Gera Rabić goes to Serbia

Funny thing about Serbs, is when they can’t pronounce your name, you become one of their own. In practical sense, my Dutch friend Ger, became in no time: “Gera Rabić”.

It sounds then more like a Serbian name.
So, you feel more like, * kuch, khhgmm!* Serb. :)

It was around 11.00 am, when my nanny brought us to the airport. Ger was excited, he didn’t leave Netherlands for a while. “Woooow, dude, we’re going to Serbia”, Ger said, while taking his seat in the airplane. “Yes my friend, we’re going to Serbia.” I said.
I took a seat next to him.

Me: You know Ger, tomorrow we’ll stand upon my father’s grave.
Ger: Yes my friend, we will.
Me: You know…
Ger: What?
Me: … it would be fun, to hide in the night, next to my father’s grave, and wait with a camera.
Ger: It would?
Me: Yes. Then we could film the dudes who are about to steal alcohol and fruit from my father’s grave, and we could put it on YouTube. Alternatively, we could in the same time pretend we’re ghosts and scare sh*it out of them.
Ger: Hahahaha, you’re kiddin’, right?!
Me: I’m not kiddin’. I don’t make jokes when I talk about business. It would be very amusing material for my website. You know, I never got any money from my father when he was alive, and now thanks to internet, I can let my dead father work for me - and earn me some money.. Kinda capturing his spirit, turn it into a “super-dad” and then release it into a cyberspace. So, he then becomes kinda my partner. Like an imaginary friend, but only this time the one who also makes money for me. Do you understand what am I talking about?
Ger: Eughmm, no. I don’t.
Me: Oh, never mind. You don’t have to.
Ger: But I’m your friend, I’d love to understand, so please, explain it to me.
Me: Look, it’s simple. My website, my dead father, my stories, Google ads, amusement, people’s thirst for amusements.. I can give it to them.
Ger: Oh, you mean publishing it?
Me: Yes.
Ger: But do you want to?
Me: I don’t know, it’s just an idea. Theoreticaly, internet shall be there forever, so if I publish it and put Google ads next to it, then basicly my dead father can keep earning money for me forever. Even for my grand children. This way I can still be gratefull to him, even I hated him and I’ve forgiven him everything a long time ago. Do you understand it now?
Ger: Yes my friend, I think I do.
Me: Good. Let’s now have a good time in Serbia, shall we?!
Ger: Yeeeeees, let’s do that.

Me: Oh, one more thing. Did you know Serbian funerals are similar to weddings?
Ger: No, I didn’t know that.
Me: Like when we bury someone, we then have collective dinner and a lots of drinks, and when we get drunk we start singing.
Ger: Really?
Me: Yes. But don’t worry, we won’t make it on time for funeral, so we won’t be singing.. but there will be loads of food and alcohol there. Be ready for it.
Ger: Thanks mate! It’s good to know that.
Me: Alright, for now I think you know eveything you need to know about Serbs.
….

WTA Nanny, driving us to the airport.

Ger in the airplane.

Lufthansa airplane at Schiphol, fastened with it’s tail to our left wing. :))

Sea port, Amsterdam. Yes it’s true, you can see the windmills from the airplane. ;)

Two days later Ger and I stood upon my father’s grave. My brother went there with us. I asked my brother if he’d take a bottle of rakija to the cemetery, so we can have a drink, and toast for our father’s soul, but my brother said it wasn’t necessary. He said he brought rakija and left it at the grave early that morning already.

Ger: Alex, shall we take a camera with us to the cemetery and make a few pictures.
Me: No.
Ger: Alright then..

Ger and me at my moter’s home.

Serbian breakfast.

Ger having breakfast with my family.

Ger learning Serbian.

Then we just stood there, silently. My brother light the remaining candles and I helped him. It was a sunny day. The place was peaceful. Rakija and fruit were all gone. Local gypsies probably took it. It didn’t matter. It’s because they need it.. nobody does that for fun.

I light two cigarettes and put one on my father’s grave. My brother took the same cigarette and planted it in the ground a bit lower. “Why are you so cautious?” I asked.. “Let it burn right there where I put it.” I added.
“A whole grave can go into fire.” My brother said.
“Big deal if it does.. nobody’s gonna get hurt. He’s frakin’ dead. Everybody is dead around here. And above of all, maybe our dad wanted to be burnt in stead of buried. Did you discuss it with him before he died?” I asked.
“It’s always funny, the way you look at things.” My brother said. But he left the cigarette remain lower in the ground. “it wouldn’t be practical if grave catches a fire.” He added.

Then Ger and sat on the edge of a grave next to my father’s grave. My brother was still busy with candles. The wind would blow off the flames and my brother would light them again..

Me: You know Ger, my father was a heavy smoker. When I was 18 years old, I lived together with a beautiful girl for a year and half, I also studied and I also had a work, I was making money and paying the bills. Once in a while I’d come back home in weekends to visit my oldies and in the evening I’d paint in my bedroom all night. I had an old LP’s player where I could put like 10 Lp’s on a top, and the player would drop them and play them one by one, a whole night long. Then after midnight, my father would wake up and walk into my room.. he’d sit next to me and ask me a cigarette. I’d often give him a whole pack. That was the only thing he wanted from me anyway. Sometimes I’d also ask him what he thought of my paintings.. but he’d only watch, remain silent and just smoke his cigarette. I believe he once said that I “use a lots of color in my paintings.”
Ger: He was just there with you.
Me: Yes, that was his way of being with me. And that was the only way he was ever with me.

Baggage delivery, from Aerodrom Nikola Tesla, Belgrade. Ger checking our luggage, which got delivered 2 days later … And just for the record, our luggage wasn’t lost by Nikola Tesla airport stuff, it was lost at the airport in Zurich already, by Swiss air.

On our way out, we saw a crowd next to a small cemetery chapel and there were a couple of Orthodox priests singing. There was a funeral there, that sunny day. Such a shame everybody was wearing black.

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