Ethnography of the Words
As I have just learned about this type of writing I will start with the definition.
Autoethnography is an approach to research and writing that seeks to describe and systematically analyze (graphy) personal experience (auto) in order to understand cultural experience (ethno) (ELLIS, 2004; HOLMAN JONES, 2005).
It appears I have been developing research writing all along unconsciously, on my own, when translating complex academic contents and minting poems. Only this time it comes skin close to me. It will be a nude endeavor, so to speak, especially if you live in a society hurt by war, as I do. Luckily, the word ‘ethno’ feels like knitted gloves and shawls, embroidered table-cloths, home-made cakes and bread, and flying babushkas.
In my case, ethnography stands, before anything else, for my native language-Serbian, and for my name-Svjetlana. I am inclined to the ethnography of the words and the story may start with Slavonic languages. There lives my mother tongue, upon the longest branch of the Tree of European Languages.
The word Slavic is usually considered a derivation from slovo (word), originally denoting people who speak the same language. When speaking of my language I cannot avoid its alphabet called ‘Азбука’, written in Cyrillic script, which is different from Latin or Roman script, exploited, for example, in English Alphabet. Some symbols are common though. The Serbian Cyrillic alphabet was devised in 1814 by Serbian linguist Vuk Karadžić, who created the alphabet on phonemic principle. It means that one letter stands for one phoneme. Here it is in Cyrillic script: A Б В Г Д Ђ Е Ж З И Ј К Л Љ М Н Њ О П Р С Т Ћ У Ф Х Ц Ч Ж Ш.
White Angel
To my surprise, I am being taken farther, behind the symbols, into the images. Into the world of spirituality and painting. And there abides ‘White Angel’, an icon I keep in my house and give to my close friends as a token of deep love. White Angel is a detail of one of the best known frescoes in Serbian culture in the Mileševa Monastery and considered one of the most beautiful works of Serbian and European art from the Middle Ages, hiding identity of its author. A picture of the White Angel of Mileševa was sent as a message in the first satellite broadcast signal from Europe to America after the Cuban Missile Crisis, as a symbol of peace and civilization. Later, the same signal, containing the White Angel, was transmitted to space in an attempt to communicate with extra-terrestrial life forms.
Secrets around Things
What an unexpected journey I am having here. It goes a bit non-linear. All of a sudden, I remember my father’s name, which is ‘Obrad’. It is the first part of the longer word ‘obradovati’ meaning ‘to rejoice’, but also ‘to welcome’ or ‘to be glad’. And there is a story behind his name. His parents had their children die, one after the other, upon the birth, and he happened to be the first one to survive after the five had been lost in a row. His parents were very happy and they named him, according to the custom practiced in such cases, after his father’s name- Obren- which is a traditional Serbian male name, after Obrenović dynasty- an indigenous Serbian family. But the story is not over yet. My father was called Obrad by everyone all his life and he went and changed his name in the documents. Just recently I realized he was urged to do so by higher forces, for, he was named after his parents true feelings. They were delighted to have him. Interestingly enough, I have never related his name to the happiness before. It just came to me, unexpectedly, after he passed away. As a young girl, I was ashamed of his name, for, it sounded so traditional, over-traditional, not in line with modern time. Now, I think it is the most beautiful name in the world because it carries the meaning in itself, an honorable one. And it hides the parents love. My father had his ethnography and I keep it now in my purse. It is a red star from his army uniform often associated with communist ideology. But, it offers a different meaning to me. It is a symbol deeply embedded into the nature, like in apple star.
Signs thrill me and remind me that there are secrets around things. Once, someone gave a phone call to my father and asked if it was the residence of the deceased Obrad Šakotić. He kindly replied that it was not because he was still alive. We all laughed about the awry call, while he was zero disturbed. He had a namesake relative who looked like Pavarotti and once wore a sleeping cap mistakenly all along his daily walking. After the incident, he came first to our house and told us the story laughing loudly at himself. In the middle of telling us his little adventure, he pulled out a white sleeping cap out of his inner pocket and put it on his head. He looked like a big good-hearted elf. We liked him a lot. He was an anti-fascist fighter, a folk hero who died out of diabetics. I liked him for never missing a chance to tell us a joke and make us laugh. He never spoke about war though.
The Sacred Bouquet
Sometimes happens that people discover secrets, like Nikola Tesla did. I love his soul, for, I feel it everywhere. Even in this course, he is somewhere in the electricity, in little hidden bulbs, in waves that make life more communicative and lighted. He happened to be born in Smiljan village in Lika where my mother’s family is living and I feel him as my relative, for, my mother’s nee surname is Smiljanić. The word ‘smilje’ stands for the herb ‘immortelle’ that smells so deeply that people secretly keep it in their wardrobes and homes. Can there be any immortality in that tradition? Tesla originated from the Serbian landscape, from the sacred immortelle bouquet, emancipating human thought into the bliss of existence. I read a lot about him but I remembered how he was passionate about gambling. While still with his parents, he would go gambling to a nearby town and would not be back for weeks. He was strongly criticized by his father, an Orthodox priest, while his mother was understanding. Once, when Nikola lost all his money her mother gave him secretly some so he could continue gambling. Sometimes, we have to accept the struggling of our nearest and dearest in facing the human nature in its diversity. I myself think that his mother gesture is love beyond the time.
St. Nikola’s Day
Tesla’s name reminded me of my family tradition called ‘Slava’. Namely, St. Nikola is a patron of my house and I celebrate it every year on the saint's feast day - November 19. The Slava is a Serbian Orthodox Christian tradition in honor of the family's patron. It comes with the surname and families celebrate different saints. In November 2014 it was inscribed in UNESCO Intangible Cultural Heritage Lists. The tradition is an important ethnic marker of Serbian identity. On that day, prepared is a traditional food like bread called 'festive bread' and boiled wheat with wall-nuts and honey. There is a little ceremony with red wine and bread, house is scented with burning incense, and there is a special burning candle, emanating light across the house, and wider. Many Serbian communities, i.e. villages, cities, organizations, political parties, institutions, companies, and professions also celebrate their patron saint.
Latent Quarks
I love art, paintings in particular. On my walls, there are only paintings presented to me by my friends who authored them. Yet, there is one painting by famous Serbian painter Sava Šumanović called ‘Ašikovanje’. In English it would read ‘The Courtship’. The Courtship in the Moonlight.
I have always admired his paintings but only recently I read his full biography. I was astonished to learn he was murdered in the camp towards the WWII end. It devastated me to the bottom of my heart that a moment can hold so many absurd latent quarks, making me restless and worried once again. ‘Ay, ay into the language I hide. If the word fear miss the letter f there is only ear hence we can play with a letter and get better.’ I heard myself spelling.
Surrounded by Rhymes
Apparently, my language ethnography has expanded into the English language. I love it, for, it meets the needs of a speaker. It has been a sanctuary to me- it welcomed me with an open heart. It bespeaks a tendency of simplifying things in grammar department with giving vast possibilities in vocabulary realm. Once again, I am back to letters and their play. They can be so many things in such a playful way. Letters are big actors; they feature many language mysteries. I like imagining what might be there, behind those miniature symbols, but, it looks like I need more learning to get there.
Presumably, my ethnography story does not like boundaries and that is precisely how I feel about it. I see ethnography as a lighted circle constantly expanding my name, which is a common Slavic female name, deriving from the Slavic root свет/ svet, which translates into English as 'light', 'shining', 'luminescent', 'pure', 'blessed', or 'holy', depending upon context. It radiates non-ethnic and poetic me in essence, surrounded by rhymes:
‘Let's ride the rigid legs of four gee gee farther more take the two of us beyond the far and ever fore.’
Famous Serbian poet Jovan Jovanović Zmaj wrote these nursery rhymes, but, I feel them mine. I think ethnography is about this feeling.
Ethnography in pictures: