The basics are quick: majka is mother, otac is father, brat is brother, sestra is sister. Learn those four and a Sunday lunch already makes more sense. But then Serbian does something English gave up on centuries ago — it gives every in-law their own exact word. Your daughter's husband isn't just "family." He's your zet, and everyone at the table knows precisely what that means.
Published 22 May 2026
I teach this vocabulary early, and not because it's on some syllabus. It's because the first time a student gets invited to a Montenegrin or Serbian home — and they will, we feed people relentlessly — the conversation is going to be about who's who. "This is my snaha, and that loud one is my djever." If those words are fog to you, you spend the whole lunch nodding politely. If you know even half of them, you're suddenly following the family soap opera, which is where the real warmth lives.
Start here. These come up constantly and change barely at all across Serbian, Montenegrin, Croatian and Bosnian:
| Serbian / Montenegrin | English |
|---|---|
| majka (mama) | mother (mum) |
| otac (tata) | father (dad) |
| brat | brother |
| sestra | sister |
| sin | son |
| ćerka / kći | daughter |
| djed / deda | grandfather |
| baba / baka | grandmother |
| unuk / unuka | grandson / granddaughter |
| muž | husband |
| žena / supruga | wife |
| dijete / djeca | child / children |
A small note that saves confusion: žena means both "woman" and "wife," exactly the way it works in a lot of languages. Context sorts it out. And yes, the affectionate forms (mama, tata, baka, deda) are what people actually say at home — the "official" words feel a touch formal in the kitchen.
Here's the first place English gets lazy and Serbian doesn't. We don't have one word for "uncle" — we have two, depending on which side.
If your head is spinning slightly, good — that's the correct reaction, and it's also exactly why native speakers find English family talk oddly vague. "My uncle" tells them nothing. Stric or ujak? They want to place you on the family tree.
This is the famous one. Serbian keeps distinctions we flattened into "-in-law" long ago:
zet — your daughter's or sister's husband. snaha (also snaja) — your son's or brother's wife. svekar / svekrva — your husband's father / mother. tast / tašta — your wife's father / mother. djever — your husband's brother. šurak — your wife's brother. zaova — your husband's sister.
Nobody expects you to master all of these in week one — I've met Serbs who muddle djever and šurak. But learn zet and snaha at least, because those two get used at every wedding, every christening, and every second family argument. And the moment you use one correctly, watch the room. Somebody's grandmother will decide you're alright.
You'll hear majka become majku, majci, majko depending on the sentence — that's cases at work, not a different word. "I love my mother" puts majka into the accusative: Volim svoju majku. It's the same machinery behind every Serbian noun, and family words are a lovely, motivating place to first notice it, because you care about these people. If the endings are new to you, the noun gender guide is the gentlest way in, and the numbers post pairs nicely for talking about how many cousins you're suddenly related to.
What is mother and father in Serbian?
Majka (or mama) and otac (or tata). Same in Montenegrin.
Why so many words for in-laws?
Because the exact relationship mattered. A zet (daughter's husband) had different obligations from a djever (husband's brother), so each got its own name. It's a snapshot of a culture built around big, interlocking families.
Do these work in Montenegrin and Croatian too?
Yes, almost identically. Learn them once, use them across all four languages — with only tiny regional swaps like kći vs ćerka for daughter.
Vocabulary like this sticks best when it's attached to real people and real sentences rather than a flashcard pile. That's how Gora teaches it — family words show up inside little scenes you can say out loud to the fox, endings and all, so by the time someone introduces you to their snaha you don't freeze. Go meet your Serbian family. Bring an appetite — you'll need it.