No rest for the heroes
She found the dim light in the restaurant comforting.
“You look tired, darling.”
“Just coming back from Yorkshire. Have problems with my daughter’s father. He wants to move abroad and take her with him.”
“Nightmare. How old is she?”
“Only four.”
“Is he Bulgarian?”
“No, he is half British/half American.”
“That’s not good.”
“Why is that?”
“If he takes you to court, you will have a disadvantage as a foreigner.”
“No, they are not like this here, it depends, on who can provide a better life for the child.”
“You are being naïve. And even so, you will lose her, you have the shitty job with no perspective, it is his country, and he is better positioned than you. Here, have this…”
“What’s this? Oh, no, there is no need, thank you, that is really kind of you.”
It was a reasonable piece of kosunak, prepared like they made this sweet bread in Bulgaria.
“Come on, come on, have it, you’ll need strength.”
She was not even a regular. However, she still preferred this Bulgarian restaurant to the burger-offering food outlets scattered around Leicester. She wondered if she really looked that miserable to get free food on the house. Pull yourself together, girl!
“How was the tripe soup?”
“Oh, God, great, I craved it so much, thank you for making it here.”
“Enjoy, darling.”
She finished her meal without drawing more attention and said her polite “goodbye” at her exit. So much to do, so little time.
She took a shortcut through the park. Tired and depressed, she sat on the grass for ten minutes of peace and quiet. And as usual, it did not take more than five minutes to get into trouble. The ball hit her, not hard, but in her state of mind, it was more than she could bear.
“Oh, sorry.”
The little brats were finding it funny! They were laughing. One of them came stupidly close to her, her anger expanding exponentially.
“This is not funny!”
“Piss off!” and he bent to get his ball.
She did not realise what happened. She just saw a comfortably positioned ass in front of her and before any thought was produced in her red-hot mind, she placed a swift kick on the target.
“Hey!” jumped the startled boy. “What are you doing?” He got closer and she thought he will also attack her.
“Watch what you are doing! It is not funny!”
“You know, foreign bitches like you, we do not like them! You come here, stealing our jobs! I am calling my mother!”
She was getting used to the offences already. Last month there was a fight in the nightclub. As soon as she intervened, she had to listen to a quite uncensored language, pointing out that she is not welcome in this country. She left the park. The other boy tried to follow her. Too slow and too cautious, she lost him quickly with few manoeuvres on the small streets around her home. Home, sweet home.
“Hi, Emi, how was Yorkshire?”
Her Iranian roommate warmed her heavy heart with her genuine smile and sparkling eyes.
“Horrible. The bastard wants to move to Hawaii or god knows where with the kid.”
“Oh, no! What are you going to do?”
“Told him to fuck off.”
“Look, you have like six months or less to finish that PhD and then you can take care of her.”
“Will have to move there, though. Or go back to Bulgaria. Will need to work, cannot take care of a kid on my own, same as we separated, the same problem.”
“With your looks, you will meet somebody soon.”
“I am not taken seriously. As soon as they hear I am Eastern European, they drop the romance and start offering me money for sex. I do not know if I will even find work. My supervisor said for a woman and a foreigner, it is almost impossible to find a place in the industry. It is so discouraging.”
“Well, not all men are like these, you just had a bit of bad luck with Brits. And certainly, for a smart girl like you, job offers will be raining. Cheer up, and check our blog, your suggestion produced a furore. ”
A couple of weeks ago, she had this crazy idea of a monument, a monument placed in Brussels, Paris or London, depicting a selection of European National Heroes. It sparked a discussion in their blog immediately, people, in general, liked the idea, but she left for Yorkshire and had no time to follow all the discussions.
“What is the main attitude, what do you say?” Asked Emi. Laleh shook her head.
“Everybody sees the difficulty you predicted. How to choose only one from each country's rich history. Should be there some common themes, like only writers, or even some contradictions, like freedom fighters next to authority figures. Anyway, people are talking about it. Check it out.”
Emi opened her laptop. Wow, now that has been a lengthy discussion. She dug her nose in and looked for useful information in the emotional, blurry string of comments. At least her most cherished national hero was undoubtedly well accepted. Yes, Levski was evoking admiration and owe in every true Bulgarian, the scale of his revolutionary work was almost incomprehensible for an ordinary human being. Brave, pure, bright, it was impossible to deny his huge contribution to the awakening of the enslaved Bulgarian People and yes, his achievement was not of an ordinary person. And there we go, of course, some people were arguing if he was the most respected one for the monument. Why not Botev? Equally brave, tragic, and one of the finest poets of our time. Why not Raina Knaginia? Wasn’t there a time for a woman to represent their country's bravery and dedication? She entered the discussion, stating that these are all viable suggestions, and there was no need to throw tar, as one was mentioning the speculative rumours that Levski actually killed a child in one fuzzy situation. It depended on the overall choice of the affluent historic figures, she liked the idea of comparing views and finding a common theme. Not exactly freedom fighters or only writers, more of a people with great love for humanity, defending human rights and enlightening the minds of the others. She looked at the suggestions for the British hero. Darwin, yes, Darwin changed the minds not only in his country, but he was also of a world significance. Margaret Thatcher, ha ha, was this guy daft. She could not think of a Brit who did not hate this woman. The French suggestions were mostly philosophers and writers, Victor Hugo, oh, she loved his books, he was also a strong voice in defence of the Bulgarians during the atrocities of the Turks when they were trying to keep them under their yoke. Oh, my God, what a pain to include a Danish national hero. These people were weird, they were very careful not to put anybody on a pedestal, she knew that. Except for their kings, you could not throw a pin in Copenhagen without hitting Frederic or a Christian statue. She was aiming at creating some kind of tension, some deeper meaning for the monument, like those people still unite us with their transcendental wisdom and values. And the discussion was offering a lot to think about, except for the Danes, who apologised for not having national heroes.
“Oh, oh, you not going to like this.”
“What?”
“There will be a referendum for Brexit.” Laleh was turning the pages of the today's newspaper.
“I thought this is not serious, leaving the EU.”
“If you ask the common Brit, you know what will be the result. Not the most generous or compromising in the name of the common good people.”
“You are labelling.”
“You know I am right. You know their history, once ruling an empire, today having to listen to the Brussels bureaucrats. They cannot bear the humiliation.”
“You are right, this is not good. It will become very difficult to travel, to study and work in this country for a foreigner.”
“Welcome to my crazy flying carpet.” Smiled the Iranian.
Emi opened one Facebook page. Bulgarian in Leicester were sharing problems there. And already there were concerns expressed about the referendum. The usual dose of offences between Bulgarians with opposite opinions of course, and only one decent comment out of fifty. There was about to be a major media mind-washing for Brexit to happen. She opened a more sensible blog, now here the writer was an intelligent person, listing his opinions based on more forethought and experience. He noticed that the EU managed to push away the UK with its constant ignoring and policies that contradicted the common Brit’s common sense: too much centralization, too much administration, too many unfavourable regulations. However, the author expressed his doubt referendum was a smart move in today’s pseudo-democratic states where the media served the interests of the elite and it was easy to swing the unsuspecting voter into a situation they will regret later. It seemed that everyone was losing if Brexit happened.
“Great time to popularize your monument in the UK.” the Iranian was glowing. Sometimes Emi thought these people were attending some special smile school, so appealing was their ability to talk about all the grotty matters with positive and shining facial expressions.
“You still think I am not chased by bad luck, haha. Marco Totev.”
“Marco Totev?”
“Never mind, just a Bulgarian with notorious bad lack. So what do we do?”
“Write in the blog, your idea is great, put some flesh around the bone now. Keep popularizing it. Brexit, no Brexit, it will not happen overnight.”
“I know. It is just, as a European, I am so disappointed. Entering the EU was the best thing that ever happened to Bulgaria, and the country only benefited from its membership. It is not only that, the whole idea of cooperation, of helping each other, of sharing culture…I cannot believe the Brits are actually backing off and will play the pole in the turning wheel from now on.”
“Boys will be boys, Emi. Focus on the monument. Look, somebody published a proposal, is this a sketch?”
“More of a caricature.”
“This is hilarious. We cannot use it though, you want it to be uplifting, this is just funny. Look at Florence Nightingale, how tenderly she is attending Van Gogh.”
A mobile phone rang.
“Emi Ilieva speaking.”
“Hi, this is …” Wow, as far as she was aware, this was a radio host at BBC. Prank, that was some stupid prank.
“Listen, Emi, one of my colleagues followed your blog, it is quite an interesting idea on the table. Would you like to discuss it on the radio?”
“I don’t know, I mean it is quite a surprise.”
“We will be looking at your background, what motivated you to propose what you proposed, and what shape is your idea taking. We want to make it interesting, so there will be another guest, who is not exactly fond of it, at least for the British context.”
“Well, yes, sure.”
“Great, can you confirm your email for me, so we can arrange the details.”
Emi was on the phone for as long as it took and then smiled at Laleh.
“Guess what, we are famous.” And explained.
“Wow, your motivation, girl. My favourite job interview question.”
Her motivation. How about her constant need for achievement. Sure, if she wanted to irritate the audience. She decided to focus on the achievement itself. She truly believed that such a monument will spark the desire to know each other better, to learn about each other in the superficially united, but very multifaceted European union. Such a monument she imagined as a manifestation of a turbulent past, where division and competitiveness without empathy led to disastrous events, however, there were bright stars that could still guide us today. Oh, what a pain. She was about to prepare for the interview later. This week she was a mother and mother only.
“My kid needs new shoes. I am going to the Centre. Wanna join?”
“You need to rest, girl.”
“I’ll rest when I am dead.”
“A hero-mom, yeah?”
Emi smiled tiredly. Of all her achievements, the only one that she enjoyed, was having this child, and she let her other responsibilities endanger her role as a parent.
“More of a stupid cow.” She concluded with a smile.
“Great, but humble. Mysterious, and temperamental. I read your horoscope today”
The smart eyes of the Iranian did not miss the signs. Emi was a fighter, but this fighter took too many blows. She was a person who was on the path to something amazing in life, however, she noticed Emi never had favourable winds in her sails.
“Come on, let’s go shopping and learn some good manners from the Brits.”
Emi smiled.
“They don’t have them.”
“Exactly.”