Page 257 - James Caan - The Real Deal

25 · Kosovo

As she relived the horror, I was looking at the children, trying
to imagine what it must be like to grow up having seen something
like that. And what would it be like to grow up in a place with no
men? Who would bring in the harvest? Who would earn the
money? Beyond the impact of the massacre, the economic devas-
tation would last a generation or more. This woman had eight kids
and no means of employment: how the hell were they going to
survive? I felt so empty yet when I looked up I was amazed –
stunned – to see that she had a smile on her face. I asked the
interpreter to ask how she could still smile.
‘I smile because I am alive,’ she said. ‘I am still alive and my
children are alive. I have nothing else, but this is enough.’
On our way to the next house we stopped at the place where
the massacre had occurred. The number of bullet holes in the wall
told their own horrific story. The next woman we spoke to had her
own memories of that day four months before, and as we talked I
just couldn’t understand how they were surviving. There was no
dole office, no state aid, no employment and no bank. As I looked
around, I couldn’t see a single building in the village that wasn’ta
house – no pub, no shop, no café– and I couldn’t get my head
round how they could survive without an economy. Nor could I
work out why they were so friendly and not morbid or depressed.
By the fourth house, I knew I had to help.
‘What can we do here, Yusuf?’
‘It’s your call, James.’
‘I don’t know where to start.’
As we walked around the village we discussed a plan that would
see me ‘adopt’ the village.
‘These people don’t need blankets or clothes,’ Yusuf said, ‘they
need dignity. Why don’t you give them their dignity back?’
The aid agencies in the country were so busy dealing with such
a complicated disaster that they thought it would be a year before
aid reached the village. I decided that I would fund whatever the

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