The Scars of the Erasure_web

Erasure_4a 10.1.11 20:29 Page 220220 THE SCARS OF THE ERASUREin Croatia, one sister is in Canada, the older sister lives in Slovenia. I’m on good termswith all of them. Family ties and the maintenance of good relations, not only withthe family and relatives but also with the wider environment, are very important.Why should we quarrel? Because of these lunatics?I first came to Slovenia in 1980, to visit my sister who had been attending se -condary school in Strunjan since 1975; she completed elementary school in Bosnia-Herzegovina. She took Slovenian citizenship. At that time, I used to tease her that ontaking Slovenian citizenship she’d not have problems with anyone but me.I came to Slovenia for the second time in 1987, for economic reasons – I waslooking for a job. I’m a traffic technician. I had problems when looking for work, sincenobody wanted to give me a job, because they said I’d work for two months only andthen try to find something better. But I was not after a good job, I was looking forany job. My sister’s husband got me a job with the poultry company Jata Zalog. I receivedmy first salary on 20 April 1987. In 1992 my boss told me that I had to arrangemy status. What status? What? You don’t understand that you don’t have status, becauseyou have permanent residence here, it’s logical. You work, you pay taxes, contributions,everything, and then they say you don’t have status. You don’t understandit because it’s impossible. People at my company told me that I needed a visa, a workpermit and a certificate of a clean criminal record. Without certificates there is nowork permit, and without a work permit there is no job. I asked my workmates aboutarranging documents at the administrative unit. They told me that they punched personaldocuments there. I called my brother in Bosnia-Herzegovina and asked him toadvise me how to get the certificate of a clean criminal record. He told me that Ineeded only the document proving that I had unregistered my address there. I thoughtto myself, “I came here and here is where I will stay!” I went to the administrativeunit in Ljubljana together with my sister’s husband. The attitude of the employees atthe Mačkova Street office was unbearable. Those were unfriendly clerks sitting behindthe plexiglass. There were fifty people crowded into this small space, and three hundredmore waiting outside. Their attitude towards us, people in the line, was contemptuous.What can you do? You cover your ears with your hands and keep silent.I told a burly man with a “very malicious look in his eyes” that I was registered hereand I wanted a document to prove that. Since my workmates had already warned methat they were punching documents, I showed this gentleman only my Yugoslav passportbut left my ID card in my pocket. I gave him the red passport, and his evil eyesstared at me: “This is no longer valid!” He punched my passport. I then asked him,“Can I now get the certificate?” “Be off with you, it’s the police that you can get!” waswhat I could hear as I was leaving. I found myself in the street with my punched passport.Where now? I couldn’t leave the country without documents. To say that thisfeeling is horrible is way too mild!Who will help you if you don’t help yourself? I knew someone who travelled onbusiness to Trieste where there was a Yugoslav embassy. This gentleman arranged forme a Yugoslav passport that was valid until 1995. It’s interesting that the Yugoslavpassport was valid in Italy although there was no Yugoslavia! I couldn’t get another