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I grew up in a small village with about 70 households. In such a small settlement, the people have been intimately connected to their natural environment, whether it was a more existential nature, such as agricultural pursuits, or just a childlike wonder through discovering and enjoying many natural existences, such as fireflies creating their magic in warm summer nights or rare sightings of a sleepy badger trotting across the fields in the wet autumn evenings. The latter one has been featured in the satirical literature at the beginning of the 20th century in one of the works of Petar Kocic called ‘With the Badger on Trail’, when a main character, David Strbac, takes a badger to the court claiming damages after the culprit damaged peasant’s cornfield. Growing up in such an environment, I have always been fascinated by nature and wild animals and had an appreciation for our domestic animals. Although I realise with huge sadness that the domestic dogs that villagers kept as security and to deter unwanted visitors to their yards were unfortunately unfavourably treated in comparison to their modern household pets who have their own bed, carefully prepared meals, grooming and regular vet checkups. My heart goes out to all of the wonderful creatures that die sad deaths malnourished, tied to their chains and compromised by many parasites living on and inside their poor bodies even nowadays in villages around the world.

For most of my adult life, I have been a vegetarian, or pescatarian to be fully correct, as I did not enjoy eating meat even in childhood; however, in the family, we had a rule: you either eat what’s cooked, or you go hungry, your choice. Only recently I started eating free-range meat again, as there is a reason why people ate meat and products such as bone broth throughout the evolution: to prevent injuries and weaker joints. I am grateful for the animals whose lives were sacrificed for human nutrition. In addition to svinjokolja (see my other story), my family would also keep and slaughter chickens. Cattle would be slaughtered on a rare occasion (beef was namely served for solemn occasions such as funerals). My grandmother and mother would place the chicken on a stump holding animal’s frighten body in between their legs and then proceed to make a cut on the neck with a shallow dish placed underneath to catch the blood. That blood would quickly condense and would be briefly boiled in a soup and served cut into four pieces. Four pieces slightly salted – one for each of us kids. My grandmother would empty the gritty content of the chicken’s kidney and proceed to slowly peel off the yellow inner membrane without washing it, which she would right away take to the barn to rub over the heifer’s nose to remove the warts growing on its face, so the heifer with all warts gone would achieve a better price at the market. And yes, all those warts would be gone before the market day. My grandmother would garden by the moon too; she never planted onions during the new moon phase because she said it’ll all grow out in the leaves and not much in the bulb in the ground. My grandfather would start preparing the next season’s wheat seed inside the house – covering several tonnes of wheat with a horrible red powder and folding it over and over so that the red dust that would linger in the house even after the seed had been stored away inside the wooden ‘verschlag’ – which we pronounced with ‘f’ – in one of the sheds, so that all of us had irritated noses and throats for many weeks. I think during one of those events, when I was 6 years old, my immune system could not cope with the enormous overload of the toxin in the house, and my skin broke out. At 6.5 I was diagnosed with psoriasis – the first and only one ever in our family to be diagnosed with this incurable auto-immune disease.

The only remnant of my peasant upbringing which gives me a sense of purpose I am proud to have in practice today is gardening. I tend to a small, dedicated vegetable garden, although my whole sizeable yard is a large garden I take pride in maintaining it. I enjoy noticing how my garden, as a living thing, morphs into new shapes and different colours season after season. I like to follow gardening tips, especially as I am researching about this unique Mediterranean climate in South Australian conditions and observing how natives complement the continental garden. I have joined several gardening groups on social media, including the one where people can gift or participate in a plant swap.

In contrast to my deep passion for gardening, which I truly care about, I don’t have much interest in most of the topics that the majority of people debate or polarise about. I don’t have an opinion on religion that I want to preach to people or a preferred political party. If someone is dressing differently than a societal expectation, since it does not have to do anything with me, I am not in the slightest offended. I don’t participate in referendums, unless it’s compulsory, so I have to make sure that my name gets ticketed off; otherwise, I could be paying a fine for not having an opinion, as it used to happen at first, until I learnt better. I think that the world will do just fine without having an input of my opinion on any matter really. If people want to get married, let them, whatever their orientation; if they want to get divorced, let them, whatever their orientation. If they want to shoot drugs into their bodies, let them - they’ll get clean one day or they’ll get enlightened - without an interference. I don’t judge or meddle into anyones business and closely guard my world of peace. When someone achieves something, I genuinely take delight in their success too. I respect whatever any healthy adult person think is right for them. I really don’t have a strong opinion or get offended by clothes people wear, truths they believe or acts they perform, so when I came across a local Facebook gardening group I wanted to join, there was a membership screening questionnaire with 2 questions: select Ye or No - Did you vote Yes in the Gay Marriage Referendum 2017? I answered No, because I did not vote. And do you agree with the group rules? I replied Yes. A couple of days later, a notification reached me that my request to join the gardening group has been denied – with the feedback that I voted No at the referendum. Being so keen to join this particular gardening group as it was recommended to offer lots of interesting tips, I felt that I was prejudiced against, as I could not prove that I did not vote, as it is not the case of me voting no. All I wanted was to join the gardening group.