A non-biological mother, a mother of Kosovo — of the generation that is growing, of the generation to come! Post-war times brought enormous changes to political, social, and economic life… In Kosovo, too, many children lost family care for various reasons… The story begins like this: In a car accident, NATO peacekeeping forces took the life of an 8-year-old boy, the only son of a woman from Carrabreg, Deçan, named Vjollca Binakaj. Afterward, with no children and a husband living abroad with little chance of continuing their marriage, she decided to divorce and dedicate her life to all the children of Kosovo who were in need of a mother. The SOS Village had just opened, and she would become the first SOS Mother in Kosovo. She was becoming the mother of dozens and dozens of children who were in search of her. Today, let us stop and reflect on this woman — who changed life as a journey and worldview for so many non-biological children: boys and girls from all over Kosovo, of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. She would be a mother for everyone and to everyone! She loved them all together, and each one individually. She cared for them, brought them joy, and was happiest when she learned that another child would be brought to her home. Her daily routine wasn’t much different from that of regular mothers — except it required greater willpower and an incredible amount of work. She woke up early before everyone and went to sleep after they all had fallen asleep. She prepared the most delicious meals, respecting each child’s preferences. Her bedroom had more books than clothes. She read daily and gave the best advice. She wrote about the daily life of each child so that when they grew up, they wouldn’t forget their origin and identity — and could always remember how joyful their childhood had been. She had the most beautiful handwriting in the world! She rejoiced in our happiness and mourned with our sadness. She knew all our classmates, their parents, and made sure we never forgot birthdays — always insisting that we give gifts. She used to say: “Always express love to your friends — tell them how great they are. One day, it may be too late to see them again, and they won’t know how wonderful they were… because you never told them.” She was one of those women who defend human dignity and always stand on the side of truth, justice, and integrity. One of those who know how to touch people’s hearts. One who, after enduring heavy life blows, learned to grow while preserving the tenderness of her soul. She was inseparable from the idea of family. One day, while ironing clothes — during one of our long daily talks — she told me: “The day will come when you will have your own family. You will get married and have children. You and your wife will be working… and when you won’t know who to leave the kids with, I will come and care for them. I’ll be their grandmother.” One day, when I become a parent, my children will know her as their grandmother. They will learn her story, her humanity, and the unmatched contribution she gave to society. February, March, and April of 2013 were the last months of her life. The aggressive cancer growing inside her would eventually take away one of the best mothers Kosovo has ever known. On the day she passed away, everyone cried except me — because I knew: She had already earned paradise in heaven… because she gave us paradise on Earth. There are many women like her — in your cities, in your neighborhoods. Their stories won’t be found in history books or prestigious media, but in the lives and pasts of many children in Kosovo.

(Photo taken 15 years ago by a NATO officer)

A non-biological mother, a mother of Kosovo — of the generation that is growing, of the generation to come! Post-war times brought enormous changes to political, social, and economic life… In Kosovo, too, many children lost family care for various reasons… The story begins like this: In a car accident, NATO peacekeeping forces took the life of an 8-year-old boy, the only son of a woman from Carrabreg, Deçan, named Vjollca Binakaj. Afterward, with no children and a husband living abroad with little chance of continuing their marriage, she decided to divorce and dedicate her life to all the children of Kosovo who were in need of a mother. The SOS Village had just opened, and she would become the first SOS Mother in Kosovo. She was becoming the mother of dozens and dozens of children who were in search of her. Today, let us stop and reflect on this woman — who changed life as a journey and worldview for so many non-biological children: boys and girls from all over Kosovo, of different ethnic and cultural backgrounds. She would be a mother for everyone and to everyone! She loved them all together, and each one individually. She cared for them, brought them joy, and was happiest when she learned that another child would be brought to her home. Her daily routine wasn’t much different from that of regular mothers — except it required greater willpower and an incredible amount of work. She woke up early before everyone and went to sleep after they all had fallen asleep. She prepared the most delicious meals, respecting each child’s preferences. Her bedroom had more books than clothes. She read daily and gave the best advice. She wrote about the daily life of each child so that when they grew up, they wouldn’t forget their origin and identity — and could always remember how joyful their childhood had been. She had the most beautiful handwriting in the world! She rejoiced in our happiness and mourned with our sadness. She knew all our classmates, their parents, and made sure we never forgot birthdays — always insisting that we give gifts. She used to say: “Always express love to your friends — tell them how great they are. One day, it may be too late to see them again, and they won’t know how wonderful they were… because you never told them.” She was one of those women who defend human dignity and always stand on the side of truth, justice, and integrity. One of those who know how to touch people’s hearts. One who, after enduring heavy life blows, learned to grow while preserving the tenderness of her soul. She was inseparable from the idea of family. One day, while ironing clothes — during one of our long daily talks — she told me: “The day will come when you will have your own family. You will get married and have children. You and your wife will be working… and when you won’t know who to leave the kids with, I will come and care for them. I’ll be their grandmother.” One day, when I become a parent, my children will know her as their grandmother. They will learn her story, her humanity, and the unmatched contribution she gave to society. February, March, and April of 2013 were the last months of her life. The aggressive cancer growing inside her would eventually take away one of the best mothers Kosovo has ever known. On the day she passed away, everyone cried except me — because I knew: She had already earned paradise in heaven… because she gave us paradise on Earth. There are many women like her — in your cities, in your neighborhoods. Their stories won’t be found in history books or prestigious media, but in the lives and pasts of many children in Kosovo.

(Photo taken 15 years ago by a NATO officer)