They call it "Wagonowski" or the wagon camp--a refugee settlement 
                    near where the town of Caplijina used to be. The town is no 
                    more, reduced to rubble about two years ago. Instead, people 
                    live in an old railway yard, specifically inside about seventy 
                    train cars latched together in long, parallel lines. Most 
                    of the 200 or so people in the camp have been there for at 
                    least two years. One family lives in each car--usually four 
                    or five people--without hot water, showers, stoves or flush 
                    toilets. Yet now that they can begin to think about returning 
                    to their old lives, many aren't sure they want to leave the 
                    makeshift village of rail cars. 
                  
 
 
                    "It's a tough life, but in the camp, they're secure. They 
                    have refugee status," says Carol Georgeson, one of the camp's 
                    relief workers. "Once they leave, they're on their own. They 
                    may not have a home any more and there are no jobs to return 
                    to." 
                  
 Holding bowls and buckets, the camp's residents, which include 
                    about seventy children, line up for their meals outside a 
                    single wagon in the middle of the camp. Their food comes from 
                    United Nations supply trucks. Moira Kelly, a relief worker 
                    who has labored with Mother Theresa in Calcutta, nurtured 
                    crack babies in the Bronx and treated abandoned children in 
                    Romania, is in charge of the camp. 
                  
"Life is hard and everyone is suffering," says Kelly. "But 
                    they don't ask for themselves. When a women's rights group 
                    came into the camp offering counseling to the women who had 
                    been raped, they declined. The women said, 'Don't come to 
                    me. I'm alive. I survived. We're worried about the men who 
                    were taken to the concentration camps.'" 
                  
 In recent weeks the camp's staff has considered celebrating 
                    the peace accord. But, in truth, no one knows what it means. 
                    "The people have heard about peace so many times. They're 
                    very cynical about it," says Georgeson. They're equally cynical 
                    about the promise that they'll be able to move back home. 
                    "They've been told that if someone is living in their house, 
                    they can move them out and that if their house has been destroyed, 
                    a new one will be built," says Georgeson. "That sounds good 
                    on paper. But people don't believe it."