The delivery of a letter from Kira, one of her daughters currently living in Massachusetts, brought us to the home of Saima in Bascarcija, the old Turkish quarter of Sarajevo. We met Saima a few days before the first anniversary of the death of her 48-year-old daughter. Fadila, a pediatric dentist conscripted into battlefield surgery, was killed by a sniper when she was hanging out her uniform on a line to dry. She had two teenage daughters that bear an uncanny resemblance to her. I can't imagine what can be worse -- living through a war or outliving your child and witnessing such senseless violence against her.

We had never met Saima before, yet she welcomed us so lovingly into her home. Despite the scarcity of food in Sarajevo, Saima would not allow us to leave without sampling some smoked meat, cheese, apples, pastry, Spanish white wine, pistachios, and Turkish coffee served with a traditional dzezva (inset photo) made by local coppersmiths. Saima's hands shook as she poured the coffee and smoothed the scarf wrapped around her face. She asked us if we had mothers and prayed that we never live through what she did. Kira says that her mother has aged a great deal more than the four calendar years since the beginning of the war. I think that is true for most Bosnians. This family of women touched us. They are survivors with tremendous pride, dignity, and grace.