Regardless of their will, Leposava Trivic and Jakov Bozic became victims of a plot involving interests and relations of several countries. When, in a few months, Croatian authorities return to the Danube valley region, someone will, almost certainly, knock on the door of the apartment in which Leposava Trivic currently lives and dreams about her Cage, next to Okucani. That someone may come from an apartment in Osijek whose owner - a Serb - in the autumn of 1991 escaped to Belgrade and now, with Croatian documents in the pocket, is waiting for the refugee from Vukovar to leave his apartment in Osijek. When that happens, Leposava Trivic will have to head for her Cage; however, since Jakov Bozic has no idea who lives in his house in Novo Selo, in the Republic of Srpska, he won't leave Leposava's house, because he simply has nowhere else to go. His house in Novo Selo may be occupied by a Serb from Kistanje, whose house is right now being taken by a numerous family of Croatian refugees from Kosovo.
"There's nothing left to do, either the Danube or the Sava," repeats Leposava Trivic, her face covered in tears, while sitting in the UNTAES bus which will take her and other 14 passengers back to Eastern Slavonia, to somebody else's apartments and houses which they will soon have to abandon.
Milomirka Lalic, once a cleaner in the primary school in Okucani, didn't get a chance to visit her house in the village of Bodergaj, which she abandoned, as all the other villagers, in the May of 1995, during the operation "Flash". New tenants in her house, refugees from Bosnia, attacked her with snowballs, and a young man dressed in a uniform, pushed her away. She had to be protected by the Croatian police, which because of possible "encounters" between the former and present owners of houses, followed the UNTAES bus. Milomirka, her husband and a six-years-old daughter found accommodation in Dalj, in Eastern Slavonia, where with three Croatian families, they are sharing an apartment which before the war belonged to the Croatian Railways. They want to return to their Bodergaj, but the new occupants made it clear that Milomirka and her family should stay away.
Nostalgia for Okucani and insecurity in somebody else's house in Lovas, near Vukovar, made Ostoja Radojcic get on the UNTAES bus and snatch a chance to visit his two houses in Okucani. At first, the new tenants tried to chase him away, but eventually the atmosphere improved and they finally even offered him a drink of brandy. But, when he tried to visit his other house, a two storied building in the center of Okucani, the new tenant adamantly refused to let Ostoja in. He shook hands with Ostoja, "for the papers" and didn't seem to care when the old men, walking toward the bus, told him: "I would have let you in my home and shared my food with you." Ostoja Radojcic now lives in the house owned by Ivo Balic, a Croat, who had to escape to Vinkovci and who, from time to time, calls his neighbors asking about his house. Soon, he will knock on Ostoja's door, demanding his right to return to his own house.
Pakrac office of the Committee for Human Rights has the data collected by the June of last years which lists 253 requests for return by the families who left after the operation "Flash" their homes in Pakrac, Lipik, Slatina, Daruvar and Okucani municipalities. Only twelve of them have returned by now, without assistance of the Office for Refugees and Displaced persons, until recently headed by Damir Zoric; the returnees received assistance from UNHCR and UNTAES. All together, 80 people who left during the operation "Flash" have so far returned to Western Slavonia. Their fates and problems are a good indication of what awaits future returnees. Nada and Nikola Seatovic's story should blow away any illusions about the "guaranteed right of return" from the Dayton agreement, which the people from the UNTAES bus and hundreds of thousands of refugees elsewhere may still have.
Nada and Nikola Seatovic, an elderly married couple, returned to Western Slavonia in the most legal manner: they obtained Croatian documents through Zoric's Office, based on the principle of "unification of families". After the "Flash" they spent some time in Novo Milosevo in Banat, and on March 16 they returned to Okucani. However, the family Ilaca who had been expelled from Eastern Slavonia, had already moved in to their house.
Vlado Aleksic, chief of the Pakrac office of the Committee for Human Rights and Rapprochement, says that the Croatian Red Cross is leading discriminatory policy in Pakrac. "Assistance is delivered to some recipients in tractor trailers, while others receive only 2-3 kilograms of flour a month. If it wasn't for the donations by UNICEF, UNHCR, ECMM, Caritas, and various foreign humanitarian organizations, 1045 citizens who received last year some humanitarian aid through the Office for Human Rights might have not survived. That is especially true for the small number of people who live in isolated villages and hamlets, who are left to fend for themselves".
Unlike the 14 passengers on the UNTAES bus who arrived on last Thursday, full of hope, to visit their houses, convinced that they will soon return to them, some Western Slavonian Serbs, dispersed all over the states who came out of the former Yugoslavia, have a different understanding of the guaranteed right to return: they authorized some lawyers in Grubisno Polje to sell their houses and land. Supposedly, only one local lawyer at the moment has 20 such authorizations, and the trade is going really well. True, the prices are pretty low: houses, together with the land, are sold for as little as DM900 [approx. $600].
"Still, even that is better than to sell property the way it was done after the 'Flash' at the famous Pakrac market," relates a local. "Then, one could buy hogs from Pakrac Serbs for as little as DM200. A slap on one cheek was worth DM100, and a slap on the other cheek covered the rest."