The Day of the Pelican

"I won't say anything," he said. "But they re making a big mistake."

"What do you mean?" She hadn't told anyone, even Mehmet, that she'd heard Hamza's warning. "Don't we have to leave?"

"Oh, we have to leave all right. It's this crazy plan to go to Macedonia. Just because we have some cousin there. We should go to Albania."

That's what Hamza said. And yet... "Doesn't Baba know what's best for us?" she asked.

"Not always," he said, and walked away.

Since the car had to carry them all, there wasn't much they could take along. Each child and each adult would carry a blanket and wear two sets of clothing. The twins had to have more—babies needed diapers, after all. The women would take enough bread, cheese, and water to last a couple of days. And maybe a coil of sausage or two to share with the relatives. That should be more than enough, since they would reach Macedonia in a few hours. The extra day of provisions was in case ... well, just in case. The children watched sadly as Uncle Fadil opened the gates to the paddocks so the animals could go free. But the animals didn't leave. They just seemed confused, especially the cow, with her great brown eyes. Why must I suffer because of human evil? she seemed to be saying.

Meli dressed in her two sets of clothes. It was all she had owned since the family had left home the year before. The clothes were beginning to get tight, but her only sweater was a baggy one, and, fortunately, her jacket still fit.

The men spread most of the blankets in the back of the car and put in the food and water. Mama and Auntie Burbuqe took the cheese and bread, a soup pot, and some mugs and spoons for everyone. When Uncle Fadil hesitated, Auntie insisted. "They'll fit right in the pot, and I'll carry it on my lap. We can't expect the relatives to have enough for all of us." Meli saw Mama take out her beloved photograph, sigh, and then carefully put it back into Auntie Burbuqe's china cabinet.

"There's room for that, Mama," Meli said. "I'll take care of it."

Mama shook her head and smiled. "It's all right, Meli. We'll get it when we return."

At last they were ready. "Go lie down, everyone. Try to rest," Uncle Fadil said. "As soon as it is dark, we'll be on our way."

Meli was sure that she wouldn't be able to sleep. She lay down on the cushioned floor and tried to quiet her noisy mind, but old television images of the devastation in Bosnia crowded in. Was Kosovo just another Bosnia, then? Were they all helpless against Milosevic and his armies? Would they just be fleeing the tyrant all their lives, never, ever going home?

Somehow, despite all, she must have dozed off, because the next thing she heard was Mehmet shouting from outside the door.

"It's gone! The car! Someone's stolen the car!"

SEVEN Road to the Unknown

FOR A LONG WHILE THEY ALL JUST GAPED AT THE EMPTY space where the Lada should have been. How could they believe that it was gone? It was like a sudden death in the family, totally incomprehensible.

"I didn't hear it start," said Uncle Fadil. "There was no noise."

"It was a very noisy car," said Isuf.

"It was the noisiest old car in the whole world," said Adil.

"They must have pushed it down the road before they tried to start it," Baba said.

"A long way," said Isuf.

Adil was nodding his head solemnly. "A really long way."

Another time they would have all laughed, but not tonight. Meli could hear Mehmet cursing the Serbs under his breath, but of course there was no way of knowing who had stolen the Lada.

"To come in the night and steal our car and everything in it!" Auntie Burbuqe wailed.

"The wolf loves the fog," Mama said sadly.

"I should never have bought a car. I should have gotten a bigger tractor," Uncle Fadil said, burying his face in his hands. "I should have listened to you, Hashim. They wouldn't have stolen a tractor."

"Ah, they would have stolen anything." Baba put his hand on his brother's shoulder. "Don't blame yourself." Then, wiping his face with his big white handkerchief, he said almost to himself, "Well, wishing won't bring it back." He put the handkerchief into his pocket, took another long look at the empty parking spot, and turned toward the house. "We'll hitch the tractor to the wagon and go in that. Sevdie, Burbuqe, surely there's plenty more food in the kitchen."

"Nexima,"

Uncle Fadil said, "you'd better get Granny dressed. We need to be ready..."

For anything, thought Meli. But how did you prepare for that?