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Mama rubbed a finger across the piece of what had once been her beloved photo. "My parents," she said. "This was all I had left of them. Why should anyone destroy it?"
"Hate makes no sense," Baba said.
"When are we going home?" Isuf asked the question they were all dying to ask. "I want to go home today. Right now."
"Right now!" echoed Adil.
"Me, too," said Vlora. "Right now."
Baba shook his head sadly. "We have to talk first," he said. Meli sighed, but to her amazement and Mehmet's chagrin Baba told Mehmet to "help watch the little ones" while he and Uncle Fadil asked Mama, Auntie Burbuqe, and Nexima to come with them to Baba's tent.
"What do they have to talk about, Mehmet?" Meli asked. "What is so complicated? If the store and the apartment are there, why can't we just go home?"
"You know Baba. He'll always find something to worry about."
"But the war is over."
Mehmet shrugged. "I think he fears w
hat will happen next."
"What? What can happen now?"
"Don't we need to revenge the evil those pigs have done? Don't we?"
Meli found herself shivering in the summer sun.
***
After what seemed like hours, Uncle Fadil and the women returned. Where's Baba? That was the question that no one quite dared ask. Something was up, and from the grim expressions on the faces of the three adults, it was not something they were happy about. Uncle Fadil had somehow gotten some cigarettes, and he sat down and began to smoke. Auntie Burbuqe, Nexima, and Mama pretended there was something inside the tent that needed doing for the twins. Meli looked to Mehmet for some explanation, but he just shrugged. For once he knew as little as she did.
The smaller children had begun a game of tag, racing around several tents. Elez shrieked with pleasure when he was caught, so Isuf made sure that he got caught often, which pleased Vlora and Adil, who never wanted to be "it." It made Meli long to be able to forget everything and play like that. But at thirteen one had to have dignity. Oh, Baba, where have you gone? What are you doing?
At last Baba appeared, his face flushed, his eyes bright. He poked his head into the tent. Nexima came out, holding a twin by each hand. They could walk alone now, but it was as though she were escorting them to a solemn meeting. The older women followed her out, and Mama called the children from their play. Baba had everyone sit down in the space in front of Uncle Fadil's tent. The adults sat there, their expressions grim but resolute. Now they were going to hear what had been decided. Meli quickly realized that there would be no arguing, not even from Mehmet, with whatever decision their elders had agreed on. She waited for Baba to speak, never dreaming of the words she would hear.
"As we all know, at present Uncle Fadil and his family have no home to return to. The farm is destroyed, and until things are more settled, it is not wise 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 little children more easily there."
"But what about us?" Isuf asked. "What about our family?"
Baba forced a smile. "Our family? Why, we're headed for a great adventure."
"Adventure?" asked Adil.
"Yes, son, a great adventure. The papers I filled out last month are still in order. We're in line to go to America."
ELEVEN A Country Far from Home
AMERICA? HOW COULD MELI EVEN IMAGINE IT? OH, SHE HAD seen pictures of Washington and New York on television. But they seemed like cities in science-fiction fantasies to her. She'd never even been to Prishtina, though Nexima and her family had lived there. In her mind America was thin, glamorous women and handsome men, many, many cars, and huge trucks. Maybe there weren't soldiers on the streets or cruel police, but there were lots of criminals, people with guns everywhere, even in the schools. It was a strangely beautiful, dangerous land, and this is where Baba was determined to take them all—to keep them safe! But how could Baba be sure that they would be safe in America? Safer than in Kosovo? She supposed he reckoned that America was far from the threat of those Mehmet had learned so well how to hate. Hatred and the ancient thirst for revenge: that was what Baba feared most. I'll never tell him how I feel, she determined. He mustn't know how much I've come to hate the Serbs.
To her surprise, Mehmet was not opposed to the idea of America. "I'm going to go to America and get rich. Then I'll come back and fight for independence. Maybe I'll see Bill Clinton. Thank him for the bombs."
They knew that the legendary American president and his wife had come to Macedonia and visited the camp at Stenkovic. Mehmet felt cheated that he had missed seeing his current hero. "He should have come to our camp to see us," he said.
"But you weren't even here. You were home when he was at Stenkovic," Meli said.
"I'll see him someday."
Someday. All of them, even Meli, frightened as she was by the whole idea of America, were anxious for that "someday" when the word would come and their names would appear on the list of those to leave the camp. The papers had all been filled out. Now they must wait, Baba said, for a sponsor in America: someone who would help them settle into their new country. But even in a country as rich as America, who would want responsibility for a family with five children, Meli wondered, a family in which no one can speak English?
