STORY SO FAR: The Lleshi Family, along with thousands of other Kosovars, finally cross the border into Macedonia. They begin settling into their new home, a refugee camp.

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

Refugees in Macedonia



We learned later that our camp in Redusa was one of the best in Macedonia. There was a cold breakfast every morning, as well as two hot meals. There were even showers. The young international volunteers were cheerful, and tried to make camp life bearable for us all.

There was no room for football games, to Mehmet’s regret. But someone did string up a net, and the men and boys began playing endless games of volleyball. Anything, the men said, was better than the boredom of camp life.

They were right. In some ways it was better at the rough KLA camp, where we had to spend a lot of time gathering wood, making fires, and cooking. Now, with no need for us to work, Mama tried to keep us busy cleaning our tiny tent. But it’s hard to keep dust and dirt out of things when you live in a tent.

Granny stayed on in the hospital tent, where she could have a cot. We were thankful for that, for her weak old body would have done poorly sleeping on the ground.

Meanwhile, NATO bombers were pounding the Serbs, but not just the Serbs. There were terrible accidents: a column of refugees was mistaken for Serb soldiers, as was a train packed with Albanians headed for the border. Mehmet cursed the carelessness of the NATO forces, but war is war, said Papa. The innocent always suffer.

On June ninth I was in the tent folding our family’s bit of laundry when I heard a loud cheer go up outside. It was as though everyone had gone crazy. I ran out to find out what was happening.

Those who were religious were praying loudly. Even Papa, who never went to the mosque, kept saying, “Allah be praised!” over and over again.

“What is it?” I yelled to Mehmet over the racket.

“Milosevic has surrendered! NATO has won!” he said.

We were all eager to go home, but Papa was cautious. Everything, he felt, was too unsettled, and no one knew what we would find if we went back. Besides, he pointed out, it wouldn’t be easy making the homeward trip with Granny and the children. After much discussion, it was decided, that the men (and that included Mehmet) would go first and see what the situation was.

It was a long waitor at least it seemed so. In reality, it was less than a week, but when you are aching to go home, a day can seem like years.

“Well,” said Papa when they finally returned, “the store and the apartment are still there.”

Mehmet glowered. “But what they didn’t steal they smashed to bits.”

“At least you have four walls and a roof,” Uncle Fadil said. Mehmet blushed. It was clear Uncle Fadil had nothing to go home to.

Papa confirmed this sad truth. “The farm is destroyed,” he said. Then he pulled from his bag a dirty shard and handed it to Mama.

“My wedding plate,” said Mama. “Why would they smash a beautiful plate?”

“Hate makes no sense,” said Papa.

“When are we going home?” Isuf said, asking the question we all wanted to. “I want to go home today. Right now.”

Papa shook his head. “We have to talk,” he said. That meant I needed to watch the little ones while the grown-ups discussed our future among themselves. To my surprise, Mehmet stayed with us as the grown-ups walked off together.

“What do they have to talk about, Mehmet?” I asked. “What is so complicated? Why can’t we just go home?”

“It’s because of me,” he said. “The KLA is stronger than ever, and Papa is afraid I will run away and join them.”

“You wouldn’t!”

“They’ve approached me,” he said proudly.

“But what’s the point? The war is over.”

“Not for Kosovo,” he said. “We don’t have independence yet. NATO still sees us as just another province of Serbia. The war is far from over.”

When the grown-ups came back, their expressions were grim but resolute. I realized that there would be no arguing with whatever decision they had come to. We waited for Papa to speak, never dreaming of the words we would hear.

“Uncle Fadil and his family have no home to go back to. The farm is destroyed, and until things are more settled, it is senseless to try to rebuild. They will go to town, to the apartment, and try to get the store running again. They can take care of Granny and the babies more easily there as well.”

“But what about us?” Isuf asked. “What about our family?”

Papa patted his head. “We’re headed for a great adventure, son. We are going to America.”

(To be continued.)

Newspaper shall publish the following credit line in each installment of the work:

Text copyright 2005 by Katherine Paterson

Illustrations copyright 2005 by Emily Arnold McCully

Reprinted by permission of Breakfast Serials, Inc.

www.breakfastserials.com

As per your contract, please suppress content from electronic conversion of any kind.

Pronunciation of Albanian proper nouns:

Lleshi (L?y-sh?)

Redusa (R?-du-sh?)

Mehmet (Mm-m?t)

Fadil (F?-d?ll)

Macedonia (Mas-?-d?-n?-?)

Milosevic (Me-LOW-sheh-vih-ch)

Kosovo (KOH-so-vohSerbian pronunciation; Koh-SOH-vahAlbanian pronunciation)