Near half two after lunch, the curry as usual causing the teh to sting the lips. Briefest light sprinkle of rain that none further under the awning at Al Wadi could possibly have noticed. A first of its kind come to think of it, one reflexively looked for corroborating evidence on the concrete path.
Nije ni kamenje
skvasilo / Didn't even wet the rocks.
Mother hovered ever-present even in what was perhaps the altered weather on the equator.
One had a kapu studenog kamenja / cap of cold stone when one had nothing at all, when one was left bereft, cheated or denied. (A recent editor in India had pilfered a piece of work and published online when he had been expressly denied. Aduh! Without payment of course)
Svaki kamen mi smjeta.... When mad brother-in-law Mitar who beat his wife visited at granddad Rade's during his lucid periods, Gramps bit down on his rage and gall at the man, as his wife and children very well knew. Any reference to this brother-in-law enraged Granddad Rade, every rock roundabout raising his fury against the man. Every rock of which there were many, countless, the whole terrain peppered throughout. (There was no help for it: one either murdered the man or the sister endured. The Montenegrin hill country almost a century ago now we are talking.)
Granddad Rade's brother had also been named Mitar. This younger brother had died in the mines in California, after which Granddad Rade never uttered the name for the remainder of his long life.
It was likely in fact Rade's children were never called by name by either parent, it seems to have been a familial trait arising from superstition. The Greeks call it the evil eye that can be drawn with naming or identification of love. The ghost of brother Mitar hovering in the house unable to be forgotten.
Sharing the same ward in the hospital in Bab's last days was the Croat Ruza, Rose — the name of Bab's own mother. This woman immediately developed a fondness for the old Montenegrin and assumed the name of her son that she called nights was Marko.
— Mako, Mako all night long. The nurses had to move the old woman into separate quarters to give the other patients some peace.
Mako was an idiosyncratic endearment that one learned later was in fact inherited from Bab's own mother Rose. Bab was the eldest, the beautiful, later much-sought-after daughter, never called by name by either parent almost certainly. A particular familial trait, but also not uncommon in the higher hills of Montenegro. Care needed to be taken with too much love and cherishing, best not bring that to notice on every side.
The only son George was given the name of a dill by his hard taskmaster father Rade. George had a range of monikers, one being that borrowed from this poor daft lad of the neighbourhood. Donkey of course another. Hard taskmaster father, demanding and severe, especially where the girls were concerned. The ruse helped keep George and the others safe.
Precious few stones or rocks here on the little red dot of course. (Concrete was altogether another matter—mounted up to the sky. Mr. Mohammad on his bicycle who hated LKY and the PAP suggested Singapore was discernibly sinking such and such a measure year by year. Mr. M. wanted you to guess the figure.)
Hills non-existent. In the great land reclamation project the entire island had been leveled.
A good deal of colourful precious stones were worn by the Malays in particular, brilliant rubies, emeralds, ivories and azure blues — great spiritual power and safe-guarding conferred from the volcanic islands of the region. These big rocks were not all just showy dressing-up and adornment; the psyche could easily be misunderstood by a casual observer.
Strangest most strange fate to find in these equatorial quarters the closest parallels and reminders of the distant ancestral lands.
One certainly bore the common moniker
lightly. Mother hovered ever-present even in what was perhaps the altered weather on the equator.
One had a kapu studenog kamenja / cap of cold stone when one had nothing at all, when one was left bereft, cheated or denied. (A recent editor in India had pilfered a piece of work and published online when he had been expressly denied. Aduh! Without payment of course)
Svaki kamen mi smjeta.... When mad brother-in-law Mitar who beat his wife visited at granddad Rade's during his lucid periods, Gramps bit down on his rage and gall at the man, as his wife and children very well knew. Any reference to this brother-in-law enraged Granddad Rade, every rock roundabout raising his fury against the man. Every rock of which there were many, countless, the whole terrain peppered throughout. (There was no help for it: one either murdered the man or the sister endured. The Montenegrin hill country almost a century ago now we are talking.)
Granddad Rade's brother had also been named Mitar. This younger brother had died in the mines in California, after which Granddad Rade never uttered the name for the remainder of his long life.
It was likely in fact Rade's children were never called by name by either parent, it seems to have been a familial trait arising from superstition. The Greeks call it the evil eye that can be drawn with naming or identification of love. The ghost of brother Mitar hovering in the house unable to be forgotten.
Sharing the same ward in the hospital in Bab's last days was the Croat Ruza, Rose — the name of Bab's own mother. This woman immediately developed a fondness for the old Montenegrin and assumed the name of her son that she called nights was Marko.
— Mako, Mako all night long. The nurses had to move the old woman into separate quarters to give the other patients some peace.
Mako was an idiosyncratic endearment that one learned later was in fact inherited from Bab's own mother Rose. Bab was the eldest, the beautiful, later much-sought-after daughter, never called by name by either parent almost certainly. A particular familial trait, but also not uncommon in the higher hills of Montenegro. Care needed to be taken with too much love and cherishing, best not bring that to notice on every side.
The only son George was given the name of a dill by his hard taskmaster father Rade. George had a range of monikers, one being that borrowed from this poor daft lad of the neighbourhood. Donkey of course another. Hard taskmaster father, demanding and severe, especially where the girls were concerned. The ruse helped keep George and the others safe.
Precious few stones or rocks here on the little red dot of course. (Concrete was altogether another matter—mounted up to the sky. Mr. Mohammad on his bicycle who hated LKY and the PAP suggested Singapore was discernibly sinking such and such a measure year by year. Mr. M. wanted you to guess the figure.)
Hills non-existent. In the great land reclamation project the entire island had been leveled.
A good deal of colourful precious stones were worn by the Malays in particular, brilliant rubies, emeralds, ivories and azure blues — great spiritual power and safe-guarding conferred from the volcanic islands of the region. These big rocks were not all just showy dressing-up and adornment; the psyche could easily be misunderstood by a casual observer.
Strangest most strange fate to find in these equatorial quarters the closest parallels and reminders of the distant ancestral lands.
— John. Hello John. Morning John.
Tall friendly white guy, what else?
Tall friendly white guy, what else?
No comments:
Post a Comment