Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria

When was the last time you read a book set in Bulgaria?

Hello,

I'm guessing that the answer to my question is that Bulgaria rarely appears on your reading lists.

I invite you to join me on a literary journey to Bulgaria in my new book.

Thank you for your time and consideration in reading/reviewing the book.

Sincerely,

Ellis Shuman

 

Bulgaria, probably a country you know little about. Allow me to introduce Bulgaria with a collection of short stories in which you'll hear the voices of native Bulgarians as well as see the country through the eyes of those visiting Bulgaria for the first time. You'll experience Bulgaria's unique rich history and traditions and explore the country's picturesque villages and stunning nature. You'll get a virtual taste of Bulgarian cuisine topped off with the country's traditional alcoholic drink – rakiya. 

Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria will be released on June 17th (published by GenZ Publishing) in digital format with a paperback to follow. Readers and reviewers are welcome at any time!

In the twelve stories of Rakiya, you'll meet a mother pickpocketing tourists in order to support her daughter. An elderly war veteran ashamed of his actions during the Holocaust. Two brothers hunting a killer bear. A Syrian refugee working in a Sofia bakery. A femme fatale disappearing at an international writers’ conference. And two neighbors competing to see who makes the best alcoholic drink.

Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria - https://www.amazon.com/Rakiya-Stories-Bulgaria-Ellis-Shuman-ebook/dp/B0D3WQP9TN/

I would like to send you a copy of the book to read/possibly review. Please respond and I'll be glad to provide you with a digital copy.

Excerpt:

The excerpt below is from the story "The Baker," one of the stories included in Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria.

The Baker

“I’ve heard you make the best pitas in all of Sofia.”

“Who am I to argue with what people say?” Jamal said, looking up from the cash register to find a well-dressed middle-aged man drumming his fingers on the counter. “What can I get you?”

“Would it be possible to make an order for one hundred and fifty?”

Jamal stepped back, not surprised at the large order, but that the man was speaking to him in colloquial Arabic. “I’m sure that can be arranged,” he said, turning to his brother for confirmation. Standing near one of the ovens, Amar nodded his consent.

“Good,” the customer said. “I will pay you now, in advance. Could you have the order ready if I come by tomorrow at three?”

Jamal rang up the purchase and handed over the change and a receipt. “Dovizhdane,” he said, instinctively saying goodbye in Bulgarian.

“Shukran,” the man replied in Arabic as he left the bakery.

“He’s Israeli!” Amar said, slapping Jamal on the shoulder and sending a small cloud of flour to settle on the keys of the register.

“No, that can’t be true!” Jamal picked up a dust cloth but paused, thinking of the stranger’s dark features, features that would not seem out of place on the streets of Damascus. “A Middle Eastern accent, for sure. Maybe Iraqi? Or Egyptian? Certainly not Israeli.”

“Didn’t you see his car? It had a red diplomatic license plate.”

“What would an Israeli be doing in our bakery? He knows where we’re from.”

“He came here for pitas, like everyone else. Why are you complaining? It’s good business.”

An Israeli visiting a Syrian bakery in Bulgaria? Jamal smiled to himself. There had been stranger things. But then a thought came to him. He would talk to the man, Jamal decided, and ask him where he’s from. If he was an Israeli, as Amar claimed, perhaps they could have a conversation. Strange bedfellows they were, for sure, but maybe it would be possible to have a meaningful discussion with him, to bridge their cultural and political differences. Jamal had a chance to make peace with someone who had once been an enemy. He looked forward to the Israeli’s return to the bakery. The man would appreciate Jamal’s goodwill and, more than that, he would be very satisfied with the pitas. 

*-*-* 

The brothers’ bakery was wedged in between an electrical supplies store and a tobacco shop on the ground floor of a nondescript tenement. Syrian Brothers, with its sign posted above the entrance in Bulgarian, Arabic, and English. The bakery was so small that only two or three customers could stand inside at a time to place orders. In the back, the preparation tables were set next to the four-door refrigerators, across from the ovens. A short hallway led to the storage area. Lacking larger facilities, the brothers limited themselves to two types of bread—black and rye; two types of banitsa pastries—cheese and pumpkin; and pitas. For some reason, they enjoyed the most success selling the pitas.

Syrian Brothers was not the only bakery in Sofia that made pitas, but its loyal customers assured the bakers that theirs were the best in the city, if not in the entire country. The Iraqi bakery was known for its flatbread, but with no form of leavening agent, their pitas were truly flat. The Lebanese bakery’s product tasted somewhat dry. The brothers’ pita, on the other hand, rose like a light and fluffy cake encasing a roomy pocket; its aroma was warm and yeasty. The growing demand for the Syrians’ bread kept the brothers busy preparing their dough, loading their ovens, and serving the public, ten pitas a bag.

“Give me a package, no, make that two.”

“A true taste of the Middle East!”

Jamal, the older of the two, could not help but smile. Who would have ever imagined a pediatrician from Damascus baking pitas in Bulgaria? A doctor, whose hands were now covered in flour. The success of the bakery, Jamal knew, was entirely due to Amar’s knowledge and skills. Amar had apprenticed in a bakery back home. It was his idea to set up one for the family in Sofia. Jamal had never dreamed of changing professions, but as he didn’t have a license to practice in Bulgaria, and with a family to feed, he started working alongside his brother. Still, the life he’d left behind, and the career he’d reluctantly abandoned, often filled him with bittersweet memories.

“Did you come here because of the civil war?” asked an elderly gentleman as he waited patiently for his order of two loaves of rye. “Are you refugees?”

“No, no,” Jamal replied, not offended by the question. “I’ve been here ten years already, and my brother came before me.”

“Why did you come to Bulgaria, of all places?”

Why indeed? Jamal thought back to his decision to leave Syria and follow in his brother’s footsteps. Bulgaria would serve as their temporary home, Amar promised. They would remain in the country while they arranged transportation to Sweden, where there was a large Muslim population. Bulgaria was the poorest member of the European Union—Jamal knew this before his arrival—but he hoped living in Sofia would grant his family an opportunity to get a new start, to have a better life. It hadn’t been an easy transition. Syria to Turkey and from there to Bulgaria. And then ten years passed by.

“Maybe I’ll move on one day,” he said, “but for now I’m in Sofia.”

About the Author

Ellis Shuman is an American-born Israeli author, travel writer, and book reviewer. 

His writing has appeared in The Jerusalem Post, The Times of Israel, and The Huffington Post. 

His short fiction has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize, and has appeared in Isele Magazine, Vagabond, The Write Launch, Esoterica, Jewish Literary Journal, San Antonio Review, and other literary publications. 

He is the author of The Virtual Kibbutz, Valley of Thracians, The Burgas Affair, and Rakiya – Stories of Bulgaria.