Spring 2024 - Recrudescence

“Through the Plague”

gotten, either: one could see dried basil, red thread, and a bat’s wing or frog’s leg hanging in strange bouquets at many thresholds. There were the remnants of boiled herbs in the multicolored streams that lined the streets. Someone burned cow manure in their yard. Soon such fires loomed next to each house. Thick, smelly smoke filled the village, mingled with smoke from fires in the Balkan Mountains, that covered the whole area in fog. There was not the slightest whiff of wind. The silence became even deeper and ever more frightening. Then a few days passed. No one died, it seemed the plague hadn’t come yet, and perhaps it wouldn’t come after all. People set aside their cautiousness and began talking with each other - at first through the fences, then they gathered in the neighborhoods and finally came out on the streets. Yet the plague wasn’t the only evil. During those few days, people in every house felt the need for so many things. They were running out of flour and hunger – no less of a danger – was beginning to show its frightening face. Women were wailing and entreating their men; the men would meet by the hedgerows, exchange a word or two, and then stare at the ground. The village would be on fire with terrible disease any day now, so what could they do? Hide in the Balkans? Yet each of them had five or six bellies to feed, and the most important thing to think about was bread. It took a clever, hearty man to step up, say what should be done, and lead the village. People started whispering Hadji Dragan’s name even more often: He was the man who could save the village. At first, people were cautious to keep this amongst their nearest neighbors, then the word spread from neighborhood to neighborhood, and not long afterward four old men, chosen from the whole village, were on their way to Hadji Dragan’s house. They were going to tell him that the fate of the village was in his hands. Along the way, the old men thought less about the plague and more about how they would enter Hadji Dragan’s house. He was a quick-tempered and unpredictable man, who sometimes greet ed his guests as though he didn’t know what to do with them, and sometimes directly scolded and sent them away. When the old men reached the heavy, iron-clad gates of Hadji Dragan’s house, Grand pa Neyko knocked on the latch, while the rest of them put their 187