TP: Your thoughts and memories about coffee. How old were you? Where were you? Do you remember in which room you made your first coffee—in the kitchen? In a cafe? What did it taste like? Did you eat something with the coffee?
MG: My first coffee, I made it, maybe…maybe when I was ten, and that coffee I didn’t drink like Bosnian coffee, but I mmm…I made it for my mom, and we children drank the leftover coffee as a cafe ole.
TP: Oh, I remember that as well! Do you remember where you were? At home?
MG: I was at home. Maybe I was in the village where we had property, during the summer we were at the village, or in Sarajevo…I think really it was in Sarajevo where I made my first coffee.
TP: Do you remember if you ate something with that coffee—the one you made first: the cafe ole?
MG: We had cafe ole on a regular basis; every morning we got coffee before we went to school. We drank cafe ole with breakfast. There was always fresh bread and cheese, butter, and butter, kaymak (cream). Kaymak was essential. And cafe ole.
TP: And back then, who was your family?
MG: My family consisted of my mom and three brothers. My father died very early on, when I was three, so my mother was left with us: four kids. She was left alone. Luckily she financially [independent]….she didn’t depend on anyone. She was financially secure.
TP: Where were you in the order among your siblings?
MG: I was third. I had one younger brother. Everyone has died. I am the only one remaining.
TP: Auntie Maha, did the boys also make coffee?
MG: No, they didn’t make coffee. Mostly our mom cooked it. And my first Bosnian coffee I would say that I only drank when I started to work.
TP: How old were you then?
MG: I was twenty. Until then, I didn’t drink coffee, the Bosnian [coffee]….I mean, the one that you customarily drink first, and then the day starts.
TP: Oh, me as well! I only started at the university.
MG: Only when I started to work, there was coffee first, and then the work started.
TP: Ana is asking us: who taught you to cook coffee, and if you can say a little more about that person.
MG: I can say that my mother taught me. She became a widow when she was 28, alone with four of us. And from her, not only did I learn about coffee, but everything in life.
TP: Was someone helping her? Or, was she really alone?
MG: She had a maid, she mostly had a maid until we all grew up. So she could go get groceries and leave us with someone else.
TP: Did the maid live with you?
MG: Yes, and she helped with cooking, cleaning, and all other small tasks around the house.
TP: So, your mother was very talented in household management.
MG: Yes. First, because she was dedicated only to us, and all her life was about us.
TP: And now Ana is asking: when did you perfect coffee-making? Did you after your first coffee make more coffees? How much did you have to practice?
MG: Yes. If we had guests, my mom would ask me to make coffee for them. That is how I was practicing and perfecting making coffee. She [my mother] cooked coffee in the morning, and for us: cafe ole.
TP: I have similar memories. I also remember, I made coffee especially when guests were coming. When, and from whom, did you get or inherit your first dzezva?
MG: I have no idea….I don’t know.
TP: Maybe when you formed your own family?
MG: Yes, only when I formed my own family, and I got it for myself because I started from the spoon….
TP: From zero?
MG: From zero.
TP: Did your husband drink coffee?
MG: He was not a fan of coffee. But later, when my mother-in-law came, she regularly cooked coffee for herself in the morning. But the two of us didn’t. Instead, when we arrived at work, we drank the so-called “work coffee”.
TP: “Work coffee,”
CHECK THIS: MAHA OR TATJANA: in those times, there was no coffee, except Bosnian coffee.
MG: There were no coffee machines, everyone cooked Bosnian coffee. And that was the one [Bosnian] that was valued. Everyone loved it. In other words, that was a sacred thing. In Yugoslav times, at times there would be a coffee shortage. But every family kept reserves. A house was never without coffee.
TP: Machines and beans: Do you remember when you started using electric machines? For example, electric grinder? Or, electric coffee maker?
MG: Only here in America, and grinding and coffee it was…
TP: Did you have that old handgrinder?
MG: Yes, I had a beautiful old coffee grinder: handmade. I’m so sorry that I was not able to bring it. That was one beautiful artifact.
TP: Did it get lost?
MG: It disappeared in the war [1990s].
TP: All right, did you prefer using certain dzezve, or certain machines? Do you think there is one thing that is the best for making coffee?
MG: I used dzezva—that suited me; one big [dzezva] and I had an even bigger dzezva than that one, and I called that one” Auntie’s coffee” because when aunts arrived—my mother had four sisters—so five of them, so when they came to visit, one had to have a big dzezva. Three times bigger than my other one.
TP: When did you leave Sarajevo Auntie Maha?
MG: I was not there during the war. Just before the war, I arrived at Dubravka’s [daughter] for a visit, only for a visit.
TP: And you didn’t know what lay ahead?
MG: I didn’t know. I had a return ticket and everything, and when I asked for visa [at U.S. embassy] they said to me “you’re going to your daughter’s to stay?” “Why would I stay there?” [I said] “If my daughter wants, she can come to visit me, I have my pension, and my apartment, I don’t know why I would stay in America.
TP: And was Dubi already in New Orleans?
MG: Yes, she lived in New Orleans. And he [U.S. embassy] said “everyone says that, and everyone stays until the end of their life.” I came on June 11, through Zagreb, I had a ticket through Zagreb, and just after that the war started in Croatia.
TP: What year was that?
MG: It was 1991. I was waiting [for] when they would open the airport [in Sarajevo] so that I could return. I even extended my ticket, I paid $600 to extend it, but the war continued, the airport was not opening. So, for some time, I was neither there, neither here. In the end I saw that the war started in Bosnia as well, and there was no return. And then here [U.S.] I asked for asylum.
TP: Do you remember from other people how they obtained coffee during the war?
MG: There were times when you couldn’t buy coffee. You could obtain it through black market, through people who knew how to get coffee and no one was sorry to give more money if they got coffee.
TP: Do you remember which was your favorite brand? The coffee you liked the most?
MH: My favorite was Visocka [CHECK VISOKO]…what was the name, and also Zagreb coffee.
MH: Yes, Frankova was also very good.
TP: Yes, I still think that Frankova is excellent. Do you remember what you like about that brand? Packaging? Taste?
MG: Most of all, taste, but the packaging was nice to, but I think the taste was very important.
TP: The taste was number one! Which kind of coffee was the tastiest? Did you like to drink it with the foam?
MG: Now, I drink American coffee from a machine, with milk, without sugar of course. And that’s one coffee in the morning, and no more: only one.
TP: Do you ever get nostalgic for Turkish i.e. Bosnian coffee?
MG: I get nostalgic very often, but I never cook coffee for myself, but only if Dubravka was here, or someone else. And for myself, I don’t know if I made but ten coffees in my life.
TP: Even though your mother made coffee for herself?
MG: Well yes, well yes.
TP: Does Dubi still drink Turkish coffee?
MG: She loves to drink it, but now we drink American coffee because it is easier to obtain that kind of coffee, because for Bosnian coffee we need finely ground beans, and it’s good if it’s not over-roasted or under-roasted: that coffee demands a lot.
TP: Therefore, more complicated?
MG: Yes, yes.
TP: To me, Turkish coffee—Bosnian coffee—is also connected to some rituals like when the guests come, and when we talk.
MG: When my cousins come over from Chicago, then we drink Bosnian coffee, of course with sugar cubes—or even better with rahat lokum / turkish delight.
TP: Yes, the same thing in Turkey; they put it on the small plate.
MG: That’s a special honor when you offer coffee with rahat lokum.
TP: In Sarajevo, you can find it without a problem (rahat lokum).
MG: Yes, and they have their own factory [in Sarajevo] but they get it from Turkey.
TP: I just brought that to Ana and to you I brought it—from Turkey. Did you drink coffee with friends at work—you already said that that was your first coffee…
MG: Yes, and then, after, we drink one more coffee after the breakfast.
TP: Did you drink coffee first? On an empty stomach, without breakfast.
MG: Without breakfast. In the morning you just washed yourself, and ran to work.
TP: Except morning coffee, was there another regular coffee break?
MG: Yes, there was a break after the regular break, and there was a breakfast there, and then after breakfast, one drank coffee.
TP: So, you ate breakfast at work too?
MG: Across from our work, there was a shop, so you could buy whatever you wanted. For example, sour cream, butter, suho mesa/dried meat — anything for breakfast.
TP: When you drank coffee at work, who prepared it?
MG: We had a colleague who was younger than us, and she cooked coffee. She cooked coffee, she washed dishes…she was there, and she did that. She was the youngest, and she was a hard worker.
TP: With whom did you prefer to drink coffee then, and now?
MG: Now, of course with Dubravka, and then, also with Dubravka. But I also loved to drink it with colleagues from work.
TP: Do you remember what you were chatting about, or what you were talking about when you were drinking coffee at work?
MG: I had two kinds of jobs. With one group, I talked about everything: about making food, about going out, about love affairs. They were young, and we talked about everything. There were a lot of us in the room—it was a big room, and everyone had something to say. And then, I started another job in which there was order and work. It was well known that there was not much talking aloud: one knew the time when one would arrive, when one would take a break, and when one would leave the job: to the second [rigid].
TP: Why? Was it because of the way your boss was?
MG: That’s how my boss was. She demanded discipline, but I think she was fair about everything.
TP: What was that first company, and what was the second one?
MG: I worked in so many companies, I don’t remember. The last company I worked for was Jugobanka.
TP: What was your profession?
MG: I worked in accounting, in OVERHEAD[ CHECK THIS]
TP: And now, with Dubi, when you drink coffee, what do you talk about?
MG: About what we’re going to cook, and what we’re going to eat [laughs]
TP: Where did you prefer to drink coffee? Did you go out?
MG: I didn’t go out; I rarely went out. I can count on my fingers how many times I went out—not including when I was a young woman—at that time I went out with my friends. But afterwords, when I matured, I didn’t go out.
TP: And did you already have children then?
MG: Especially because I didn’t have a husband…I was not always in the mood to go out. By the time I would gather my friends who would go out, I’d lose my desire for it. So mostly at home I drank coffee.
TP: Is Tozo [son] older or younger than Dubi?
MG: He’s older.
TP: How many years?
MG: 2.5 years
TP: So, he was 12.5 when your husband died?
MG: Yes, Yes
TP: Do you think it was strange for a single woman that was alone to go out?
MG: No no no, not that. It’s just that I wasn’t in the mood to go out. I was happier at home. But, I’m sitting at home, alone, but I don’t know how to cook coffee.
TP: You should have [made coffee for yourself]
MG: I should have, but I never prioritized myself.
TP: Did you have a balcony, veranda, or a yard in your house?
MG: I didn’t have it. And I’m so sorry that I didn’t. When I got married, I didn’t have even a balcony. There was a yard, but it was dirty, so it was not usable—especially for drying laundry.
TP: When you lived with your mother, did you have a house, or an apartment at that time?
MG: A house—I grew up in a house that had everything. We didn’t have any needs—nothing was missing. We had a large garden that a man cultivated. One third he kept for himself, second third went to my uncle, and the last third when to us. Therefore, we always had winter provisions [zimica]. In the summer, we were in the village. We didn’t lack anything, all the way until the war [WWII]. Until 1941, we had everything, and then the war came. We were lucky to have property in the village.
TP: Where in the village, close to Sarajevo?
MG: Close to Sarajevo, Butmir, where we spent summers. It was unforgettable for me. That’s where we had our house. In that house, there were three rooms upstairs, one more downstairs, and a cellar, and everything that one needed: water, pump, and well—there was everything except electricity.
TP: Was there some river or some lake around there?
MG: No, but river Zeljeznica was close by, so we kids could go swim regularly. The men had their vortex [VIR??] CHECK and women—a little bit closer—their vortex [VIR??] whirlpool?
four or five friends, and we would be joined by my youngest aunt, and then some more women would gather, so we really enjoyed swimming. There, I learned how to swim. And, when we would return home, we had snacks: boiled corn, boiled tikva [squash], cafe ole, cheese, and kaymak…we enjoyed ourselves.
TP: You didn’t have a bad life.
MG: That was the best the time of my life.
TP: Do you remember the rations? [WWII]
MG: After the second world war, there were ration cards, and ration points
TP: So you couldn’t buy food without cards?
MG: The first group were the workers, the second group were the white collar/office workers, and the third group, school children. The [younger] children were getting the best cards, but the older school children were the last. So, we got very little ration points for food. However, we made ends meet—we had our village. It was hard to get food, bring it to the city from the village, because that was considered to be black market. My brothers were trying however they could, but it was hard for me.
TP: How old were you then?
MG: I was 15-16 years old.
TP: Do you remember if after WWII, there was a shortage of coffee?
MG: Yes, there was a bit shortage. It was hard living. It was hard to get anything, but coffee was always in every home. Coffee was a priority. How people got it, I don’t know. For example, I remember in the village in the morning two aunts—first was carrying her own coffee, the second was bringing her own coffee: one with her husband, the other with her brother. My mother was carrying the third coffee on a tray—the trays had hot coals to keep the coffee warm—one round with a concave middle and there was slow burning coal, and on the side a little tray to keep the coffee warm. And that was called….I don’t remember. And then, everyone brings their coffee and drinks it. It was wonderful.
TP: Did you bring dzezva to the U.S.?
MG: No, no, But Dubravka did—she brought dzezve and sahan, and she brought some other things. Lately, in Sarajevo, women did not drink coffee from fildzan, but from small cups, thin, pretty, English.
TP: If you had known you were going to America to stay, would you have brought dzezve with you?
MG: No, because I was never a passionate kafedzija (coffee drinker). I drank coffee because it was a custom, but I could also do without it.
TP: Auntie Maho, did you think that Muslims, Serbs, and Croats have the same customs around coffee?
MG: No, no: Muslims were really the only true enthusiasts and lovers of coffee—really connected to coffee. While the others were drinking [CHECK—TRANSLATION] WHILE THE OTHERS DRANK IT—WITHOUT THOUGHT, UNCONSCIOUSLY
That’s how I was imagining it [my perception] But the Muslims were always looking to be more well-presented— so the dzezve would be polished, that everything around shines, that it be a pleasure.
TP: Therefore, it was a part of identity?
TP: Would you share one of your memories about coffee?
MG: There is nothing special that I remember. Only that we all enjoyed coffee—some more, some less. I can remember one coffee I enjoyed and that I remember. It was in Sarajevo, on the hill, there was an old cafe Babica Basta. And here, with my husband, I once drank coffee. But it was before we were engaged. And that coffee, I remember.
TP: Because it was connected to love?
MG: Perhaps it was tied to love, but also ambience. It was a garden, on a hill, and down below, you could see Sarajevo. That coffee, I remember.
TP: Vase misli i sjecanja o kafi. Koliko ste imali godina? Gdje ste bili? Da li se sjecate u kojoj ste prostoriji napravili prvu kafu, u kuhinju ili kafani? Kakav je bio okus i jeste li nesto pojeli uz kafu?
Maha: Prvu sam kafu pravila, mozda…mozda kad sam imala oko 10 godina, a tu kafu ja nisam pila kao bosansku kafu nego sam hmm pravila je za mamu i ostatak te kafe smo mi djeca pili kao bijelu kafu.
TP: Toga se i ja sjecam! Jel’ se sjecate gdje ste bili? Kod kuce?
Maha: Kod kuce sam bila. Mozda sam bila i na selu jer smo mi imali imanje; preko ljeta smo na selu ili u Sarajevu. Ipak u Sarajevu mislim da sam prvu kafu napravila.
TP: Je li se sjecate da li ste nesto pojeli uz tu kafu, koju ste prvu radili, uz tu bijelu?
Maha: Pa bijela kafa je bila redovno; svakog jutra smo mi dobili kafu prije nego sto smo isli u skolu. Pili smo bijelu kafu uz dorucak. Uvijek je bio svjez hljeb, i ovaj, sira, butera, kajmaka. Kajmak je posebno bio zastupljen. I bijela kafa.
TP: A ko je tad bio u vasoj porodici?
Maha: U mojoj porodici je bila mama i tri brata. Mojo tac je umro vrlo rano kad sam ja imala 3 godine. Tako da je moja majka ostala sa nama 4 djece, hmm ostala je sama. Sva sreca pa je ona bila financijski (neovisna)… nije bila ovisna ni o kome. Bila je finansijski obezbjedjena.
TP: Gdje ste vi po redu od brace I sesatra?
Maha: Ja sam treca po redu. Poslije mene je bio jos jedan brat. Svi su umrli, ja sam ostala zadnja.
TP: A teta Maha, jesu li decki isto kuhali kafu ili ne?
Maha: Ne nisu oni kuhali kafu. Uglavno mama je kuhala za nas, a svoju prvu bosansku kafu mogu reci da sam popila kad sam pocela tek da radim.
TP: Koliko ste tada imali godina?
Maha: Tada sam imala 20 godina. Do tada ja nisam pila kafu, bosansku. Mislim onu kako je po obicaju prvo popiti kafu pa onda nek dan da pocne.
TP: Tako i ja isto. Ja sam tek na fakultetu pocela.
Maha: Tek kad sam pocela da radim tamo je onda bilo prvo kafa, a onda da se posao pocne.
TP: Ana nas pita ko vas je naucio kuhati kafu i da li mozete nesto vise reci o toj osobi?
Maha: Mogu da kazem da me je naucila moja majka; ostala je udovica od 28 godina sama sa nas cetvoro, i ovaj, od nje sam ne samo kafu naucila, nego sve u zivotu.
TP: Je li neko njoj pomagao ili je bas bila sama?
Maha: Imala je kucnu pomocnicu, ona je uglavnom imala kucnu pomocnicu, i ovaj, sve dok negdje mi nismo odrasli, tako da je mogla da ide u nabavku i da ostavi nas sa nekim.
TP: A je li kucna pomocnica zivjela sa vama?
Maha: Je, I pomogala je i pri kuhanju i ciscenju i sve ove sporedne poslove u kuci.
TP: Dakle, mama je bila talentirana za vodjenje domacinstva?
Maha: Jeste, prvo sto se posvetila samo nama I citav njezin zivot je podredjen bio nama.
TP: A sada Ana jos pita kad ste usavrsili spremanje kafe, da li ste nakon te prve kafe jos radili kafa i koliko ste morali vjezbati?
Maha: Jesam, ako dodju gosti onda mene mama zamoli da skuham kafu za goste, i ovaj, tako sam usavrsavala. Ali ona je utjutro kuhala kafu, a nama za dorucak bijelu kafu.
TP: Ja imam slicna sjecanja. Ja se isto sjecam da sam radila kafu kad su dolazili gosti pogotovo.
Kada ste dobili i od koga ste dobili ili da li ste naslijedili svoju prvu dzezvu?
Maha: Nemam pojma… ne znam.
TP: Mozda kad ste osnovali svoju porodicu?
Maha: Jesam, tek kad sam osnovala svoju porodicu. I to sam nabavila ja jer sam pocela od kasike.
TP: Od nule?
Maha: Od nule.
TP: Je li vas muz pio kafu?
Maha: Nije ni on bio ljubitelj kafe, nego kasnije kad je moja svekrva dosla kod nas ona je redovno sebi kuhala ujutro kafu. Nas dvoje ne. Nego kad dojemo na posao onda popijemo onu radnu kafu.
TP: Radnu kafu, kod nas u to doba nije bilo nikakve druge nego ove nase bosanske kafe.
Maha: Aparata nije bilo, svako je kuhao ovu bosansku kafu. I to je bila cijenjena. Bas svi su voljeli; to je kao neka, da kazem, svetinja bila. Za vrijeme X-Jugoslavije bilo je vremena da nije bilo kafe. Ali svaka je porodica imala u zalihama; nikad kuca nije bila bez kafe.
TP: Sprave i zrna; da li se sjecate kada ste poceli koristiti elektricne sprave, na primer elektricni mlin ili elektricni apparat za kuhanje kafe?
Maha: Tek ovdje u Americi, a mljevenje kafe to je bilo…
TP: Jeste li imali onaj stari mlin na ruku?
Maha: Jesmo, imala sam divan stari mlin, rucni rad. Zao mi je sto nisam uspjela da ga donesem. To je tako bila jedna sprava divna.
TP: Da’l se izgubio?
Maha: Nestalo u ratu.
TP: Dobro, da li ste radije koristili ordedjene dzezve ili sprave? Da li mislite da je nesto najbolje za pravljenej kafe?
Maha: Ja sam koristila dzezvu koja mi je odgovarala; jedna velika, a imala sam jos jednu vecu dzezvu od ove, i tu sam zvala tetkine kafe.
Zato sto su kad tetke dodju, moja mama je imala 4 sestre, njih 5 znaci, kad dodju mora biti velika dzezva, tako da je bila 3 puta veca od ove.
TP: Kad ste vi izasli iz Sarajeva teta Maho?
Maha: Nisam ja bila za vrijeme rata. Ja sam pred sami rat dosla kod Dubravke da je posjetim, samo da je posjetim.
TP: Niste ni znali sta ce se desiti?
Maha: Nisam znala. Imala sam povratnu kartu i sve, i kad sam trazila vizu oni su mi rekli “ides kod cerke da ostanes”. Sto bi ja ostajala tamo; i cerka ako hoce docice kod mene, a ja imam svoju penziju, imam svoj stan, ne znam zasto bi ja ostala u Americi.
T: A Dubi je vec bila tu u New Orleansu?
Maha: Ona je zivjela u New Orleans-u. I on kaze “svi tako kazu, a ostanu do kraja zivota”. Ja sam dosla 11 juna preko Zagreba, imla sam kartu preko Zagraba, i onda se odmah poslije toga zaratilo u Hrvatskoj.
T: A to je bila koja godina?
Maha: To je bilo 91, i ja sam samo cekala kad ce se otvoriti aerodrom da se mogu vratiti nazad. Cak sam produzila kartu, platila jos 600 dolara da produzim kartu, medjutim rat se nastavio, nije se otvarao aerodrome tako da sam ja jedno vrijeme ostala ono ni tamo ni ovamoe. Na koncu sam vidjela zaratilo se u Bosni, tu nema povratka. E, onda sam trazila ovdje, azil sam trazila.
T: Da li se mozda sjecate od drugih ljudi kako se nabavljala kafa za vrijeme rata?
Maha: Bilo je vremena kad kafa nije bila u prodaji. Nabavljala se preko lica koja su znala i umjela da dodju do kafe tako da niko nije zalio dati vise novaca samo da ima kafu.
T: Je li se sjecate koja vam se marka kafe najvise svidjala, koju ste navies voljeli?
Maha: Najvise mi se svidjala Visocka (grad Visoko), kako se zvala boze, a ne isto tako i Zagrebacka.
Maha: Da, Frankova je isto tako bila dobra.
T: Da, ja jos uvijek mislim da je Frankova odlicna. Da li znate sta vam se svidjalo oko te marke, ambalaza, okus?
Maha: Najvise okus, a i ambalaza je bila lijepa, samo mislim okus je bio vazan.
T: Okus je bio broj jedan. Kakva vam je kafa najuukusnija? Da li volite sa pjenom?
Maha: Ja sada pijem americku kafu iz aparata sa mlijekom, bez secera, naravno. I to je jedna kafa ujutro i vise ne, samo jedna.
T: Je li vam ikada dodje nostalgija za turskom tj bosanskom kafom?
Maha: Dodje mi cesto, medjutim sama sebi nisam nikad kuhala kafu, za sebe, nego uvijek ako je Dubravka tu, ili jos neko bude, a za sebe ne znam jesam li u zivotu jedno desetak puta skuhala, sumnjam da sam za sebe.
T: Mada je vasa mama radila za sebe?
Maha: Pa jeste.
T: A je li Dubi jos pije tursku kafu?
Maha: Pa voli ona da popije, ali mi sad pijemo americku kafu posto je ovdje lakse doci do kafe ove, jer za bosansku kafu treba sitno mljevena, a dobro da nije preprzena, da nije ne doprzena, njoj puno treba.
T: Dakle kompliciranije?
Maha: Jeste, jeste.
T: Meni je isto kafa turska, bosanska, povezana za nekakve rituale, kad dolaze gosce, kad se prica.
Maha: Kad doju meni moje rodice iz Cikaga onda se pije bosanska kafa, naravno sa secerom, kockom secera ili jos bolje sa rahat lokumom.
T: Da to isto u Turskoj stave na tanjiric.
Maha: To je posebna cast kad nekog pocastis sa kafom sa rahat lokumom.
T: To se u Sarajevu bez problema nabavlja, rahat lokum?
Maha: Jeste, jeste, a oni imaju svoju tvornicu, a i nabavljaju iz Turske, ne znam sve odakle.
T: To sam ja bas donijela Ani, a i vama sam donijela iz Turske. Jeste pili i da li pijete kafu sa kolegicama i kolegama na poslu, to ste vec rekli da je to bila prva kafa.
Maha: Jeste, a onda se poslije popije kafa jos jedna kad se doruckuje.
T: Jeste li vi kafu pili ono prvo bez icega na prazan stomak bez dorucka?
Maha: Bez dorucka. Ujutro se samo opralo i trci na posao.
T: Osim jutarnje kafe da li je jos postojala neka druga redovna pauza za kafu?
Maha: Jest bila je ta pauza poslije redovne pause, i dorucak je tu bio, onda poslije dorucka se popila kafa.
T: Dakle, jeste dorucak isto jeli na poslu?
Maha: Preko puta nas bila je trgovina pa se moglo kupiti sta je ko htio, mislim mileram, puter, suho meso, bilo sta za dorucak.
T: Kad ste na poslu pili kafu ko je pripremao?
Maha: Imali smo jednu nasu kolegicu mladu koja nam je kuhala kafu. Ona je bila da skuha kafu, da opera sudje; ona je tu bila i ona je to rado radila. Najmladja bila, i bila je vrijedna.
T: S kim ste najradije pili kafu tada i sada?
Maha: Sada naravno sa Dubravkom, a i tada; pa voljela sam I sa svojim kolegicama sa posla.
T: Da li se sjecate o cemu ste caskali, o cemu ste pricali uz kafu kad ste bili sa kolegicama na poslu?
Maha: Ja sam imala dvije vrste posla. Sa jednom grupom sam o svemu pricala, o pripremama hrane, o izlascima, o ljubavnim vezama. Bili su mladi, pricali su o svemu i svacemu. Bilo nas je dosta u sobi. Velika je bila soba i svak je nesto imao da kaze. A onda sam presla u drugu sluzbu u kojoj je bio zaveden red i rad. Znalo se nema puno price; znalo se vrijeme kad se dolazi kad se odmara, a kad se odlazi, u sekundu.
T: Zasto, zbog toga kakav je sef bio ili….?
Maha: Takva je bila sefica. Trazila je da bude disciplina. Mislim ona je stvarno bila fer sto se tice svega.
T: A koja je to bila firma prva, a koja druga?
Maha: O, koliko sam imala firmi ne mogu ti ni reci. Zadnja firma iz koje sam izasla bila je Jugobanka.
T: Koje je vase bilo zanimanje?
Maha: Ja sam radila u knjigovodstvu, u obradi rezijskih troskova.
T: A kada sad sa Dubijem sjednete na kafu na kakve teme naidjete?
Maha: Sta cemo da kuhamo i sta cemo da jedemo (hahaha).
T: Gdje ste najradije pili kafu? Da li ste izlazili van?
Maha: Nisam izlazila van. Rijetko sam kad izlazila van. Mogu da nabrojim na prste kad sam izlazila, da ne kazem ono ranije kad sam bila djevojka, onda sam izlazila sa svojim drustvom. Ali poslije kad sam bila ozbiljnija nisam onda izlazila.
T: A tada ste vec imali djecu?
Maha: Pogotovo sto nisam imala muza, sama. Nisam uvijek bila ni raspolozena da izlazim, dok ja skupim prijateljice sa kojima cu izaci prodje me volja, tako da sam uglavnom kod kuce i pila (kafu).
T: Je li Tozo mladji od Dubija ili stariji?
Maha: Stariji je.
T: Koliko godina?
Maha: Dvije i po godine.
T: Dakle, njemu je bilo dvanaest ipol kad je vas muz umro?
Maha: Jeste, jeste
T: Jeste li mislili da je to bilo cudno za zenu da bude sama da izadje van?
Maha: Pa nije, nije, nego jednostavno ja nisam bila raspolozena da idem sama. Meni je ljepse bilo da sjedim kod kuce. Ali sjedim kod kuce, sama sam, ali ne znam sebi skuhati kafu.
T: Trebli ste (skuhati sebi kafu).
Maha: Trebala sam, ali ja sam sebi uvijek bila zadnja.
T: Da li ste imali balkon, verandu, dvoriste u kuci?
Maha: Nisam imala; bas mi je to zao, kad sam se udala nisam imala ni balkon. Dvoriste je bilo, ali dvoriste neko prljavo, tako da se nije moglo koristi bas, pogotovo za ves da se susi.
T: A kad ste zivjeli sa mamom jeste li vi imali kucu ili stan u to doba?
Maha: Kucu. Ja sam odrasla u jednoj, mogu reci kuci koja je imala sve, mislim. Nismo imali nikakvih potreba, da je nesto nedostajalo. Imali smo veliku bastu koju je obradjivao jedan covjek. Jednu trecinu je sebi zadrzao, drugu trecinu dao mome stircu, a trecu nama, tako da smo imali obezbjedjenu zimnicu. Ljeti smo bili na selu. Nismo oskudjevali ni u cemi sve do rata, 41, imali smo sve. Onda je doaso rat. Sva sreca da smo imali to imanje na selu.
T: Gdje na selu, blizu Sarajeva?
Maha: Blizu Sarajeva, Butmir u kojem smo provodili ljeto. To je za mene nezaboravno. Tamo smo kucu imali. U toj kuci bilo je tri sobe gore, jedna jos dole i magaza i sve sto je trebalo, voda, pumpa i bunar, sve je bilo samo nije bilo struje.
T: Je li tamo bila neka rijeka ili jezero?
M: Nije nego Zeljeznica rijeka kao blizu, tako da smo mi djeca redovno isli na kupanje. Muskarci imali svoj vir, zene, malo blize ovamo, svoj vir. Cetiri, pet drugarica, pa nam se pridruzi moja tetka najmladja, pa onda jos neke se zene skupe, tako da smo uzivali u plivanju. Tu sam naucila da plivam. I ovaj, e onda kad smo se vracali nas je cekala uzina, kukuruzi kuhani, tikva kuhana, bijela kafa, sir i kajmak. Uzivali smo.
T: Nije vama lose bilo.
Maha: To je meni najbolje moje doba u zivotu.
T: Je li se sjecate oskudice poslije drugog svjetskog rata?
Maha: Poslije drugog svjetskog rata bile su doznake, bonovi za hranu.
T: Dakle nisi mogao kupti hranu bez bona?
Maha: Prva grupa je bila radnici, druga grupa sluzbenici, a treca djeca djaci. Djeca su dobivali bolje bonove, ali ovi stariji djaci, oni su bili zadnji. Tako da smo mi vrlo malo dobili tih bonova za ishranu. Ali eto, snalazili smo se; imali smo to selo. Pa tesko je i dobaviti bilo, donijeti u grad iz sela jer se to smatralo svercanje. Moja se braca snalazila kako su znala i umjela. Meni je bilo tesko (????).
T: Koliko ste imali godina tada?
Maha: Tada sam imala 15-16.
T: Da li se sjecate je li poslije drugog svjetskog rata bila oskudica kafe?
Maha: Bila je velika oskudica. Tesko se zivjelo.
Sve je tesko bilo nabaviti, ali kafa je uvijek bila u svakom domu. Kafa je bila prioritet. Kako se nabavljala ja ne znam. Recimo ja se sjecam na selu, ujutro, dvije tetke - jedna nosi svoju kafu za pice, druga nosi svoju kafu, jedna sa muzem, jedna sa bratom. Moja majka nosi trecu na tacni; i bile su one (tacne) sa ugljem da bude topla kafa. Jedna okrugla, u sredini sa zadubljenjem, i tu je bio ugalj koji je polako gorio, a sa strane jedna mala da se moze spustiti kafa da se grije. To se zvala, ne mogu da se sjetim. E onda svako svoje nosi i pije. Bilo je divno.
T: Jeste li ponijeli svoju dzezvu za US?
Maha: Ne, ne. Nego je to Dubravka; uzela je dzezve i sahan i donijela je jos stvari. U zadnje vrijeme u Sarajavu zene nisu pile kafu iz fildzana nego male soljice, tanke lijepe, engleske. Imam ti jedan set takav.
T: Da ste zanli da idete u Ameriku (da ostanete) da li biste onda ponijeli dzezvu sa sobom?
Maha: Ne, ne jer ja nisam nikad bila onaj strastveni kafedjija. Ovaj, pila sam kafu zato sto je i obicaj, a mogla sam i bez kafe.
T: Teta Maho, je li mislite da su Muslimani, Srbi i Hrvati imali iste obicaje oko kafe?
Maha: Ne, ne, Muslimani su stvarno bili oni uzivaoci i predani ljubitelji kafe, bas vezani za kafu. Dok osatli su pili, ali ono negdje uz put kako bi rekla, ne da se uziva u samoj kafi nego sto je obicaj da se popije. Tako sam ja bar zamisljala. A Musllimani su uvijek gledali da sto vise ugode da to bude dotjeranije. One dzezve da budu izglancane, da bude sve sto je okolo cisto da sija, da je to uzitak.
T: Dakle bio je veliki dio identiteta?
T: Da li bi ste mi ispricali neko vase sjecanje vezano uz kafu?
Maha: Nesto nemam bas posebno da se sjecam. Jedino to sto smo svi uzivali u kafi, neko vise, neko manje. Mogu se sjetiti jedne kafe koja mi je prijala i koju pamtim. To je bilo u Sarajevu, ovako na brezuljku bila je jedna kafana zvala se Babica Basta. I tu sam sa muzem popila kafu jednom, ali to je bilo prije nego sto smo se uzeli. I ta mi je kafa ostala u sjecanju.
T: Zato sto je bila vezana za ljubav?
M: Valjda bila je vezana za ljubav i ambijent. To je bila jedna basta na brezuljku pa se dolevidi Sarajevo. Tu kafu pamtim