a typical Serbian name); he was a commander of the station. The other one was Milan Šorman (also a Serb) while the third one was Hassan, a Muslim, from Bugojno. The purpose of stopping us was that we couldn’t sing nationalistic songs because that is a provocation to the Brastvo i Jedinsvo (which means “Fraternity and Unity”). Then I told those 3 policemen “I think that my song would not hurt anybody and I am just looking for someone who is going to forbid me to sing this song.” As soon as I said this, one of the policemen slapped me. As soon as he slapped me above my forehead, mostly on my hair, I grabbed Milan Šorman and threw him onto the ground by the side of the road. As I was struggling with him, Jerko Boban (nickname: Kebić, 1919-2009) and Franjo Boban (nickname: Tuka) jumped to help us, telling the police, “Do you know which village you are passing through?” (This comment was meant to highlight the fact that many distinguished WW2 Croatian generals (such as General Ranko Rafael Boban) and other soldiers came from this village and the Yugoslavian communist regime knew this and feared them.) They continued, “This is not 1945 that you can come with your guns pointed to the people, pulling them from bed during the night and executing them behind the walls wherever you find it!”
The next day, Saturday, June 29th, I was working with my father on the field around 10am where two policemen came. One was Milan Šorman, the other was Hassan, from Bugojno, the Muslim. They want to escort me to Sovići, a town 6km away, to the police station. I told them “You will not escort me on this beautiful day in front of our village for 6 km that my neighbors see me going with you as a thief. You go over there and I will be there.” They took my word for it and left and I left too. But, I didn’t leave to follow them. I left to exile.
To be continued.
U srijedu, 31. svibnja 1950., moj otac i ja radili smo u vinogradu zvanom “Padina”. Oko 18.30 sati, a ostalo je još par sati dana, došla su trojica policajaca koji su prolazili preko tuđe zemlje i došli ravno do mog oca pitajući ga: „Jeste li vi drug Petar Boban?“ Čim je moj otac odgovorio: „Da, ja sam Petar Boban“, izvukli su im žicu iz pojasa i vezali mome ocu ruke na leđima. Kada sam pitao ta 3 policajca kamo vode mog oca, odgovor je bio “Saznat ćeš”.Te večeri uhićeno je desetak Hrvata iz našeg sela koji su odvedeni u postaju milicije Posušje. Od tog dana, muški je posao pao na moja ramena kao dječaka od 11 godina. Moja mama je bila trudna. Moj najstariji brat Jerko je bio u školi u Zenici, dok je moja najstarija sestra Jakica bila u školi u Sarajevu. Moja mama je išla onoliko puta koliko je režim dopuštao posjetiti mog oca u zatvoru. Bio je u zatvoru kao “državni neprijatelj” i pušten je u subotu, 4. srpnja 1953. Za to vrijeme od 3 godine, kroz glavu mog tinejdžera, prošlo je toliko toga i zašto; pitanja na koja nisam imao odgovor. Za to vrijeme radio sam u polju, orao i okopavao s ljudima od 25 godina i više. Možda su mi te 3 godine pomogle da izoštrim moj mozak da budem odlučan u razmišljanju. Za to vrijeme od 3 godine, kao tinejdžer, u mom selu išao sam u crkvu, išao u sam polje raditi, razgovarao s ljudima, susjedima i prijateljima, postao sam buntovnik. Kad kažem “buntovnik”, nisam mislio reći “buntovnik” da bi se borio s puškama protiv nekoga. Kad kažem “buntovnik”, ovim riječima pokušavam reći da nisam bio “takojević, da gospodine” čovjek. Ako mi se nije vidjelo nešto što se vrti oko mene uzrokovano komunističkim režimom u Jugoslaviji, onda otvoreno govorim o mojem mišljenju. Znao sam da sve te radnje koje sam činio bile su namjerno, bojkotirajući režim i njegove predstavnike (u ovom slučaju policiju), ali nisam bio svjestan, kao tinejdžer, posljedica mojeg ponašanja. Dakle, kad sam čuo mamu u našoj kući zatvorenih vrata da mi priča o Hrvatima, našim prijateljima, rodbini i susjedima, nestalim tijekom Drugog svjetskog rata i da ne znamo njihovu sudbinu jesu li živi ili mrtvi ili nestali.Quand j’avais 11 ans, j’avais toujours travaillé avec mon père sur le champ en entendant tant d’histoires de mon père liées aux débuts de la Seconde Guerre mondiale, aux événements de la Seconde Guerre mondiale et aux événements après la Seconde Guerre mondiale de 1945 à années 1950. Dans mon jeune cerveau, dans ma tête, il y avait beaucoup de questions sur la raison pour laquelle tout cela devait arriver. Lorsque je pose à mon père des questions spécifiques sur les Croates disparus de mon village, la réponse est toujours : « Tu es trop jeune pour comprendre cela, mon fils. Une fois que tu seras un peu plus âgé, tu connaîtras beaucoup de ces réponses. Maintenant, je ne peux pas trop t’en dire parce que tu ne comprendrais pas.
Français
Je mets une photo. de mon père Petar de 1931., Seraing, Belgique. Mon père est assis deuxième à partir de la droite. Le premier à partir de la droite est le célèbre général croate pendant la Seconde Guerre mondiale Rafael Boban 1907-1946 ?
Le mercredi 31 mai 1950, mon père et moi travaillons dans un vignoble appelé « Padina ». Vers 18h30, alors qu’il restait encore quelques heures de lumière du jour, trois policiers sont arrivés, traversant le terrain de quelqu’un d’autre (intrusion sur le terrain de quelqu’un), et se sont dirigés directement vers mon père en lui demandant : « Êtes-vous le camarade Petar Boban ? Dès que mon père a répondu : « Oui, je suis Petar Boban », ils ont sorti le fil de fer de leur ceinture et ont attaché les mains de mon père derrière son dos. Quand j’ai demandé à ces 3 policiers où ils emmenaient mon père, la réponse a été « Vous le découvrirez ».Ce soir-là, une vingtaine de Croates de notre village ont été arrêtés et emmenés à la station de police de Posušje. A partir de ce jour, le travail des hommes est tombé sur mes épaules en tant que garçon de 11 ans. Ma mère était enceinte. Mon frère aîné, Jerko, était à l’école à Zenica tandis que ma sœur aînée, Jakica, était à l’école à Sarajevo. Ma mère est allée autant de fois que le régime le permettait pour rendre visite à mon père en prison. Il était en prison en tant qu’« ennemi de l’État » et a été libéré le samedi 4 juillet 1953. Pendant cette période de 3 ans, à travers la tête de mon adolescence, j’ai traversé tant de choses et pourquoi ; questions auxquelles je n’avais pas de réponse. Pendant ce temps, je travaillais dans les champs, labourant et binant avec des hommes de 25 ans et plus. Peut-être que ces 3 années m’ont aidé à aiguiser mon cerveau pour être déterminé dans ma réflexion. Pendant cette période de 3 ans, adolescente, dans mon village, allant à l’église, allant aux champs, parlant aux gens, aux voisins et aux amis, je suis devenu un rebelle. Quand je dis « un rebelle », je ne veux pas dire « un rebelle » pour se battre avec des fusils contre quelqu’un. Quand je dis “un rebelle”, avec ces mots, j’essaie de dire que je n’étais pas un homme “oui monsieur”. Si je n’ai pas aimé quelque chose qui se passe autour de moi à cause du régime communiste de Yougoslavie, alors j’exprime mon opinion. Je savais très bien que tous ces actes que j’avais commis intentionnellement, boycottant le régime et ses représentants (en l’occurrence, la police), je n’étais pas conscient, adolescent, des conséquences de mon comportement.
Odgovori
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