Firth Balkan Bombshells

Contemporary Women's Writing from Serbia and Montenegro
1. Auflage 2023
ISBN: 978-1-912545-82-7
Verlag: Istros Books
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: 0 - No protection

E-Book, Englisch, 150 Seiten

A collection to whet the appetite of anyone wishing to learn more about a region rich in history, folklore and (her)stories. Telling it like a woman does not mean literature for women only: it provides an insight into half of humanity, a window onto the lives of citizens who work, love and develop their inner lives. This collection brings together the voices of a wide selection of prize-winning and established authors: Balkan Bombshells brings together established Serbian and Montenegrin writers like Svetlana Slap?ak, Jelena Lengold (winner of the EU Prize for Literature 2013), Dana Todorovi? and Olja Kne?evi? (author of Catherine the Great and the Small, Istros 2020), together with a select group of up-coming writers: Marijana ?anak (1982, Serbia): 'Awakened' (Probu?ena) follows the early years of a girl from a very simple background, who discovers she has extrasensory powers. A gruesome fascination with biology allows her to attend high school, where she ends up sewing a voodoo doll to take revenge on a molesting teacher. Marijana Doli? (1990, Bosnia-Herzegovina & Serbia): 'Notes from the attic' (Zapisi iz potkrovlja), originally diary entries, are intense mediatations on faith, love and hope - poignant testimony to a struggle to cope in difficult times. Ana Milo? (1992, Serbia): 'Peace' (Mir) portrays a woman struggling with disparate feelings after her only child dies. She has long since broken up with the child's father. She enjoys finally having time for herself, but she has to confront accusations of people around her that she is heartless. Once a mother, always a mother? Katarina Mitrovi? (1991, Serbia):'Small death' (Mala smrt). We are introduced to a fearful young woman who is far from happy with life, and we follow her on a summer holiday by the Adriatic, where a halfhearted romantic adventure takes a scary turn. Andrea Popov Mileti? (1985, Serbia):|: excerpt from the novel Young pioneers, we are seaweed (Pioniri maleni, mi smo morska trava; 2019). This stand-alone excerpt is a poetic flashback to her childhood in the province of Vojvodina in the Yugoslav era, to holidays by the Mediterranean, and to feelings of belonging and home. Lena Ruth Stefanovi? (1970, Sebria/ Montenegro): 'Zhenya' is a fragment from her 2016 novel Daughter of the Childless Man (??er onoga bez ?ece), is an entertaining meta-story about an ordinary woman in the late Soviet Union, whom the author decides to grant a new lease of life, so Zhenya studies languages, becomes a mondain writer and moves with her new husband to Montenegro, where the author loses track of her.

Autoren/Hrsg.

Firth, Will

Leseproben

Bojana Babic

A man worth waiting for

Everything that Marijana owned could be fitted in the old blue bag that Vesna brought from Macedonia when Budimir went to find himself a wife strong enough to chop wood and milk four cows twice daily. Vesna was completely to his liking; the only thing that bothered him was that she stood with a cigarette while cooking at the stove and thought no one could see her, and Budimir had always had eyes in the back of his head, on his ears and everywhere else. He promised Marijana’s brother Miodrag that he’d buy him a bicycle if he told him every day what Vesna did while he wasn’t at home. Marijana once found Miodrag in the yard, leaning in through the window of their unfinished kitchen. ‘What are you gawping at?’ she whispered, and he put his hand over her mouth and thrust her to the ground. Miodrag heard the roar of the tractor and rushed out the gate. ‘Mum’s smoking!’ he shouted, but Budimir didn’t see him and didn’t hear him over the noise of the engine, so, as usual, he swung his leg to jump down from the tractor and knocked out two of Miodrag’s teeth. Miodrag got a new bike out of it, but not any new teeth.

Marijana wasn’t interested in bikes; she always preferred home-made bread, lard and chicken liver, but most of all the plum preserves she scoffed before bed while watching turbo-folk programmes on TV and imagining she was one of the singers in a tight skirt and tiger bra. Marijana knew the words to every song that echoed loudly from her room, a room with unpainted walls in the old house where they all lived together. Budimir had built a new house next to it, but no one was allowed to go there, not even Miodrag, for whom the house was intended. ‘When you bring a girl and have children, the house will be yours,’ Budimir said.

‘When are you going to marry off Marijana?’ the neighbours would ask, and Budimir would twiddle his fingers and say: ‘When the right man comes along.’ Mr Right. That was the man who’d come to Budimir and tell him he’d like to take Marijana home and never bring her back: a slim, hard-working young fellow with house, land and cattle. Marijana always imagined she’d meet Mr Right down at the canal. She’d sit on the grass with the other eligible girls and watch the boys splash around in the shallow water and swim to the other bank. They’d come back ruddy and smiling, emboldened by their feat, and approach Marijana and her girlfriends. Mr Right would sit down on her towel without asking, offer her a wet hand and introduce himself. He’d ask which village she was from and why he hadn’t seen her at the canal before. Marijana would poke her finger in the soft earth and conceal a smile. She hadn’t come because she couldn’t swim. Mr Right would stand up and take Marijana by the hand. ‘Don’t, please!’ she’d cry, but Mr Right wouldn’t listen. He’d lead her into the shallows and first give her a good splashing, then he’d pull her deeper into the water, to her friends’ cheers. ‘Don’t you trust me?’ Mr Right would ask with a sly smile because he knew Marijana had never been taught to say ‘no’ at home. Now up to their waist in the water, he’d motion for her to turn onto her belly and let herself down into the water, above his muscular arms. Marijana would be afraid but obey him. She’d look towards the bank and see that her friends were gone – no one was there but her and Mr Right. She’d clench her teeth and swim, and Mr Right would take his arms away. ‘See, it’s not so scary,’ he’d say as she doggy-paddled with her eyes closed. Mr Right then grabbed her by the waist and slowly slipped his hand under her swimming costume.

In reality, Marijana had never even been to the canal, and now it was winter anyway, the river had frozen over, and Marijana was actually getting married. She packed heavy, thick jumpers and dresses that belonged to Vera, but that she’d never seen her wear, and she put on a long white one that was tight around the waist. Her friend Biljana came to do her eyes, cheeks and lips.

The man in question had chosen the biggest piglet on the farm, paid a good price for it and then sat down in the yard to taste Budimir’s rakija. ‘Nenad,’ he said, shaking Marijana’s hand and smiling to reveal a few bad teeth. Marijana didn’t dare to speak while Nenad talked about his house in the forest, far from the village and the neighbours.

‘It’s peaceful and quiet where I am,’ he said and looked at Marijana. ‘Do you also like peace and quiet?’

Marijana shrugged her shoulders. Budimir sent her to cut some bacon and she obediently set off for the kitchen, feeling Nenad’s gaze on her buttocks.

‘You know, Marijana, that forester is a good man,’ Vesna tossed to her in passing. When she went out into the yard with the tray, Budimir was gone.

‘Sit with me,’ Nenad said and lit a cigarette, making sure the smoke didn’t get in Marijana’s face. ‘How old are you?’ he asked.

‘Twenty-four,’ Marijana answered softly.

‘I was sixteen when you were born – this big. I had no beard, and no sense either. And today, nothing’s changed,’ Nenad started to laugh, so Marijana laughed too. ‘You have a nice smile,’ he said and tucked a strand of greasy hair behind her ear.

Marijana was relieved when Budimir returned with a squealing piglet in his arms. They put it in a sack, and then in the boot of Nenad’s red Zastava 101. ‘She’ll make a good sow,’ Nenad declared and drove back into the forest.

‘Marijana, the forester wants to marry you. That’s why he came.’ Budimir stated. ‘He’s alone there in the house. He needs a woman who knows how to work, to help.’

‘To be there when he needs her,’ Vesna added.

Marijana looked at her hands. Her fingers were thick, and she’d chewed her nails so much as a child that they no longer grew enough to cover the flesh. She wanted to chew them even more, until they were gone.

‘It’s your decision. Let me know tomorrow,’ Budimir said and left.

Marijana would lay her head on the pillow every night and immediately fall asleep, but now she was tossing and turning in bed.

Her friend Bilja let the phone ring for a long time before answering. Her soft, sleepy voice finally answered, ‘I knew it was you.’

Marijana twisted the phone cord nervously, ‘A forester has asked me to marry him.’ Bilja laughed. ‘And? What did you tell him?’

‘Nothing,’ Marijana admitted.

‘Is he handsome?’ Bilja asked.

‘I don’t know – he’s not ugly,’ Marijana admitted. ‘It’s just he’s older than us. His face is serious.’

‘It’s good when a man is serious,’ Bilja replied.

‘How does it feel when you get married?’ Marijana asked and Bilja sighed.

‘It’s good, only my husband drinks a lot. But he doesn’t bother me. It’s not a problem. He drinks and then sleeps.’

Marijana and Nenad got married in the church behind which she’d had her first kiss with a boy from Vršac who’d come to watch a match; he took her round into the dark, stuck his tongue down her throat and slid his hands under her T-shirt. He fondled her until Miodrag appeared, broke his collarbone and called Marijana a slut. Marijana got a fright when she stepped out in front of all the guests with their expectations, but the way Nenad was looking she could see nothing in his eyes, and that calmed her. Vesna and Budimir were beaming proudly, while Miodrag stared at the floor. When the priest asked, Marijana said ‘yes’, Nenad said ‘yes’ and kissed her, and everyone started clapping as if it all surprised them.

Afterwards, Marijana sat in the same place as when Nenad asked if she liked peace and quiet, only now there was no peace or quiet, but loud music and lots of people. Vesna was serving pork and bread, Budimir brought out aged rakija he’d saved for ‘when our child gets married’, except he’d thought that child would be their son. Nenad poured Marijana one glass and then another, while Bilja pulled her arm: ‘You have to dance so you’ll have a happy life.’ Marijana’s eyes were falling shut and she wanted to lie down for a bit, to rest her feet from the tight high-heeled shoes she couldn’t walk in, but where could she go? Vesna, Dušica, Miroslava, Ljubica and Aunt Rada were in the house with other neighbours and reminiscing about their own weddings. Marijana just wanted to be alone for a little while, so she furtively took the key to the new house, went through the dank hall, took her shoes off and lay down carefully on the new bed, which was covered with musty linen.

‘You shouldn’t have drunk,’ Miodrag said, pushing Marijana’s legs so he could sit down next to her. Marijana raised her head and rubbed her red ear, which hurt as if someone had tried to tear it off her head. Her fingers felt thick lines running from her lips to her forehead caused by the coarse linen. ‘How long have I slept?’ Marijana asked. Miodrag burst into tears before he could answer. Confused, Marijana stroked his prematurely bald head, which reminded her of an eggshell, but Miodrag pushed her away, wiped his eyes and snotty nose on his sleeve and went. Marijana sighed deeply, then slowly pulled the shoes onto her swollen feet and followed her brother. The yard was still full. The women were leaning out of the kitchen window and smiling, and the men were toasting. Nenad took Marijana by the waist. ‘I’ll look after...