For love of a country

Author:  Brandon (Dad)

Croatia did it again!  I can't tell you how exciting it is to be here while Croatia continues to excel at the World Cup.  Can't say I enjoy advancing through penalty kicks (too stressful), but the important thing is that they keep getting through.  We now have a semifinal matchup with England on Wednesday.  

For some historical perspective to those that don't follow the game that closely, this matches the farthest Croatia has ever advanced in the World Cup.  Back in 1998, in their first World Cup as a new nation, they made it to the semifinals before getting beaten by France (they ended up beating the Netherlands in their next match to finish 3rd overall).  

Croatia has roughly 4 million people in it.  That's about half the size of the Bay Area.  If Croatia were a state in the US, it would rank about 29th, between Oregon and Oklahoma.  And they are one of the four nations still standing at the biggest sporting event in the world!  They've also won water polo world championships and are among the better basketball-playing countries.  But I digress.... back to soccer.

That 1998 team is one thing that made me fall in love with the sport.  

The summer of 1998 was a very difficult time for me.  I had lost my father in May and was in a general funk for many months (years?) afterwards.  While diversions were pretty few and far between, following Davor Suker and the rest of the Croatian soccer team at the World Cup put a smile on my face.

The 1998 Croatia Soccer Team.

I bought a Croatia jersey that summer and have worn it or big games ever since.  While my love of soccer has grown over the years, it started with that 1998 Croatia team.  I'll support the U.S. (when they actually qualify for tournaments...), but my friends know I've always been Croatia first.

We had originally planned to leave Croatia on Friday.  Understanding the once-in-a-lifetime situation that could occur should the team get past England on Wednesday, I knew I'd regret it forever if I had left and Croatia won a world cup final a few days later.  So, of course, we've changed our travel plans.  We will now move out of our house in Čilipi on Friday, as planned, but we're going to move over to a house in Cavtat until the following Wednesday (July 18th).  Even if Croatia falls to England, five more days here can't be a bad thing, can it?  

I'm not sure why I am as connected to this country as I am.  I've always been fascinated by it and by our family's close connection to it.  That certainly started with my grandfather, Andy, who made many trips here.  Incidentally, my son is named for Andy... Luke Andro Bronzan.

I remember being a child of about 7 or 8 in a library with my Grandma Bronzan.  I had picked up a book about Yugoslavia and ran over to show her.  She said something about us having family over there and when I flipped the book open, it revealed a page highlighting folklore dancing in Konavle.  She excitedly told me that the house in the background was owned by our family.  That blew me away.  Still does.

The house in Čilipi as it looks today.

I know that there are a few members of our family who share my love of Croatia.  It is incredibly beautiful, but it has a very complex and tragic history.  I find it difficult to go very long in conversation with a Croatian without the discussion turning to the the war.  I don't know if it's because they always direct their conversations that way or it is because they see I am interested in understanding more about this country.  

Last night we had dinner with a cousin, Lili, and her husband, Niko.  He was a very entertaining guy who shared a love of Liverpool Football Club with me, so we hit it off right away.  Born in 1985, he's a bit older than most of my cousins over here, so he still has memories of the war.  

He told an amazing story about being a six year old during the assault on Konavle.  He has a vivid memory of assault rifles being pointed directly at his head and of his family fleeing to Hotel Croatia (interestingly, the same resort hotel that many locals work at today).  During the siege, his grandfather, who he described as a simple, hard working man, grew concerned with the fact that while they were all in hiding, someone needed to go pick the olives that were ready for harvest on their farm.  Being the oldest in the family, he brought Niko, the youngest, along to proceed with the harvest.  His reasoning was that they wouldn't bother with an old man and a kid.  

Niko told of seeing the bombed out remains of his village.  Upon seeing his school destroyed, his first thought was "Great!  No school tomorrow!".  Remember, he's a six year old.  

They proceeded with the olive harvest, but were very cautious at night, scared of drunk soldiers coming through and raising hell.  Niko slept in old wine barrels, hiding from potential intruders. 

That story obviously sounds much better coming from the person who lived through it, but I thought it important to share with all of you (at least those who have read on to this point).  I know that, as an American, it's pretty much impossible for me to understand the history of this land.  I can appreciate and sympathize what they've gone through, but my life has seen nothing like the widespread trauma a war can bring.  

While many tourists can pop in, enjoy the sea, the food, the dancing... then head back out of town, it's difficult for me to be here without considering the whole picture.

Years ago, my family had sweatshirts printed up that said "Treba Se Muči", a quote attributed to my great grandmother, Ana Borovinić Bronzan.  Roughly translated it means, 'we must suffer' or something along those lines.  As a kid, I could never understand 1) why you'd put that on a sweatshirt and 2) why one would even say something like that.  

The more time I spend over here, the more it makes sense why a Croatian would utter such a phrase.  

My Mom and I dancing during a family cruise to Mexico. 
My grandfather is wearing the aforementioned Treba Se Muči sweatshirt.  

She left the old country around 1910 and never returned.  Never saw her family again.  Over 100 years later, I'm staying at the house of one of those relatives.  Pretty neat.  

My great grandmother (Ana Borovinić) and great grandfather (Niko Bronzan) on their wedding day.

I love it here.  If I could find a way to make a living, I might even stay for a while.  

I'll follow up with more details about the details of our days in my next post.  This one seems to have taken a different angle.