Word: home
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Dates: during 1990-1999
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...life is blossoming. As the peacekeepers of KFOR steadily pushed their heavy tanks and APCs into the province last week, refugees from Albania and Macedonia followed right behind, heading home from rapidly emptying camps in cars crammed with family members, in tractor-drawn carts sagging under their loads, on foot, pushing wheelbarrows laden with bedding and babies. Uprooted Kosovars who had lived rough in the woods crept back to their villages through fields of blood-red poppies. Gun-toting soldiers of the Kosovo Liberation Army, smart in pressed camouflage, swaggered into cities and towns, posting guards along roads, securing villages...
...year-old guerrilla lived with her husband the doctor in a $264,000 five-bedroom, four-bath home in St. Paul, Minn., surrounded by neighbors who included doctors, bankers, a stockbroker and Republicans of all types. She grew hostas and geraniums and ran a mean marathon. Though she may have once consorted with bank robbers and bombmakers, the soccer mom of three girls was now a gun-control advocate and found time to narrate Christmas pageants, feed the homeless and read to the blind. In this life and on the local stage, where she most recently starred...
...with their awful sameness. Yet as individual tales multiply, they form the shameful mosaic of a season of slaughter that spread across all Kosovo. The evidence before our own eyes is damning. So many Albanians have lost husbands, brothers, wives or children. Nearly everyone has lost his or her home and most possessions. The scale of the terror that is emerging--possibly 10,000 killed, as many as 100 mass grave sites at latest NATO count--leaves little room right now for any emotion but horror...
...horror stays locked in Gentiana Gashi's mind. Her eyes are red-ringed holes in a pinched, exhausted face. She came home safely to Cuska last week, but she is still harrowed by the unspeakable memories of May 14, the day she left. Back then, she stood beside her weeping mother, too terrified to cry out, as she watched the Serbs march her father away with the other men, hands clasped behind his neck. He looked back once, tears streaming down his face. Gentiana's mother wept silently too as she watched her husband's retreating figure until laughing Serbs...
When the mini-van, or the train, or the taxi, or the bus or the magic carpet whisks you close to the wrought-iron gates of your new home, the journey will have only begun...