In 1951, construction began in my native village of the largest irrigation system – the Brashlenska, as it was written in my geography textbook at the time.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The construction was mainly carried out by manual labor of Construction Troops and interned “unreliable Bulgarians”. Colonel Yalamov was “appointed” as the person responsible and coordinating for them. This worthy man was placed with us, in our house, and my parents had direct contact and observations and did not hide their admiration and respect for him. Even in the summer, for a short time, his family came to our house and my parents were delighted with the upbringing of his child, then 4-5 years old.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
At that time, Easter was not celebrated, but young people and young families “invented” their own parties, such as for Spring, for example.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So on this occasion, several women from the village organized themselves and decided to make something sweet to treat the little soldiers, for whom they felt sincere pity. <\/p>\n\n\n\n
I will open a parenthesis to clarify. In the then Construction Troops there were only children of “bourgeois” parents, with upbringing and education, punished because of their origin. There were accidents and, above all, the norm, and if they did not fulfill it during the day, they continued with headlights at night. There were also suicides. And after such cases, Colonel Yalamov would walk around the yard all night and smoke cigarette after cigarette.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, although there was a detachment at that time, they managed to collect flour, there were eggs in every yard. When he found out about the “initiative”, the colonel himself offered to “provide” them with the Tsar’s Cook, who was among the internees.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
The Chef came and under his guidance they baked the cakes and made the cream. He asked them for a syringe to decorate the pastries, but where do you get such extras in the village?<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Then he sewed a large “funnel” out of a single piece of clean Americana. And my mother told me about it with undisguised admiration, because once he started, in no time he decorated over a hundred pastries, all of them perfectly identical and very beautiful.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
So, back to those parties.<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Another time, my father told Todor Marinov, his friend, with undisguised pride: \u201cCan you imagine having \u201cJazz Ovcharov\u201d playing at your party and Lea Ivanova singing\u201d*. I was little and neither understood nor knew why this event was so \u201csensational\u201d, but many years later I read that the creator and leader of the best jazz orchestra before 1944 in Bulgaria was Assen Ovcharov**, who at that time was interned in Tutrakan, and Lea Ivanova was interned in Nozharevo. And it is no wonder that they \u201cgave concerts\u201d in neighboring villages and most likely were also in Brushlen, but how can I prove it now, and there is no way that my father could have made it up, nor can I!<\/p>\n\n\n\n
Story by Maria Dimitrova, originally from the village of Brushlen<\/p>\n\n\n\n
https:\/\/www.facebook.com\/share\/ZquBVEQuqoPpEbAC<\/a><\/p>\n\n\n\n * In 1949, when Lea Ivanova participated in “Jazz Ovcharov”, the group received an invitation to tour the USA. This led to political repressions for performing “decadent music”; Lea Ivanova was arrested and sent to the Nozharevo concentration camp.<\/p>\n\n\n\n