Aradac consists of two parts, Slovak and Serbian, which meet at a particular point in the village. The land at this junction is unsuitable for either construction or cultivation. It contains a football field and, next to it, a children’s playground built by Photo Expo. There is also a billboard that we could use to announce the event. Nearby stands a neglected monument to the anti-fascist resistance during the Second World War.

The surrounding land is part of the flat Pannonian Plain, and the streets are arranged in a grid. The Slovak part of the village has a more square layout organised around three main streets—the First, Second and Third Streets. The official name of the first is Maršala Tita. The Serbian part of the village is longer and narrower. See maps:

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zonification map

The local name for a larger street is šor, while a smaller street is called a sokak. This kind of grid settlement is described locally as ušoreno.

We had the impression that the Slovak community was somewhat more inward-looking, perhaps because of its minority position and its efforts to preserve a distinct cultural identity. Slovaks have their own Evangelical church, while the Serbian population is predominantly Orthodox, and the church appears to play an important role in the Slovak community. Mixed marriages have become increasingly common since the 1980s.

The two parts of the village can also be distinguished by the appearance of their houses. Slovak façades are frequently painted or covered with tiles in bright colours, while Serbian houses tend to use more neutral tones. A particular shade of blue, widely used in the village, is locally known as “Slovak blue”.

We visited two households: first Ana’s, and then that of Dalibor and Vesna. Ana, Žeks’s mother, previously worked at Jugoremedija, a pharmaceutical factory and a prominent case in the privatisation of state-owned companies in Serbia. The workers succeeded in stopping the privatisation, taking control of the factory and restarting production. Their efforts encountered numerous obstacles, however, and production did not continue for long.

Nevertheless, the struggle remains a remarkable achievement. Ana has many stories from the workers’ strike and the process surrounding it. She is now retired and produces excellent sunflower honey, rakija and biscuits. She also used to embroider.

Our conversation about Jugoremedija began when she showed us one of her embroideries and said: “I made this one during the strike, at the time when two workers died in an accident.” It was the most colourful of all the embroideries she showed us.

We later learned that Ana is of Slovak origin and her husband Serbian. She showed us both old and recent embroideries, all worked in cross-stitch and featuring rose motifs. Finally, she brought out a different piece—a Slovak-style decorative towel made of damask and embroidered with silk thread in a filled-stitch technique.

We then visited Dalibor and his wife Vesna. Dalibor is a musician who has played in several well-known local bands, including Gluve Kučke. Their household includes many animals—dogs, cats and goats—as well as farmland and old fruit trees. Dalibor is strongly committed to traditional agriculture, and the household has a relaxed and welcoming atmosphere.

Dalibor told us about the well-organised resistance movement that existed in the village during the Second World War. His grandfather joined the Partisans at the beginning of the war in 1941. At one point, his unit found itself caught between Chetnik and German forces. They decided to surrender to the Germans rather than the Chetniks and were subsequently imprisoned in Germany.

Dalibor also showed us embroideries made by his grandmother. Their style differed from Ana’s, combining domestic traditions with a more urban Viennese Secession influence from the early twentieth century. They included whitework embroidery (beli vez) and numerous improvised elements.

We were told that a sizeable Roma community had more recently settled in older houses built of earth and now constituted approximately a quarter of the village population. We had not yet visited this part of the village.

Ivana mentioned that there were many stories connected to life in this community. One concerned a young man of approximately twenty-five who had reportedly changed his name three times while evading the law. As this was the maximum number of changes permitted, he allegedly married in order to take his wife’s surname and obtain a new passport, paying her fifty euros for the arrangement.