I am in Srebrenica. The site of the worst massacre since World War II. Over 8,000 Muslim men and boys were killed in an act of genocide by the Serb Army in a “protected”UN Safe Zone filled with refugees. I didn’t brake when I saw the shockingly casual site of burned houses, the intimate naked skeletons of three story houses. The shell markings and bullet holes. I walked the streets of 
Srebrenica, passing the destroyed houses. I continued with my daily routine, trying to forget that the house in front of mine lost 3 boys. I explained to the women behind our house that I was locked out and found a kitten, not dwelling on the fact that her family buried a husband and son of 16 years this July. I continue shopping for groceries even after realizing the man in the juice aisle has no left arm and that he is a man, alive. I joined the 30, 000 people at the Memorial Ceremony. I tolerated the VIPs at a funeral. I met people, made introductions. I witnessed the line of coffins, 534 filing by me with my meager offerings – my camera, my witness, this voice. I didn’t brake, didn’t cry. I had no right to cry, I have lost nothing. I finally broke over a video I saw on Youtube. It was recorded during the genocide; a father was yelling for his son to come down from hiding in the woods, screaming that it was safe while surrounded by Serb soldiers that would eventually add him to mass graves. Genocide had found Youtube, and I couldn’t take it. If we can casually watch people being slaughtered and do nothing the next time, what kind of sick game is this? When taught about the Holocaust, why are we not also taught about the concentration camps in Argentina, the 677 in Bosnia? Where is the follow up on genocides in Rwanda, the killing fields of Cambodia or the one happening now in Darfur?
