Misha's 40 Day Praznic

My neighbor passed away on March 22nd. He was only 50 years old. As per Eastern Orthodox custom, we held a feast in his honor on the day marking 40 days since Misha's death.  

Alina, Misha's daughter, knocked on our door at 09:00, inviting us to the feast that was about to begin. Just then the priest came to bless the home. By 09:15, we were taking our first glass of wine toasting Misha, "May God forgive him. May we live to memorialize him."

Given the early hour, our hostess was not too persistent with wine, though the World Health Organization's recent assessment of Moldova as the world's largest consumer of alcohol did come up in conversation. Usually, people tell me the report's not true: "How could they know how much I take from my cellar?" or "But  what about the Russians?!" But on this morning one woman offered a completely original response. With a single shake of her head and her right hand passing from one side of her body to the other she said, "Eighteen liters? That's nothing."

Not that Praznics are usually happy feasts, but this one was particularly tough to swallow. The room was just barely filled with our neighbors and Misha's colleagues from the local water-bottling plant. But his son is away in Siberia, working. His daughter is home caring for her ill mother, despite she herself having a rough time with her first pregnancy. Misha was the glue that held that family together, Dumnezu sa l-ierte!

Meeting the in-laws

More than any other Moldovan/Eastern Orthodox tradition, I am particularly well acquainted with the praznic. I wrote about two of them previously (here and here), so I won't spend much time explaining this tradition.

A few things made this praznic different from others I have attended. Most obviously was the new people with whom I was meeting. I finally met Maria's in-laws. This praznic was held to mark the seven years since her mother in-law's passing. Since Maria's husband has also passed, it was host by her two remaining children.

The women in the room immediately greeted me with kind words and those imperative European cheek kisses. "Finally we meet you," they said. "Yes, Melissa. Like the tea plant, yes?"

After my host brother quizzed my Romanian skills in front of the whole table, he kindly informed me that his Uncle Galaction (pictured below in the suit, on the left side of the table) is the Secretary General for the Institute of Philology, at the State Academy of Sciences. He has a doctorate in Romanian! Doamne fereste! 

As with any family gathering, the good-ol'-days stories, lubricated by house wine and brandy, eventually dominated the conversation. It just so happened that I arrived that morning in the capital city from this family's native county. I spent two days there facilitating a youth experience exchange. Hence, village tales were interrupted to explain to me where particular stories took place in relation to where I had just been.

On the whole, the stories told about Maria's Mother in-law were gracious and endearing. Her memory was revered by another of her daughter in-laws, as a hard-working, constantly in-motion, and attentive woman. Though, the stories of her two sons drinking milk straight from the source without their Mother's permission were all the more entertaining.

Though, as every village does, theirs also has tragic memories. According to Galaction, their village was particularly affected by Stalin's deportations in the late 1930s. Galaction said many people from their village were taken away in trains, fed only salt-cured fish and denied any water. Those who died along the way were never recovered, those who made it to Siberia only arrived to find hard daily work in the labor camps. Modern estimates put the total number of deportation victims around 90,000. For more on this history, click here. As Galaction spoke I was captivated, these are the moments when I wonder why the world doesn't seem to learn from it's past. Trail of Tears. Balkan wars. Holocaust. Rwandan genocide. Sudan. And all those others I don't even know occurred.

So as not to end the post on such a low note, and to get back to the story of the party. I'll leave you with this photo of my host brother and his fiancée. Let the world know the date is set! October 14, 2011 these two will finally tie the knot, in Chisinau, on the same day as the city's hram. Felicia said she hasn't started looking for a dress yet, but will do so just as soon as the weather smartens up, in spring.

Meetings with new people seems to be my elixir of choice these days. I can't seem to leave one of these parties without a rejuvenated sense of my contentment in this place. 

Feasting during fast

As per Orthodox custom, we host a special meal each year to commemorate the death of Maria's husband. Last year, we held the event on the actual anniversary of his death. But a combination of things prompted us to have the "praznic" early.

First, the praznic is required for the first seven years after someone dies. This is the seventh year, and as such, there are a few extra customs, including a home visit by the priest to carry out a few of the appropriate rituals. Since Costel died on January 7, Orthodox Christmas, the priest would be unavailable to come to our home if we waited to do the praznic in January.

Interestingly enough, we decided to hold the praznic during the 40-day fast leading up to Christmas. During this time, many Moldovans adhere to a strictly vegan diet. No meat. No sour cream. No homemade cheese. 

The vegan twist on Maria's usual fair limited the number of fried foods that would be gracing our table, so most of it was actually cooked on our wood stove, or what we call our "soba."

Stewed potatoes and mushrooms in place of fried meat dishes.

"Sarmale" or "Galuși" prepared without meat.

White beans with sauteed onions and tomatoes in leu of what Peace Corps Volunteers commonly refer to as the "chicken jello" was a welcome change.

This year's pickles, shredded beets, and spicy carrots.

Rolled cabbage pastries, walnut pastries, and apples baked with rose-petal jam and sour cherries. No vegan changes there, just classic Maria goodness.

Desert of boiled rice with sugar, fresh orange juice, orange zest, and white raisins. Usually this dish is prepared sans orange deliciousness and with milk, instead of water as a cooking agent.

And at the end of the day...Fedorița and I know our place in the kitchen organizing and washing, organizing and drying, organizing and re-shelving the dishes. The presence of a dishwasher in this house would actually have meant that she and I would have spent far less time together. O iubesc matușika mea!

Praznic cel mai mare: The biggest meal in memory of a loved one

Moldovan traditions, as readers of this blog can attest, tend to rely on the presence of food and wine. But then again, that might not be all that different than ours. Although I attended a praznic back in my training village, this was the first one that was hosted in my home. On 8 January, 2010, we celebrated the life Maria’s husband who died six years ago. This tradition usually goes on for seven years after someone passes.

In the largest room of our house, though not very large indeed, 25 family members, colleagues, and neighbors came to pay their respects. Every inch of the table was covered in food. There was a lot of toasting in memory of family members, lots of house wine, and lots of leftover food. Which is why when the main guests left, Maria and I quickly rearranged the food to prepare for the second wave of guests. I vacuumed the same rug four times that day! There simply wasn’t enough room to have everyone at one table, one celebration of life.

I have known for some time that Maria’s husband was a well-respected man in town. When I tell people I live with Maria, someone inevitable will refer to how they knew her husband and what a good, honorable man he was. As you can see in the pictures, part of the tradition also involves going to the cemetery. Costel’s grave site conveys the importance the community placed on his life. His grave is the first inside the gate, and quiet large. I went with my “brothers” to the cemetery and here is a short summary of what we did:

-We poured wine (taken from the church) in the shape of the crucifix on the grave.

-We built a small fire to burn incense with, and carried the canister of fragrant smoke around the grave, clockwise.

-Each time someone walked by, we served them wine and candy (it doesn’t have to be candy, just some kind of food). The person drank the wine after saying a phrase that translates to “may God forgive him.” You can also pour the wine on the grave if you chose not to drink it.

-We lit a candle at the head and foot of the grave.

-We placed yellow flowers in the vase. Yellow flowers are only given for death related ceremonies.

-We took an offering of wine, bread, and candy to a home near the cemetery. The man of the house came out and kissed the bread, drank the wine, and extinguished the candle in the bread after saying a few words in memory of Costel.

I truly enjoyed witnessing this tradition. After helping Maria cook for three days and going to the cemetery with her sons, I feel much closer to Maria and her family. This is a tradition of much love and respect.