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My father built our new house around 1930. I remember how my parents carried whitewash and bricks. Before that we had lived in a ramshackle house that was in the same place. It was used after the new house was built by my father as an instrument shed. Our new house was very beautiful, one of the most beautiful in the town. Then, while it was being built, my brother was three years old and according to the belief his jerry had to be thrown in the basement so that the house would be strong. When the jerry was thrown my mother fell down and broke her head. Blood started dripping and it’s believed that our house was so beautiful because of the blood at its base.
It was a storey and a half. There was also a big cellar where my father liked keeping wine and watermelons until Fruitas, which was usually at the end of January or the beginning of February. And it was known by all the people in Pazardzhik that watermelons could be preserved and kept fresh in our cellar for a long time. And at Fruitas, when the fruits were given out, he would also give out slices of watermelon.
It was a high cellar that we used instead of a fridge. There were cupboards covered with net to prevent draught. There we used to keep our cheese, yellow cheese, the cooked dishes because there were no fridges at the time. We used to cook on burning coal. Apart from the fireplace in the kitchen we also had some little braziers. And we used to cook on them. And above the cellar was the storey with the rooms for living: a hall, a big room in the middle, two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The toilet was outside. Apart from the cellar we also had a room at the top with a little terrace: an attic. I prepared for all my exams in this little room in the attic. It was a place for relaxation. A piece of paradise where you could be alone. And there was this beautiful staircase that led from the entrance to the hall.
In the hall there was a straw table and two straw armchairs. When the interned people came from Sofia [12] and we accepted them they said that one of the most beautifully furnished houses was ours. After the hall you entered the big living room, a sitting room with a big table in the middle, and a massive square table with big greenish oilcloth chairs. They were covered with oilcloth, not with upholstery. And I was made to wipe the dust every day. There was a lot of dust in Pazardzhik. On two sides of the living room there were doors: one to my parents’ bedroom and the other to the children’s bedroom. My father had that dream. After returning from the war he got married and bought, maybe two second-hand beds. They were made of metal, dark-red in color. In the bedroom there was also a dressing table with three mirrors that could be folded and a wardrobe and a cabinet that were red, too. In the living room, apart from the table and the chairs, there was also a sofa covered with oilcloth, like the chairs, and a dark-red cabinet. That color that was as dark as wine and reminded me of velvet. That’s how I remember it.
After some years had elapsed I know that my father went to Plovdiv to buy linoleum for the floor because it was made of boards. My mother took great pains to clean it; she rubbed the boards with a roof-tile in order to preserve the light color. So my father covered them with very beautiful linoleum. People visited us just to see it. Its edges were covered with typical Bulgarian embroidery. The children’s bedroom was opposite. There were two beds opposite each other and a table between them. There were also some chairs and a wardrobe where we kept our linen and underwear.
We used a stove on coal for heating. Sometimes my father bought anthracite coal, which burned energetically and didn’t produce so much ash because my mother had to clean the ashes every day. It was a difficult life.
We also had a maid: a girl my age, the daughter of a soldier, who knew my father from the Second Balkan War. She was from a nearby village. She used to help with the shopping and the washing.
There was a garden around the house. At a certain time we kept some hens but later we got rid of those animals. But, on the other hand, the garden was full of roses. My mother was known to be a great gardener. We had orchard trees and a lot of quinces. We were known for our quinces as well; they looked like apples and you could eat them immediately after picking them from the tree. They were very nice and juicy. And the trees were all over the garden. Half of the garden was tiled; the other half was left with the earth. And we used to light fires in the earth part of the garden to boil the tomato sauce, and the jams for the winter. My mother used to have some of those very big pots called ‘payla.’ It wasn’t something that all our neighbors owned. Our neighbors next door waited for my mother to finish cooking to borrow it. That was how they rotated the ‘payla’ to one another. The last one to use it washed it and returned it afterwards.
Our house was the only one, which was painted in red. We were surrounded by Jews. There were little doors in the fences between the houses and we could move freely from one house to another, but there were ordinary wooden doors to the street. We didn’t even lock them. The neighbors could just press the handle and enter. We kept in touch mainly with my father’s relatives.
It was a storey and a half. There was also a big cellar where my father liked keeping wine and watermelons until Fruitas, which was usually at the end of January or the beginning of February. And it was known by all the people in Pazardzhik that watermelons could be preserved and kept fresh in our cellar for a long time. And at Fruitas, when the fruits were given out, he would also give out slices of watermelon.
It was a high cellar that we used instead of a fridge. There were cupboards covered with net to prevent draught. There we used to keep our cheese, yellow cheese, the cooked dishes because there were no fridges at the time. We used to cook on burning coal. Apart from the fireplace in the kitchen we also had some little braziers. And we used to cook on them. And above the cellar was the storey with the rooms for living: a hall, a big room in the middle, two bedrooms, a living room and a kitchen. The toilet was outside. Apart from the cellar we also had a room at the top with a little terrace: an attic. I prepared for all my exams in this little room in the attic. It was a place for relaxation. A piece of paradise where you could be alone. And there was this beautiful staircase that led from the entrance to the hall.
In the hall there was a straw table and two straw armchairs. When the interned people came from Sofia [12] and we accepted them they said that one of the most beautifully furnished houses was ours. After the hall you entered the big living room, a sitting room with a big table in the middle, and a massive square table with big greenish oilcloth chairs. They were covered with oilcloth, not with upholstery. And I was made to wipe the dust every day. There was a lot of dust in Pazardzhik. On two sides of the living room there were doors: one to my parents’ bedroom and the other to the children’s bedroom. My father had that dream. After returning from the war he got married and bought, maybe two second-hand beds. They were made of metal, dark-red in color. In the bedroom there was also a dressing table with three mirrors that could be folded and a wardrobe and a cabinet that were red, too. In the living room, apart from the table and the chairs, there was also a sofa covered with oilcloth, like the chairs, and a dark-red cabinet. That color that was as dark as wine and reminded me of velvet. That’s how I remember it.
After some years had elapsed I know that my father went to Plovdiv to buy linoleum for the floor because it was made of boards. My mother took great pains to clean it; she rubbed the boards with a roof-tile in order to preserve the light color. So my father covered them with very beautiful linoleum. People visited us just to see it. Its edges were covered with typical Bulgarian embroidery. The children’s bedroom was opposite. There were two beds opposite each other and a table between them. There were also some chairs and a wardrobe where we kept our linen and underwear.
We used a stove on coal for heating. Sometimes my father bought anthracite coal, which burned energetically and didn’t produce so much ash because my mother had to clean the ashes every day. It was a difficult life.
We also had a maid: a girl my age, the daughter of a soldier, who knew my father from the Second Balkan War. She was from a nearby village. She used to help with the shopping and the washing.
There was a garden around the house. At a certain time we kept some hens but later we got rid of those animals. But, on the other hand, the garden was full of roses. My mother was known to be a great gardener. We had orchard trees and a lot of quinces. We were known for our quinces as well; they looked like apples and you could eat them immediately after picking them from the tree. They were very nice and juicy. And the trees were all over the garden. Half of the garden was tiled; the other half was left with the earth. And we used to light fires in the earth part of the garden to boil the tomato sauce, and the jams for the winter. My mother used to have some of those very big pots called ‘payla.’ It wasn’t something that all our neighbors owned. Our neighbors next door waited for my mother to finish cooking to borrow it. That was how they rotated the ‘payla’ to one another. The last one to use it washed it and returned it afterwards.
Our house was the only one, which was painted in red. We were surrounded by Jews. There were little doors in the fences between the houses and we could move freely from one house to another, but there were ordinary wooden doors to the street. We didn’t even lock them. The neighbors could just press the handle and enter. We kept in touch mainly with my father’s relatives.
Period
Year
1930
Location
Pazardzhik
Bulgaria
Interview
Sofi Eshua Danon-Moshe