SOFIA in WAR and LOVE

By Nada Telarevic

As Sofia enjoys a happy childhood with her friends Tijana, Jela, and Kata,  her frail and poor classmate, Niko, suddenly disappears, leaving Sofia with many unanswered questions and emotions.

Despite being born into a poor family, Sofia adores school and dreams of becoming a teacher. However, her life takes a different turn after her father's death and with the Second World War looming. At the age of fifteen, she joins a group of young city schoolkids eager to fight the Fatschizm, change the world and build a better future. Tragically, at seventeen, she must seek refuge with the partisans, where she meets an old friend who takes her breath away and gives her a reason to live.

But how can she look to the future in such turbulent times?

• Language: English
• Publisher: Nada Telarevic
• Release date: Jan 3, 2022
• ISBN: 9798201928247

Book preview

ONE

The year 2010

AS MAYA UNLOCKED THE trunk of her Volkswagen Golf 4, a confident smile spread across her face. She pulled out the huge box filled with her latest project and strode towards the elevator.

With evening fast approaching, Maya quickly prepared a festive dinner, eagerly anticipating the arrival of her family and friends. She couldn’t help but smirk, knowing that the mysterious package in her bedroom held the key to the secret she had been keeping all year long. The time had finally come for her to reveal her achievement and show the world what she was capable of.

As soon as dinner was finished, she dashed into the bedroom and retrieved a mysterious box, placing it in the middle of the living room. She cleared her throat to ensure everyone was giving her their full attention. Her mother, grandmother, grandfather, and two friends all turned to look at her with curiosity.

‘I know you’ve all noticed my secrecy this year. It’s finally time to find out why.’ Maya opened the box and put her hand inside. ‘Allow me to present to you my first book.’

‘Oh!’ Everyone sighed in surprise.

‘But tonight,’ Maya continued, ‘I don’t want you to concentrate on me and my success. I want you to focus all your attention on her.’

‘Who is she?’ Maya’s grandmother asked curiously.

Maya smiled mysteriously as her eyes settled on her grandmother’s. ‘She is a girl, a woman, and a fighter.’ She raised the book in front of her. ‘She is Sofia.’

Everyone gazed at the young woman on the front page. Grandma’s eyes watered as Maya handed out copies and opened the book, ready to read.

THE YEAR 1931.

SOFIA DASHED OUT ONTO the dusty street, her eyes fixed down the road, where she expected her father to appear at any moment. The heat bounced off the pebbles and rose in the air, while a few dry leaves hovered in front of her as if in an airless space.

In the last few days, the blistering summer wave spread over a large part of Yugoslav country, mainly its central region. The scorching wind burned grass and crops around the small town of Brcko and northern Bosnia.

‘Sofia, come inside!’ Sofia’s mother’s voice came from the garden. ‘The sun is still hot; you can get burned.’ Draga was fighting to save some vegetables, watering the greenery with water from the well. Plums and apples in the orchard were falling from the branches, unripe and burned.

‘But, mom, everyone’s already playing outside.’ Sofia protested. ‘I want to wait here for my tata.’

Although the evening was approaching, the sun burned her bare hands as intensely as in the middle of the day. But thanks to the darker complexion she inherited from her father, her seven-year-old skin was a bit protected from the strong sun’s rays. Otherwise, she was a mixture of her parents. Black hair and green eyes were a gift from her father, while she inherited the dimples on her face, curly hair, and plump body from her mother.

As she watched down the street, her yellow loose dress fluttered around her in the wind like a flag on a flagpole. She rubbed her head, feeling the sun’s rays burn her, then turned around and ran towards her mother.

Draga was by the well in the middle of the garden, carefully pouring water into a bucket, which stood on an old wooden bench.

‘I have to be careful not to water the pebbles around,’ Draga said, looking at the leaves of green vegetables hanging almost lifeless on both sides of the footpath that ran through the middle of the garden. Next to the path lay two rows of dried flowers, which decorated the garden on spring days and attracted bees and butterflies.

Alarmed by Sofia’s running, several chickens jumped out of the shadows and ran after her. The goat bleated, anticipating the action in the garden.

‘Everyone wants water, but there is hardly any in the well,’ complained Draga. ‘We need rain; otherwise, we will all die like these flowers.’

Living on the outskirts, they kept several animals on the property. A chicken coop, a pigsty, and a goat shed hid behind a small plum orchard mixed with apple trees.

Sofia handed her a yellow ribbon. ‘Mama, can you tie my hair? My neck is all wet.’ She said and turned her back.

Draga first wiped her hands with her apron and then Sofia’s neck and threw a few kisses over it. ‘Honey, if you want to stand in front of the house, find some shade,’ she said as she tied her hair.

Sofia hopped towards the house to find her little hat while the tied ribbon fluttered as if a large butterfly had landed on her head. Instead of wearing the little hat, she crumpled it up and threw it in the air like a ball. Several times, her crumpled ball ended up among the roses and irises, leaning against the wall. The tall flowers made the house look like it had grown out of colourful flower beds. It was a miracle how Mama kept them alive in the heat while the low marigolds and pansies lay lifeless along the footpath.

Preoccupied with her game, Sofia occasionally glanced down the street, expecting her father to appear around the corner. Several one-story houses lined up along the street resembled each other as if they were the work of the same builder. Although small and unremarkable, some houses were surrounded by flowers and a neat yard, while others looked neglected, with piles of old rusty things scattered in the overgrown dried grass.

Sofia noticed her best friend Tijana hitting the ball against the wall and catching it in the third yard behind the fence. Tiana was only a year older and had the best toys in the entire neighbourhood. Sofia's mother said that Tiana’s parents were wealthy because her father worked in a hospital as a doctor, and her mother was a teacher. They probably were rich since they kept showering Tiana with the most beautiful toys and dresses.

To own clothes and toys like Tiana, Sofia could only dream. She was fifth in line to her parents, who never went to school. Only her dad worked in the factory, for low pay, while they saved every penny.

Sofia caught Tiana’s gaze and motioned to come.

Tiana immediately came running, covered in tiny pearls over her sweaty forehead. She brushed away a few dark brown curls stuck to her damp face. The rest of her hair spilled over her back, covering her purple T-shirt, tucked neatly into her shorts.

‘I’m waiting for my tata to come home. What are you doing?’ Sofia asked, still concentrating on catching her hat.

Tiana shrugged. ‘Nothing.’ Her black eyes widened. ‘Do you want to play something?’

‘Like what?’

‘We could play hide and seek.’

‘We could, but it would be more interesting if there were more of us.’ Sofia quickly glanced across the street to see if they could invite anyone else. ‘I see Azra over there.’ She pointed to the house across the street, where a blonde girl was peeking through the wooden fence. ‘Let’s invite her.’

Tiana turned and shouted to draw Azra’s attention.

Azra eagerly opened the gate and sprinted towards them as if she feared missing out on the game. Despite being a few years younger, it seemed like she was always eager to join their group.

When the three of them played, Sofia’s mother always said they looked like sisters with curly hair. Only Azra’s hair was much lighter, almost white. And her eyes were blue like the sky, and her mouth pink like white cherries. She looked thin and delicate. Azra and her parents recently moved from a village she called Brnik and pointed somewhere towards the mountains. She said her dad was planning to start a business in the city and sell animal products.

Even though Tiana’s invitation was intended only for Azra, another girl hurried to join them. As soon as Tiana saw her, she turned to Sofia, ‘Oh, Kira is coming too! I hate playing with her. She is always in command. She will spoil our game.’

‘I know Kira. Sometimes, her mother visits my mama and always talks about other people. She knows everyone.’

‘Shut up, she’s almost here,’ Tiana whispered.

Chubby Kira looked more like a boy with short reddish hair, brown eyes and freckles all over her face that resembled a turkey egg. She and Tijana have already finished the first grade. Tiana was taller, and Kira had a stronger body. ‘What are you playing?’ Kira asked a few steps before joining them.

‘Nothing,’ Tiana said. ‘We talked.’

‘What were you talking about?’ Kira asked.

‘About how you’re going to come and tell us what to play.’

When Sofia heard what Tiana said, she turned around and giggled, covering her mouth with her hands. Azra copied her and giggled, too. Kira’s face twisted into an angry expression, seeing the two girls sneer at her. She couldn’t resist pushing little Azra, muttering through her teeth, ‘What are you laughing at; what’s so funny?’

Sofia jumped out with her arms outstretched, shielding Azra from Kira. Tiana broke through, ‘Don’t push her! Can’t you see she’s small?’

‘Why is she giggling?’ Kira lowered her voice, seeing she couldn’t win against Tiana and Sofia together.

Preoccupied with petty quarrels, the girls barely noticed other events around them. Kira stopped first and stared at the approaching carriage. Following her gaze, all the girls stared in the same direction.

A horse-drawn carriage swayed slowly along the street with a dark-skinned driver in the front seat, holding the horse’s reins and a stick. In front of him, a lame horse limped along, pulling an oval tent that covered the rear of the carriage full of women and children. The exhausted animal in the heat looked like a skeleton with ribs almost sticking out through the thinned skin.

All the children feared the Roma carriages that were a frequent sight in their street. The older children said the Roma used to go around the towns and villages in their carriages and only worried about how they would survive by begging for food and money. The men would sometimes do some repairs around the houses, and the women somehow knew what was going to happen, reading the palms of the hands. Some girls from the street secretly gave them eggs in exchange for finding out who would be their future husbands. Sofia’s mother said that most Roma women make up stories along the way. Only a few of them knew about black magic, and they should be avoided.

A man wearing a loose, dark T-shirt sat in front, barely visible under his shabby clothes. A huge hat that covered his face resembled a magician’s cone resting on his ears.

Staring at the man, Kira muttered: ‘Those are the ugly gypsies!’

The frightened girls stared with wide eyes at the man who greeted them, revealing his toothless smile.

Kira seemed to be waiting for revenge for the previous snickering. She leaned over Azra and whispered in a ghostly voice. ‘They’re going to steal you and eat you for dinner.’ Seeing Azra’s frightened face, Kira smiled contentedly and ran towards her house.

Terrified, Azra hurried to hide behind Sofia’s back, muttering through her tears: ‘Some say that gypsies steal children and make soap out of them!’

Sofia and Tijana stood motionless, staring at the carriage, not noticing that Azra grabbed a stone from the road and threw it at the back of the carriage full of women and children. A stone hit something wrapped in a lap through the tent’s raised side. The sudden baby’s cry woke the sleeping women and caused a commotion. With a hand raised threateningly, the baby’s mother yelled, causing an older woman to spin around and spit at the shocked girls. Splashed with saliva on their faces, they grabbed stones and threw them at the chariot. The old woman stood up and started shouting, pointing her finger at the girls like a witch.

Sofia’s mother, all sweaty, dashed out from behind the house. ‘What in God’s name is going on here?’ she cried, still holding the bucket in her hand. Anger filled her eyes as she glared at the carriage full of enraged women shouting at the little girls.

‘They spat on us!’ Sofia hurried to complain, afraid her mother would scold her.

Draga spread her arms and pulled the frightened girls to her, protecting them like a hen protects her chicks.

As the carriage departed, she stood with a stern face while the girls clung to her. ‘Those were gypsies. They are usually good people, but they can also be nasty. Do not argue with them!’ They waited until the carriage had disappeared around the corner, and then Draga led the girls into the yard and washed their faces.

Since the sudden event spoiled their intention to play and Azra was still afraid to return home alone, Draga hugged her, and they all went to Azra’s gate together.

Hearing the rattling of the gate, an elderly woman appeared from behind the house, dressed in a Muslim hijab with a veil on her head. When she saw who was at the gate, she revealed her face and smiled, ‘Oh, you brought my granddaughter.’

‘We did. A gypsy carriage was passing by. Some of them shouted and scared the girls. How are you in this heat?’ Draga asked.

‘I can barely breathe,’ sighed the old woman, pressing her chest. ‘I was in the garden; everything was fried. Dear Allah, what will we eat this year?’

‘Some people are talking about the economic crisis. We didn’t need this damned heat in addition to all the hunger and poverty!’

‘Huh, what crisis? All I remember in my life is the crisis.’ The woman waved her hand and walked away, swaying her hips towards the house.

Sofia and her mother escorted Tiana to her gate, ensuring both girls were safe. As they headed back home, her mum wrapped her arm around her.

Although the house appeared small from the outside, the clever interior design utilized every corner. A short corridor from the front door led to the living room, the heart of the house, which also served as a kitchen and dining room. To the left, two doors led to the bedrooms. One for boys and the other for girls. Since two of Sofia’s sisters were already married and one brother slept in the summer kitchen, Sofia and her brother Savo enjoyed an entire room to themselves. One window from the living room looked at the garden behind the house, and the other, on the opposite wall, looked at the street. Next to the window, there was an old, run-down sideboard, and to the right was the pantry door. Her mother's handicrafts, scattered throughout the room, added warmth and charm to the old furniture.

‘What about Dad?’ Sofia stopped in disappointment as they entered the house. ‘I didn’t wait for him!’

‘You will wait for him tomorrow,’ said her mother in an absent tone, still upset about the incident with the Roma. She thoughtfully approached the table and reached for the candlestick. She lit a candle and crossed herself. After whispering a prayer, she headed for the stove. ‘What should I cook for dinner with the little I have?’ she asked herself aloud.

TWO

BEFORE SOFIA FELL ASLEEP, she looked at her mother: ‘Mama, if I fall asleep, please wake me up when tata arrives.’

‘Okay, okay,’ Draga promised, but when tata came home late, she knew she would regret waking her up again.

Most evenings, Sofia would fall asleep before seeing him. Also tired from the long day, she didn’t know her father worked twelve hours a day. She didn’t know how frequently his employers asked him to stay even longer. And even less did she know that no one cared about paying her dad more for overwork, nor did they care about his little girl, eagerly waiting for him at home.

If she stayed awake until his arrival, he would often fall asleep in the chair during dinner. Mama would see his head tilted to the side, so she would wake him up and help him to the bed. Sofia would never find him in bed the next morning since his new workday started early in the morning.

Sofia’s dad moved from the countryside to the city—as her mom said—in search of a better life. He managed to get a job in the factory. He said that they were producing some spirit, and for the production, they used corn and some other grains that grew in the nearby area.

Her father was a tall and healthy man with a muscular body, but as mama said, the difficult conditions had exhausted and destroyed his health. That his exotic charm gradually faded, sucked out by a hard life and constant poverty. Sofia didn’t know what mama meant, but she loved it when tata was relaxed and joking with her. Only she remembered that less and less. She loved it when he read and told her stories even though he said he didn't go to school and taught himself to read and write.

Although she noticed her dad sometimes looked hopeless—probably because of his hard work—she always felt his love for everyone in the family, especially when he said he wanted his children to live happier lives. She especially enjoyed it when he talked about her and how curious and intelligent, she was. He and her mother thought that one day, she would become a teacher.

SOFIA DID NOT KNOW why her parents chose Grcica as the ideal place to raise their five children. Maybe because it was a quiet suburb south of Brčko and had the feeling of village life, only a thirty-minute walk from the city centre.

One day, her father drew a map to introduce her to the most important parts of the city and its surroundings. Sofia studied the map thoroughly and knew by heart almost every city street, some important buildings, two rivers and the promenades next to them. She especially liked listening to her dad’s stories about the city’s history.

The city lay on the southern bank of the Sava River between two agricultural regions. Semberija stretched over the east, and Posavina over to the west side.

The largest river through the Yugoslav territories, Sava, played a significant role in the city's water transport, among roads and railways. Another smaller river, Brka, passed through Brčko, dividing the western suburbs from the city. The clear water flowed from a spring and the slopes of the nearby Majevica mountain and gargled through the Brka’s riverbed, which joined the Sava near the city centre. The last bridge across the estuary was a favourite meeting place for young people. An inviting promenade, several shops and a club surrounded the bridge. The Croatian territory, Slavonia, stretched from the Sava to the north and was connected to the city by two bridges.

Under the rule of the Turkish Ottoman Empire for four hundred years, the city's economy lagged far behind Europe. As soon as the Turks retreated in the nineteenth century, another European empire covered the weakened Balkan countries. At least, Austro-Hungarian Empire enriched the city with several more modern buildings and schools. However, the economy still suffered from poor agriculture around the city. Petty businesses, such as tailoring, shoemaking, goldsmithing, pottery, and other craft shops throughout the city, employed only a small percentage of the population.

Like any younger sister, Sofia learned most things by copying her older brother of two years, Savo. With fair skin, blond hair, and brown eyes, Savo looked the most like their mother. Her other brother, fourteen-year-old Marko, learned the trade and worked as an apprentice in a tailor's workshop to become a master. From their appearance, no one would say the two of them were brothers. Marko had a darker complexion, black, curly hair, and green eyes, just like Dad and Sofia.

Mara and Dana, Sofia’s two older sisters, were already married in the villages near the mountain. Sofia often looked out the window towards the mountains and imagined what her sisters were doing. It puzzled her that the distant mountains look blue. Once, she asked, ‘Daddy, are those mountains blue?’

‘They are not blue; they are green,’ her dad answered.

‘How? They look blue from my window.’ Sofia was trying to understand.

‘Because we know that mountains are made of trees. And we know trees are green, right?’ Her father tried to simplify the answer and make it easier for her to understand.

‘But then, why do I see blue if they are green?’ Sofia asked, confused.

Her father scratched his head and stared at the sky, thinking of an answer. ‘Okay, do you see how the sky is blue? And the sky is made of air. That means the air is blue. Looking at the distant mountains, we see a lot of air in front of them. That’s why we see a lot of blue. Do you understand now, or will you ask me again tomorrow?’ Her father smiled and touched her nose with his finger.

‘I will. I'll remember it from now on.’ She replied happily.

She didn’t know at the time that her father wasn’t sure if that was the correct explanation, but it was the simplest. She was much more curious than his other children. He looked at her and muttered, ‘When you grow up, I’ll ask you the same question and see what you will answer.’

THE NEXT DAY, WHEN Sofia woke up and noticed that her father had slipped away from seeing him again, something gripped her inside her chest. The tears welled in her eyes when she looked for her mother. ‘I missed seeing Dad again last night.’

‘You fell asleep before he arrived.’ Draga caught her under the armpits and lifted her into her arms.

‘I asked you to wake me up. I never see my daddy. He is always working.’ Her lips trembled as she complained, barely holding back her tears. She loved her mother too, but no one could compensate for her father’s hugs and his magical stories.

‘I know, my love, we all miss him,’ Mama sighed, ‘Life is hard.’

A slice of bread smeared with cream on the table and a cup of hot goat’s milk reminded Sofia that she had to go to school. ‘Okay, mama, I have to get ready.’

In her life, school was the most important and exciting thing. She couldn’t wait to see her friends, and besides, every morning, she wondered what she would learn that day. Everything else was secondary.

After two hours in the classroom, the sound of the bell announced recess. Groups of girls and boys immediately scattered around the playground, busy with various games.

Sofia’s eyes flew across the yard until she spotted Jela and Kata playing with the rope. She ran to join them and grabbed the rope to swing it in a circle while Kata jumped in the middle. As soon as Kata got tangled in the rope, Sofia jumped in her place. ‘Now it’s my turn,’ she cheered.

They took turns until the bell rang again, and all the children rushed to the school entrance. They gathered in several rows and waited for the teacher to let them in. Sofia noticed some commotion, but soon, the teacher arrived and let them all enter.

Immediately after entering the classroom, two boys got into a fight. Oscar, the biggest boy in the class, used to bully the weaker boys, pushing them around. The tiniest but prettiest boy, Niko, came to school every day in the same faded shirt and big, ripped pants that hung on his little body, covering his bare feet.

Unlike Niko, Oscar came from a wealthy family and did not understand or love poor Niko at all.

While the children ran to their seats, a crowd suddenly formed in the middle of the class. They started cheering, exhilarated by the fight. Sofia pushed through to check what was happening. It seemed in all that pushing, Oscar’s clumsy, giant shoe landed on Niko’s bare toe. Niko closed his eyes, whining through his teeth, as he pushed Oscar away from him. ‘Why don’t you watch where you step with those clumsy feet of yours?’ With his face contorted, he bent down to hug the toe.

Oscar angrily grabbed his shoulders and pushed him back, ‘Why do you come to school when you have nothing to wear?’

Niko stumbled backwards, hitting the chair. Blood from his nose covered his mouth and began to drip on his shirt. But he remained on the floor, uninterested in the fight and embarrassed in front of the whole class as he wiped the blood with his sleeve.

Sofia ran over with her handkerchief to wipe the blood from his face.

Oscar strutted in victory until he saw Sofia kneeling next to Niko. He laughed sarcastically, ‘You’re his girlfriend, and he’s your boyfriend,’ mocking and yelling for everyone to hear.

The children burst out laughing. Sofia glanced at the girls, expecting support. Instead of Jela and Kata, the other girls whispered in each other’s ear. Laughter and whispers made her blood boil. She stood up and snapped at Oscar, ‘He’s not my boyfriend! But you are an idiot.’ She looked at the other children with wide eyes. ‘What is it? Are you enjoying watching our friend bleed? Shame on you!’ She turned furiously, intending to leave, but Oscar’s hands pushed her from behind. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet.

‘I’m not an idiot. I’m strong, and I can beat you and your boyfriend.’ Shouted Oscar, legs and fists spread, ready to fight.

‘You can’t beat me, and you never will!’ Sofia gritted her teeth and pounced on him, pushing him back. He staggered backwards and hit the floor. While rubbing his sore spot, tears welled in his eyes.

None of the students noticed when the teacher entered and saw Sofia push Oscar. He slammed the diary on the table and shouted for the children to sit. Sofia ran to her chair in the first row, but the teacher’s hand stopped her. ‘No, miss, you’re coming with me,’ he said and grabbed her ear.

‘I didn’t do anything!’ a stunned Sofia protested, gritting her teeth in pain.

‘Yes, yes, I saw you.’ The teacher waved the boys to follow them, and he dragged Sofia behind him to the principal’s office. Sofia clenched her teeth in pain but also out of spite. She had never experienced violence at home, and she never imagined she would experience it at school. Tugging a student by the ear was a common occurrence that no one paid attention to. In the principal’s office, the teacher pushed her in front and said, ‘I caught her beating two boys.’

She stood in an unknown room for the first time. The principal sat in an upholstered chair behind a large oak desk with a stack of papers in front of him and a globe to his right. Round glasses hung over his long nose, too long for his thin face. With an enormous hairy mole sticking out in front of his right ear, he resembled a witch from children’s stories. She swallowed, staring at him.