John Sparrow in Otocac
There is a curious silence in the countryside near Otocac, a small town in western Croatia. The frontlines of a devastating conflict have gone from the Lika region, but evidence of them remains. Hamlets are deserted. Red-tiled houses lay empty or in ruin. Little moves on the hills and open pastures of a green and wooded landscape.
People do live here, but you drive for miles and see no one. Those you meet are few and almost always elderly. In a breathtakingly beautiful corner of Europe there appears to be no children.
Before the conflict the village of Turjanski was a comfortable place. It wasn't rich but the 450 inhabitants lived well, most of them dependent on agriculture. Harvests were good and they had sheep, cows and horses. The young tended to work in the nearest towns but most people, part of close-knit families, remained here.
Because of the war the villagers joined the stream of refugees that flowed into Bosnia and eastwards to the Federal Republic of Yugoslavia, where the exodus would swell the numbers from Croatia to 340,000. The return is now underway and Croatian Red Cross relief and community support programmes are assisting nationwide. Last year 42,700 Croatian citizens went home. But the process is a slow and painful one, and many are hesitant.
Turjanski illustrates why. There isn't a viable future here. Some 72 of the former population have returned, mostly elderly, and they could not survive without Red Cross support. Farmer Vujo Hinic said the first problem was where to return to. Most of the houses were destroyed. The second was how to make a living. The farmers had no tractors or machinery with which to work the land, and there was no other employment. There was no public transport, so commuting to Otocac was out of the question.
There were other privations. Half the village was without electricity. Said Hinic, "How can young people return here? There are no children in this village, because there is no school to attend. It's just the old people. This is our home and we want to spend our last years here. When we die, Turjanski will die with us."
Soka Curcic has come home to die. She is 77 and lives in what was the outdoor summer kitchen of the now ruined family house she raised her family in. An Italian NGO made it habitable, the Croatian Red Cross furnished it, and Soka is one of 12,000 needy and lonely people reached by Red Cross mobile teams across the country. Once a month a team from Otocac visits her, brings food and other supplies, checks she is well, and stays a while.
She can't move far beyond her door these days but she isn't sad. Her eyes smile when she looks at the broad valley where she has spent her life and her husband is buried. She would be happier if her daughter and grandchildren would return but their house was burned and Soka must make do with an annual visit. "They would all come back if conditions allowed," she said. "They all want to. I know they do." here