Anita’s Little Black Book

Anita’s Little Black Book

Let me introduce myself to you, my name is Ana Kovac. Amongst other things, I love telling people stories and this is one of my favourites to tell. It’s about my grandma and her small black notebook. Are you ready? Grab yourself a cup of tea or coffee and join me.

My grandma and my grandpa were born in Yugoslavia, a country that does not exist anymore. The area today is known as Croatia. My grandpa is called Vladmir and my grandma Anita. They immigrated to Brazil expecting to restart their lives, running away post World War II and all the consequences that came with it. My grandpa was 17 and grandma was 16, they were recently married. They lost their home and both of their parents to the war. They were very close to the border of Bosnia, so they found a way to cross the border to Bosnia and weeks later hopped on a boat. The boat was going to leave during the night destined for South America. They arrived in Brazil in 1943 and they landed in Sao Paulo and after taking their time to settle and digest what happened, they had four kids, one being my mom.

One of the ways my grandma coped with the hardships she endured was by writing. She had developed a journaling habit. She also loved books, painting, dancing, you name it and I must say she had some talent for many of these forms of art. I learned Croatian with her and later on English. Growing up, I was very influenced by her on so many levels. In spite of the pain from the past, she was always full of hope, had faith in people and was very funny. My grandma had many journals, however one of them was special to her, yes you are right, the black one I mentioned earlier. I noticed that this journal was different, and I decided to ask her why it was so special to her. After a long silence her answer was: “One day, you will find out. But what I can tell now is that there will be some pages left blank, and they are left as is for a reason.” I have never forgotten what she said.

Unfortunately, my grandma passed away in 2011. She died of lung cancer, she was a tough cookie but she could not fight it any longer. I felt as though the rug was pulled out from under me. The following months were extremely hard for our family, but together we were able to regroup and keep going because that would be her advice to all of us. If you have not noticed yet, I was named Ana after her. It is just another variation of her name. I am honoured to carry it.

At this point you may be asking yourself what about the black book? One year after my grandma passed away, I was about to finish my undergrad in Environmental Engineering. It would be my last semester. I went to my grandpa’s house to catch up and share stories. During my time there, he told me that the day before my grandma passed away, she asked him a couple of things and it was about time that he would give me her small black journal. I could not believe it. I asked him if he was sure about that. His answer was clear: “Anita told me to give this to you two months before your graduation ceremony.” I have always loved spending time with grandpa Vladmir, and yet in that moment, to be quite honest with you, I wanted to run and hide in my bedroom to be able to read everything in that journal.

Just a little intermission along the way, I am not sure if you know how stressful and busy final assignments at University can be. At that time, I wish my day had more than 24 hours. However, I have to say that even though I was very busy, it was a delight. Of all my interests in life, understanding our environment has always fascinated me more than anything else. Actually, even my interest in this matter was related to my grandma. You may ask: how come? Well, as I said before, my grandparents were running away from war and its implications. They told me many times about how basic human needs were not met during that season. When they lived in Yugoslavia, after the war, they did not have access to fresh, potable water and that stuck a cord in my heart.

That being said, after my first semester at University my class went on a field trip to a very dry area in Brazil. Unfortunately, this area really struggles to have many of their basic needs met, including access to water. So, when I arrived home from that trip, I was sure I needed to spend my time and effort not only during my undergrad program but also later on to make strides to providing clean water to the ones in need. Meaning, find ways and develop new technologies to provide access to clean water for all people. Fresh water is not a business, it should be for everyone.

The next morning I woke up earlier and of course, you are absolutely right; I wanted to read her journal. I was anxious, excited, and having that little book in my hands felt bittersweet as the memories of my grandmother came flooding back to me. I opened the first page and there it was. She painted a picture of a cactus growing in dry land. Wow! It was very impactful to see. She explained that she felt that way many times until the day she realized that if there is a cactus, there is life. Followed by that she wrote a poem and at the end a note for me: “Ana, I know you would want to read this all the way through, please don’t. There is something here for you every day for the next 30 days. There is no need to hurry. At the end, please check some pages I left blank for you so you can think about what I am trying to tell you and write it down. Also, after your 30 days, talk to grandpa Vladmir, he will know what to do.” I am a very curious person, but I decided to do as I was told.

Meanwhile, I was stressing about some notes I had received from my professor about my final project and dreaming about a master in water security, which seemed so far to reach. Maybe you are asking yourself why I want to focus on water. The answer is simple, most of the planet is water, our bodies as well. We can go days without food, but not as many without water. We need it for almost everything we do. Besides that, we currently have technology to help more people have access to this vital molecule known as H20.

On day 10th, grandma wrote to me reminding me that I cannot change the world, thus I could attempt to change something. “Start small, Ana. I hopped on a boat and came to Brazil. It was a little step. Then I restarted life, I had to go through my wounds and get healed, I became a mom and then a grandma. But it all started small.” She kept going: “I know you want to study and understand the technology developed in Israel to capture water from the air. You have shown interest in learning what Paris is doing to give access to fresh, good quality water to everyone, including homeless people. But don’t ignore this moment. Your undergrad degree may seem like nothing but don’t ignore the foundation it is providing. The foundation has to be solid before putting building blocks on it.” And that, dear reader, hit me hard.

I believe that at this point you may have an idea about the kind of things my grandma left for me. I was halfway through the month, reading the little black journal, when one of my professors sent me an email asking if I could make time to meet with him. I replied eagerly, and with great curiosity about what the meeting was about, saying when I could meet. During that very meeting, he told me about a masters’ program that he thought I may be interested in. After almost one hour of talking, I left his office and I went to the library to read more about the program. It seemed wonderful; it checked all the boxes I wanted and needed. There was even a potential scholarship involved but I still needed to pay for some of the tuition. After that, I checked my savings account. I had some, but still not enough. I spent the next few hours reading and then I followed my professor’s suggestion: “Ana, please apply, try at least, you have nothing to lose. Then we see what we can do for you.” and so I applied.

Two weeks later I finished reading that little black book, contemplating the pictures she drew, the photos my grandma left for me, and I even wrote my notes at the blank pages. It was really inspiring. The greatest lessons I took away from those 30 days were about learning resilience and respecting people. I am so inspired by the way my grandparents lived their lives. They had many reasons to give up on hope, but they never did.

I put down the journal to get to my school work and I noticed a new email in my inbox and opened it. It was from the University of Netherlands, and oh my, they accepted me! I just need to prove I had a certain amount of money. I read it through and I could not find the amount. I wrote in return, asking how much I needed. I was very thankful, but discouraged. I told my professor, and he sounded more excited than I was. Professor Gulmatelli said: “You took a leap of faith, Ana. This is not the end. Hold on tight. I will send some emails, talk to people and see if we can do anything to help you.”

I ran to my grandpa, told him the story about the masters and mentioned I finished going through the little black book. He said: “Ana, at the very back have you noticed anything? If you haven’t, let’s look now.” As fast as I could, I opened the back part and I noticed it was glued. I opened it and I saw a cheque of $20,000. I was speechless. “Sweetie, this is something grandma Anita and I wanted you to have. We have always had faith in you, you are so much like your grandma, trying to find ways to help people. It is our gift to you.” I bursted into tears and hugged grandpa.

Some hours later, I saw my email. The advisor from the University of Netherlands said I should have at least $12,000 for general expenses at the Uni and $3,000 for food and transport. He also mentioned: “I see you have a Croatian last name. If you happen to have the passport that is all that you need, if not I am afraid you need more money.” I read it four times. I could not believe that hours earlier I had close to zero chances, but now I could grab my Croatian passport, that I had inherited from my grandparents, my own black Moleskine, pack my bags and pursue my dreams of how to make fresh water more accessible for some communities. It all started small, dear reader, very small. A boat, a family, a dream, facing reality, and a little, tiny black book. My grandma had never been world famous, but she was for sure a world class human.