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Just days after Bosnia’s recognition as a U.N. member state, both the U.N. High Commissioner for Refugees and the International Red Cross announced the suspension of their Bosnia operations. Persistent violence and lethal attacks on aid workers and aid convoys led to the decision. To the great disappointment of the local population, the U.N. Protection Force, UNPROFOR, which had been based in peaceful Sarajevo for operations in war-torn Croatia, followed suit, pulling out all but a skeleton force from the Bosnian capital and transferring its headquarters to Belgrade, Serbia. Its remaining 120 peacekeepers were practically the only internationals left in Sarajevo, and, without a clear mandate to work in Bosnia, were nearly powerless in their efforts to mediate ceasefires and deliver humanitarian aid.
viagra and paxil Because I was still paranoid about work and seemed ashamed about my condition, my parents kept my hospital stay a secret from almost everyone, even my brother. But on Tuesday, March 31, as the first week folded into a second, my parents allowed my first nonfamily friend, Katie, to come visit me. Katie and I had met in college and bonded over a shared love for Loretta Lynn, soul music, vintage clothes, and stiff St. Louis cocktails. Katie was vibrant, a bit goofy, and a great partner in crime. Not knowing what to bring, she purchased a stuffed rat (Katie in a nutshell: a rat instead of a teddy bear), a DVD of gangster rap videos, and a subtitled French film, not realizing that I could no longer read.
