He kept it all in his head, and paired people together by some inner instinct of his own

I sensed that he saw further than I did, and I decided to listen to him

We bring you a story by Jere Bilan about a man who, perhaps just as in your own life, stands there beside you, often quietly and unnoticed, through good times and bad - and simply makes himself available to you...

Guardian Angel

I was born in a small town on the coast of the Adriatic Sea. We all knew one another, and so it was the custom for all our townsfolk to come to funerals. That custom has survived to this day. It is probably a consequence of intermarriage, since everyone is related to everyone else in some degree. Coming to a funeral shows respect for the bereaved, and also honours the deceased.

Funerals

In every town there are people who help organise funerals: they place the deceased in the coffin, carry it by hand, lower it into the grave on ropes, brick up the ledge on which the deceased is laid, and cover the grave with a marble slab. Dressing the deceased is done by the family, but this other part is carried out by particular townsfolk of our little town. People who deal with the dead must keep an emotional distance from the deceased and their family; they must have a special relationship with death, because for many of us an encounter with death can break us - that realisation of how fleeting life on this earth is, and the understanding that everything comes to an end.

I also noticed the odd expressions on the faces of the people who did this work. Their faces showed no emotion, and they had a strange yellowish-grey complexion. They were not professionals, but people who helped their community in this way, and who for that reason had a good sense of being useful. One such man was Jakov. His surname was Crnogaća. His surname had come about as a combination of the word crno ["black"] and the word gaće ["breeches"]. All his grandfathers and great-grandfathers, generations back, had helped with burials and organised funerals, and all of them wore black breeches. At first it was a nickname, and later it became a surname.

 

That year I was in the eighth grade of primary school. After the funeral of a townswoman who had lived to the age of ninety-six, Crnogaća asked me:

-    "So, lad, where are you off to after school, eh?"

 I told him:

-    "To the Nautical School, that's where! I'm going to sea after I finish school."

 He patted me on the shoulder and said:

-    "The best thing you could have done!"

 I finished the Nautical School and went off to sea.

 

 Getting to Know Someone

Life at sea was not easy for me. Homesickness tormented me. I was young, and I missed my family, my mother and my father. When I came home for the first time after that voyage, I met Crnogaća.

 He asked me:

-    "How was it on the ship, lad?"

Besides homesickness, something else was troubling me. I was lonely, both on the ship and at home. It troubled me a great deal. I thought I would never marry. There were no women to be found on the ship, and when I came back to my little town, I didn't get on very well in their company. I decided to tell him honestly how I felt:

 -  "Mr Crnogaća, everything's fine, but I haven't got a girl. There are women in those ports, but they don't interest me. I want one lasting, serious relationship."

 -  "No problem at all," he answered. "I know the whole town, because I've been doing this work of mine for decades now, and I can help you. There are a few girls I know from fine, respectable families. I'd recommend one girl to you. I'll have a word with her and with her father."

After Crnogaća spoke with her, she agreed to meet me. We walked along the riva and held hands. Time passed, and the relationship lasted. We decided to marry. Of course Crnogaća was a special guest at the wedding. He kept no names of people looking to be introduced written down anywhere - he kept it all in his head, and paired people together by some inner instinct of his own. It gave him pleasure to help people, matchmaking included.

 

 Milk

We had a child too - a daughter was born to us.  However, things did not go as we had expected. The baby would not take her mother's milk. She cried and kept losing weight. The situation became very serious, and the doctor grew worried. He told us the baby was allergic to certain components in the milk and could not digest it, which upset her stomach.

I met Crnogaća and told him what was going on. He told me to make a mixture of half chamomile tea and half goat's milk, with a spoonful of sugar. This recipe had been passed on to him long ago, on her deathbed, by a woman who had worked with medicinal herbs. There was nothing else for me to do but try his advice. Goat's milk was brought to me from a village inland, and I had dried chamomile at home. Remarkably, the little girl drank the mixture eagerly and began to gain weight.

After a few more years at sea, I decided to buy some land and build a house. I had thought of building it in a hollow. However, Crnogaća said to me:

 -   "Not there. Build it on the hillside."

 -   "How do you know that?"

 -  "I do dowsing, and from what I know, it's not good to build a house on that spot. Staying in places where there are underground water currents can lead to illness."

 I didn't know what he was talking about, but I listened to him.

 

 The Olive Grove

 

At one funeral he asked me:

-  "So, lad, how's work?"

-  "It's good! I earn well, I work for a foreign company. But I don't know where to invest the money."

-  "They're building the Adriatic Highway. The road will pass through our town. Foreigners will come too, tourists, who'll need lodging and food. Build a stone house near the sea and do it up the way our old houses are done, with green shutters and terracotta roof tiles. Buy an olive grove by the sea, because the time will come when olive groves will rise in value."

 

I sensed that he saw further than I did, and I decided to listen to him.

One day a telegram reached me on the ship. My wife wrote to tell me that Crnogaća had died. I was sad and sorrowful. He had accompanied me my whole life. I am convinced that guardian angels exist. My guardian angel was the tall, stooped gravedigger Crnogaća. He did not look especially handsome, he had no white wings on his back, but he was my guardian angel, who accompanied me through my whole life. When you realise that guardian angels exist, life becomes more beautiful, and we go through it more secure and more content.