Split WWII Refugee Tales: A Diary for Puse (Part V)

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Part V of A Dairy for Puse continues on February 7, 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.

I.

July 1925

Uh, it´s been a while from the last entry to Puse´s diary. The first school year is over and it was agreed, that those three extramural students will repeat the first grade, but none of them wanted to hear about it. Actually, their grades were better than those of the most regular students of the first grade, so there was no other option but to declare them qualified for the second grade. Only Miro will have to leave his female colleagues and continue with his small male companions.

July 9, 1925

Puse ran into the room today and asked me: “Mom, what is a friend? What does it mean to be someone´s friend?

“A friend”, I say, “is not a sister, nor a cousin, nor an aunt, but only a fellow girl, who you know well and love, but is not related to you.” Puse was pleased with my answer, because that meant, she do not have to give Olimpija her red ribbon, which her mother uses to tie her natural locks, and which Olipmija wants from her. Why should she give it to her, when she is not related? This way, the problem with generosity, which otherwise is not something Puse would have problems with, was solved. She, actually loves Olimpija very much, but she likes her red ribbon too, so it would be very difficult for her to give her ribbon away just because she would be related to her.

April 25, 1927

During the third grade, Puse suffers from a rheumatic fever for a longer period of time. But she is slowly getting better. We moved her bed to the window and the sun warms her joints. Our little one is patient and watches the swallows, which are flying to the bell tower of St. Dominik and she laughs as they suddenly fly away at once when the bell rings.

Then, she turns to me and asks me: “Mom, what are you reading?”

And her mother was just reading a quote from Schopenhauer about the honour in writing: “Honour and money are not to be found in the same purse”.

Puse really loves sayings and quotes, she often mentions this one: “Think before speaking!”. Therefore, I read the above once again and ask her if she understands what it means.

“Well, that´s an old one”, she says.

I thought that she did not understand well, so I ask her to repeat the quote and she repeats it easily: “Honour and money are not to be found in the same purse”, and she adds: “but, mummy, that is perfectly understandable.”

But what mummy can´t quite understand is that Puse, being so young, already understands these things. Since, they learn sayings in school and she likes them, maybe her intuition has created an idea of a certain morality, which serves as a tool for all the sayings. Or perhaps, to make it more simple, she abstracted the word “honour” and the actual “money” and can´t picture them together.

Patiently she bears this lying in bed and when she gets tired of reading, she asks me to tell her a story. Most of all, she likes to listen to stories about Ivo and Braco, when they were little and asks if they loved sayings too. They did not, but actually they too had funny questions and mummy would tell her about those.

“When Ivo was little, he asked me, if when all those kids grow up one day, will there be no more children in the world.”

“There will be,” I replied, “there will be other little children.”

“And those will grow up too?”

“Yes, they will, and again, there will be new ones.”

“Ah,” he wondered, “but that is like Sunday, Monday, Tuesday… and again Monday, Tuesday,..”

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