The first time I went to a Syrian restaurant was in Morocco in 2013. I was in Casablanca for work, and one of my Turkish colleagues took me there after our meetings with the media.

We ordered Baba Ghanoush, Fattoush, Falafel, Hummus, Kibbeh, and other delicious Middle Eastern dishes that have influenced cuisines around the world. I realised Syrians use a lot of eggplants, chickpeas, zucchinis, and garlic. Their food is as rich in flavour as their history.

The owner of the restaurant was Syrian and had escaped to Morocco when the war began in 2011.

I told him I was from Bosnia, from Sarajevo, and that I was a refugee during the 1990s.

We bonded and talked about how difficult life in exile is while your city and people are being bombed and under siege. At the time, I didn’t know I’d recall this meeting years later.

He didn’t want my pity; instead, he wanted to know if it had been difficult for us to rebuild our lives after returning to Sarajevo.

I was honest. I told him we still face many problems in Bosnia due to ethnic divisions, but that life had moved on. I explained that we still disagree about history and that the past continues to prevent us from building a better future.

For those who lost most of their family, it’s worse—the horrors may have stopped, but the nightmares are alive and well.

I spoke about generations suffering from PTSD and the vast, unattended wastelands left behind.

Yet, what mattered most to us was gaining independence and building a democratic country I’m proud of.

He knew a lot about Bosnia, particularly the Srebrenica genocide. He told me the world said “never again” after more than 8,000 Bosnian Muslim men and boys were slaughtered in the........

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