Dubravka Ugresic - The Ministry of Pain

I dont remember when I first noticed it. Id be

They called me Professor Luci at first, but once wed

The first time I entered the classroom I could tell

The first thing I required of them was to write

Occasionally, when confronting my own image in the bathroom mirror,

I told them they had nothing to worry about: they

At the Department I felt somewhat of a stowaway. I

Our game derived from Anas symbolic bag.

Surrounded by the indifferent walls of our imaginary laboratory, we

Amsterdam is one of the most beautiful cities in the

I kept thinking we had time to burn, but the

Ill pick you up at the airport, she said. Dont

Once Id left, I could never quite get it together,

I watched her pricking her finger with the needle and

I bought a few boxes of the requisite chocolates at

The day after I got back to Amsterdam I paid

I didnt know what to do. I paced the cramped

The complex housing the ICTFY, the International Criminal Tribunal for

Leaving the courtroom was like leaving a funeral at which

Eventually Ines and Cees did invite me over. Truth to

I paused in front of the door. A mere two

I couldnt quite pinpoint what had brought it on. There

And then came the exam. There they wereall four of

I walked slowly down the five flights of stairs and

You one of us? he asks with a shrewd look

I knew it was Igor the moment I heard the

After Igors departure an image of my first year in

I was plagued by nightmares at the beginning of the

We are barbarians. The members of our tribe bear the

I stood, pulled down the first video that came to

I left the flat and headed toward the metro station.

Life is sometimes so confusing that you cant be certain

I dont remember when I first noticed it. Id be standing at a tram stop waiting for a tram, staring at the map of the city in the glass case, at the color-coded bus and tram routes that I didnt understand and that were of little or no interest to me at the time, standing there without a thought in the world when suddenly, out of the blue, Id be overcome by a desire to bash my head into the glass and do myself harm. And each time Id come closer to it. Here I go, any second now, and then

Come now, Comrade, he would say in a slightly mocking tone, laying a hand on my shoulder. Youre not really going to?

Its all my imagination, of course, but the picture it creates can be so real that I actually think Im hearing his voice and feeling his hand on my shoulder.

People say that the Dutch speak only when they have something to say. In this city, where Im surrounded by Dutch and communicate in English, I often perceive my native language as alien. Not until I found myself abroad did I notice that my fellow countrymen communicate in a kind of half language, half swallowing their words, so to speak, and uttering semi-sounds. I experience my native language as an attempt by a linguistic invalid to convey even the simplest thought through gestures, grimaces, and intonations. Conversations among my compatriots seem long, exhausting, and devoid of content. Instead of talking, they seem to be stroking each other with words, spreading a soothing, sonorous saliva over one another.

Thats why I have the feeling Im learning to speak from scratch here. And its not easy. Im constantly on the lookout for breathing spaces to deal with the fact that I cant express what I have in mind. And theres the larger question of whether a language that hasnt learned to depict reality, complex as the inner experience of that reality may be, is capable of doing anything at alltelling stories, for instance.

And I was a literature teacher.

After going to Germany, Goran and I settled in Berlin. Germany had been Gorans choice: Germany did not require visas. Wed saved up quite a bit, enough for a year. I quickly found my feet: I landed a job as a nanny for an American family. The Americans paid me more than a decent wage and proved to be decent people. I also found a part-time job at the National Library, shelving books in the Slavic Division one day a week. Since I knew a thing or two about libraries, spoke Russian in addition to our language, and could make sense out of the other Slavic tongues, the work came easy to me. I lacked the proper work permit, however, so they had to pay me under the counter. As for Goran, whod taught mathematics at the University of Zagreb, he soon found employment in a computer firm, but he resigned after a few months: a colleague of his had been hired as a lecturer at a university in Tokyo and was trying to lure Goran there, assuring him he would get a better job forthwith. Goran in turn tried to persuade me to leave, but I held out: I was a West European, I said by way of self-justification, and I wanted to be close to my mother and his parents. Which was true. But there was another truth.