Nineteen ninety-six, those first tentative steps of peace, the buildings still shattered, people grappling with pain and disbelief as they groped to piece together the fragments of their fractured lives. As you grew large in your mother's womb, my first glimpse from the air of reroofed homes, buildings repainted in celebratory shades of shocking pink and yellow, strolling couples, children laughing as they ran across a park, the bustle of a city at last at peace with itself. Sarajevo, for a day, capital of the world. I will always remember the day you were born. A birth after so many deaths, the reassertion of the miracle of life triumphing over the grave.
Flowers bloom in the cemetery.
A bouquet is thrust into your mother's hands, the traditional coin of good fortune pressed into her palm, a United Nations medal of peace. We have made you a symbol, a milestone. But you are also a boy,Baby Six Billion. And you will grow up, I pray, in a city of healed wounds, bright lights, joyous music, chattering friends who will not wear ethnic labels on their belts. Let peace light the flame on the candles of your birthday cake, Baby Six Billion.