ABSTRACT
The idea started to look promising only when I obtained a name and wrapped it in a likely story of a refugee from Zenica. As a reporter I had been following the Bosnia and Herzegovina refugee saga in Slovenia for two years. I had attended press conferences one after the other, visited an immense number of humanitarian organizations, talked with a great deal of people who were professionally or voluntarily dealing with the refugee situation, but all this had meant nothing. It was only when I stepped over the threshold of a refugee center as a refugee that I realized I had been writing about something I knew nothing about.
