“Babu” At what time in your life were you happiest and why?

In order for a man to describe a part of his life when he was happiest and why, I think it is necessary to say briefly what reflection of time this man lived.

“Babu ” Mile Boban is the fourth child of fifteen children of Petar and Iva Boban, Gabrić, almost every year a second child is born. Through the natural process, children grow and develop, and when the time comes for elementary school, then high school, parents find it harder and harder. During dinner, when we are all at the table, the father as the elder of the house would give a work schedule for tomorrow where and who will go and what she or he will do. Mother as a housewife would stay at home with small children, while olders and able-bodied people would go to the fields to do agricultural work.

Every day life’s needs are getting bigger and harder. From the sunrise to the sunset physical work in the fields are hardest and hardest to work in. I was almost always with my father and worked with him. In addition to the many pieces of advice he would give me, there was one piece of advice that I will never forget and that advice I always followed. That advice was: “My son, you are growing up day by day and the time will come that one day you will get married. Marriage is not like a burden that you carry and when you are tired then you throw it on the ground. Marriage is a God’s gift and a natural burden that you carry while you are alive and carry it to the grave.” So I, your  “Babu” Mile Boban, worked physically every day, and I was working hard always, always thinking about my future; inventing songs for Ganga, and one of them is, “My little one, if you were in Paris, you would seem close to me.” The more I sang that song with my friends, the more my colleagues started teasing me that I (your “Babu ”) constantly sung a song in which I always mentioned Paris.

One day, June 1956, above our houses in Bobanova Draga, (where I was born on August 14, 1939, I was baptized on August 21, 1939, which the priest who baptized me, Father Sarafin Dodik, wrote in his book of baptisms, and so that recorded day 21 August 1939 is my official birthday which is written in all my legal papers) my mother sent me with other locals to afforest the hill, plant pine trees and other suitable seedlings. Since it was very hot, my mother woke me up around 2 in the morning, gave me a backpack, put a bottle of water, some cheese, some bread, one onion, some salt, telling me: “Son, cross yourself, may your day be blessed. You work until the heat comes on and then come home”. And it was like that. I came home around 11am. My lunch was waiting for me which my mother gave me. As I was tired, I told my mom and my dad that I should go to sleep in the barn, because there are fewer flies there.

Now, my dear ones, all of you,  listen carefully to what I thought then as I slept on the hay in the barn, alone, all alone. Let’s say I came to sleep in the barn around noon. I’m not even yet seventeen years old. I thought a lot and came to the conclusion that I have to trace my future to myself, and how? It would be fairest and most correct to tell my intention to my parents.

Saturday, June 30, 1956, I worked with my father in the field called “Široka”. My father asked me: “son, why are you so thoughtful”. I dropped the hoe and said a little angrily: “Dad, I’ve had enough of this hoe. I decided to flee across the border and seek my own future”. He paused, took a box of tobacco from his pocket to fold a cigarette and looked at me, saying in one serious voice: (I am enclosing a picture of a box of tobacco and cigar roll paper that my father has carried for decades. In the picture I am his son Mile, whom my grandchildren call “Babu.”

This tobacco box of my late father was given to me as a souvenir by my Mother Iva when I visited her in April 1998.)

“As soon as the small chicks start chirping on their own, the hen hits them on the head with its (her) beak and gives them a sign that they are adults so that they can go and live on their own life. My son, I give you my blessing and may our dear God protect you from all evils and misfortunes. Go home and tell Vićeka, that’s my Mother’s nickname, let her give you money for the trip, but tell her to leave a little for us too”.

So I came home and told my Mom what my Father said and that I am living. My Mom looked at me and started to cry, asking me when I am going to be back. I told my Mom that I do not know when I am going to be back. I kissed my Mom and said BIG BY and I left. I came to Slovenia without any experience and any knowledge of foreign languages. I worked there for a while, and from Slovenia via Italy I came to Nice, southern France. I couldn’t stay there, so I headed for Paris.

There I reported to the French authorities as a refugee. I got the necessary papers to stay. I started working at a Citroen car factory. It wasn’t hard for me to work because I was used to it, but not knowing French bothered me so much that I decided to go to school to learn French. I went to L’Alliance Francaise school. I learned French very well. Knowing French well I met one young very beautiful and attractive girl. Her maiden name was Annie Robert. She stared at me and I fell in love with her. And in mutual agreement, we decided to get married, which happened on Saturday, July 31, 1965. That is why my happiest day is when I, as a free man, came to the free country of France. This is where my song came true: “My little one, if you were in Paris, you would seem close to me,” and my father’s saying: “Marriage is not a burden to throw on the ground when it is difficult for you to carry on, marriage is a God’s Gift that you carry while you are alive, and all way to the grave.” Announced by your lifelong “BABU” Mile Boban.

Moj kolega pošteno se vladaj, tanko savij pa se opet nadaj. =

Slika Petra Boban, Gabrića (1907-1981) uzeta pred zidom goričkog groblja kojeg se je zvalo “Šamatorje”. Ova slika je uzeta u Nedjelju 20 rujna 1981. god. Naš otac je umro u srijedu 23 rujna 1981. od kljenuti srca, berući kukuruz na njivi Lokva.

                                              Hrvatski

 Duhanjska kutija sa ćatima našeg pok. Ćaće Petra Boban, Gabrića (1907 – 1981)

                                Ovo je prva slika:

 

                                          English

Tobacco box with rolling paper of our deceased father, Petar Boban, Gabrić (1907 -1981)

                                   This is the first photo: 

The box with tobacco and rolling paper that our dear father, Petar, had in his pocket at about 9:30 in the morning as he collected the corn on the field called Moba near the village of Blaževići on Wednesday, September 23th 1981, when he died of a heart attack. This box was given to me by my dear mother Iva Boban Vićeka, Gabrić on Easter, 1998, when I was visiting Bobanova Draga.

                            This is the second photo: 

The box in which our deceased father Petar carried his tobacco to smoke. He told me that he filled the box well, in the morning, before going to the field to work. If he is very careful and during the day doesn’t give to anyone a cigarette, he says that’s enough for him for that day. That’s how the other people, the smokers did. But, there were some smokers who smoked constantly and smoked all their tobacco for that day, smoking one cigarette after the another and using one cigarette to light the next one and how they said they would save the matches for that day. One of these was my uncle, Ikan Grubišić, who would start smoking in the morning and one after the other of his cigarettes he would light until the evening. There were other smokers who would smoke and finish all the tobacco from their tobacco box for that day and then, once out, would go from one man to the next one looking for someone to give them tobacco for a cigarette. In some cases, some of those smokers would put so much tobacco in rolling paper, a thick cigarette that they could hardly close the rolling papers. These cases were not unique and that some people invented for those smokers a ganga’s song:

Moj kolega pošteno se vladaj, tanko savij pa se opet nadaj. =

= My fellow friend be honest in rule, wrap thinly and look for again. Once upon a time, it is worth to be mentioned now.

My fellow friend, be honest in rule, wrap thinly and look for again.

Nekad bilo sad se spominjalo = Once upon a time, it was worth mentioning.

“Babu” U kojem ste razdoblju u životu bili najsretniji i zašto?

Da bi čovjek mogao opisati dio svog života kada je bio najsretniji i zašto, mislim da je potrebno ukratko reći u kakvu odraz vremena je živio ovaj čovjek.

“Babu ” Mile Boban četvrto je dijete od petnaestero djece Petra i Ive Boban, Gabrić, gotovo svake godine rodi se drugo dijete. Prirodnim procesom djeca rastu i razvijaju se, a kada dođe vrijeme za osnovnu školu, zatim u gimnaziju, roditeljima je sve teže i teže. Za vrijeme večere kad smo svi za stolom otac kao starješina kuće bi dao raspored poslova za sutra gdje će tko ići i što će ona ili on raditi. Mama kao domaćica bi ostala kod kuće s malom djecom, dok bi stariji i sposobni za rad odlazili u polje na poljoprivredne poslove.
Životne potrebe su svakim danom sve veće i teže. Od izlaska do zalaska sunca fizički rad u polju je najteži i najteže se je radilo. Skoro uvijek sam bio s ocem i radio s njim. Uz mnoge savjete koje bi mi dao, postojao je jedan savjet kojeg nikada neću zaboraviti i kojeg sam se uvijek pridržavao. Taj savjet je glasio: “Sine moj, ti rasteš iz dana u dan i doći će vrijeme da se jednog dana oženiš. Brak nije teret koji nosiš i kad si umoran onda ga baciš na zemlju. Brak je Božji dar i prirodno breme koje nosiš dok si živ i nosiš ga u grob.” Tako sam i ja, vaš “Babu” Mile Boban, fizički radio svaki dan, i uvijek sam se trudio, uvijek razmišljajući o svojoj budućnosti; izmišljajući pjesme za Gangu, a jedna od njih je, “Mala moja, da si u Parizu, ti bi mi se učinila blizu”. Što sam god više pjevao tu pjesmu s prijateljima, kolege su me sve više i više počeli zezati da ja (vap “Babu” Mile Boban) stalno pjevam pjesmu u kojoj uvijek spominjem Pariz.
Jednog dana, lipnja 1956. godine, iznad naših kuća u Bobanovoj Dragi, (gdje sam rođen 14. kolovoza 1939. godine, kršten sam 21. kolovoza 1939. godine, što je svećenik koji me je krstio, fra. Sarafin Dodik, zapisao u svojoj knjizi krštenih), pa je tako taj zabilježeni dan 21. kolovoza 1939. godine moj službeni rođendan koji je zapisan u svim pravnim papirima) Majka me poslala s ostalim mještanima da pošumimo brdo, posadimo borove i druge prikladne sadnice. Kako je bilo jako vruće, mama me probudila oko 2 sata ujutro, dala mi ruksak, stavila flašu vode, malo sira, malo kruha, jedan luk, malo soli, govoreći mi: “Sine, prekrsti se, neka ti je blagoslovljen dan. Radi dok ne dođe vrućina i onda se vrati kući”. I bilo je tako. Kući sam došao oko 11 sati. Čekao me je moj ručak koji mi je Majka dala. Kako sam bio umoran, rekao sam Mami i Tati da idem spavati u štalu, jer tamo ima manje muha.
E sad, dragi moji, svi dobro slušajte što sam tada mislio dok sam spavao na sijenu u staji, sam, sasvim sam. Recimo, oko podne sam došao spavati u staju. Nemam još ni sedamnaest godina. Puno sam razmišljao i došao do zaključka da svoju budućnost moram trasirati sam sebi, a kako? Najpoštenije i najispravnije bi bilo da svoju namjeru kažem roditeljima.
Subota, 30. lipnja 1956. godine, radio sam s ocem na njivi zvanoj “Široka”. Otac me upitao: “Sine, zašto si tako zamišljen”. Bacio sam motiku i pomalo ljutito rekao: “Tata, dosta mi je ove motike. Odlučio sam pobjeći preko granice i tražiti svoju budućnost”. Zastao je, izvadio kutiju duhana iz džepa da savije cigaretu i pogledao me govoreći jednim ozbiljnim glasom: (Prilažem sliku kutije duhana i papira za smotati cigaretu koje je moj otac nosio desetljećima.

U sliki ja sam njegov sin Mile, koga moji unuci zovu “Babu”. Ovu duhanjsku kutiju mog pokojnog Oca mi je dala za uspomenu moja Mama Iva kad sam je posjetio u travnju 1998.)

” Čim mali pilići počnu sami cvrkutati kokoš ih udari kljunom po glavi i daje im znak da su odrasli i da mogu ići živjeti svoj život sami. Sine imaš moj blagoslov, neka te čuva naš dragi Bog od svih zala i nesreća. Idi kući i reci Vićeki, to je nadimak moje Majke, neka ti da novaca za put, ali joj reci da ostavi malo i za nas”.

Ja sam došao kući i rekao Mami što mi je Otac rekao i da ja odlazim. Mama me pogledala i počela plakati, pitajući me kad se vraćam. Rekao sam Mami da ne znam kada ću se vratiti. Poljubio sam Mamu i rekao VELIKO ZBOGOM i otišao. U Sloveniju sam došla bez ikakvog iskustva i znanja stranih jezika. Tamo sam neko vrijeme radio, a iz Slovenije sam preko Italije došao u Nicu, južnu Francusku. Tu nisam mogao ostati, pa sam krenuo prema Parizu.
Tu sam se francuskim vlastima prijavio kao izbjeglica. Dobio sam potrebne papire za boravak. Počeo sam raditi u tvornici automobila Citroen. Nije mi bilo teško raditi jer sam na to navikao, ali nepoznavanje francuskog mi je toliko smetalo da sam odlučio ići u školu učiti francuski. Išao sam u školu L’Alliance Francaise. Francuski sam naučio jako dobro. Znajući dobro francuski upoznao sam jednu mladu vrlo lijepu i privlačnu djevojku. Njezino djevojačko ime i prezime je bilo Annie Robert. Zurila je u mene i ja sam se zaljubio u nju. I u zajedničkom dogovoru odlučili smo se vjenčati, što se i dogodilo u subotu, 31. srpnja 1965. Zato je to moj najsretniji dan kada sam kao slobodan čovjek došao u slobodnu zemlju Francusku. Tu se obistinila ona moja pjesma: “Mala moja, da si u Parizu, ti bi mi se učinila blizu” i mojeg Tate izreka: “Nije brak teret koji baciš na zemlju kad ti ga je teško Nosi, brak je Božji dar kojeg nosiš dok si živ, sve do groba.” Napisao vaš vječiti “BABU” Mile Boban.

Moj kolega pošteno se vladaj, tanko savij pa se opet nadaj. =

My fellow friend, be honest in rule, wrap thinly and look for again.

Nekad bilo sad se spominjalo = Once upon a time, it was worth mentioning.

Mile Boban