My
grandmother Rikica Ovadija
My
grandmother Rikica Ovadija was born in Sarajevo in 1913,
just before the First World War. In her life she experienced
three major wars. The last, the civil war in Yugoslavia
in the nineties, forced her to leave her home and triggered
a loss of memory that progressed rapidly. |
My
grandmother was one of the first producers in Radio Sarajevo
where she started working in the late 1940s. She was a
poet, journalist and painter. I grew up with her memories,
from the early days in radio when pots and pans were used
to produce live sound effects of war battles in radio
plays for children; to the days of survival during WWII
war when she bartered her winter coat for a cup of butter
to cure her daughter's illness. I was fascinated by the
story of the Nazi bombing when my grandmother, along the
numerous aunts and cousins, formed part of the refugee
attachment to the partisans, the resistance movement that
fought against Nazi occupation. During that bombing they
were in an improvised kitchen preparing food. As she described
it, when the bombing started, flour and dishes rose into
the air while everyone who could crowded under the tables.
I have forgotten many details but I remember how we laughed
while imagining all these proper ladies of our childhood
crouched under the tables...
Laughter,
tears and melodies are the lasting inventory of our memories;
they survive disappearance or abstraction of facts. In
the documentary “Noces, Noces” my cousin Perla
Ovadija, one of Rikica’s seven grandchildren, preserved
the moments of Rikica's last visit to Canada from Israel
where she died. Her dementia had eroded the memories that
I grew up with. Yet, she sang the romantic lyrics of the
“Adio Kerida” the love romance which Jews
from Sarajevo in my generation love to hear but do not
know how to sing. With my grandmother's death, this romance
about parting lovers which reverberates with nostalgia
for Spain, the land of our ancestors, lost one of its
few authentic interpreters. Loss of her memories contributes
to the loss of our collective memory as well.
I
regret that I never recorded my grandmother's memories.
I had the opportunity to do so while working in Sarajevo
Television but I missed it. Today, I am dedicated to helping
others preserve the memories of their loved ones. Although
facts and dates are important, while producing Memory
Paths I am searching for moments of spontaneity, insight
and true emotion. There, I believe, is where moral truth
and character are revealed. These are the legacies that
will sustain us through the generations.
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