The Night Of Six Fires

The fires burned orange and red throughout the city as music and laughter floated in the early evening air. Already the temperature had dropped, so we pulled on our sock caps and stepped out the door. January 13th is Old New Year (Стара Нова Година pronounced Stara Nova Godina) following the Orthodox tradition. Macedonians celebrate by hosting large bonfires where they sing, dance, drink homemade wine and rakija, and eat enormous amounts of sausage. Even though we had studied Macedonian holidays during PST, nothing could have prepared us for what would transpire that night. We were only two houses down the street from our own when one of Lori’s coworkers called from behind a fire. Before we had time to react, two glasses of wine were thurst into our hands and a man came up with a platter full of steak and sausage. He handed us a slice of bread and bid us take several pieces of meat. Though we were very close to our house, neither of us knew anyone aside from Lori’s coworker.

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After enjoying the food, drink, fire and company for a while, we decided to head further down the street towards the church. From where we stood at the first fire we could see two more up ahead. The first was a large gathering in the middle of an intersection. Our destination was the second. It was positioned at the base of the hill that is crowned by the old Serbian style Orthodox church. Our neighbor Pepi had told me that he would meet us there. I should have known that the type of fire that a 35 year-old single guy would go to would be hopping. We heard it long before we saw it. Three trumpet players were dancing around wildly while they blared their trumpets as loudly as they could. All the while pointing their bells into the ears of their fellow dancers. They were accompanied by what appeared to be very old marching style baritones. The cadence was kept by a single modified snare drum. The first thing Lori said was, “there are no women!” Indeed, she was correct. It was just a large group of men dancing around the performers singing in-between gulps of wine. We met up with Pepi and enjoyed a little more wine ourselves.

Earlier that day, on my way to Popova Kula to teach English, I ran into an old friend of Zach’s (the previous volunteer) named Vlatko. He informed me that he would have a large fire just across from the Opstina where I work and that he wanted to see me there. With that in mind, Lori and I decided to move on from the church in the direction of the Opstina. As we dropped down the hill to the next street, via a small alleyway, we were greeted by Dragi (the security officer at the school) who unbeknownst to us lived nearby and happened to have his own large fire going. Before we had time to explain where we were headed we had more sausages on toasted bread handed to us and they were asking what we wanted to drink. This time we opted for Pepsi. At this point it might be important to mention that in Macedonian culture, providing food and drink to quests is an imperative. You can stand there and try to say ‘no’ all you want, but the host will not cease until you take some. Tonight, they were more fervent than ever. At this fire, we had the opportunity to talk at length with Stevche’s father. Stevche helps run his fathers Prodavnitsa (think small mini-mart) which is situated right next to the Opstina. He was a very good friend of Zach’s and Lori and I befriended him early on. He special orders Lori’s favorite cereal and brown sugar for her cookies.

Filled to bursting with sausages and bread we made our way closer to Vlatkos. Just shy of the Opstina, we ran into my coworker Vaneh with his wife and kids at a fire in front of his in-laws house. More wine, but thankfully, no more sausage. Thanks Vaneh. Finally, we made it to our destination. Vlatko’s was unquestionably the biggest fire of the night. Rising over four feet high it consisted of sections of a tree roughly six feet in diameter. They had rigged up a single light bulb to a homemade bar covered in food and plastic bottles of homemade wine. Roughly thirty people were gathered around the fire, dancing the Oro, and feasting at the bar. We stayed here for quite some time. Though, we were required to eat more sausage, and drink more wine. I was informed that Zach never turned down a glass. Something tells me that’s a stretch. Not that disputing the point would have done any good. As we began to contemplate heading home, I received a call from my counterpart, Tony. He was at a fire near his house at the opposite end of the city. “You must come,” he said. And we did. The night was cold, but the wine had warmed us, so we set off. We walked in darkness, but everywhere we turned we could see the bright flames piercing the night sky. The walk was long, but it went quickly. This fire took up the whole street and had burned so long that it was solid coals. Bright orange and red and so hot you could barely stand the heat five feet away. Their was a large grill here too and they wasted no time handing us chunks of bread that had been sliced to accommodate a link of sausage.  The wine was good but strong. This fire had many of Zach’s old friends at it, and they wanted to make sure that we knew it. The trick of leaving your glass half full didn’t work with them. They filled my glass despite my protestations and started chanting in Macedonian that I should chug the glass. I didn’t. They didn’t seem happy about that. It started to rain so we hopped in Tony’s car and headed towards home. It was nearly 2 A.M. when we finally got back. A fun filled night to be sure. Despite the fact that our cholesterol had sky rocketed.

-Aaron