For a long time, I have felt a little bit lost in this world. The question of “who I am” has somehow always been framed in terms of my academic self, my career, or my personal interests, but more and more I am realizing that these things are not the problem. I can never know who I am until I know where I come from, and this is something that I have had very little opportunity in my life to explore.

Leaving Serbia was at once a great decision, but also an incredibly difficult sacrifice for my parents to make. We left behind everything. We left behind bad things, like war and bombing and sanctions and financial crises. But we also left behind many good things, like our beloved culture, good food, good friends, and family. It was always just the five of us – me, my parents, and my two brothers – in this far-away country called Canada, in a culture that was not our own, being sucked into an industrialized and individualistic way of life.

As a kid, there was nothing I wanted more than to have grandparents. And cousins. And aunts and uncles. And relatives five-times removed. It seemed like everybody was always going to this relative’s and that relative’s and complaining about family reunions, but never me. I would have given anything for a family reunion.

Well, last weekend, in Vitkovac, Serbia, I got my wish.

Vitkovac is a small village in Serbia’s Sumadija (forest) region, which is famous for its rolling hills, red-shingle roofs, and very hospitable people. Turns out that almost half of the homes in this village belong to the Jankovic lineage – all relatives on my dad’s side that I had no idea I had. In just four days, I spent more time with my extended family than in the entire rest of my life combined.

For me, being in Vitkovac was like finding home. It was like discovering the true Serbia, exactly the way it was in the days of old. In Vitkovac, people work hard to make a living, often toiling in their fields by day and working in factories, shops, or as labourers to supplement their income. Though life is not easy, people work together, families support each other, and everyone always seems to have open arms and a big friendly smile on their faces. Never have I been so graciously welcomed as in Vitkovac, or offered so much delicious homemade specialties by whomever I visited!

I made a promise to come back to Vitkovac in the near future because, as much as I love being a guest, I have a deep desire to take part in my family’s lives and be present for them as they were for me this weekend. I feel they have given me so much love, and I am called to return one day to remember my roots and where my family comes from. I want to learn to milk a cow so my Uncle Drasko and Great Aunt Milana can for once have a restful morning. I want to learn to make kajmak (the cream off the top of fresh milk) and mladi sir (young cheese) and sell them at the pijaca (market). I want to learn to smoke and dry meat and grow beautiful tikvice (zuchinni) and paradajz (tomato). I want to learn to make pogaca (really delicious bread) and slatko (sweet preserves) and all the beautiful things that true Serbian domacini (homesteaders) make, so that I can give them away to my loved ones!

I am incredibly thankful to my father for sharing this part of himself with me – sharing where he comes from, and where I come from, and who my family is. I feel that I have gotten a little closer to answering the question of “who I am” – one piece of a lifelong puzzle that I am very glad to have found!