Memories of a carefree childhood on Mljet island and the magical Mljecki Komin 

(Photos: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Ane Strazicic Rodriguez, who was born on the Croatian island of Mljet before moving to the United States to live, reminisces about her childhood on the island and Mljecki Komin – a place where everything happened. 

Mljecki Komin – a place where everything happened on Mljet. Cooking, eating, drinking, singing, weaving, playing, healing, even giving birth. It was the centre of everyday life.

Today, unfortunately, it has been pushed into oblivion. They mostly turned it into apartments, built new modern chimneys, equipped and modernised them, which is understandable in a way because they had to adapt to the new era where everything is subordinated to tourism, the most important economic sector nowadays on our islands.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

But for me, the komin remains in beautiful memories of another time, a time of carefree childhood on Mljet, in the village of Goveđari, when there was still no electricity. I was born in 1960, and electricity arrived on Mljet in 1968 when my family moved to a small bay called Pomena and started to engage more intensively in tourism. 

We hosted tourists in Goveđari as well, in our old house, even though there was no electricity, starting from 1950. We have remained in contact with them and have become friends with some.

In Pomena, we built a new house on the foundations of an old fishing warehouse, and above it, a new and beautiful komin. Today, my family, friends, and I love to grill some fish on the gradine (grills), drink wine from a jug, and sing folk songs in the smoke and aromas of the wood burning, which is best for drying fish and meat.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

But let’s go back to my old komin in Goveđari, which is over 150 years old and surely the oldest in the Mljet National Park area, and maybe even on the whole island of Mljet. 

It should be protected as an authentic traditional cultural heritage of the island. It was built with dry stone walls, with a roof covered with domes, with an opening for the chimney and a window, and doors. It was spacious with plenty of ventilation (good height from the floor to the roof) to dry the prosciutto better, which would hang from the beams for some time until it dried on the smoke. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Then it would be transferred to the cellar, where it would be hung covered in ash and continue to dry. There was always enough air and draft, and the smoke would come out not only through the chimney and the window, which was always open but also through holes in the walls.

The doors would only be closed at night when it was time to go to sleep, leaving a little wood to smoulder through the night because fish or meat were constantly drying. Since there was no electricity, refrigerator, or freezer, drying and salting fish and meat were the only ways to preserve food supplies. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Meat would dry hanging on the beams, sausages and blood sausages would be strung on a spit, larger fish and octopus would be spread out on skewers and hung on hooks made of branches, and smaller fish would dry on ljesa (pieces of old fishing nets).

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

We would bake on gradine and under peka (a bell-shaped lid), cook in brondzina (a pot) hanging on komoštre (metal chains hanging above the fire), sometimes directly on the embers or in the ashes (potatoes and eggs). We would fry in prosuja on trepije (przisja was a pan placed on a metal tripod under which the fire was lit). 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Bread would always be baked under the peka every day, and when it was ready, it smelled like the best cake. We would break off a piece while it was still hot and dip it in olive oil, which grandmother would pour a little into a plate made of leaves.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

This would be a real feast for us in the winter, all frozen, after running around the village and playing hide-and-seek or football. And we would sometimes bring small birds (sparrows and owls) that we would catch while walking through the woods after picking olives. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Grandma would wash them, pluck them, remove their guts, and arrange them on the grill together with potatoes and a few sprigs of rosemary, a little olive oil, 2 lemons cut in half (to squeeze them easily later), salt, and pepper, and then put them under the peka. 

Our group of children – from S Vrh (a part of Goveđari where we lived) – would spend the whole day together. The older ones took care of the younger ones, and everyone had their place and duties, especially showing respect to the elders and listening to parents, otherwise they would get punished (spanked, which was rare). 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Grandma would say, “Leave your games and when you see me in front of the komin, that means you’re invited and you should come right away because everything is ready.” Which meant – play for an hour, and when you see me in front of the komin, come because everything is ready. The floor of the komin was paved with stone slabs, not smooth or pressed into the ground, and the part of the floor under the fumara was slightly raised and made of bricks, where the fire was lit and above which the komoštre were hung. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Along the walls, there were wooden benches for sitting, on the opposite side of the hearth, there were stacked firewood, brooms made of dry straw, and a metal shovel, while the poker and tongs for spreading the coals always stood on a wooden board next to the fire.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

In the center of the komin, we would put a box and on top of it a large square plank that served as a dining table or a worktable. We children would quickly sit on the box, and Grandma would put the grill in the middle under the sač (dome-shaped lid), and we would happily eat small roasted birds and potatoes, and dip the bread into the flavorful sauce that accumulated at the bottom of the grill. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

They were so delicious! In the corner or a pot, Grandma would make us “bevanda” (half water, half wine) from which we all drank. There were no juices or Coca-Cola back then. And when the coffee was roasted in the bruštilo in the komin, the whole village would smell it, and it was often brewed in the imbrik in the komin on the embers rather than on the stove because it had a better taste, like everything prepared in the komin had a special flavor.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

As our Mljet poet Ivan Bamba Čumbelić wrote in his book “Mljet in the Heart”: Mljet komini – They were Mljet’s faculties, universities, theaters, cinemas, resting places for tired fishermen and laborers, kindergartens and playgrounds, shelters for the hungry and thirsty for bread and spirit. What weren’t they? Meeting places for young ones who, hiding among the krapa trees, exchanged affectionate glances.

And children peeked between the old women’s skirts, and grandfathers bet on tobacco, their big eyes and ears listening to stories from the past, tales of distant lands and worldly wonders, of wars and struggles, of fairies and little fairies, pirates and mountain hardships… From the elders, children learned to speak eloquently and logically, and legal and political topics were common… Perhaps the best were the Goveđari komini, built of beautiful slab stone, dry and warm. They hung somine garlic, decorated with dry geraniums, beech leaves, and sopas, and in the corner behind the bench, there was a bundle of dry rosemary that doesn’t smoke but smells divine. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

They baked fish and octopus, made kulen, stirred porridge and panada, on the prosuja, boiled cabbage with bread, on the uja, and everyone scrambled to scrape the prosuja. If the laborers, fishermen, or shepherds got tired, soaked, tired, and winded, they would mate, rub, and cuddle by the fire in the komin, recalling the dry grass and ventuze, if anyone needed it. Because if it wasn’t done in time and with enthusiasm, the cold would creep in.

As I mentioned before, our Mljet komin was the centre of all events. Neighbours and friends would gather there, especially on days when we would help each other with work, like during grape harvesting, olive pressing, stacking hay around the vines, or when building and pouring concrete slabs. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

It was a true natural exchange. Women, especially during winter, would gather in the evenings to socialize, chat about village events (hundurovale), take care of the young children, and engage in knitting and embroidery. Every family had a komin, and it was known which komin people would gather at in the evenings, visiting each other after dinner. Grandma would take a branch (wood) that was glowing at one end and wave it in the dark so that she could be seen on her way to the neighboring komin to socialize a bit because, as I mentioned, there was no electricity until 1968.

During hot summer days, people would sit on the solar (stone terrace) and pižula (stone bench) in front of the komin, while the fire would always burn or smolder in the komin for drying fish. In summer, more fish would be caught, such as tabinje, gruja, octopus, and škarpena, which are still highly valued on Mljet, especially in Goveđari. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

The young would gather in the kominas for courting, and the elderly would spend their time there, discussing work, making decisions, and assigning tasks to family members for the next day. Healing and singing, joy and sorrow, all took place in the komin. The kominas were mainly used by the local population, while guests were received in the tinel (main room) of the house, where food would be brought from the komin, wine from the cellar, and water from the gustjerna (cistern) where rainwater was collected. The komin was even a place of birth, especially in winter because it was the warmest spot. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

And so, I was also born in this very komin of mine in Goveđari, which is perhaps why I feel nostalgia for this old komin that time has weathered. I want to restore it to the time when it was the center of life, during my modest but carefree and happy childhood when we didn’t have much but played together as children. 

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

Sometimes we were mischievous, but we always protected each other. It was a time when we shared everything with neighbors, family, and friends, the good and the bad. We needed very little, we were grateful and content, we valued and loved each other, and even though we didn’t have much, we had everything. We loved and respected each other, and we were happy.

That is my Mljet komin, the komin of Ane Mljećka in Goveđari! That’s why we need to restore it and make it a gathering place again, a place of our Mljet history and way of life that we can show to others, especially to our children, how life used to be lived on Mljet. It is our authentic cultural treasure and tradition that we must not forget.

(Photo: Ane Strazicic Rodriguez)

And to all of you, goodbye, all the best, and may happiness be with you, as we say on Mljet.

See you in the Mljet komin, in the komin of Ana Mljećka!