For Bosnia and Herzegovina, last night’s victory hits different. It wasn't just a ticket to the World Cup. It's a quiet, fierce reclamation of everything they once tried to take away: our identity, our right to exist as a people and a country, our very lives and land.
We still live our history. In the 1992–1995 war, Bosnians faced a systematic campaign of destruction. Over 100,000 people were killed. Entire towns and villages were cleansed. The siege of Sarajevo, the capital, lasted 1,425 days, the longest in modern history, with civilians shelled daily while the world watched.
And then Srebrenica: in July 1995, more than 8,000 Bosniak men and boys were slaughtered in genocide. It wasn’t random violence. It was calculated to break our spirit and remove any trace of a sovereign, multi-ethnic Bosnia and Herzegovina.
They wanted no Bosnia. Some voices even today deny the genocide or question whether this country should exist at all.
That’s why, when the national team wins, it feels like our country exhales a breath it’s been holding for thirty years. The players on the pitch aren’t just athletes; they’re sons of survivors, children of refugees, men who carry the stories of parents who buried loved ones or rebuilt homes from rubble.
When the stadium erupts with “Bosna! Bosna!”, it’s not only celebration. It’s defiance. It’s proof that we refused to disappear.
Last night’s win, whatever the score, whatever the opponent, became one more chapter in that story of survival. For a moment, the pain of the past doesn’t vanish, but it steps aside so joy can breathe. Our children are singing, our flag is flying high.
That’s why it hits different. Football, for us, has always been more than a game. It’s memory. It’s resistance. It’s love for a country that refused to die. And every victory like last night’s reminds the world, and reminds us, that Bosnia and Herzegovina is not a footnote in history.
It is a living, breathing, scoring, celebrating nation.
Love from Sarajevo!
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Forza Bosnia.
I really need to tell you what has just happened.
Breakfast at cafe with colleague before going to airport.
It’s quiet around, day after partying.
We are done and one moment before standing up to go paying, a 60-years old man suddenly pops up from nowhere, quickly grabs our check and goes to counter.
At first I don’t understand, I think he wants to tease us.
Then he starts chatting with waitress and pulls out a roll of notes while she smiles.
I ask him “What? What are you doing?”.
He smiles nodding and keeps paying, saying something in Bosnian and then “No no no”.
I tell him “Why? But why?”.
He winks “Ok ok” while all waitresses now smiles.
Again I say “You don’t. You don’t have to”. And then I lean to him and I hug him and we pat on shoulders.
As he leaves I ask him “But tell me your name”. And he goes “Italia Italia, it’s ok” and walks away.
60 years old, a face that looked toughened by life and hard work.
Who knows what he saw when he was 30 in Bosnia.
Who knows what Italy was for him, when the Italian soldiers came to Bosnia to help, when Italy came to play in Bosnia on September 1996.
How long it takes for us to witness every day a pure act of kindness?
How better life can be with kindness?
Hvala Bosnia.
Have a joyous World Cup
Hej @KHelioui I see you're going to @SymposiumSthlm - any chance you want to meet a young & mission-driven founder from the suburbs of Sthlm over a Swedish "fika" while in town?