Identity split

So I've been thinking about my identity, partly because it's an element of my studies and partly because I've previously not really known which bits of me are my Croatian-ness and which bits were just Nina-ness.

We were talking in class about mothers being the real head of the family, always telling you how to cut your cheese, which knife to cut bread with, how to clean your clothes, when to change your towel etc, even when you're in your 30s (and presumably 70s too if they're still going strong) and have been doing all these things yourself for years, enjoying your choice of cheese, not quite cutting your fingers off, never being mistaken for a tramp etc. We were talking about mothers and fathers allowing their sons an awful lot more leeway than their daughters when it comes to being trusted to do things for themselves. I had a realisation (prompted by my brother) that this happens when the sons find another woman - their mother appears to trust them, but actually she has just let go, because there is another woman to look after them who can 'advise' on type of cheese to buy, which knife to use, when to wash clothes etc - they have been 'handed over' to another competent woman. The problem with daughters however, unless they're gay and find another woman possibly, is that they they will never have another woman to look after them - no they just have a man to look after. This means that their mother can never relinquish control (sorry, did I say control? I meant, of course, to say 'the advisory role'). Their poor daughter will never be looked after in the manner of their sons and therefore must forevermore be advised by their mothers about cheese, knives and washing. That is how it works. Then, one day, comes the baby talk - how to change nappies, when to feed, how to cook for young ones. It is never ending. I am sure if they were alive, mothers would also advise on funereal arrangements too, and possibly also beyond: how to lie comfortably and beautifully in death, how to avoid drafts while lying in a coffin, appropriate occasions on which to make beyond-the-grave visits to the living and so on.

I am guessing too, that no matter how much I might ignite internally (and sometimes externally) whenever these conversations come round and however much I might swear that I will never do that to my children, the problem is, I know I am always right and so most likely I will see my children doing things as I would not and I will be compelled to tell them so!

So we have a special breed of mother and an outside-Croatia perception of Croats is that they love their mothers (according to research). It is a tight family, at least from the outside, although on the inside of a family there are squabbles that are decades old, where the detail is long forgotten and where the subject matter is usually all about land - who owns that square metre of land under the stairs of the house inherited by five children and split up accordingly. They will fight to the death for ownership of this highly valued piece of land and once it is resolved, it will start all over again with their children because none of the decisions and resolutions were ever legally or formally recorded.

I have just come from lunch at my aunt's where we were eight - me, my Mama, two aunts, one uncle, two cousins, and the son of one of the cousins (minus his four front teeth). It amazes me how I ever learned any Croatian with them around me, because not once sentence was finished and not one word was spoken in isolation. That is, at any given time at least two people were speaking. Not once did anyone take the floor for themselves. In Croatian families at meal time you have to shout to make your story heard and probably more than once, and most likely your story will be told in parts, interspersed with someone else's more urgent words, or some commentary on the truth, practicality, validity, sensibility, or some other -ity of your words, sentence structure, ability to speak your language or tell your story.

This reminds me of one of our lectures about Croatian traits as perceived by non-Croats. Those that I am not proud of (and naturally do not associate with myself) I shall hurriedly list first and then I shall end with the ones that remind me of me and that I consider positive traits, so as to ensure you are left with a sweet taste in your mouth.

The 'bad' ones were corruption and conceitedness, neither of which I associate with myself.

There were also some that I didn't think applied to me that seemed neither good nor bad: patriotic (though I suppose I would need to define what 'home' is to me) and conservative.

The others I felt were wonderful and made me feel like I had come home when I heard them - I felt like I belonged to the people these words described, though of course perhaps my English modesty suggests to me that it is not up to me to say that these are my traits. They were:

• Dreamers, adventurers and explorers
• Individual and stubborn
• Clever, intelligent and capable
• Casanovas/good lovers
• Good looking (in the eye of the beholder - I know some who think I am and when the mirror is being friendly, so do I)
• Honest, faithful and open
• Brave and desirous of justice
• Love of their mothers (indeed, except for the above-mentioned 'advisory role')
• Making sacrifices (for me, for love only)
• Hard working (when required, otherwise balance and fun is as important)
• Hospitable (except when I forget to make the tea I have offered, or only have a tin of tomatoes and one carrot with which to make dinner for my five guests)

This is me and I like that. I wish my language skills were so good that I could jump in and shout quickly, as I do in English, but for now, my conversational skills are limited to groups of four people or less, or those who are polite enough to be quiet while I speak!

Now I must go and study outside in the 33 degree heat, because it is too cold in this house for me and my fingers are cold as I type, while I wear my scarf and wish I had my woolly walking socks on. No, it would seem that 25 degrees is too cold for me.