Latest news with #Bosnia
The Sun
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Sun
How a brave Brit soldier vowed to give a boy a new face & save his life amid the horrors of a genocidal war
A BLOODY war brought a British soldier and a young boy together in one of the most heartwarming stories you will ever read. Two decades ago, Sgt Wayne Ingram was shown a photo of Stefan Slavic amid the horrors of the Bosnia conflict. 7 7 7 Stefan, then aged just four, was born with terrible facial deformities that would most probably end his short life in a couple of years. The toddler had a rare, severe facial cleft. Where his nose should have been was a large, protruding knob of flesh-covered bone which was slowly working its way into his nasal cavity, forcing his eyes further apart each day. Father-of-four Wayne says: 'He only had one airway and we didn't know if there were holes in his skull. 'So, at some point he would have contracted some sort of disease, maybe meningitis, that would have ended his life prematurely.' Heartbroken and holding back tears Wayne, a veteran of Ulster's Troubles, made an incredible vow — to raise enough money to pay for life-saving surgery that would change the boy's life for ever. An incredible £160,000 and five major operations later, Stefan and Wayne are best friends, linked by a unique bond. Today, now aged 26, Stefan, plays keyboard in a Bosnian folk band, has a glamorous girlfriend and a promising life ahead of him. It is a far cry from his life as a boy being brought up in a country scarred by genocidal war. Now Wayne, 55, has told the incredible story in a new book, Soldier Of Conscience. 'Gargantuan task' In 2003, his regiment, the 9th/12th Lancers were sent to Bosnia where part of their job was to encourage locals to give up their weapons. Incredible video shows how doctors reconstructed man's face after he was savaged by a dog Wayne says: 'It was never going to happen because they had always lived with war throughout the centuries. 'And they always thought that, at some point, it would happen again. So, when we asked for weapons you would get the odd hunting rifle handed in but nothing much else.' The other part of the regiment's job was winning the hearts and minds of locals, but the police chief in Laktasi, near Banja Luka, kept giving British soldiers the slip. In that moment, I knew that I would protect this beautiful child with my life and do my utmost to ensure his operation went ahead Sgt Wayne Ingram on meeting Stefan Wayne says: 'He turned out to be the slipperiest eel I had ever tried to net. I needed to think smarter to nab him. 'On the day of our next planned meeting, I arrived at the police station a full hour early. 'He saw me and made a beeline for the back door. I gave chase, tripped over the kerb and went ass over tip in the car park. 'As I lay there he sped off in his car and gave me a quick look over his shoulder, laughing. 'I heard two men giggling behind me. Lying bruised on the dusty ground, I joined in the laughter. 'After they'd helped me, I introduced myself, unaware that several lives were about to change for ever.' The men were Dragoslav Kovacevic — Laktasi's Minister of Defence — and his personal assistant Milos Savic. Over coffee, wounded war veteran Milos showed Wayne a photograph of his toddler son Stefan and asked if any of the hearts and minds in the British Army could do anything to help his boy. An operation at a specialist hospital in France would cost €30,000. But as Milos only earned a pittance, it was not an option. Wayne was determined to help the little lad but needed permission from military top brass. His bosses gave the go-ahead with a warning: 'Sergeant Ingram, be careful. This has the potential to become a gargantuan task for you.' As we chat near his home in Portland, Dorset, Wayne says: 'Little did I know that he would be chillingly correct. "This would be the first day of a 13-year lone, uphill struggle, during which my emotions would reach immense highs, followed by long, dark descents into self-doubt, where I'd feel totally out of my depth, with no idea how to make it to the next stage.' First, he took a group of his soldiers in a Scimitar tank to meet little Stefan. As the 6ft 2in sergeant knelt down, the blond-haired boy kissed him on the cheek and said 'hallow' in broken English. Wayne says: 'In that moment, I knew that I would protect this beautiful child with my life and do my utmost to ensure his operation went ahead.' The British soldiers organised a football match against a team of locals who had been on opposing sides during the Balkan conflict. Wayne says: 'We lost 7-3, but at a barbecue afterwards all these people who had previously been fighting for years were sharing food. Arms amnesty 'The match raised €6,000 and when the locals saw that we really wanted to help, they asked if there was anything they could do. 'I said, 'We're looking for an arms amnesty'. 'They replied, 'Leave it with us'. 7 7 'The following Saturday it was like a scene from Jaws. I said to my corporal, 'Bloody hell we're going to need a bigger van'. 'We'd turned up expecting to get a few rifles. There were around 100 AK-47s laid out alongside RPG-7s with warheads. "Loads and loads of hand grenades, 40 or 50 pistols, tens of thousands of rounds of ammunition, land mines, anti-tank mines. All handed in because they trusted us. 'You had to think, if these are the ones they're prepared to hand in, how much was still out there?' After his tour ended in July 2003, Wayne returned to the UK and began raising money in earnest to pay for surgery for Stefan at London's Great Ormond Street Hospital. A top Harley Street surgeon, Professor David Dunaway, kindly agreed to operate for free. But the rest of Stefan's hospital care, his family's accommodation and their travel to and from the UK would need to be covered by donations. Wayne says: 'In my naivety, I thought it was just going to be one operation but in the end it was five, the last was 13 years to the day after the first.' That first operation had been to remove some teeth to prepare Stefan's mouth for a 12-hour-op in October 2003, that would completely deconstruct his skull, moving his brain out of the way to rebuild the bones like a jigsaw. Wayne says: 'David is an absolute genius. His surgical skills transformed Stefan's life. 'He became the boy that he had always wanted to be. 'Not once did I ever hear Stefan complain, not once did I see him cry. 'After his 12-hour operation we didn't know whether he'd lose his sight and for four or five days he had his eyes covered up. 'One morning I walked into the hospital ward where they had removed the plasters and Stefan just started smiling. Morphine 'Even as a 13-year-old — when he'd had cosmetic surgery on his nose to open his airways — he had a syringe driver with morphine in it, but he never pressed it so they took it away after a day.' Stefan had three more operations to correct his nose and facial features as his bones grew over the years. Stefan is an amazing man. He works full-time in a warehouse and plays in a folk band. He's such a good-looking guy and has been in a relationship for quite some time with his long-term girlfriend Sgt Wayne Ingram on Stefan While all this was going on, Wayne discovered that he was suffering from complex Post Traumatic Stress Disorder, caused by a bomb blast 15 years earlier in Belfast. His marriage fell apart but Wayne continued to honour his promise to help Stefan. Wayne says: 'Raising £160,000 to pay for flights for Stefan's family and his hospital care took a lot out of me after 13 years. 'There were plenty of sleepless nights wondering where I was going to get the money from. 'At one point I had a shortfall where I was going to have to sell my motorbike until a stranger I'd never met before contacted me through the local paper. 'She and her husband had followed Stefan's story from day one. Sadly, her husband had died and she gave us £10,000. We weren't allowed to use her name, she only wanted to be called the 'kind granny'. 'This country's amazing. It's called Great Britain for a reason. 'Whenever there's a hardship, people put their hands in their pockets and the community comes together and helps people.' Wayne, who is now remarried and works as an offshore paramedic, stays in touch with Stefan using a translation app. He says: 'Stefan is an amazing man. He works full-time in a warehouse and plays in a folk band. 'He's such a good-looking guy and has been in a relationship for quite some time with his long-term girlfriend. 'She's beautiful and they just look amazing together.' Stefan sent a message to Wayne: 'You changed my life for the better. 'I love you my friend for ever. My gratitude cannot be expressed in words.' Soldier Of Conscience: From Fighting The IRA To Battling PTSD, by Wayne Ingram MBE, published by Pen & Sword, is out now. All royalties go to Scoliosis Support & Research. 7 7
The Australian
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- The Australian
Sarajevo street art marks out brighter future
Bullet holes still pockmark many Sarajevo buildings; others threaten collapse under disrepair, but street artists in the Bosnian capital are using their work to reshape a city steeped in history. A half-pipe of technicolour snakes its way through the verdant Mount Trebevic, once an Olympic bobsled route -- now layered in ever-changing art. "It's a really good place for artists to come here to paint, because you can paint here freely," Kerim Musanovic told AFP, spraycan in hand as he repaired his work on the former site of the 1984 Sarajevo Games. Retouching his mural of a dragon, his painting's gallery is this street art hotspot between the pines. Like most of his work, he paints the fantastic, as far removed from the divisive political slogans that stain walls elsewhere in the Balkan nation. "I want to be like a positive view. When you see my murals or my artworks, I don't want people to think too much about it. "It's for everyone." During the Bosnian war, 1992-1995, Sarajevo endured the longest siege in modern conflict, as Bosnian Serb forces encircled and bombarded the city for 44 months. Attacks on the city left over 11,500 people dead, injured 50,000 and forced tens of thousands to flee. But in the wake of a difficult peace, that divided the country into two autonomous entities, Bosnia's economy continues to struggle leaving the physical scars of war still evident around the city almost three decades on. 'A form of therapy' "After the war, segregation, politics, and nationalism were very strong, but graffiti and hip-hop broke down all those walls and built new bridges between generations," local muralist Adnan Hamidovic, also known as rapper Frenkie, said. Frenkie vividly remembers being caught by police early in his career, while tagging trains bound for Croatia in the northwest Bosnian town of Tuzla. The 43-year-old said the situation was still tense then, with police suspecting he was doing "something political". For the young artist, only one thing mattered: "Making the city your own". Graffiti was a part of Sarajevo life even during the war, from signs warning of sniper fire to a bulletproof barrier emblazoned with the words "Pink Floyd" -- a nod to the band's 1979 album The Wall. Sarajevo Roses -- fatal mortar impact craters filled with red resin -- remain on pavements and roads around the city as a memorial to those killed in the strikes. When he was young, Frenkie said the thrill of illegally painting gripped him, but it soon became "a form of therapy" combined with a desire to do something significant in a country still recovering from war. "Sarajevo, after the war, you can imagine, it was a very, very dark place," he said at Manifesto gallery where he exhibited earlier this year. "Graffiti brought life into the city and also colour." 'A way of resisting' Sarajevo's annual Fasada festival, first launched in 2021, has helped promote the city's muralists while also repairing buildings, according to artist and founder Benjamin Cengic. "We look for overlooked neighbourhoods, rundown facades," Cengic said. His team fixes the buildings that will also act as the festival's canvas, sometimes installing insulation and preserving badly damaged homes in the area. The aim is to "really work on creating bonds between local people, between artists". Mostar, a city in southern Bosnia, will also host the 14th edition of its annual street art festival in August. With unemployment nearing 30 percent in Bosnia, street art also offers an important springboard to young artists, University of Sarajevo sociology professor Sarina Bakic said. "The social context for young people is very difficult," Bakic said. Ljiljana Radosevic, a researcher at Finland's Jyvaskyla University, said graffiti allowed youth to shake off any "nationalist narrative or imposed identity". "It's a way of resisting," Radosevic said. al-cbo/al/cw
National Post
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- National Post
Sarajevo street art marks out brighter future
SARAJEVO — Bullet holes still pockmark many Sarajevo buildings; others threaten collapse under disrepair, but street artists in the Bosnian capital are using their work to reshape a city steeped in history. Article content A half-pipe of technicolour snakes its way through the verdant Mount Trebevic, once an Olympic bobsled route — now layered in ever-changing art. Article content 'It's a really good place for artists to come here to paint, because you can paint here freely,' Kerim Musanovic told AFP, spraycan in hand as he repaired his work on the former site of the 1984 Sarajevo Games. Article content Article content 'I want to be like a positive view. When you see my murals or my artworks, I don't want people to think too much about it. Article content 'It's for everyone.' Article content During the Bosnian war, 1992-1995, Sarajevo endured the longest siege in modern conflict, as Bosnian Serb forces encircled and bombarded the city for 44 months. Article content Attacks on the city left over 11,500 people dead, injured 50,000 and forced tens of thousands to flee. Article content But in the wake of a difficult peace, that divided the country into two autonomous entities, Bosnia's economy continues to struggle leaving the physical scars of war still evident around the city almost three decades on. Article content 'A form of therapy' Article content 'After the war, segregation, politics, and nationalism were very strong, but graffiti and hip-hop broke down all those walls and built new bridges between generations,' local muralist Adnan Hamidovic, also known as rapper Frenkie, said. Article content Frenkie vividly remembers being caught by police early in his career, while tagging trains bound for Croatia in the northwest Bosnian town of Tuzla. The 43-year-old said the situation was still tense then, with police suspecting he was doing 'something political'. Article content For the young artist, only one thing mattered: 'Making the city your own'. Article content Graffiti was a part of Sarajevo life even during the war, from signs warning of sniper fire to a bulletproof barrier emblazoned with the words 'Pink Floyd' — a nod to the band's 1979 album The Wall. Article content Sarajevo Roses — fatal mortar impact craters filled with red resin — remain on pavements and roads around the city as a memorial to those killed in the strikes. Article content Article content When he was young, Frenkie said the thrill of illegally painting gripped him, but it soon became 'a form of therapy' combined with a desire to do something significant in a country still recovering from war. Article content 'Sarajevo, after the war, you can imagine, it was a very, very dark place,' he said at Manifesto gallery where he exhibited earlier this year.
Yahoo
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- Yahoo
Sarajevo street art marks out brighter future
Bullet holes still pockmark many Sarajevo buildings; others threaten collapse under disrepair, but street artists in the Bosnian capital are using their work to reshape a city steeped in history. A half-pipe of technicolour snakes its way through the verdant Mount Trebevic, once an Olympic bobsled route -- now layered in ever-changing art. "It's a really good place for artists to come here to paint, because you can paint here freely," Kerim Musanovic told AFP, spraycan in hand as he repaired his work on the former site of the 1984 Sarajevo Games. Retouching his mural of a dragon, his painting's gallery is this street art hotspot between the pines. Like most of his work, he paints the fantastic, as far removed from the divisive political slogans that stain walls elsewhere in the Balkan nation. "I want to be like a positive view. When you see my murals or my artworks, I don't want people to think too much about it. "It's for everyone." During the Bosnian war, 1992-1995, Sarajevo endured the longest siege in modern conflict, as Bosnian Serb forces encircled and bombarded the city for 44 months. Attacks on the city left over 11,500 people dead, injured 50,000 and forced tens of thousands to flee. But in the wake of a difficult peace, that divided the country into two autonomous entities, Bosnia's economy continues to struggle leaving the physical scars of war still evident around the city almost three decades on. 'A form of therapy' "After the war, segregation, politics, and nationalism were very strong, but graffiti and hip-hop broke down all those walls and built new bridges between generations," local muralist Adnan Hamidovic, also known as rapper Frenkie, said. Frenkie vividly remembers being caught by police early in his career, while tagging trains bound for Croatia in the northwest Bosnian town of Tuzla. The 43-year-old said the situation was still tense then, with police suspecting he was doing "something political". For the young artist, only one thing mattered: "Making the city your own". Graffiti was a part of Sarajevo life even during the war, from signs warning of sniper fire to a bulletproof barrier emblazoned with the words "Pink Floyd" -- a nod to the band's 1979 album The Wall. Sarajevo Roses -- fatal mortar impact craters filled with red resin -- remain on pavements and roads around the city as a memorial to those killed in the strikes. When he was young, Frenkie said the thrill of illegally painting gripped him, but it soon became "a form of therapy" combined with a desire to do something significant in a country still recovering from war. "Sarajevo, after the war, you can imagine, it was a very, very dark place," he said at Manifesto gallery where he exhibited earlier this year. "Graffiti brought life into the city and also colour." 'A way of resisting' Sarajevo's annual Fasada festival, first launched in 2021, has helped promote the city's muralists while also repairing buildings, according to artist and founder Benjamin Cengic. "We look for overlooked neighbourhoods, rundown facades," Cengic said. His team fixes the buildings that will also act as the festival's canvas, sometimes installing insulation and preserving badly damaged homes in the area. The aim is to "really work on creating bonds between local people, between artists". Mostar, a city in southern Bosnia, will also host the 14th edition of its annual street art festival in August. With unemployment nearing 30 percent in Bosnia, street art also offers an important springboard to young artists, University of Sarajevo sociology professor Sarina Bakic said. "The social context for young people is very difficult," Bakic said. Ljiljana Radosevic, a researcher at Finland's Jyvaskyla University, said graffiti allowed youth to shake off any "nationalist narrative or imposed identity". "It's a way of resisting," Radosevic said. al-cbo/al/cw
France 24
2 days ago
- Entertainment
- France 24
Sarajevo street art marks out brighter future
A half-pipe of technicolour snakes its way through the verdant Mount Trebevic, once an Olympic bobsled route -- now layered in ever-changing art. "It's a really good place for artists to come here to paint, because you can paint here freely," Kerim Musanovic told AFP, spraycan in hand as he repaired his work on the former site of the 1984 Sarajevo Games. Retouching his mural of a dragon, his painting's gallery is this street art hotspot between the pines. Like most of his work, he paints the fantastic, as far removed from the divisive political slogans that stain walls elsewhere in the Balkan nation. "I want to be like a positive view. When you see my murals or my artworks, I don't want people to think too much about it. "It's for everyone." During the Bosnian war, 1992-1995, Sarajevo endured the longest siege in modern conflict, as Bosnian Serb forces encircled and bombarded the city for 44 months. Attacks on the city left over 11,500 people dead, injured 50,000 and forced tens of thousands to flee. But in the wake of a difficult peace, that divided the country into two autonomous entities, Bosnia's economy continues to struggle leaving the physical scars of war still evident around the city almost three decades on. 'A form of therapy' "After the war, segregation, politics, and nationalism were very strong, but graffiti and hip-hop broke down all those walls and built new bridges between generations," local muralist Adnan Hamidovic, also known as rapper Frenkie, said. Frenkie vividly remembers being caught by police early in his career, while tagging trains bound for Croatia in the northwest Bosnian town of Tuzla. The 43-year-old said the situation was still tense then, with police suspecting he was doing "something political". For the young artist, only one thing mattered: "Making the city your own". Graffiti was a part of Sarajevo life even during the war, from signs warning of sniper fire to a bulletproof barrier emblazoned with the words "Pink Floyd" -- a nod to the band's 1979 album The Wall. Sarajevo Roses -- fatal mortar impact craters filled with red resin -- remain on pavements and roads around the city as a memorial to those killed in the strikes. When he was young, Frenkie said the thrill of illegally painting gripped him, but it soon became "a form of therapy" combined with a desire to do something significant in a country still recovering from war. "Sarajevo, after the war, you can imagine, it was a very, very dark place," he said at Manifesto gallery where he exhibited earlier this year. "Graffiti brought life into the city and also colour." 'A way of resisting' Sarajevo's annual Fasada festival, first launched in 2021, has helped promote the city's muralists while also repairing buildings, according to artist and founder Benjamin Cengic. "We look for overlooked neighbourhoods, rundown facades," Cengic said. His team fixes the buildings that will also act as the festival's canvas, sometimes installing insulation and preserving badly damaged homes in the area. The aim is to "really work on creating bonds between local people, between artists". Mostar, a city in southern Bosnia, will also host the 14th edition of its annual street art festival in August. With unemployment nearing 30 percent in Bosnia, street art also offers an important springboard to young artists, University of Sarajevo sociology professor Sarina Bakic said. "The social context for young people is very difficult," Bakic said. Ljiljana Radosevic, a researcher at Finland's Jyvaskyla University, said graffiti allowed youth to shake off any "nationalist narrative or imposed identity". "It's a way of resisting," Radosevic said. © 2025 AFP
