A Different Lifetime: Stepping Back in Time in the Former Yugoslavia (4 page)

About a week after the
birth of Arkom and Lenna’s baby, I begin to hear him mention the party he would
be holding at one of the local bars.

“The Toraka, it’s the
Toraka,” I would hear him mention.

“Trevor is one of the
owners of the Toraka,” I heard him later say.

Trevor is the doctor who
had driven us from the airport.

Another time he would say:

“The Toraka is just before
the sandwich shop that we go to.” 

We have been taking it in
turns to fetch food from the sandwich shop for some time now, for which Arkom
has drilled me in how to order in Serbian: ‘Paradise’ for tomato and ‘Luk’ for
onion etc.

Well the night before the
party eventually came, and after the classes were over he turned out the lights
while I waited at the door ready to lock up, as we did every night (Arkom
normally came to the school for a few minutes at the end of the day). But
tonight as we stepped out onto the street, he announced:

“I’m going to have a party
for my baby tomorrow night at the Toraka, and you’re going to come.”

“I am,” I replied, “thank
you.”

“Yes, that’s why I’ve been
telling about where the Toraka is,” he exclaimed. “You will lock up on your own
tomorrow and then come along to the party.”

This is the typically
nice, friendly Arkom, the way he is when he is away from the money worries of
the school.

Well, the evening came; I
locked up the school and made my way to the Toraka. I walked up the steps and
through the door; the room was very crowded, but I was immediately greeted by
Arkom walking across the room towards me.

“What are you going to
have,” he asked. 

“Oh, I’ll have a beer
please,” I replied.

Apparently, it is the
custom within the community that when someone is holding such a celebration, or
if they are celebrating a birthday, they should pay for all of the food and
drink for their guests.

We sat down at his table
in the far corner of the room; I found myself sitting amongst people who had at
least some command of English, which made the experience more enjoyable. At the
table were Lenna’s cousin, the one who owned various shops, Nenny, a person who
I  would  bump into from time to  time particularly when he was collecting his
young son from the school, and a young man whose name I forget, who I shall
call Canada. I remember him as Canada because of the cap that he wore that bore
the name of that particular country. Anyway, Canada spoke fairly good English
and therefore became the main object of the evening’s conversation. Amongst
other things, he told me his brother had managed to go to Canada to live and
had sent him the hat, and that he worked as a bartender at the disco.
Strangely, Lenna is not attending the party; but as no children are present,
perhaps it is the custom for mothers to stay home with children rather than
bring them out late at night.

At one point during the
evening, when some of the guests began to leave, a couple from the next table
moved over to join us. The woman sat down next to me and began to strike up a
conversation:

“My English is not very
good,” she began, and at various point during the conversation she would repeat
the same words.

“Oh, you’re really doing
quite well,” I would reply.

Her command of English
seemed to be her main focal point. I suppose she was in her early to
mid-thirties, she had long dark brown hair and she was wearing glasses. She
told me that she was  from Hungary, but  I’m afraid  I  don’t remember the rest
of what appeared to be quite a long conversation, though I do remember some
brief mention of the gentleman who accompanied her and who was sitting on the
opposite side of her, and who I’m  sure I was never introduced to. I don’t know
what happened next as I was talking to Canada, but I remember hearing raised
voices between the Hungarian woman and her companion. The next thing I remember
is hearing the stamping of feet and the slamming down of a chair, and as I
turned, I saw the Hungarian woman storming out of the room.

“What happened there?” I
asked.

“Oh, she’s crazy,” Arkom
replied.

By now my bottle is empty,
and Nenny calls for the waitress to bring me another. There is some food on the
table, some kind of cheese pastries that have been prepared by Arkom’s mother;
I ate a couple before drinking my second beer. It seems that Arkom had reached
an agreement with Trevor that he would supply his own food and purchase several
crates of beer that would be circulated to the guests. It must now have been
starting to get late as most of the guests were leaving. Arkom stayed for maybe
another twenty minutes and then also left. This now left Canada, Nenny and
myself and the remainder of the beers that had not been consumed. I drank two
more beers over the course of the next thirty minutes. Now that we are the only
customers remaining, we make our way over to sit at the bar. Canada, appearing
to have drunk more than anyone now becomes engrossed in talking to the
waitress, while Nenny is standing alongside him apparently surveying the
situation. I occasionally manage to speak one word here and there; this is
because everyone is now speaking entirely in Serbian and Canada is too busy for
additional conversation, while Nenny for some reason is busy trying to cut into
the on-going interaction between Canada and the waitress, who is now looking
politely bored at having to remain at work so late.

So I decide to comment on
my observations by saying:

“Are you waiting to
leave?”

To which she replied,
“Yes!”

So I suggest to Canada and
Nenny:

“Maybe it’s time we left.”

And after a few minutes
had passed, sure enough, we made our way to the door, closely followed by the
waitress who wastes no time in getting her key into the door and locking it
before equally swiftly disappearing into the distance. Canada shook my hand and
told me that if I ever wanted to go out for a drink to pass the message on
through Arkom (Why do people assume that everything I do should be processed through
Arkom?). I turned to walk towards my apartment, while Canada set of in the other
direction following the path taken by the waitress; Nenny, still closely
monitoring Canada’s actions, appeared to be following a close distance behind
him.

My students are a mixed
bunch. I suppose I could loosely categorise them as those who have sufficient
knowledge of English to learn and those who do not. Though I suppose I should
in all honesty consider that there are the social aspects of attending a class
to take into account, especially in a situation where English has no major
practical use – or at least at this point in time has no practical use.
However, there is general anticipation of change as western culture and values
begin to migrate into Eastern Europe; and therefore, for many people there is a
belief that soon a knowledge of English will be a positive advantage. Those who
do not have the ability to learn are mostly the older adults: those who have no
grounding in English and who have been schooled with Russian as their second
language. The younger students, particularly the teenagers, have had an
introduction to English at school because it has replaced Russian as the taught
second language; this creates quite a divide in the community that leaves those
over thirty generally unable to speak any English at all. Therefore, for me it
is much easier to communicate with the younger members of the community, the
older member being much harder to identify with.

However, there is an
exception to this theory that comprehension is relevant to age.  My most
advanced class range in age from eighteen to forty-eight and they all have a
good command of the language and are taking the class to gain Cambridge
certification. Needless to say, everyone in the class has the necessary
motivation to learn and all of the class members are doing well. And the
greater level of communication that I have with these students has of course
allowed me to get to know them far better.

Bella is always first: at
forty-eight, she is the oldest student in the class, but she is also the most
enthusiastic; she told me that she spends three to four hours a night
practising her English, which means staying up late at night studying after she
has put her young daughter to bed. Mary is the second eldest in the class and
the student with the lowest grades; she finds it almost impossible to study out
of class. Her job as an engineer takes her all over the country and her
responsibilities as a single parent take up the remainder of her time. Glenna,
I imagine is in her thirties, and is a teacher at the local high school. I
don’t know whether she gets to study out of class, but she is always in the top
three; she doesn’t, however, care for writing too much and on occasions tries
to avoid writing the compositions given as homework. Linda on the other hand is
arguably the best writer, even if she does sit for quite some time unable to
think of anything to write. She always considers her rushed effort to finish
will result in an inferior composition, however, on almost every occasion hers
is the best. Linda is a factory worker employed to sew sections of coats
together; she is made to work long, hard hours and is consequently always
tired; her first language is Hungarian, so perhaps her use of Serbian as a
second language and her long hours working in silence account for her
quietness. The two remaining students are gymnasium students: gymnasium is what
in Britain would be upper levels of secondary school or a sixth-form college.
Philmore, the only male student in the class, is a student at the gymnasium
located in the neighbouring town on the opposite bank of the River Tisa and
Icca is at the local gymnasium. Consequently, both of the youngest students
have little time to study because of the demands of their school work; however,
both of them are doing well at English. Philmore also has the added
responsibilities of being an opera singer and it is as a singer that his
ambitions appear to lie. Icca, on the other hand, spends her weekends away from
the local community, travelling to visit her father in the Belgrade.

In addition I have two
classes of teenagers who are all competent speakers of English. They are all
nice kids, albeit sometimes a little rowdy; particularly the older class, the
fourteen and fifteen year olds. They really don’t want to spend their evenings
in class, and I suppose I can understand that. Their class consists of three
girls – Katya, Alysa and Demetra, and two boys – Jorge and Petra. The boys sit
together on one side of the room and the girls sit together on the other; the
layout of the room and the situating of the tables and chairs allow for this.
So this means that I have to focus on one group at a time. If I get the girls
working, the boys will be doing nothing while my back is turned, and if I leave
the girls to their own devices while I supervise the boys, the girls will
abandon everything they are doing in favour of starting some conversation which
will gradually get louder and louder until nothing else is audible. Or if they
are not talking, the girls will sneak their mobile phones out of their bags and
busy themselves sending text messages. However, on most occasions they can be
hard working and are well capable of doing the work required in class. I
attribute this behaviour to age and the fact that their parents are insisting
on them attending these classes, when after a full day at school this is
probably the last thing they would choose to do. But they are not disruptive
children, and they willingly participate in the class when asked.  They all
particularly enjoy a word game called ‘Pantomima,’ which is played with two
teams: a boys’ team and a girls’ team, of course. The object of the game is for
one member of the team in turn to pick a word and mime or give verbal clues for
the other team members to guess.

My other class of juniors,
the twelve and thirteen year olds, is another of my favourite classes. This
class comprises of four girls – Sasha, Delana, Alex and Lara, and one boy –
Mikhail – Arkom’s nephew and son of the owner of the grocer’s and greengrocer’s.
Mikhail being the smallest class member tries to hold his own by correcting the
girls when they are wrong and showing himself to be right, even if he actually
isn’t. These kids, however, have not yet reached the rowdier stage occupied by
the older teens and are much easier to supervise. I have introduced literature
into this class; they have read Robinson Crusoe and Pocahontas aloud in turn
and have quite enjoyed it, and they are usually keen to volunteer to read. They
have also made posters of Robinson Crusoe and some of wild animals that are now
hanging on the classroom walls. For the Robinson Crusoe posters, I awarded a
first prize of a bottle of Coca-Cola and a second prize of a bottle of 7-Up.
Mikhail won first prize by default – he was determined to be finished on time
and before any of the girls, and Delana, whose poster was best of all but ready
a day late, came second.

Today, however, there is
an unexpected surprise for everyone: Delana has decided to celebrate her 13th
birthday in class, and has brought her birthday cake, a large chocolate and rum
gateau, and large bottles of Coca-Cola complete with paper party cups and
plates. Meanwhile, Mikhail has got some ideas of making a film of the
proceedings using his mobile phone, so I have decided to allow him the last
five minutes of class, telling him that he can be the director and the other
class members can be his actors.

My other three classes are
perhaps my least favourite, this is because the students’ level of English is
much lower, which in turn makes it harder to get to know them. The
intermediates are fine now that Turin and Verna have departed leaving the three
sixteen to seventeen year olds – Lilli, Adrijana and Andrej. However, their
book is less than adequate in the fact that it constantly presents situations
for class discussion topics that these students could not possibly have any
knowledge of. In a community where most youngsters have never left the town
they were born in, they have no clue what it is like to travel to places and do
activities that the book discusses. For instance, in a flat, land locked
country there is little chance that anyone has ridden a horse along the beach
or climbed mountains, or has been in a sailing boat, let alone done any of the
more exotic topics such as hang gliding or bungee jumping. So the compromise
that we have come up with is that we will rewrite the questions; Andrej
volunteered the idea when he said:

 “Well, I’ve ridden a
horse across a field, and I’ve been swimming in the river.”

So after that we always
make some compromise to adapt the questions to the students’ real life
experiences. Lilli, however, proudly answered one of the book questions by
describing when she once met a famous person: of course, I have no clue who
this person is, but gladly accept Lilli’s description – his name and what he is
famous for.

On one other memorable
occasion the textbook has a listening exercise that is a recording of Roald
Dahl talking about his experiences at an English public school in the 1930s.
After listening to this rather long conversation, I was greeted with:

“Teacher, we don’t
understand!”

This is hardly surprising
when one considers the archaic vocabulary that the recording contains:
explanations for such entities as blazers, conkers, gobstoppers, tuck shops,
etc. were now required. But even with the various definitions noted down, it is
still a very hard and inappropriate topic for them to understand.

The remainder of my
classes are predominately for adults. The ladies’ class of pre-intermediates
seemed at first to be a class I would enjoy. The four students that comprise the
class are all businesswomen in their forties or early fifties. They at first
seemed also to enjoy the class although their English is barely sufficient to
support them in this class. Only Lalia has anywhere near a high enough level of
English to understand the text book and she will often translate whole passages
for the other three women – Bogdana, Lilli and Dijana. Bogdana and Dijana are
both café owners, and I’m often invited to go for coffee. Of course this
pleasant atmosphere would change once Arkom had decided to take this class over
and teach it himself. But after Arkom’s ideas of teaching their class in
Serbian, I saw Lalia in the street and she was pleased to see me; she certainly
held no bad feelings.

“We all miss your class,”
she said.

She also added that none
of the women were unhappy with the class:

“They just found the new
vocabulary hard,” Lalia added, which of course had always been obvious.

So I’m guessing I was
right all along, and there really had been no problems other than Arkom’s
continued attempts to lower my salary. And of course, I couldn’t but help
relate all of the changes that were taking effect to the warning that Lena had
previously given me.

My other class is with
elementary level students. This class is comprised of an odd mixture of
students: a doctor named Goran, the father of Trevor, who is in his fifties;
another doctor, Jelka, who is in her thirties; a woman in her late twenties,
Draga; and finally a teenage boy, Dusan, who attends the class at irregular
intervals. The text book for this class is published by the same people who
produced the intermediate text book, and consequently the contents are a little
alien to the students. On one occasion in particular, there is a supposedly
funny story which culminates in the main character being revealed to be a
Fed-ex courier. Of course the whole exercise fell flat because no one in the
class had the remotest idea of what a Fed-ex courier is. However, with some
prolonged explaining, miming and relating the character to someone similar to a
postman, they began to understand the humour, and Goran even managed to laugh.
Well, this class is yet another attempt to teach a group of students with
varying ranges of comprehension. Draga often only shows up for one of the
classes most weeks. Goran, while being very keen to learn, has little time
outside of class to practice, and with his current level of English is not able
to understand the text book. Of all the class members, Jelka is the only one
who appears to be making any progress at all.

I suppose there is a kind
of innocence on my behalf: I arrived assuming that everyone had achieved the
level of English that their class required and that everyone would be keen to
learn. What I didn’t appreciate was that I was entering into a situation in
which the students’ fees are the primary purpose of the school. The school
survives because every year the students move to the next level and thus
continue to pay, and essentially many of the students are quite happy with this
situation. I wish that I had been given some kind of indication of what was
expected rather than taking on the full responsibility of running the school
alone and finding things out the hard way. But you have to learn something
about the culture that you’ve placed yourself in before you can understand what
the people of that culture expect.