We grew up at God’s will, only he was protecting us
The childhood memories of Vasilka Kircheva
The first thing I remember from my childhood…
I remember when my stepdad came in a cart with his 4 kids and all their luggage. It was 1950, I was 3 years old and I had no idea what is happening and why he came with his family to live with us. In total, we were 6 kids and 2 parents.
I was born in the village of Lyuliakovo in July 1947. My mother, pregnant at that time, was in the fields, working with my father. And at some point, she started having cramps. My father told her to go home immediately concerned she wouldn’t make it on time. She had an apron so she thought: “If something happens, I’ll put the baby in my apron.” She managed to go back home and there were both her mom and my dad’s mother. By the time they got some warm water to deliver me, I was already born.
My mother and father loved each other a lot. My teacher told me once: “If I could write a book, I would write it about the love that your mother and father had.” My dad was very handsome, 2 meters tall… I have his picture. Only one single picture I have left of him. He got sick in December 1947 when I was only 6 months old. He died from meningitis.
After that, in 1949, my mother got married again. She had land and kids to take care of, it was the years after the war. So, she got married to my stepfather — Todor. He was a very hardworking and kind person.
They set up a room for all of us, the kids. There was a huge furnace which made the whole house very warm. They made beds out of wooden planks and mattresses from the soft corn leaves for us. Even though we were that many kids, we never lacked anything. My stepdad was always working. He was a shepherd and took care of 260 sheep. He was paid very well and we managed to build a second house too.
I also remember my grandfather. Every time I went to visit him, he was always reading. He would tell me to come to him, I would sit by his feet on the floor and I would ask him to tell me a story. I loved listening to the different stories he told me about his life and the war.
My mother used to play in the local theater in leading roles. She also organized all women, gathered them in our house and they taught each other how to knit and cook.
The school in Lyuliakovo was until 7th grade only. When I had to go to 8th grade I had to stay at a dormitory [in the town of General Toshevo] and we couldn’t pay for it. But I didn’t give up so easily. What was I supposed to do in the village? I wanted to study more. So my mother managed to arrange my living accommodations for 8th grade at our relatives’ house in town. I was so happy. But then 9th grade came and I had to move to a dormitory. My stepdad said we couldn’t afford it. So I asked him to buy me a bike.
Then I started going to school by bike. I was riding my bike for 10 kilometers both directions every day. Going back was easy but in the mornings, I had to be at school at 6:45 AM. It was good when the weather was warm but when it started getting cold it was very hard to bike. I remember once when I was going back home, I was not with the bike, I don’t remember why. So, at the end of General Toshevo, I was trying to hitchhike, it was too cold and it was snowing. A truck stopped by, and I asked if they can drop me off at Lyuliakovo. The first question the driver asked me was: “Do you have parents?” I was so surprised by this question. I guess what he meant is if I have parents why am I on the street in the cold winter. So that’s how I went to school all through 11th grade.
Many times I have thought to myself that we grew up at God’s will, only he was protecting us.
We didn’t have many opportunities to study, there was too much work. My mom would immediately start giving me chores: “Take out the ducks, go to the fields to make hay piles.”
I loved animals. I was taking care of the ducks and the chickens. I used to go with them in the field, lie down on the meadow, look at the larks in the sky, and be amazed by how they were flying and the freedom they had.
In the late fall when everyone was brewing rakia, the fermented leftovers from the rakia were trashed near our house. And our ducks ate them. When grandma went to check on them she found all of our ducks laying on the ground. She thought they’re poisoned and long gone. So she wanted to at least pluck their feathers for pillows. After she did that she put them by the local junkyard. They couldn’t eat the ducks because after all, they were “dead”. But around noon they started waking up and they came home, one by one, naked, not a single feather on them. So that’s when they figured out that the ducks were alive and just got drunk from the fermented leftovers. They eventually grew their feathers back.
Once my mother beat me because of the ducks. My sister was supposed to take care of them that day but she went somewhere, leaving the little ducks on their own. I just came back from school and I saw that they went to drink water from under the sink behind the house. But the water there accumulated in a very small space, that was deep. So the first ducks that went to drink water couldn’t get out because the other ducks went right after them. And many of them drowned. At this moment my mom came back home from work and as she saw them, she started scolding me. I was crying, not because of my mom’s anger but because of the ducks that drowned. My aunt told my mom it was not my fault. My mom knew that but she explained to me that she couldn’t scold my stepsisters because they were not her children. And I was often scolded because of their mischiefs.
Another time my mother sent me to get the coat from our neighbors. But I was so scared of the neighbors’ dog. It was a huge breed like a white wolf. My mom assured me that the dog was tied and it was safe to go. So, I went but I couldn’t see anything behind the tall fence. I was planning to open the front door carefully and if the dog was there, I would close it quickly so it wouldn’t get to me. But the dog had torn off its collar and was waiting for me by the door. So when I opened the door it jumped on me. I started screaming and I curled into a ball so I could take its weight. The neighbors heard me and came to get the dog off me and then took me home.
When my brother came back home and found out what happened to me, he was very worried and started crying. He scolded my mom for sending me in particular since everyone else was back home. Again she told me she couldn’t send the others because they were her stepchildren. I had very deep wounds on my neck and shoulders from the dog’s teeth and there was blood but I didn’t feel any pain. I don’t know why.
We also had a very diverse cultural life. Back then people had heart and soul. They didn’t look at material things and money. They were happy as long as they had everything they needed. They helped each other a lot. The whole neighborhood used to gather every night to help each other. One night we would go to one of our neighbor’s houses and we would start helping with whatever they needed help with. The women knitted and the men helped with the heavier work. So they did this until they reached the last house instead of everyone doing their chores by themselves. That’s how united we were. People were very kind back then…
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Vesselina Tasev is a Journalism and Mass Communication student at American University in Bulgaria. She interviews elderly people about their life and memories from the past.
