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ISSN 1409-6900 | UDK 82+7     Blesok no. 41 | volume VIII | March-April, 2005



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SLOVOKULT.DE
KRUG
BALKANI
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                     Peer-reviewed journal
Blesok no. 41March-April, 2005
Prose

Naumče Treneski's Love

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p. 1
Trajan Petrovski

    Solunka Dičoska would enter the cellar where the barrels were, poke a straw through the tap, and take a few sips of brandy. She would not siphon off a lot through the straw, just as much as she wanted, like a man who had been cutting hay, heaping up a dozen mounds. For Solunka Dičoska what is a measure of brandy, made from plums, distilled twice? All day she marches around the house like a slave. She weaves and spins, she strings up tobacco without batting an eye. And no woman is her match when it comes to cooking. When she prepares a meal, you'd bite off your fingers to get at it. That is why she was the main banquet matron at the church of St. Tanasija.
    When there was a feast day Solunka Dičoska would dress up like a bride, in a silver-embroidered blouse, with a Kicevo vest and a fringed scarf, and she would be in front of the house with the women, or at the church with the food. So what if she is sixty-years-old, that she remarried but again became a widow, living in her husband’s house? The face of Solunka Dičoska is as red as a watermelon. Hardy as a thorn bush. Bring her in as a singer and she will brighten your table, let her dance and she will show you some steps. And why shouldn’t she drink plum brandy, boiled, when she is as hardy as a thorn bush? Why shouldn’t she dress every day in a silver-embroidered blouse with a Kicevo vest, when the trunk in the cellar next to the barrels is full of blouses and vests?
    She could die tomorrow, but at least she dressed as she wanted to, she had grieved for years as fate designed, from Turkish and Serbian times till now. She married off her daughters and sons. Now she is a solitary soul, a lone pear, so she lets her mind wander, looks after her older son’s house, but hasn't a care in the world.
    Naumče Treneski looks at her blissfully when she takes off first her vest and her belt, then her skirt, down to her body never touched by the sun, and then she removes a new linen skirt from the case, lined with velvet, putting it on over her head, dons a hand-embroidered blouse with the skirt, puts the belt back over the skirt, and






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