Kosova: Zepa stands up against the fate of war

First Meeting
Zepa an ethnic Albanian woman lives in a small village not far from Prishtina, the major city in Kosova. She is in her early seventies. As we drove into her town and parked the car, a small boy, Zepa’s grandson, was watching for our arrival. He took us down a dirt path to their small house where Zepa and her family were waiting outside to greet us. Barnyard animals ran around, and we had to get through the mud to reach the front door. It was a cold, grey day. We took off our shoes at the door and entered a room saved for visitors with cushions placed around the room. In greeting us each family member shook our hands twice as was their custom. At future meetings Zepa would reach out and take us into her embrace, but that day looking worn and tired, she formally shook our hands with the rest of her family and asked us to be seated.

Story of War
Their story of war began in the spring of 1999, when two Serbs from a neighboring village arrived to tell the villagers that the village would be occupied by Serb forces the next day. They said that the soldiers were looking only for Kosovar soldiers, and the villagers need not be afraid. The next day however, the Serbs executed nineteen men in front of their families, and executed six more the day after that. They burned seventy-two homes.

As part of this attack, Serbian soldiers came to Zepa’s home and ordered her and the other women in the household out into the yard and the men into the barnyard. The Serbs were masked, but Zepa and her family knew some of them as their neighbors. The women heard the shots as the Serbs murdered Zepa’s husband, her two sons, and two grandsons. The soldiers then came out of the barnyard and told Zepa to leave her house because the next day they would come back and burn it down. She refused, and told them that they would have to burn her and her daughter too, because they would never leave their home. The next day she met them at the door in defiance. The soldiers left the house alone.

Period of Crisis
When I first visited the family with our U.S-Kosovar team, eight months after the attack, ten family members lived in the household: Zepa, her daughter who is schizophrenic, one adult son who had returned from Germany to help the family after the murders, two daughters-in-law whose husbands had been murdered, and the daughter’s-in-law six children ranging in age from eighteen months to twelve years old.
The family lived in poor circumstances without indoor plumbing or enough room for all the family members. They had to walk a distance to the outhouse, which gave off a strong smell. Yet, in grief, with few resources, the family was proud and welcoming. Zepa, her fists clenched, told us of her outrage as if her pain would never stop. She still feared that the Serbs would return any day. Her daughters-in-law did not speak or look at us directly as they served us drinks and cake that was their custom for guests. During that first session I cried, as Zepa cried, not imagining how they would ever find a way out of their pain. There were also many unanswered questions about how these women would get along with one another and reorganize the household now that Zepa’s sons were no longer alive.

Ongoing Struggle
Some months later we returned to Zepa’s household. This time not only did the adults greet us, but the older children of one of the daughters-in-law joined us in the interview. Clearly something had changed in the family. One of the daughters-in-law had begun to work outside the house. Both young mothers spoke of their children’s successes at school. Although still angry, Zepa was more focused on what the family needed to do to survive. She was able to smile occasionally in the midst of her continued expressions of anger, grief, and fear of the Serbs. She said that the psychiatry team had brought the family a new sense of hope by helping them to speak to each other, first of their grief and then of other concerns. In those conversations, Zepa had assumed a new leadership of the household, a household that had previously been organized with the men as the leaders. In this reorganization she broke traditional rules of male leadership, since those rules no longer served the family, while at the same time she held fast to traditional values whenever possible. It was clear that everyone in the family was inspired both by her flexibility and her maintenance of their traditions.

Renewal
My third visit with Zepa and her family immediately followed the attack in the U.S. on September 11, 2001. When we arrived at her house, Zepa enfolded us into her arms, comforting us and letting us know that she grieved for us and understood our sorrow. In this moment it was she who was taking care of us. In this visit and in subsequent visits the family focused less on their past and more on the present and their hopes for the future, especially the future of the children. Zepa’s grandson read us a poem he had written in school in which he said that when he grew up he would be a Kosovar soldier, but that Serbian mothers should not be afraid because he would not harm them.
In four years, with Zepa’s guidance, this family rebuilt their house and their family life. Although they still grieved, they were again active at home and in their community. Zepa was an inspiration to her family, to the mental health team and to the other villagers.

Looking to the stories of others
Zepa’s story led me to interview other women who knew how to move through hard times. Coincidentally, other women who had faced tragedy, whom I hadn’t known before showed up in my life.

Stay posted for more stories. Tell us about someone you know who uses their resources to face life’s most difficult dilemmas.