Chapter 17

Chapter 17

Not a single house had its lights off the night before the children left. Every single parent and relative stayed awake, looking sad and secretly wiping tears...

Sofka called Lenche to the guest room, opened the chest that held her wedding gown, reached inside it and said: “Stay here my dear…” then with hands trembling, Sofka took it out, the one she was married in, and said: “Come closer my child Mommy wants to dress you up in this…” And after she put it on her and the head dress and silver wreath, Sofka said: “Not that your mother does not believe that you will return… I just wanted to see you in a bridal dress… Turn around my child, let me have a look at you… Now walk towards the wall and come back…” Lenche did as she was asked and when she returned Sofka gave her a great big hug. Sofka could not contain herself and her shoulders began to tremble and shake… her heart was breaking from her pain… Lenche, sensing Sofka’s pain, began to cry. “Please don’t cry my dear, don’t cry… you are a big girl… Mommy is going to wait for you…” she then slowly detached herself from her daughter, took off her wedding ring and placed it on Lenche’s centre finger of her left hand and said: “Wear it my dear and every time you look at it remember your mother… and don’t cry… now turn around so Mommy can have a look at you one more time… I can’t wait to see you as a bride…”

Grandpa Mitre, sitting with legs crossed and smoking his tobacco pipe, quietly said to Kire: “My dear boy, I never want to hear anything bad about you, no one in our family has caused us any shame. You come from a good family and you need to protect the honour of this family. Wherever you go you must never forget your roots. You must seek them under ground, under the rocks, in the ashes, on the side of the road… You must remember who you are so that others who come after you will know. Just like the song says. And our nation is not without roots… just like the rock we saw today. Rooted deep inside our soil! Did you see how the great oak trees had their roots growing in the rocks? They are rooted so strongly no thunderbolt can dislodge them and no fire can burn them down. The roots will remain in the soil, in the rocks and in the boulders. This is how it is with our roots too. It is in our veins. This

is how it is, my dear boy, for all those who know their roots. And if you know your roots, you will protect them so that no one will throw them in some compost pile or play with them as if they were toys. This is what I want you to remember… this is my legacy to you...”

Grandpa Mitre got up, straightened himself and went towards the loom.

“Both your grandmother and mother have worked this loom for many years to weave canvases. This unfinished canvas here is a part of their soul and carries their hopes and desires. Many songs have been sung and tears spilled near this loom. This loom is life and incorporated in it are our hopes and dreams.” Mitre stopped talking for a moment to catch his breath, bent down, pulled a root from under the loom and said: “This is a piece of root taken from the oak tree growing at Sveti Drach. Put it in your bag. This little branch is from our yard… put it with the root...” Mitre started walking towards the cupboard, opened it, took a key hanging on a nail and said: “My boy, take this key with you. It’s the key to our home. Every member of this family when they left this house was given a key. You too… take it Kire... and may God bring you back so that no one from our family is left out...” Grandpa Mitre then turned to the icon crossed himself three times and bowed low.

* * *

Kuze unbuttoned the chain, put his pocket watch in his hand and, while looking at it, said: “Nikolche, my son, I am giving you my pocket watch to remember me by. Your grandfather gave it to me to remember him by… And you dear,” he turned to his daughter and said, “your mommy will give you a gold chain with a cross. When you look at them think of us…”

* * *

Mitra called her three daughters, opened a chest, pulled out a box, opened it and said: “This bracelet is for you, Mare. My mother gave it to me when I got married. Wear it in good health my daughter. These earrings are for you, Vase. Come so that I can put them on

your ears. You look beautiful, they fit you beautifully. You are so beautiful. Let mother give you a kiss… This gold chain is for you, Zoie. Come so I can put it around your neck. You are very, very beautiful. Look in the mirror… see how beautiful you look? Isn’t that right, children? You are my dear beautiful doves…”

* * *

Grandpa Nakie took a puff from his tobacco pipe and, with the handle of his knife, kept tapping on the willow rod he was holding on top of his knees. With semi-open lips, while holding his pipe in his mouth, he mumbled: “Peel, peel you little stick… so I can turn you into a whistle… a whistle for my grandson Riste…”

“No!” said Riste, “I want you to make me a flute.”

“Okay, lie down now and go to sleep. When you wake up, Grandpa will have it made...” replied Nakie.

“But Grandpa…” I want it made now…” said Riste with a whiny tone of voice.

“Riste, please listen to your grandpa. As you can see we have a guest… Grandpa Kiro is here,” said Nakie, called his daughter-in-law and asked her to take the children.

Nakie and Kiro were now alone.

“This is how we are going to remain… Alone, Kiro!” said Nakie.

“I hope they will return soon. We have left in the past and gone far away but we always came back, right?” replied Kiro.

“It was different for us, Kiro. This kind of departure, to me looks more like banishment… The people have become disillusioned, Kiro… because they have not been given much choice… that’s what has ruined them… And who are those smart people who thought separating us from our children was a good idea? How are we going to relate to these children after they are separated from us for some time… and who knows how long we will be separated? And when

they return, how will they fit into our society? Will they know how to plow and sow, prune the vineyards, make wine… without our guidance? And will they want to, after being exposed to so much more? This is a bad, bad idea, Kiro… God help me I don’t even want to think about this… but what if they don’t return? This place will be empty! And what do you think will happen if this place becomes empty? This place has never been empty of our people! Who thought of this, tell me? Did they truly think this was good for us?”

Kiro could not find the words to respond. After being silent for a while he said: “Nakie, Kirevitsa and I brought some things for the children, to take with them.”

“Thank you!” replied Nakie and then said: “Why are you keeping quiet, say something. I asked Pop Vasil, the older people and the oldest people in the village and not one of them said this was a good thing…”

“It is not a good thing, Nakie!” replied Kiro quietly. “It is good when the children are at home... I remember last year when a cat climbed up a ladder and, one by one, killed the chicks of a swallow. The mother, the poor thing, kept flying around, flying back and forth and squeaking, desperately flapping its wings... for a moment it would fly at the edge of the porch, look down at the ruined nest, and squeak and squeak and squeak... as I watched the poor thing, I swear to you it sounded to me like it was crying. I thought to myself: What will the mothers be doing tomorrow and the days after… what will we all be doing? Well Nakie, you said you wanted me to say something? I say this whole thing has been well thought out... No good will come of it! That’s what I think…”

Kirevitsa came to the house, entered the room and after greeting Nakie said: “I hope the children will have a safe trip, Nakie, and may they come back to us very soon.”

“Thank you, Kirevitsa, and may God keep you and Kiro well and healthy for many, many years,” replied Nakie.

Donovitsa has been a widow for five years. She has seven children and has enrolled all of them. She sat them around her as she took boiled potatoes out of the kettle and, one by one, began to peel them.

She said: “Here my dears eat. This is for you. Today you get to fill your bellies….” She paused for a moment and then said: “I have made some things for you...” Tears filled her eyes. She wiped them with the corner of her black head kerchief, reached out, grabbed a bag, pulled some things out and said: “I made these for you. A scarf for you my daughter… I knit socks and crafted pig skin slippers… for you. I also washed and patched up your old socks… Gele, you make sure you look after your pants. You don’t have another pair. I have prepared two bags with some bread and cheese and some cottage cheese for you. You have two loaves of bread, three eggs each and some raw onions…. I don’t have anything more to give you… Ristana, I am giving you my dress, the one I wear to church. Don’t wear it every day. Wear it on weekends and holidays… so that you will be well dressed. You are the oldest so make sure you look after the others. I put thread and a needle in your bag. If you see something torn, patch it up... You must also be well behaved my children… and never forget me… your mother. Ristana, you know how to write so when letters are sent out you also send a letter. So I will know about you. With what else can mother send you on the road, eh? With tears, my children, mother will send you with many tears!