Part III of A Dairy for Puse continues on January 23, 2016, the latest installment of a mother’s diary to her daughter from 1919 – 1953, capturing a moment of Dalmatia and Dalmatian exile in history.
Start at the beginning with Part I here.
December 29, 1919
Puse´s first Christmas behind us! Along a rugged doggy (because those are her favourite), she also got a fine white jacket with a white cap and white spats. As we are currently in the era of the Italian occupation, we nicknamed her “Ardito della fiamma bianca!”. That is how the Italian soldiers in black uniforms are called: “Ardito della fiamma nera”. They are surly walking around and are a sort of a bodyguard in the fascist hierarchy. Ardito means fearless, but our little “Ardito” was very scared today, when she saw the “špacakamin” – chimney sweep for the first time in her life. Black from head to toe from smoke and soot with a large brush and black wires. She froze, but did not cry, watching him persistently. That was, until he stretched his hands towards her, those black hands wanted to reach her. Well, then was time for some real crying and wailing.
February 11, 1920
Our little one is one year old today. Her first birthday! She received some dolls, but her favourite birthday present is a certain Italian in a uniform with a tricolour on his cap. Could be because it is a soldier toy. Italians have the most original toys. She is crawling on the floor the whole day and poking the wall for pieces to put in her mouth to nibble on, but the doctor says, it is because of her lack of calcium. Instinctively, she found herself a cure, but also instinctively and to defend herself, when she gets angry, she would fist fight or scratch with nails. Suddenly, a big role plays her index finger. She points towards everything she learns and is so imperative in wanting that particular thing, that the little finger just won´t settle until she gets what she aimed for. She likes the soldier and she likes to command.. “Which regiment are you going to belong to one day?”, says Braco to her.
March 9, 1920
Hooray! Puse can walk! Between Ivo and Braco, she made her first small steps. It was on a thick carpet, but as soon as she repeated it on the parquet floor, she slipped and banged on the floor. She did not cry. On the contrary, Ivo wanted to help her, but she just never wants anyone’s help. She struggles to get up until she manages it by herself and then, she gives us that triumphant look.
March 20, 1920
Our little one loves singing and any rhythm. The rhythm in particular. The other day, the alarm clock suddenly wouldn’t stop ringing and she immediately began to rhythmically tap her feet on the floor, knelled down and raised up again to the rhythm. Where did she get it from? From which secret source does she carries the rhythm within herself?
And what to thing about her innate pride? As soon as you raise your voice at her, or threaten her a bit, let alone if you admonishingly pat her on her fingers, such an endless crying occurs, that there is no way to calm her down. Neither cuddles, nor gentle words work, nothing would help until she would fall asleep, and even then she would sob and sigh in her sleep.
Mom has therefore decided, that she will under no circumstances taunt her, let alone pat her, to keep her sensitivity intact.. Will it be for better or worse?
