Reading about this word - jouska, reminded me of a story about my great grandmother that I have heard many times from various family members. She was forty years younger than my great grandfather, a widower with a son whose wife was older than my great grandmother. So she comes into this marriage with very little means, chosen by the much older rich man only because of her looks. They proceed to have six children of which one drowns in the river trying to swim with his older siblings. And then as expected, husband dies at 80 leaving a 40 year old widow with five kids to raise on her own. The step-son being a lawyer takes swift action to ensure none of his half-siblings inherit anything from their deceased father and the step-mother is turned into domestic help for his family in return for room and board for her and her children. This miserable life continues until my grand-father comes of age and starts earning a living. He rescues his mother and siblings as quickly as he can.
But this process takes over a decade and my great grandmother is a broken soul by the time she experiences life as a free human being. Back to josuka - the story that was told about her is that of her sitting in the dark corner of the balcony on her wooden chair and replaying conversations with her step-son and his wife over and over. She would be fighting with them for hours, in a soft mumble, this time coming up with the perfect repartee, the iron-clad rebuttal even the lawyer could not break and so on. At some point, she would grow tired and retire to bed. If anyone asked her who she was talking to, she would always say no one. She never discussed those years of her life with anyone. Family picked up bits and pieces from these arguments she had with invisible adversaries in the dark corner of the balcony. I have seen the wooden chair in question and for many years it just sat where it always did. No one felt like they had the right to use it.
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