Mother Tongue

Tania Romanov

Description

In this era of refugee crises, Americans are hungry for uplifting stories about immigrant families that made their way to the U.S. and succeeded in assimilating while also maintaining their own culture. This book will appeal to:

millions of American readers who have a keen interest in the welfare of refugees and immigrants

lovers of true stories about families that overcome enormous obstacles to find a place to thrive

anyone interested in a "roots" story where a new generation of Americans return to the country of their or their families origins to learn about the past and how it reflects on the present and future.
Part I: KATERINA
The baby who wouldn't wait

“Ova ne čeka. This one won't wait,” were the words that always got Zora listening, because that story was about her.

It was the summer of 1922, the grapes were still green, the figs just ripening, and the fish were hiding farther out at sea than usual as Katarina struggled with the approaching birth of her seventh child. The First World War was over, and new babies had already come tumbling into their world. Four girls filled the house with noise; the two lost boys were still missed.

In their small town of Medulin they perched on a hill overlooking the Adriatic, a sea she would never tire of watching, even when the Bura winds howled over it toward Italy. She knew the massive stones used to build their houses would keep them warm and safe from the fiercest storms.

Prokleti Italiani, she thought. It was the damned Italians, not the winds, threatening them now. Just a few years ago it had been the Hungarians, and before that the Austrians. It was always someone. Endless wars. Perhaps the beauty of their homeland was so irresistible the fighting over its control would never end.
This baby, the seventh she would bear, wasn't due until August, but Katarina had known she wouldn't wait. She always knew when they would be girls, and it was no different with this one.

“Ova neče dugo čekati, Martin,” she had said to her husband as he was getting ready to go out to sea a few days earlier. “This one won’t wait much longer.”

“Luckily Roža can help when you need it,” he replied. They were at home, across the road from Katarina's childhood house, where her brother Bogdan lived with his wife Roža and their young son. Martin was happy that Roža was a good midwife. She had taken care of Katarina through Slavica’s traumatic birth after the war’s end. He knew she would take care of Katarina now, while he was gone. “I really have to go out for a few days on this ship, you know.”

“Yes, I know, but I still worry about you going out, Martin.” Every time he left she felt uneasy. “It's not over yet, is it?”

“Not really. And no ships will protect us . . .” Martin caught himself. He didn’t need to talk about it just now. “I’ll be back soon, duša, my soul. Everything will be all right.”

Martin knew it wasn’t looking good. World War I was long over, yet the spoils were still being fought over, and their home was in the middle of it all. But he didn’t want to worry Katarina just now. She had been slowly getting over her personal tragedies from that last war, going forward day by day, remembering anew how wonderful their life here had always been. He couldn’t bear to have her frightened again. There would be time to talk about it when he returned. He had some plans to work out in the meantime.

Katarina was right. The baby really couldn't wait to get out. A few days after Martin left she sat in Roža’s kitchen, looking out the window at her own home. Martin was still out to sea; Bogdan was at work. Babies and children ran around outside in the open courtyard, near the vegetable garden. She could hear the pig grunting and the chickens pecking in their enclosure. The jezva, the old copper Turkish coffee pot, was on the wood stove, still hot from the midday meal. Aromas of strong coffee mingled with ripe fruit smells. A bee buzzed in through the open door, mistaking the flowers in the old clay jug for the ones growing outside.

Katarina had grown up in this kitchen; she still knew it better than Roža did. How many generations of women had cooked Turkish coffee the same way on that same stove? How many had waited here for their babies, imagining the lives to come? She was just slipping into a gentle reverie as Roža bustled back in from picking tomatoes.

That was when she felt the first pains. She gripped the table before her, its wood polished by her own mother’s hands, its edges rounded from years of use. The olive tree out in back, the one that had replaced the one this table was crafted from, was already ancient in its own right. It felt good to hold on to something she had known since childhood, to ground herself as this new baby pushed her way into the world.

July 21 it was, the heart of that warm summer of 1922. Roža got her across the road to her own bed, the one she shared with her beloved Martin. The place where she had given birth so many times already, and where he himself had been born.

The new one was born a few hours later, before her father came back from his voyage. Of course it was a girl, and she literally burst into the world, as if she knew her parents were counting on her to bring in a new dawn.

“Pa koliko je ljepa. My, she's so beautiful,” breathed Martin a few days later, when he saw her.

“You think they are all beautiful,” Katarina said, happy he was home. Back with her. Safe.

“That's because they are all beautiful.”

My beautiful wife and my beautiful babies, he thought. I should feel like the luckiest man in the whole universe!

If only it was that simple.
1: Going home

PART I: KATERINA

2: The baby who wouldn't wait

3: Surviving the War

4: Balkanization

5: Post war crises

6: Finding another way

7: Starting over

8: Haven in Yugoslavia

9: World War II

10: Zora finds her way

11: Visiting their homeland

12: Medulin farewell

13: Katarina

PART II: ZORA

14: A best friend's wedding

15: Meeting Tolya

16: Belgrade and marriage

17: The golden child

18: Cold War threatens

19: Tania born to crisis

20: Exiled again

21: Campo San Sabba

22: Campo family

23: Sasha in Italian Hospital

24: Zora's ultimatum

25: Babusya's last stand

26: Leaving Zhenya

27: The SS Constitution

28: San Francisco, home

29: Speak Serbian, Tania

30: The Greg

31: Losing Tolya

32: Taking Zora to Medulin

33: Finding Cousin Milan

34: Visitors from America

35: Zora learns her real name

36: San Sabba secrets

Epilogue

About the Author

Sujets

• HISTORY
• Women
• Travelogue
• Serbian
• Memoir
• Travel
• Istria
• Eastern Europe
• Yugoslavia
• Montenegro
• Language
• Croatia
• Eastern
• Family
• Yougoslavie
• Balkan
• Istrie
• San Francisco
• Europe

Informations

• Publié par: Travelers' Tales
• Date de parution: 01 mars 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 2
• EAN13: 9781609521288
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 1 Mo

Extrait

What People Are Saying . . .
"Mother Tongue is a story about identity in the context of history. Romanov was born in just one place but the country she came from keeps changing as the tides of history keep sweeping over the Balkans. Framed as a journey to her family’s hometown in what is now Croatia, Romanov’s story is really about tracking the improbable line that led to who she is, down through her own life, her parents’ lives and the lives of her ancestors. The Balkans are a tangle many of us tend to gloss over because we can’t get inside it. With this fascinating memoir, Tania Romanov takes us there."
Tamim Ansary, author of West of Kabul, East of New York
"In Mother Tongue, a story for our times, writer, photographer and world traveler Tania Romanov follows the life journeys of three generations of women (Katarina, Zora and herself) as she pieces together a complex picture of the fragmentation, war and upheaval that has tormented the people of the area known as ‘the Balkans’ for centuries. As she digs deeper, painful truths are revealed, truths that lead her back to the refugee camp of her infancy and the losses and collateral damage of war." Linda Watanabe McFerrin, author of Namako , The Hand of Buddha and Dead Love
"This is of historical and cultural significance. In a way, Romanov has done a service to every emigrant, to all the displaced persons out there, to the current refugee crisis, and done it by affirming the great value of "a melting pot." The forces that shape a people, that shape an individual person are so complex, and so easy to misunderstand even by those they affect most deeply." Gay Wind Campbell, photographer, All Hands Volunteers, and author of Images Par Deux
"I loved reading Mother Tongue . I absolutely devoured it, often reading in the middle of the night. I was always anxious to discover the next turn in the story and everyone's lives. I was totally engaged and every time I started asking myself a question, it was answered a few pages later. I really enjoyed the way the chronology came together, coming full circle at the end, with so much depth created throughout by the interwoven stories. I enjoyed not only learning more about Tania Romanov’s family, but also gaining more insight into the complex political circumstances of these countries/peoples through time ." Barbara Lannin, world traveler and business executive
"I devoured Tania Romanov’s Mother Tongue and wish I had read it before going to Croatia. I was drawn deeply into the turbulence of their lives along with the triumphs of overcoming obstacles, being reunited and finally flourishing. It made me a bit jealous of the strong ethnic identity and family bonds which I missed out on in my life. I will definitely return to the Adriatic coast, Croatia and more. Lots of memories flooded back as I read this book, although at the time I understood little of the lives of the people I encountered there, of the politics, or the history." Susan Cornelis, author of Conversations with the Muse: The Art Journal as Inner Guide
" Mother Tongue is a book that successfully combines entertainment and education. Ms. Romanov tells the saga of her mother's family beautifully and with passion. I love the way she uses languages as an underlying theme of the book, tying the story lines together with the language she spoke only with her mother. It is a compelling tale full of interesting historical fact based on the author's research and her own knowledge and experiences." Judith Hamilton, author of Animal Expressions

Copyright 2018 by Tania Romanov Amochaev
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of the publisher, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other noncommercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Travelers’ Tales and Solas House are trademarks of Solas House, Inc., Palo Alto, California.
Travelerstales.com | solashouse.com
Cover design and interior layout by Ruth Schwartz, aka My Book Midwife, mybookmidwife, com based on a template © BookDesignTemplates.com
Cover photo: Katarina Marinovič's seven daughters, including Zora Amochaev

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Names: Amochaev, Tania Romanov, 1949-author.
Title: Mother tongue : a saga of three generations of Balkan women / Tania Romanov.
Description: 1st ed. | Palo Alto : Travelers' Tales, An imprint of Solas House, Inc., 2018.
Identifiers: LCCN 2017057379 (print) | LCCN 2017044333 (ebook) | ISBN 9781609521271 (pbk.) | ISBN 9781609521288 (ebook)
Subjects: LCSH: Amochaev, Tania Romanov, 1949-| Amochaev, Tania Romanov, 1949---Family. | Mothers and daughters--Yugoslavia--Biography. | Mothers and daughters--California--San Francisco--Biography. | Immigrants--California--San Francisco--Biography. | Refugees--Yugoslavia--Biography. | Yugoslavia--Emigration and immigration. | Yugoslavia--Biography. | San Francisco (Calif.)--Biography.
Classification: LCC CT1458.A56 A3 2018 (ebook) | LCC CT1458.A56 (print) | DDC 306.874/3--dc23
LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2017057379
First Edition Printed in the United States of America 10 9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
Dedication
To my mother, Zora Marinovič Amochaev
Acknowledgments
This is a story based on memory about the Balkans, a land where even facts disagree. It reflects one version of a history of conflict, war, and exile.
As I write this, my adopted country struggles with issues of acceptance of immigrants and refugees, and conflicts between radically differing beliefs.
I am grateful to the people of the United States of America for accepting my family and giving me the opportunities to forge a life I cherish.
Table of Contents
1: Going home
PART I: KATARINA
2: The baby who wouldn't wait
3: Surviving the First War
4: Balkanization
5: Post war crises
6: Finding another way
7: Starting over
8: Haven in Yugoslavia
9: World War II
10: Zora finds her way
11: Visiting their homeland
12: Medulin farewell
13: Losing Katarina
PART II: ZORA
14: A best friend's wedding
15: Meeting Tolya
16: Belgrade and marriage
17: The golden child
18: Cold War threatens
19: Tania born to crisis
20: Exiled again
21: Campo San Sabba
22: Campo family
23: Sasha in Italian Hospital
24: Zora's ultimatum
25: Babusya's last stand
26: Leaving Zhenya
27: The SS Constitution
28: San Francisco, home
29: Speak Serbian, Tania
30: The Greg
31: Life in America
32: Taking Zora to Medulin
33: Finding Cousin Milan
34: Visitors from America
35: Zora learns her real name
36: San Sabba secrets
Epilogue
About the Author

PART I
Katarina
CHAPTER ONE
Going home
"Of course I can find the home I was born in!" Mama exclaimed, in response to his question.
Climbing a hill that rose sharply from the Adriatic Sea, we three seekers wandered, lost, on rough roads past ancient stone houses in the nearly deserted village in Croatia.
One of the pilgrims, Zora, my seventy-year-old widowed mother, was in a town she had left as an infant. She was searching for the home she was born in, for the house in which she believed her uncle still lived. I walked with her, able to communicate with the people, for Mama had always insisted that her language was my birthright and would not be lost to me. My American husband Harold the third pilgrim spoke only English but was first to understand the challenges of our situation.
"Well, where is your house then, Zora?" he asked.
"It is near here; I am sure of that. I just need to look a little longer, Harold."
"Zora, we’ve walked up and down every road in this village . . ."
"I know," she interrupted, "but I can see it in my mind as clearly as if it were yesterday."
"Okay, Okay, I give up." Harold smiled and put his arm around her. "If you aren’t tired, we can keep going."
Mama looked at my tall husband with a bemused expression. She always insisted her height was five feet and a half. That half was only half an inch, but Zora was anybody’s equal. English was her third or fourth language, depending on how much of a language you needed to know to count it. She spoke it well, but with a Slavic accent.
He was blond, blue-eyed, six feet six inches tall without shoes. English was his first and only language. He didn’t really know where in Germany his family had come from, or when. It had never seemed important.
Personally, I was afraid we were at an impasse. I knew that in Mama’s mind, the house of her birth was a sacrosanct memory. I knew because it had been featured in so many of the stories she had told me of her life and her childhood. I felt that I could almost find that home myself.
But this was her search for her past, and nothing was jelling. I was staying out of this phase of the discussion. Harold knew how to avoid pushing the buttons that I always seemed to land on. Ours was a mother-daughter friction developed over the stresses of a lifetime, while theirs was a uniquely close relationship for a man and his mother-in-law.
This trip represented an important turning point in our lives. Zora had been struggling since the death of my father a few years earlier. Diminished and listless,