By David Myers

Southwest Kansas Register

KINSLEY — So quick was their escape from war-ravaged Bosnia, that Borislav and Selma Peranovic and their young son, Vedran, barely had time to say goodbye to family and friends, much less pack all their belongings, when they fled in September 1999 to the United States.

For Borislav, who, with his wife and son live in Kinsley, those possessions included an acoustic guitar, art supplies, Nikon camera and nearly six pounds of negatives from photos taken throughout the war.

"In my soul is an artist," Borislav said. "I’m not someone who likes to kill people."

Although Borislav served with a military stabilization program side by side with the first American military unit in Bosnia, his primary service was with a camera and paint brush. Among his official titles were "war photographer" and "graphic artist." His duties included painting border signs indicating "zones of separation," and regions that disallowed arms and ammunition. He even designed official certifications for the U.N. peacekeeping troops he worked beside, which, according to Borislav, included nearly 2,000 soldiers from Kansas.

While the war led to the family fleeing their home in Zagreb, it wasn’t the bullets or even living 300 yards from the front that finally made them pack their bags.

"This war makes prejudice between different ethnic groups," Borislav said. Croatians, Serbians and Muslims became as distinct and separated as oil and water, an ignorance perpetuated by a corrupt government and police force.

The fact that Borislav is Croatian and Selma is Muslim was simply too much for their society to accept — a problem common among many Bosnian refugees. As a desperate educational system allowed school cooks to teach classes, Selma, a trained teacher, was unable to secure a job because she was married to a Croatian.

Meanwhile, Borislav stayed firmly housed as a lieutenant while watching illiterate peers rise to colonel simply because he was married to a Muslim.

"There was no job for me anywhere because my wife is Muslim," he said. "If I want to exist, I would have had to divorce Selma and make hell for my son."

Meanwhile, Vedran, born of a mixed marriage, would have been ostracized from each ethnic group and forced eventually to make a choice. "We wanted the same chances for our son as other kids," Selma said. "There, our son doesn’t have a future. He would have to make choice between Muslim, Serb and Croat."

On the coffee table Borislav built in their Kinsley home were spread several photos, among them, wedding pictures of the smiling couple, and a picture of the outer shell of what once was a 400-year-old Catholic church, destroyed and used for target practice by the opposing military. Another picture shows Borislav with his military unit, looking determined but strangely out of place in military fatigues.

"Two hundred thousand people died in three years," Borislav said sadly. When asked about his experience in the war, he only answered, "Blood … death."

The family finally applied for a visa both in Australia, where Borislav has two brothers, and the United States. The latter was the first to impart an official "invitation," notifying the family that they had been sponsored by St. Nicholas Catholic Parish and the United Methodist Church, both in Kinsley.

With only days to prepare, the family packed what they could and eventually boarded a plane for Frankfurt, Germany. With almost no information or knowledge of their destination except for the words, "Garden City," the family flew from Frankfurt to Chicago to Denver, and eventually to Garden City.

Stepping from the plane into the Kansas airport, the weary family — strangers in a strange land and each filled with trepidation and loneliness from leaving family and friends — were met by an empty concourse.

"We thought we were in our place," Borislav said. "Nobody was waiting for us."

Eventually an airline employee saw the "DDC" on their ticket, and the family was boarded for a quick and unexpected flight to Dodge City.

There, they had a much nicer reception. It was Selma who first saw the Roman collar of Father William Vogel, as he stood eagerly awaiting the family. Rev. David Bell of the United Methodist Church, also stood waiting, ready to greet the tired family and take them to their new home in Kinsley.

As they drove by Spearville and Offerle, Father Vogel described to them the towns and environment. Once in Kinsley, the group pulled up to a quaint duplex just yards from St. Nicholas church.

"On the house was a big welcome sign," Selma said.

"The house was full of furniture," Borislav added with a grin. "The refrigerator was full of food to last six months. The people prepared everything. These people are our friends. We are very happy."

He admitted that he felt some trepidation about living in the United States. Most of what they knew of the states they had learned through the movies, which portrayed America as a land filled with drugs and violence run amuck.

Unfortunately, other refugees found the depiction quite accurate. When a family with two young daughters — friends of the Peranovics — arrived in Atlanta after fleeing Bosnia, there was no one to greet them at the airport, and eventually they had to be escorted by the police. Soon they were placed in an apartment with no furnishings and in a high risk/crime area where they met with theft, vandalism, and where the wife and daughters found syringes in the complex’s basement Laundromat.

With the help of the Peranovics and Father Vogel, the family moved to Kinsley a few months later, where, like their friends, they found the peace and quiet of a front porch community in rural Kansas.

"This is nice; it’s not interesting enough for drug dealers," Borislav said, laughing.

Their son, Vedran, is excelling at St. Nicholas School, where he has lost all but a shadow of his Eastern European accent.

"His teacher said he is like a real American," Selma said, smiling proudly. "He is a song leader at the Mass and he loves geography."

Like the protagonist in the movie, "Life is Beautiful," who sought to keep the horrors of a Nazi death camp from his son, the Peranovics worked hard in Bosnia to shelter their son from the horrors of war. So much did they endear him with love of family, that he felt lonely for his home in Bosnia upon his arrival in the United States.

"He didn’t understand why his grandparents weren’t here," Borislav said. "We kept all bad influences away from him. For him it was a nice place over there. But time is like medicine."

It wasn’t just "time" that healed Vedran’s loneliness, but Father Vogel, who quickly became part of the family, visiting every day for coffee or to play a video game with Vedran.

"Father Vogel had big authority around here," Borislav said. "He used that to help us."

"‘If you need something, ask me,’" Selma said, repeating Father Vogel’s words. "‘I know people.’" When Father Vogel died Nov. 14, it was as if Vedran had lost a grandfather for a second time. For Borislav and Selma, it was as if they had lost a father.

Selma now works as an assistant to a local dentist, while Borislav, a trained graphic artist, fine artist, concert classical guitarist and chemical engineer, works in a machine shop for $7 an hour. He also teaches calligraphy to 15 students every week and continues sign-making as a hobby.

He doesn’t for a moment complain about his lot. He is simply ever so thankful that his family is safe and sound and living in peace in the peaceful town of Kinsley.

The sign-maker who once made signs separating borders of warring Eastern European regions, most recently completed the new church sign which stands in front of St. Nicholas Parish.

Besides, living in the center of America, a border is the last thing the Peranovics need worry about now.