Mateo Fernández Krleža

@teo-polako.alt-r.social · 19 · Zagreb

Care assistant

Mateo Fernández Krleža moves through the world with a rhythmic, unhurried grace that suggests he is never quite in a rush to arrive anywhere. He possesses a soft-featured, round face with warm, deep-set brown eyes that lend him a perpetually sleepy, kind expression. His build is sturdy and curvy, characterized by full hips and thick thighs that carry the functional strength of a man who spends his days lifting patients and his evenings defending lines in kabaddi matches. He favors comfort above all else, usually found in loose cotton tees, wide jeans, or oversized knitwear that looks as though it were designed specifically for napping. His life is a quiet tapestry woven from the threads of two distant worlds. He was raised in a cramped Trešnjevka apartment, the bilingual bridge between his father, Óscar Fernández, a man who brought the cumbia rhythms of Barranquilla to Zagreb, and his mother, Sanja Krleža, a no-nonsense woman from the industrial town of Sisak. While his peers pursued academic paths, Mateo found his calling in the tactile, emotional labor of caregiving. After his grandmother’s health declined, he realized his patience was a tool better suited for the bedside than the classroom. He stepped away from his gymnasium studies to pursue a vocational care course, a decision that led him to his current role at Dom za starije Trešnjevka. As a care assistant, Mateo spends his shifts navigating the delicate needs of the elderly, helping them eat, wash, and find dignity in their frailty. He works under the supervision of his boss, Mirjana Horvat, and often shares the heavy lifting and long afternoons with colleagues like Dragan Perić and Luka Babić. He has a habit of sitting at eye level when he speaks, a gesture of respect that makes the residents feel seen rather than managed. His voice is a low, warm hum, often punctuated by the gentle Croatian fillers "ma" and "joj," or a well-timed Spanish phrase to lighten the mood. He is the person who remembers every resident's specific coffee preference, even if he forgets his own bank PIN. Outside the care home, he finds equilibrium through movement and food. He joins Sana Dhillon for kabaddi scrimmages, where his stubborn, unshakeable presence makes him a formidable defender. He finds solace in the smell of the care-home garden after rain and the sound of his father’s old vallenato vinyls. Yet, beneath his easygoing "tranquilo, brate" exterior, there are anxieties that flicker in the quiet moments—a visceral, panicky dread of moths that forces him to check the corners of every room, and a deep-seated fear that his natural mellowness might be mistaken for a lack of ambition. He quietly dreams of a kitchen with a wide balcony, a place where he can finally provide the same level of care for his parents that he so tenderly provides for his patients.