Front Matter - Part 08

The hill above Shtrkovo was held by Petre Liaov’s detachment composed of rebels from the Prespa villages. They were attacked by the Ottoman army around 4 pm the same day. The rebels repelled the Ottomans with fierce force and killed and wounded many. They were surprised by the great heroism demonstrated by the rebels and

by their organizational abilities. That evening the Ottoman army retreated. Then, after a few days of quiet, the Ottomans came back, this time in the thousands and reinforced with cannons. The rebels were only one small detachment. After engaging the much superior army and fighting bravely, the rebels knew they had no chance of pushing them back so Petre Liaov ordered the rebels to abandon the hill and regroup behind the large boulder on the hill above Shtrkovo. When they regrouped they took inventory of their wounded and provided first aid. Several, who were badly wounded, were transported behind the lines to German Mountain. The remaining rebels and their leader, once again pledged their loyalty to the cause, kissed their weapons and prepared again to fight and die for their freedom. Petre gave the rebels their final orders. He then asked a group of 20 to stay behind and guard the boulder and then, in the dark of night, slip away and regroup at the pre-designated place where they were going to get their next orders.

Twenty young men from the nearby Prespa villages stood guard behind the great boulder and held the Ottoman army back. The young Macedonians fought bravely holding their positions and waiting for nightfall. The sun hid behind the great mountain and dusk began to fall. Cannon balls kept hitting the boulder and raining down shattered stones. The soldiers tried to climb the hill but the young rebels pushed them back, those were their orders. The enemy kept pushing and they came face to face. The closer the enemy approached the greater their desire to fight for their freedom. There was no fear in their hearts, only heroism, potent heroism. They fought to protect the great boulder with its pitted surface like it was all of Macedonia.

Suddenly the guns went silent. An hour later an Ottoman platoon finely climbed the hill and surrounded the great boulder. The rebels all lay there clenching their rifles. The boulder was soaked in blood. The young rebels were dead… laying there in the wild grass. Since then this boulder became known as the Red Rock.

A few days later relatives of the killed rebels came to the Red Rock and took the bodies of their dead. They were wounded so badly that they were unrecognizable. Being baked by the summer sun for several days also did not help. They only recognized them by their

clothing. The young fighters could not be properly buried like fighters because the village was being carefully watched by the Ottoman army. The fighters were heroes who laid down their lives for the freedom of their people and they did not need monuments to remind the people of that. Their mothers visited their graves and cried and cried in silence. They cried in silence being watched by the Albanians and again they cried in silence being watched by the Greeks. The mothers cried until they themselves were dead. General mourning was declared all over Prespa and was carried out in secret and in silence. The women, old and young, wore black head kerchiefs. They also replaced their white embroidered shirts with simple and plain shirts. The Prespa folk dress became the simplest dress in all of Macedonia. And with this outfit the women of Prespa perpetuated the great sadness that had befallen them.

After the great battle at Red Rock over Shtrkovo, the Bashi-Buzuks (armed Muslim civilians) began to appear in Prespa looting and pillaging homes. The Ottoman army in retribution also committed violent crimes against the villages and jailed many people in the Bitola dungeons. Many Macedonian patriots from Prespa lay in the sinister prisons in Bitola until 1908.

Love stories from Mala Prespa

Dafina

Stoianka, Nedelko Mechkarovski’s daughter, and Menka, Zlate Zelkarovski’s daughter, put their water jugs down in front of Nedelko Mechkarovski’s gate and leaned on the large stone beside the door. The street was on an incline and the women stopped to rest as they returned from the water spring with jugs full of water. The returning women often put down their jugs by the stone to rest and to finish the conversations they had started at the water spring.

The two women resumed the conversation they had started earlier about Dafina the orphan girl. This is what her peers called her; Dafina the orphan. Dafina’s mother had died when Dafina was ten years old.

“I can’t stand my mother,” said Stoianka, “she tells me this and she tells me that about Dafina. She constantly talks about how the priest praises Dafina about this and about that. Now I hear from my mother that Dafina is being praised by Doichin the grocer. She is polite, smart, a hard worker… and there is no other girl like her in the entire village. And now my parents are rubbing all that in my face. Dafina this and Dafina that…”

“Please don’t talk to me about Dafina,” said Menka, “I am sick of hearing about Dafina. Both the priest and Ognen are competing trying to get her to marry their sons. That’s why they are constantly praising her. They should be looking at their own immature sons first and see if those snot-nosed boys are even ready for marriage. Besides, she is older than them. She doesn’t want them, she likes Nikola Bosilkov and everyone says she locks herself in the barn with him.

The girls were so engrossed in their own conversations that they failed to notice the Mechkarov gate open and Nedelkoitsa come out. When they saw her they were startled. Nedelkoitsa snapped at them and said:

“Stop your yapping girls! Look at the time! It’s late! Aren’t you afraid of the Albanians? They will come, grab you and carry you away. Get moving!” and then swung her rolling pin at Stoianka.

Stoianka suddenly moved and the rolling pin hit the stone and broke. Nedelkoitsa got even angrier and raised her voice:

“When we talk about Dafina both of you get angry, but let me tell you this… You will never measure up to Dafina. I have seen matchmakers come from everywhere for her… and for you?” looking at her daughter, “not one up to now… No one has knocked on our gate for you…”

Nedelkoitsa then turned to Menka and said: “There is your mother waiting for you… Get going!” She then pushed Stoianka into the yard and scolded her some more:

“Don’t tell your father about this,” said Nedelkoitsa, “he will lop your head off with the ax. The dining table is set and the people are ready to eat and where are you with the water? No water to drink! And there you are on the street putting your life in danger! Frightening, truly frightening behaviour!”

Menka’s mother Zlateitsa stepped out of the gate and waited for her daughter to arrive. She was worried sick about her because she was late again. And then when she arrived she did the same as Nedelkoitsa had done. She scolded her:

“Where have you been? Every night it’s the same thing! Who waits for their daughters at their gates? Only Nedelkoitsa and I, that’s who…! I am so ashamed I have to hide from my neighbours while I wait for you, worried sick!” she said and pushed her daughter into the yard.

Krstinitsa, Dafina’s mother, who had passed on when Dafina was young, left behind two children, Petre and Dafina. Krstin, her husband, was only thirty years old when she died. When Krstin was mourning his dead wife on her 3rd anniversary, Sekulitsa Kozhovska said to him:

“Krstin you are doing great honours for your dead wife. You have done everything that needed to be done for her. Now it is time for you re-marry and take a woman into your home to bring up your

children and give you some joy. There’s Grozda, Srebret’s daughter, she is a widow and a good woman. You should take her…”

“Please let me be straight with you Sekulitsa,” replied Krstin, “you know how Petra (Krstinitsa) and I got married. We were very much in love but I guess we were not very lucky. Three years I have passed without her. I am not marrying now. I am not going to trample on our love or on my commitment to her. Let it be known that I married Petra for love. I am also happy with the children she gave me. They survived the worst and are now feeling much better. I am happy with my Dafina and how she is doing. In a few years from now I will also have my son Petre marry a nice girl.

Sekulitsa got closer to Krstin, put her hand on his shoulder and said: “My dear Krstin, you say you married for love and it feels like it was yesterday? We were all in German celebrating Germanden when word got out that Petra eloped with you, Krstin Nivichki. We were all left there standing, surprised. You were an orphan and a very poor man and she was from a rich family. God bless her soul, the poor woman, she was what she was, very beautiful. Petra was the most beautiful of all of us. It was most unfortunate that we lost her, such a beautiful woman. All of you bachelors in village constantly swirled around her and were busy sending your matchmakers. You were handsome too. There was not a thing wrong with you. There is nothing wrong with you now either. Do you really think you married for love? When I married Sekula I did not marry him for love but I want you to know that I love him now. I love him and cannot do without him. Even if he is not home one day I feel like I am lost in the world. He feels the same about me. Listen to me, get married! Take Grozda and you too will fall in love again…” she advised him.

“Sekulitsa, you are my friend, so please don’t advise me to get married,” replied Krstin.

The day Krstin’s wife Petra got sick they were both working in their field harvesting wheat. At lunch time Petra said:

“I don’t feel good. My stomach is burning like its on fire and my leg is numb. You go ahead and eat, I will rest for a while under the willow tree.” And she did that.

Krstin worked alone all day and occasionally looked in on Petra but she was getting worse and worse. By evening Krstin was very worried and decided to get help. He ran across the fields looking for someone with a wagon to take her home. He ran into Naido and his wife who were harvesting their crops nearby. Krstin ran over to them looking pale and worried. But before Naidoitsa had a chance to ask him what was wrong, in a panicked tone of voice he said: “Petra is very sick.”

“What happened?” asked Naidoitsa. “This morning we came to work together and she was fine. What happened since then?”

“Yes, she was fine this morning but now she is in a lot of pain. I don’t want her to die in the field, I want to take her home,” replied Krstin.

Naido and his wife took their bags and their water jugs. They hid their sickles in the wheat stalks and ran towards the willow tree where Petra was.

“You and Naidoitsa worry too much,” said Naido to Petra.

“Please Naido, do whatever you can and take me home,” replied Petra. “I just want to be home with my children, I don’t want to die here in the field. I don’t know what’s wrong with me and if I die, I die. My legs have become very weak and I can’t stand up.”

“You worry too much,” said Naido. “You are frail like my Naidotsa here. She will get a slight headache and immediately will start complaining, saying she will die. And when I tell her she is overeating, she would say: ‘Oh, you don’t care about me, you will find someone else.’ If it was that easy to die Naidoitsa would have died a hundred times by now.”

“Stop talking nonsense now and look after the sick woman,” snapped Naidoitsa at Naido. “When you men see us dead then you

will believe us,” added Naidoitsa and in a loud voice told the two men to, “Take the woman home and make sure she is okay!”

“My stomach is burning, it feels like it’s on fire and it hurts, I can’t even put by hand on it. My right leg is completely numb and I am losing my voice…” complained Petra.

“Cool towels, go and get some towels and wet them,” ordered Naido and while Naidoitsa went to get the towels Naido wet his handkerchief in the ditch and gave it to Petra.

Naidoitsa quickly returned with a wet towel and placed it over Petra’s stomach.

Naido then turned to Krstin and said: “Do you remember the time we were in Mora and were working for that Greek guy who got sick? He had exactly the same symptoms, a burning stomach and a numb leg. The doctor put cool cloths on his stomach and a few days later he was okay.”

The two men whispered to one another and after that Naido raced across the field and soon returned with Sekula who brought a wagon with him. During this time Naidoitsa kept wetting the towel and placing it on Petra’s stomach. At one point Petra said: “My dear friend may God bless you and your children. Thank God for bringing you here to help me…” She then relaxed and lay back.

They placed some grass on the wagon to cushion the ride and put Petra on top of it. Naidoitsa also go in the wagon, sat down and placed Petra’s head in her lap. The wagon pulled into Krstin’s yard and the men carried Petra into a small room. Krstin took a woolen cover out of a chest, placed it over the straw carpet and put Petra on it.

Word of Petra’s situation spread throughout the village like wildfire. Much credit was given to Sekula for saving her life. If it wasn’t for him, his wagon and oxen, many said, Petra would have died. Many of the women in the village arrived at Petra’s house to see how she was doing and how they could be of help. Included among the women who came were Sekulitsa Kozhovska, Zlateitsa

Mechkarovska, Grozda the priest’s wife and Ognenitsa. Several little children also snuck in with the women but Sekulitsa yelled at them and they fled.

Poor Petra lay on the colourful, red-fringed bedcover, which she had made herself, all curled up and in pain while her children Petre and Dafina sat quietly beside her. She held their hands in her hands and would not let them leave. With tears running from her eyes and with a weak voice she said to them: “My dear angels, Mommy does not want to leave you but she may have to…”

“Enough woman, you are scaring the children. You are not going to leave them! Tomorrow you will wake up fine!” said Sekulitsa. “Last year you scared us like this too but you recovered…”

“Last year, I was able to stand up. Now my legs have swelled up…” replied Petra.

The little room where Petra was lying became stuffy so Sekulitsa opened the window to let some fresh air in. A little later Giurgia the faith-healer walked in. All the women moved out of the way to let her come close to Petra. She asked Petra where her pain was. Petra pointed to her stomach and legs. Giurgia first told the women to close the window, and then she ordered everyone to go out except Naidoitsa and Krstin.

Giurgia was an old woman with wrinkles on her face but she had been doing this for a long time. She treated her fellow villagers, children, women and sometimes men, the best way she knew how. The villagers loved her and regretted the day that she would die and that there would be no one else to look after them. Giurgia got closer to Petra and everyone waited for her to take her hand and make her rise to her feet. Giurgia had helped Petra give birth to her two children and to one that did not survive. She helped many other women in the village giving birth. Even miscarriages were entrusted to her. This serious and trusted work she tried to do without tricks and in the most competent way. To the pregnant women who wanted to miscarry, she gave medicines prepared from various roots of bitter grasses. Giurgia rubbed the women’s stomachs and used all her expertise and then encouraged the women to put sticks

underneath. The women drank the bitter herbs and put sticks and rolled around in pain as they strongly massaged their abdomen. Many of them, unfortunately, died along with their offspring. Giurgia, from the bottom of her heart and soul, always loved to help women who suffered and had no other choice left in their lives. But sometimes God did not agree with Giurgia and took those lives away. God did not like all women to be helped, some he wanted punished.

One time Giurgia took on the job of curing Srebre Zelkaroski. Srebre was a 26 year old young man who had gone abroad to Vlashko (Wallachia) to work on the ships in the Port of Galats. He became very ill and the Romanian doctors there told him his illness could not be cured in Romania. They advised him to go home and every spring the shepherds took their sheep to the mountain sheepfold, he should go with them and stay there all summer. They advised him to remain in the dairies and to drink as much milk as he could and to sleep in the outdoors in the clean air together with the sheep. And so Srebre returned to his village. Srebre had tuberculosis and continuously coughed a choking cough. But Giurgia had different ideas. She suggested that he should lie down and be covered with warm loaves of bread just after they were removed from the oven. She suggested he lie down on his chest, cover himself with a blanket and have someone place the hot loaves on top of and all around him. She also told him to make sure to perspire plenty. Srebre did as Giurgia asked and then he began to bleed. A week later he died. Grozda his wife, who was taken as a refugee, was left a widow very young.

Giurgia asked Petra to lie on her back and pull her legs in. She then ran her hand over her stomach to examine it and said:

“The problem is in your little heart. I will now twist your navel, put a pot on it and you will be fine…”

Krstin had eagerly waited to hear what Giurgia had to say and was now relieved.

“My dear Aunt Giurgia, all I hope for is for my Petra to get better. I will do anything for you if you will do that for me...”

“Don’t be so scared. Show some courage, you are a man…” she replied.

A few minutes later Giurgia twisted Petra’s navel and placed a steaming pot on her belly and determined how long it should stay on her and after that for how long they should be putting hot compresses on her.

Krstin stayed with his wife all night long putting compresses on her belly. Petra was in agony and kept telling Krstin to stop. She begged him to put cool towels like Naido had told him, but Krstin refused to listen and trusted Giurgia’s advice. A couple of days later Petra died. Little Dafina now became the woman of the house and the entire load of running the household fell on her little shoulders. She had to mature fast and at a very young age.

Krstin celebrated his name day on Krstovden (The Holy Cross) and all the men in his village came to see him and celebrate his glorious name day with him. Dafina alone was put in charge of hosting the celebration and looking after all the guests and her father’s friends who came to see him. Krstin had invited many guests for lunch including Naido Bosilkov, Sekula Kozhovski, the priest and Ognen. Krstin had a lot of food on the table, which included a baked lamb and a roasted piglet. Dafina served the guests with finesse. This was the first time Ognen had seen such an eloquent banquet. He was very impressed. He thought to himself: “Look at these people! Krstin and his children wear tattered clothes outside but will spare no expense inside when it comes to dining.” Ognen could not keep his eyes off Dafina as she laboured to please everyone. “What a wife she will make for my son Giorgi…” he thought to himself. “So what if Krstin was a poor man. Look at me, I am a rich man but my women are incapable of such finesse when it comes to dining.” Ognen thought to himself. “I must have this pretty flower and I don’t care what the people say. She is gold and I must have her for my son. I know there will be people who will say all sorts of things but when they see what she is capable of they will think differently. They will say bravo, bravo for Ognen, he married his son to a capable woman… a jewel.” Ognen thought for a moment and then said to himself: “It would be nice to take a bride for my son from a

rich family, a rich man like myself, and together with the in-laws we will be richer. But then I will have to spend a lot of money to keep them happy. I don’t like that. And I don’t think my daughter-in-laws father is going to be like Krstin, who I admire very much. No one is going to give me their daughter for less than 20 liras of expenses. The richer the in-laws the more they will want me to spend for the wedding. It will cost me plenty. But with Ktstin that will never happen. I would not have to spend a lot of money with Ktstin. He has very little so how can he ask me to spend a lot? He will also owe me because I am taking his daughter into a rich family. I will be rescuing his daughter from roasting in the sun working in the fields?” Ognen then thought for a moment and decided he needed to think about this a bit more.

Ognen’s thoughts were interrupted when Sekula lifted his glass of wine and said:

“Ognen pick up your glass and let’s toast to our good friend Ktstin who has provided us with all this good food. To Ktstin! To his children and let there be more sheep in his flock so that we can eat more roast lamb next year when we visit him on his name day.”

“You are welcome! You are welcome to come back next year. That’s what the good food is for, to share with our friends…” replied Ktstin.

Sekula then cut a piece from the tail of the roasted lamb and served it to the priest. He then cut a piece from the shoulder and served it to Ognen. And after that he served everyone else in the order that they were sitting.

“We the poor people… this is how we like it…” said Sekula. “We like to get together and eat and drink…” and then he picked up his glass of wine, turned towards Ognen and said: “And you rich people are always calculating things trying to determine how much this and how much that will cost you. You always want to know how much the lamb, the wine, the rakia and all the other foods and drinks will cost you and then you will come to the conclusion it will cost you too much so you and your wives will stay home. Well, lucky for us poor people we don’t know how to calculate things and whichever

lamb looks good we make a meal of it.” Sekula then raised his glass of wine and toasted Ktstin. He then said: “Drink up, we don’t measure the wine and the rakia, whatever is in the barrel we share with our friends, that’s what holidays are for. We don’t need to keep any for next year, in the fall we will make some more. It is important that we follow our traditions, we are Macedonians after all.

The priest then picked up his wine glass, raised it, toasted Ktstin and blessed Sekula for his candor and for his loyalty and patriotism. He then took a bite from the tail of the roasted lamb and said: “This is how the faith is kept… This is how the nation is cherished…” He then turned to Ognen and said: “You, Ognen, I have never seen you sit together with our people before…”

“From now on I will always be there… with our people, I assure you…” replied Ognen.

“And so you should. You should also come to church. I have seen Ognenitsa in church but never you. Not even on Christmas or Easter. I always see you hanging around with the Bey and his relatives…” said the priest.

Ognen looked a bit uncomfortable.

There were many men and women from the village in the church on Pokladi (Shrove Tuesday). Ktstin was standing beside the Psalter and was singing. Beside him, standing on a stool was Spiro who was whispering to Luka the priest and from time to time sang out loud in response to the chorus. Ognen decided to come to church that day and was wearing high boots and a leather coat. He stood in the cubical next to the Psalter and from time to time he too sang a word or two with Ktstin. On this important occasion Luka, the priest, wore his new priest’s robe and the new cross around his neck. And even though Luka knew all the psalms he was illiterate and unable to write. He wrote an “X” in place of his signature. He was not very good at singing either, that is why he always sang very slowly and kept the people in church for hours and hours. He used to say he did not want anything that had to do with his liturgy left out. Everything is written down for a purpose, he used to say, and he was not going

to ignore that purpose. When he passed by with his chalice everyone crossed themselves. When he shook the incense vessel white puffs of smoke came out. The women bent down to smell the incense and the men came out of the cubicles looking like they were bowing to the priest. Ognen bent down low almost to the ground.

Sekulitsa Kozhoska stood beside the priest’s wife. In a loud voice she asked:

“Is that your Spiro who is singing with Ktstin?”

“Yes, that’s him.” replied the priest’s wife.

“Congratulations! Your son has grown up. Soon you will be marrying him off,” said Sekulitsa.

“I will marry him but I don’t know to which girl yet. Many families have offered me their daughters but I am particular. We plan to send our son to Orid to become a priest, the girl must be beautiful and smart in order to be a priest’s wife,” replied the priest’s wife.

“You are right! You are right! That’s how it has to be! She has to fit in a priest’s home. Smart and beautiful just like yourself…” said Sekulitsa.

“To be honest with you Sekulitsa I am proud of my son, he is very capable. I am not telling this to boast like Ognenitsa boasts about her son Giorgia, but my Spiro sings even at home. He will lock himself in his room and take the Gospel in his hands and sing… You should hear him sing beautifully. He sings even more beautifully than his father. There he is… you can hear him for yourself. He sings better than Ktstin. And the priest, my husband, constantly teaches him a lot. I always tell him not to push my son too much. I believe the child cannot mature properly if you constantly quarrel with him. They need to grow. The priest would then say to me: ‘Leave the boy to me; I know how a priest’s son should be.’ And I do,” replied the priest’s wife.

“Why don’t you take Dafina, Ktstin Nivichki’s daughter? She is some girl isn’t she? She will be gold wherever she goes.

Unfortunately your son is a bit young but he will mature. The priest was the same when he was growing up, but look at him now?” said Sekulitsa.

Behind the priest’s wife stood Ognenitsa, Nedelkoitsa and Zlateitsa who were conversing loudly.

“Ognenitsa,” said Zlateitsa, “look, that’s Spiro the priest’s son singing with Ktstin. Listen to him sing so beautifully, more beautifully than his father.”

“I hear the priest is going to send him to Orid, so that he too can become a priest like himself. He will follow in the family tradition, like father like son…” added Nedelkoitsa.

“I don’t want to sound like I am bragging but Spiro is nothing compared to my own son Giorgia. My son is a golden boy and very smart. Every evening he sits with his father and they look over the books and do many calculations. He is smart alright, very smart. He listens to his father very carefully and doesn’t miss a word. I always remind Ognen how smart our son is and how lucky we are to have such a boy. I just hope that we can find a beautiful bride for him that is also smart, the kind that I like. I am telling you straight!” said Ognenitsa in a loud voice making sure the priest’s wife heard her.

“Oh my dear woman, you shouldn’t worry at all, you rich people can find a bride anywhere and you can be choosy about it. What about us poor people? Who will marry our poor daughters?” piped up Nedelkoitsa.

“Don’t be an idiot,” said Zlateitsa quietly and elbowed Nedelkoitsa. “Our daughters don’t need those two for husbands. If God is willing they can marry Ognen and the priest’s son but I don’t want my Menka marrying either boy. My Zlate has many fields and we can work and make a living. I would rather have my daughter slave on our fields and never marry than to have her marry for money or for wealth. If I find her a husband I will find her a husband who matches her character and not like Spiro or Giorgia who have no character. Can you imagine my daughter having to eat a ration of

bread because Ognen is too stingy to feed her? My God my daughter is used to eating like a horse…” yelled Zlateitsa in frustration.

Everyone turned their heads to see what the fuss was about. Sekula then yelled at the women: “What is this, a church or the market? If you want to marry your children then take your conversations home. We want to observe the liturgy here, not listen to your bickering!”

“Well, I can’t do this,” said Naidoitsa to Srebrenitsa who were standing behind Ognenitsa and the priest’s wife. “I can’t boast like them. But my Nikola, there he is on the floor beside Giorgia and Spiro, can twirl those two around his little finger and can carry them uphill in his mouth. Let others praise him, I will not praise him. Many matchmakers have come to me from everywhere. May all their children be well, I don’t want to criticize anyone, everyone is good, but I will not marry my Nikola now. I am not going to do what Ognenitsa is doing, boasting in the church so everyone can hear her.

“I don’t know, my dear woman, I don’t know how they can boast so much. And why do they boast so much about their men? They are not men to boast about. I had a husband who was worth more than all the men in the village, but I was not lucky. I was never like Ognenitsa. And now Ognen is threatening to send the Bey’s gendarmes after me. He can send the gendarmes against his own wife because she is the biggest boaster of them all,” said Srebreitsa.

“How did that happen you poor woman? Why is Ognen sending the gendarmes after you? What did you do to him?” asked Naidoitsa.

“I didn’t do anything to him, but when you leave yourself open like me, everyone will want to take something from you. I am going to tell you, I am not going to hide it from you. I was in Ognen’s store; I wanted to buy some oil and sugar. He and I were alone in the store and he started on me. He came close to me and wanted to grab me. He said to me: ‘Oh, so you are a widow, you are a beautiful widow. You are the most beautiful of all the women…’ He also said all sorts of things and was again ready to grab me. I pulled away and said: ‘Isn’t Ognenitsa enough for you? Ognenitsa is a beautiful woman, since you seem to like beautiful women.’ But that bastard locked the

door on me and said he would call the gendarmes and have me arrested, for what I don’t know. I am telling you the truth Naidoitsa, I had no choice but to give him what he wanted. Now I am afraid I may be pregnant. What am I going to do if I am pregnant? This is what that jackass did to me. Now he is here bowing to the priest like he is a good Christian. Did you see how he bowed?” asked Srebreitsa.

“Why didn’t you marry Krstin? Why do you have to be so choosy? Was it because Srebre was more handsome? Krstin is handsome too but he doesn’t constantly comb his hair like your Srebre did, is that it? But as you can see Krstin sings, he has a beautiful voice, listen to him….” said Naidoitsa.

“Naidoitsa, it isn’t like that, Krstin does not want to get married. I would marry him this instant but he doesn’t want to get married. Others told me about this too. One time Krstin said: “I am not getting married; I will not step on Petra’s love and wedding vows.” And the priest, let me tell you a thing or two about him, he is no better that Ognen…” replied Srebreitsa and went silent.

Naidoitsa looked at her and in a low tone of voice said: “They have nothing better to do… They sit around all day and harass the women…”

“Let me tell you about the priest… he too did to me like Ognen. He came to my house to bless it. He always came to the house, blessed it and then left. One time, I don’t know what got into his head, he sprinkled me with his holy water and naturally I kissed his hand as always. Suddenly he grabbed my hand. Father, Father, I said to him, your wife is much more beautiful than me. ‘That’s okay,’ he said, ‘but I like you better…’ I protested and said: ‘If you came here to bless my house do your job and go because I am going to start screaming and all the neighbours will be here. They will see what kind of priest you are.’ He then began to beg me not to scream. He said: ‘Please Srebreitsa don’t do that because then I will have to go straight to the lake and drown myself.’ You know, before that when he came to my home I showed him a lot of respect and even invited him to stay for lunch. I always baked a zelnik and roasted a chicken… and look what he wanted to do to me. Now he comes,

does his blessing quickly, sprinkles the walls and is gone. He doesn’t even want me to put money in his kettle,” said Srebreitsa.

“Let me tell you Srebreitsa, I don’t envy Ognenitsa or the priest’s wife or the money they have. It is true that we are poor, but my Naido is a decent man… he is truly a decent man…” said Naidoitsa.

“My Srebre was the same way… never once did he ever turn his eyes away...” replied Srebreitsa.

Sekula again looked at the women and yelled: “Stop talking or I will have to escort you out of the church. This is a church not a market. If you come here for prayer then fine, otherwise leave…”

The priest’s wife left the church very angry. She was so angry she was shaking and went straight to bed. When the priest came home he saw her lying there all covered up. He came closer and said: “Did they jinx you at the church?!”

She refused to speak. The priest put his hand on her forehead to see if she had a fever but she pushed his hand away and covered her head. The priest thought for a moment and said:

“Yes, you have been jinxed, I need to bless you and the curse will go away. At this point she uncovered herself, sat up and, in an angry tone of voice, said: “You should bless those who bake zelniks and roast chickens for you, and not me!”

“My dear wife, you have never said anything like this to me before, I am a priest, I go to all the houses in the village and sometimes I stay for lunch. The people respect me and often honour me, and whatever they ask of me I accommodate them, this is my job,” replied the priest.

“I should have listened to my father when he told me about you, but I didn’t because I wanted to be a priest’s wife. He said: ‘Once a week he will go to church and the rest of the days he will lounge around the house. Once a month he will visit the people’s houses with his kettle in hand and spray (bless) them with (holy) water. And that’s all he will be doing...’ Now let me ask you this; did you ever

break into a sweat, I mean from labouring? The villagers work for a living. They cultivate, plant, harvest their crops and then they come here and give you their earnings. All you do is go to church and sing for them and advise them on what to do; do this, do that, don’t do this, as if they don’t know what to do themselves. And do you ever do what you tell others to do? And look at me; I sit at home like a captive. My heart breaks when I watch my peers going to work and working for a living side by side with their husbands, living an honest life and being honest and venerable to one another. And you, you follow Ognen’s path and share his whores with him... I have been loyal and faithful to you. I have done everything you asked. I have served you while you sat in the shade doing nothing… I cared for you and what do I get? Look at these people, they may be poor but no one has died because of lack of food. No one was burned because they worked under the sun. Look at my own father, he is not a priest but he is a decent man and an excellent husband, the other village men aren’t priests either and they all live well. No one has run over to Ognen, knocking at his door, begging for bread!”

Ognenitsa too was furious when she returned home. She opened all the doors inside the house and angrily paced from room to room. She was impatiently waiting for Ognen to arrive. Ognen came late and when he opened the door Ognenitsa attacked him. She was swollen with rage, eagerly waiting for him to return so that she could thrust her anger at him because of the things she heard about him at church from Grozda (Srebreitsa).

Wasting no time she began to yell at him saying: “Why did you bring me here so that I can be your slave?! To wash your underwear?! You know very well how many boys loved me and wanted me to marry them! But I picked you Ognen, and now you make me regret it! And now I have to listen to Naidoitsa saying how poor she is but how much better off she is than me. I have to listen to her boasting about how decent Naido is. And you and the priest, chasing whores…! I wish to God you never came back… I don’t care if they think that they are better than me but for you to desire one of them more than me, and to force yourself on one of them, that disgusts me! And then you have the nerve to come back here to be with me… Up to now I considered you my husband but from now on don’t even come near me. What in God’s name made you go

to the whores instead of coming to me, to your beautiful wife who loves you? You stupid idiot, I don’t even know why I am with you. There are so many men in this village that want me but I didn’t want to disappoint my father who wanted me to marry you! How would you like it if I went whoring with every man I met? I had to listen to my father who didn’t know what he was talking about, that if I married you there would always be food on the table! Whoever heard of anyone not having food on their table? But then I was naïve and I didn’t know that you couldn’t take food to bed and that you needed a man who loved and respected you and who you loved and respected. Don’t ever come back to me, go to your whores, they can make your dinner and wash your underwear,” she said and slammed the bedroom door in his face.

Ognen forcefully pushed the door open. The door hit the wall and made a loud bang. Ognen jumped into the room angry about his wife’s accusations and with a loud and conquering tone of voice, said: “What is your problem wife? You are complaining about me? I gave you everything you could ever want without you having to lift a finger and this is how you repay me? By being rabid?!”

“Rabid? You are saying that I am rabid? You are the one who is rabid and don’t know what you’re doing! You are so obsessed with your money you don’t care who you hurt. You constantly sit there with your book making loans and collecting interest and when your neighbours don’t have money to pay you back, you take their oxen and their sheep, ruining their livelihood and their lives, and for what? So that you can have more money?! What are you going to do with all that money if you are not willing to spend it? Take it with you when you die? And you call me rabid! You never worry about how these people you rob will survive and the fact that they curse your bones, and mine too, for robbing them like that! And on top of that you are pursuing the whores…” replied Ognenitsa angrily.

“Oh, come on wife? Get out of here and stop yapping so much. You are too much… You are interfering in my affairs too much…” said Ognen.

“You don’t want me to interfere? Hah? And let the women speak in the church? Hah?” she asked.

“Well you can go ahead and listen to the women and they will put food on your table, I suppose. Can’t you see that they are trying to ruin us? To see us suffer? I gave you everything you wanted and still you are not satisfied. Why didn’t you marry one of those poor slobs of whom you speak? And I am sure you would have been very happy wallowing in the mud, drinking water from the trough and baking in the hot sun like a lizard…” replied Ognen.

“And I suppose you did right by me! Bringing the Bey’s gendarmes into my house so that they could leer and wink at me and have me serve them rakia like they owned me. And then you dare come here and tell me that you have never seen a feast like the one served in Krstin’s house. Did you ever bring any worthy guests here so that I could show you what I am capable of? Did you ever bring me the kind of ingredients needed make such a feast possible? No! Everything about you is money, money, money!” said Ognenitsa.

Ognen got very angry, raised his hand in an attempt to strike his wife, and yelled:

“Get out of my sight! I don’t want to look at you any more! Go or I will strike you!” and ran after her. Intimidated, Ognenitsa ran into the other room and locked herself in. Ognen then shook his head and said: “What a stupid woman, interfering in my affairs and making me want to hit her.”

Krstin Nivichki and Naido Bosilkov were friends. They became good friends when they were working as lumberjacks in Mora. After Krstin’s wife died, Naidoitsa helped him and gave him moral support which he would never forget. These two families were always together and often worked in the fields together. Whenever Krstin went to the mountains to collect firewood he also collected some for the Bosilkov’s. Whenever Naido went to plow his field he also plowed Krstin’s field. They helped each other at every opportunity. Their friendship filtered down to their children, to Naido’s son Nikola and to Krstin’s daughter Dafina. Even when their children were very small there was a great friendship between them. Later, as they grew up, their friendship flourished into love. Day by day their love grew stronger and stronger but Menka and

Stoianka did not like that and looked for ways to break them up. But Nikola and Dafina took an oath that they would love one another no matter what anyone said or did.

Naidoitsa could see that their children loved each other and feared, but it was an unjustified fear, that this kind of strong love in young people could not go well if not sheltered properly. It had been foretold a long time ago that sincere young love of pure hearts would not end well if not managed properly. One day she decided to tell Naido about this. She said:

“Why don’t we ask Krstin to give us Dafina for our Nikola? She is a beautiful girl and grows more beautiful with each passing day. Let’s talk to Krstin now, even though she is still young, because later others may ask for her.”

Unfortunately Naido could not see things the way Naidoitsa saw them. Naido did not want to ask Krstin for the girl, not before Krstin had married his son Petre who was older than Dafina. Naido’s reply to Naidoitsa was:

“Let Krstin marry Petre first, let them bring a bride home so that she can look after them, and after that we will talk about Dafina.”