1. Diary Entries of Mehmet
The Day of the Pelican
Rising Action
Katherine Paterson

2. We are starting our journey, and leaving our land of Kosovo the
Serbians had ruined for us. Because of them, and partially
Meli– I had to be beaten and left in a field to die. Because of
them, we now have to flee our homeland.
We are now camping, instead of staying with Uncle Fadil. Baba
says it is to dangerous. This camp…it’s not like home. But it has
water, food, and shelter. I’ll just have to bear it, and act like an
adult.
I see that Meli is scared. But it will be alright. And besides, do
we really have a choice at this point? We all have to be strong,
it’s the only way we’ll be able to survive and help each other as
a family.
Yours Truly,
Mehmet

3. I still have faith in the KLA. No matter what anyone else says.
They fight for our country, they fight for us, and they even
sheltered me after I almost died that day. That’s good enough
for me.
They let me have their stove today, to give to my family. It
wasn’t as good as the one we used to own, but it was a stove.
A stove Mama could finally use to cook.
This evening I talked to Meli about joining the KLA. To help
serve our country, and repay them for such noble acts. Meli
told me to not even think of it. That Baba would never let me.
But it’s worth a shot. And besides, once you’re in jail, you’re
never really a kid anymore.
In the middle of the night I snuck out of where we were
staying to go to the KLA soldiers. To try to join them. It was
fine, until Baba showed up and took me back home. Took
away my chance of joining the KLA. But when I’m fifteen I’ll

4. Mama told me I should start a school for the little children. I
guess It’s worth doing. The children here have nothing to do
but shiver.
Even though I don’t have much to work with, I’ll try my best to
teach them at least their letters and numbers.
It’s not really much of a school, but at least the kids are
learning something. Life was actually getting better here. Many
children started joining my classes, and I was happy teaching
them. And also, I was allowed to play soccer because the KLA
gave a Soccer ball to play with.
But one day, Baba and Uncle Fadil finally came back. He told
us it was safer to travel, and that we were leaving the camp. It
seemed like I was the only one who really saw how this wasn’t
exactly perfect. I had classes to teach here, and kids who I had
to make sure that they were learning new things. But then of
course I had to leave. I’ll just wait till I’m fifteen.
Yours truly, Mehmet

5. We are at Uncle Fadil’s, finally with our family. Granny was there
of course, and so was Aunt Burbuqe, also my cousin Nexima
and her kids. But there was now sign of her husband Hamza.
Which meant he was probably in the KLA.
The house of Uncle Fadil’s became busy. There were always
chores to do such as feeding the chickens, milking the goats,
collecting water, and things of that sort. In between the time I
spend for chores with the men of the family, I teach Isuf and
Adul letters and numbers, like at the camp.
By tuning in to the radio I now know that the American
ambassador is sending in observers. How will they even help
though? And now, Serbian troops are massing on the border of
Kosovo. As I said, there would be an all out war very soon. It
was just a matter of time before we would be attacked again.
Yours truly, Mehmet

6. They were finally doing it! NATO was finally bombing the Serbs!
Even though it might’ve been a little of a disaster, it was worth it.
The Serbs got a dose of their own medicine.
The next day I continued teaching the little kids. I taught them
about Kosovo, and it’s history. And how the Serbs had no right to
take control over our land. But soon Baba called me to the men’s
chamber. I suddenly knew something was up.
Uncle Fadil, and Baba told me it was time to leave this place. To
experience that harsh feeling of leaving home. They said it was no
longer safe because of the bombing and all.
We are going to travel to Macedonia. Riding the same old car,
with the same old feelings of leaving home. I wasn’t happy with it.
Uncle’s place felt safe to me. We should go to Albania. But of
course ‘baba ALWAYS knows what’s best for us’.
Yours truly, Mehmet

7. Just before we were about to leave the car was stolen! As if it vanished in thin
air, nowhere to be seen. There was no noise, and no one out there to steal it. I
kept arguing, telling all of them we should stay but soon we had no choice but
to flee again. It was all because of the Serbs. They broke into our house and
forced us out of it, making us leave everything behind, leaving us with no choice
but to flee once again.
We fled in a wheelbarrow, and after hours lay on the grass to finally rest. Baba
suggested that we head down to a farm where he knew a good farmer there.
He said he was a good man. Yeah, a good Serb. I had little faith in that man
Baba was talking about. Like other Serbians he would probably enjoy watching
us suffer out here with no food or water.
I was wrong though. The man lent us a pot for water, and let us collect some
from the well out back. And also, it turns out that Granny kept some bread with
her the entire time, which kept us almost satisfied after drinking water and
eating pieces of bread.
The entire night I couldn’t sleep. All these thoughts of where we will be in the
future haunted me. No one, not even Mama, Uncle Fadil, or Baba really knew
what was going to happen. But I must be strong. I don’t have a choice anyway.
Yours truly,

8. Time passed, and soon we were entering Macedonia. As we were
about to have the whole family together, the guards spotted us
and separated us in box cars…taking us to who knows where?
I think that night Hamza was killed. No one spoke of it after we
heard a gunshot. Nexima was devastated.
Alas the box cars took us to another camp. A refugee camp. The
officals at the camp assigned us a tent. Meli and I looked for tent
147 b. It wasn’t much, but like at the previous camp it had food,
water and shelter. And besides, it’s not like we’d be staying there
for long. Bill Clinton and his army will beat the Serbs, and we’ll be
home before we know it.
Yours truly,
Mehmet

9. Living in the refugee camp was worse than I thought it would be. I was as if we
were chickens sentenced to jail. But still, it was better than suffering in the
middle of nowhere with no food, water or shelter. And at least we all together.
Even though we were together, things couldn’t get any worse. Nexima has been
very sad lately. She hasn’t mentioned Hazma’s name. And also, there wasn’t
any soccer field to play soccer, so some people made room for a volleyball
court. Every time I attacked the ball I displaced all my anger at the Serbs, and
at my life on to it. It felt good, finally letting out my anger on something. I never
passed the ball, I kept it to myself. I was too angry, and wasn’t even finished
being angry whenever I was playing volleyball.
Meanwhile, the NATO bombers where bombing Kosovo. I kept the radio all to
myself. I had to know what was going on. Although I was glad they were trying
to bomb the Serbians, there were some pretty nasty incidents such as people
from refugee camps being harmed instead of the Serbians. How careless! If
they wanted to take down the Serbians, they should do it the right way!
Yours truly,
Mehmet

10. Home. Home is the one word that sticks to my mind, for we can
finally return home! NATO has won!
We can go home, but...we won’t know what it would be like. And
even if it is safe, they journey will be an arduous one.
And since we’re not sure if it is safe, us men: Baba, Uncle
Fadil, and I of course will go first. Finally, to be counted as one of
the men!
…
Once we were back in our homeland, we realized everything was
destroyed. We went back to the camp and told the family. They
were devastated of course. Baba is now clueless of what to do
next. We all are.
Yours truly,
Mehmet

11. Baba and Uncle Fadil had a private conversation after we told the
family what happened back home. Where were we to go to next?
Finally, they told us. We were going on a long journey. We are
going to America.
I might even meet Bill Clinton someday! And thank him for what
he’s done. Thank him for the bombs. He should’ve come to our
camp to see us.
A few days later I found out someone was giving english lessons
for those who were listed to go to America. I quickly joined and
learned as much as my brain could take. I learned so much I got
to teach Baba when he (as usual), was always behind.
Finally, we were going to America. The Church in this place called
Vermont was sponsoring us.
Yours truly, Mehmet