Prisoners in the Promised Land Read online

  Friday, May 15, 1914

  curled up on the floor with my pillow

  Mama said I could stay home today. I am still so shaken that I can barely hold this pen. This is what happened:

  A girl named Slava comes to school dirty and she can’t speak any English. Mary says that sometimes she comes without lunch, but when she does bring something, it’s an oily bag with pickled herring or stinky cheese. Mary told me that Slava’s mother died so it is just Slava’s father raising her and he does not know how to raise a daughter.

  Yesterday at lunch, the Canadian girls were playing one of their circle games and Slava wanted to play. They let her sit in the middle of the circle.

  I didn’t know what they were saying, but Mary was listening to their song, and it was all about Slava and that she was a dirty little animal. When they were finished, one of the girls scooped up some dirt and dumped it over Slava’s head. The other girls laughed.

  At first, Slava started to laugh with them, but then she realized what the girls had done. Her eyes went wide and then they filled with tears. Mary ran up to the girls and grabbed Slava away.

  We told Miss Boyko and she calmed Slava down and cleaned her up, but she said for us not to make a fuss about it. She said that we had to get along with these girls and sometimes that means keeping quiet. Why are these girls so mean? Don’t they realize that Slava has feelings just like they do? Sometimes I get so angry that I could cry.

  Baba saw how angry I was and she sat down with me and we talked about it. She said that I should feel sorry for those mean girls. That confused me, but Baba explained that when people are nasty it means that they don’t like themselves. It makes them feel better when they hurt someone else. I can’t imagine doing that, can you? I always thought that if you feel bad, you should do something nice for someone else. That always cheers me up.

  Baba wanted to get my mind off it, so she showed me a new stitch. With her help, I sewed a pillowcase for my hope chest this afternoon.

  I wonder if Slava went to school today?

  Later

  I walked over to the school and watched through the fence. Mary came over to talk to me during lunch. She said that Slava didn’t come to school either. She told me where she lives. It is on Centre Street not far from Mary’s.

  Slava and her father share a room with two other families and you cannot get in by the front door. I had to walk through a skinny alley to the back of the building to find the door. Dear Diary, you cannot imagine how dirty the alleyway was. I had to hold my nose the whole way through. It’s as bad as our neighbours’ outhouses. The room itself is very dirty too. The floor is so grimed with black that you can’t see the wood, and there were bugs. Even the poorest person in Horoshova lives better than this. Sometimes I wonder why we even came here.

  Slava was there all by herself so I wrote a note for her father and took her back to our house. Baba boiled water for a bath and then had Slava change into some of my old clothing. Baba is washing Slava’s clothes.

  Bedtime

  Tato knows Slava’s father. They worked at the same factory. When Slava’s mother died, her father got sad and didn’t come to work sometimes and got fired. Now he works at jobs when he can get them, but half the time he wanders the streets.

  Mama said that Tato should go and find him and invite him for supper, but Tato said that we cannot afford to be feeding everyone I feel sorry for. Mama didn’t say anything, and in the end, Slava stayed for supper. We stretched out our food as best we could. I don’t mind eating a little bit less if it means that Slava gets something warm in her stomach. Even Mykola put less on his plate and ignored his grumbling stomach and Mama said she didn’t need supper at all because she had something to eat at Mrs. Haggarty’s. After supper, we all walked Slava back home. Slava’s father Mr. Demchuk (Dear Diary, in case you’re wondering, I am practising the “Mr.” and “Mrs.”) was there and he looked so happy to see his daughter clean and smiling.

  Saturday, May 16, 1914

  This was such an exciting morning!

  Stefan and me and Mykola played ball on the roof. It is nice up there because there are no people calling us names. Mary came over and played with us too. Our roof is our own private place. It is tiresome holding onto Mykola, though. Once the ball went over the side and almost hit Mrs. Pemlych as she was coming back from the market. Thank goodness Stefan was playing with us or she might have complained to Tato.

  Stefan told me about a dance at the Ukrainian Society tonight and was wondering if I was going to go. Tato should be home soon, so I’ll ask.

  Later

  Mama said how could we go when there was so much work to do at home, but Tato said that it would be good to have some fun. In fact he even said that he would get Mr. Demchuk and Slava, so we’re all going to go!

  In my cozy bed

  Today was the best day that I have had since we came to Canada. They moved all the furniture back against the wall and there were lots of people. Many of my classmates were there, including Mary, and there were boys from Sarsfield School. There were also lots of adults so it was crowded, but they opened the windows and let in the breeze. The band played so many familiar songs that I almost started to cry, especially when the tsymbalist was playing. It reminded me of dear Volodymyr. I wonder how Halyna is doing? Does she miss me? I am so glad Volodymyr taught her how to read and write too, because tomorrow I want to write her a letter.

  Tato and Mama danced the polka and they were spinning so fast that my eyes blurred. I haven’t seen them dance together for so long.

  Stefan is a good dancer. He did all the flips and kicks beautifully. He asked me to polka with him, but I am not a good dancer and I was embarrassed. He said he would show me how to dance. We did the polka and I didn’t even step on his toes. After that, he danced with Mary. She is much better than I am.

  Mama says I must sleep.

  Monday, May 18, 1914

  Mama insisted that I go to school today. I didn’t want to walk alone because I am afraid of that man who called us names. I knocked on Stefan’s door but no one answered so I had to walk by myself.

  Unfortunately, that awful man was leaning against the door of his flat with a smirky look on his face. I had no choice except to pass him because there was too much traffic to cross over to the other side. I kept my eyes on the sidewalk and walked as close to the road as I dared. Just as I passed, I heard a smacking noise and then I looked down and saw a splat of greeny-yellow. It had barely missed me. I walked fast, keeping my head down. Why would he do that? He doesn’t even know me.

  When I went back out to the schoolyard, I saw that Slava was there and she was in the clean clothing that Baba and Mrs. Sonechko found for her on Saturday night. Those Canadian girls pretended they didn’t see her. I know their names now: Ellen, Louisa and Annie (!!!).

  I have to help Baba with the supper and then I’m going up to the roof where it’s safe. I’ll write more later.

  Tuesday, May 19, 1914

  Miss Boyko is teaching us a song in English. It is “God Save the King.” We need to know it by Friday because that is Empire Day, which is sort of like the King’s namesday. We stayed inside over recess and lunch to practise.

  These are the girls in my class:

  — Mary and Slava you already know.

  — Sofia, Pasha and Olga are sisters. Sofia is twelve but she’s very short, Pasha cries a lot, and Olga pinches.

  — Genya is about ten — I think — and her English is rather good.

  — Natalka has been in Canada for four years but she is not bright. She struggles with the Ukrainian classes as much as the English lessons. She is a friendly girl and has a singing voice like a nightingale.

  — Marusia is friendly and she’s smart too. She is also a good singer.

  — Stefania has been sick more days than not so I don’t know her very well. She’s eight years old. She was at school today but her throat hurt too much to sing.

  The only Canadian girl whose name I
know besides the mean girls is Maureen. She is picked on by the mean girls too. Is it horrible for me to admit that I am relieved that they don’t only pick on Ukrainian girls?

  Maureen seems lonely and sad. I didn’t realize until today that she lives on Grand Trunk Street not too far from me!

  Wednesday, May 20, 1914

  We painted flags called the Red Ensign in school today. They’re very pretty and quite complicated.

  The top left corner is the British flag, and the crest is made up of symbols from the provinces. Quebec’s symbol is the group of lilies. I wish I could find lilies like that. It is spring, yet I still haven’t seen flowers except for the sunflower Tato grew for Mama, and it doesn’t count because it is not blooming yet. Mary said she would take me to a forest on Sunday and show me Canadian flowers.

  Miss Boyko says that Canada’s flag has a British flag inside of it because Britain owns Canada. She says that it is sort of like how Austria owns Galicia.

  It was fun painting. After I finished my flag, Miss Boyko gave me another sheet of paper. I made a picture of our village, with the stork, the cemetery and church, and our house. Miss Boyko hung it up on the wall. She says that I am a good artist!

  On the way home from school today, I saw Maureen walking about three houses in front of me and she was all alone. I walked very quickly to catch up with her. I think I scared her because she started to walk faster, so I called. She turned around and gave me a big grin. It is nice to walk home together. I wonder if that man does mean things to her also?

  Friday, May 22, 1914

  Empire Day, after school

  We were supposed to have an outdoor assembly today, but it poured rain. We crammed together in the common room instead and listened to a man in a fancy uniform. It was so hot that I thought I was going to faint. Mary said that he talked about how proud he was to be a British subject. She said that part of the speech was said to us in particular, and that we should think of ourselves as British subjects now, and we should learn the languages and the culture as quickly as possible. I agree with him.

  After the speech, we held our flag paintings high. Then we sang “God Save the King.” Everyone in our class got the words right, which relieved me because I don’t want the Canadian girls to think we are stupid.

  Saturday May 23, 1914

  at night in my cozy bed

  The rain on our window makes me sad. It is like tears from the sky. Whenever it rains, it reminds me of Volodymyr.

  Dear Diary, I have never told you about my brother, but I will now. I would rather talk about how he lived than how he died, so I’ll start with that.

  My brother’s moustache was just a wisp and it tickled when he kissed me. He was taller than Tato and stronger than you’d think, being so skinny. Because of his beautiful voice, he would be asked to read the newspapers aloud in the chytalnya and that is what started the problem. The more he read, the more hopeless he realized our lot was as long as we stayed in Horoshova.

  We had so much debt and no way to get out. Tato didn’t like to think about it and he and Volodymyr would have words.

  When Volodymyr first fell in love with Halyna I was furious. I felt like I was losing my brother and my best friend all at once. I wouldn’t speak to Halyna for a week, but then Volodymyr declared that he was going to teach us both how to read and write. You see, Dear Diary, the young girls in our village were not allowed in the chytalnya and many did not go to school. But Volodymyr declared that his wife and his sister would be educated and he taught us together.

  He wrote me a lovely tsymbaly song about raindrops and sisters and how they are both sweet yet annoying, but always loved. He put it on a piece of paper and made me learn how to read it before he would play it for me. He wrote Halyna a love song, but he wouldn’t sing it to her until she could read it to him. He read us the newspapers and tried to get us to understand why he felt the way he did.

  If he hadn’t read the newspapers, he would have been content with his lot, but he got it into his head that he would make his fortune in the coal mines of Germany.

  Halyna cried when she heard this. They were already betrothed.

  At the time I didn’t understand, but now I know why he went. He was seventeen years old when he died, but he was trying to save up enough money for him and Halyna to get to Canada before he was forced into the Austrian army.

  Oy, Dear Diary! If you only knew how many young men from our village had already died while fighting for Austria, you would understand. Volodymyr had only a few years left. He had to earn the money and escape with Halyna before he turned twenty-one.

  Back then I thought that Germany was a good place to make money, but when Volodymyr came home once after being there the first month, his skin was so black that no amount of scrubbing could make him clean. When he was drying himself off, I saw a greenish purple bruise that was so large it covered the whole bottom of his back. He laughed at me when I asked him about it. “It is hard work in the coal mines,” he said, “but look at what they pay me!” His wad of German marks was thicker than my finger. Volodymyr said that if he worked in the mines for a year, he would have enough to pay our debt and enough left over so that he and Halyna could move to Canada. It seemed too good to be true, and it was.

  My dear Volodymyr toiled for eight long months. He sent most of the money home and Tato was thrilled. Mama was worried, and so was Halyna. She told me she would rather be poor her whole life and married to Volodymyr, than a rich widow. As it turned out, she didn’t get to be either. There was a cave-in, and many men died, including dear Volodymyr. When his body was sent home for burial, Mama wouldn’t let me see it.

  I miss him so much.

  Tato gave some of Volodymyr’s money to Halyna. She didn’t want it, but Tato insisted. He paid off part of our debt, too, and then he used the rest to buy his passage to Canada.

  Sunday, May 24, 1914

  Everyone is still asleep. Mama will be getting us all up shortly so that we can go to church. I don’t know whether Tato will come or not.

  Later

  Mykola has fallen in love with the flash cards. He doesn’t use them to learn English letters anymore (he knows them already). He builds houses with them. He built a tower that was six cards high and I don’t know how many cards wide. It was amazing! Then Tato opened the door and the wind knocked them all down.

  Monday, May 25, 1914

  I went to the forest yesterday with Mary! It wasn’t really a forest. It was more like a lord’s manor with a big yard and trees.

  We had to cross the train tracks, go all the way past Wellington Street and down Fortune Street to get to it. The manor is huge. It is made of grey stone and has many windows. It even has windows in the roof! Mary says that it is not a lord’s manor. It is called St. Gabriel House and was built about three hundred years ago for girls who came to Canada to find husbands. Such a long way to go for husbands! I don’t know what they are using it for now, but there were people inside, so Mary and I tiptoed around.

  In the wild area with trees, there were herbs growing. They look similar to what Mama would dry and make a medicine with. One of the plants looks like feverfew. It isn’t in bloom yet so I can’t be sure. I picked a bit and showed Mama. She says once it blooms she’ll know for sure but she thinks it is feverfew. It would be wonderful to find feverfew for Baba’s leg …

  Wednesday, May 27, 1914, after school

  Dear Diary, by the time lights are out and I finally have a moment to myself, I am so tired that I fall asleep before I know it.

  Maureen came to my house today. I took her up to my roof and we played with Mykola for a while. It was so nice to see her happy for a change.

  Miss Boyko thinks that I am ready to write my English exam. I would be on top of the world if I passed! I showed Maureen the flash cards that Mary gave me and she seems to enjoy testing me with them. Also, when we walk home from school, she corrects my accent when I read the street and store signs.

  I am not worried about the
Ukrainian exams.

  Something else —

  Now that I walk home with Maureen, that man doesn’t bother us so much. If he is leaning on his doorstep when we pass, we both hold our chins up and look him in the face and it is almost as if he is afraid of us! Just goes to show that two is better than one.

  Thursday, May 28, 1914, after school

  Miss Boyko is teaching us English by reading us stories from the newspaper. There is a group of women called “Suffragettes.” I thought that meant they wanted to suffer, but “suffrage” is different than “suffer.” It means “vote.” These women want to vote. They don’t want all women to be able to vote, just white women with property.

  I asked Miss Boyko if all men could vote in Canada and she said no. Only white men can vote.

  “Who is white?” I asked. (The only white people I have ever seen are those ladies with too much powder on their faces!)

  Miss Boyko explained that “white” means different things in different cities and provinces and that it is all very confusing. Men who have been in Canada for a certain amount of time can become what she called “naturalized British subjects” and can vote. She says that immigrants from Europe and Russia can do this if they’ve been here long enough. Immigrants from Britain can vote right away. Chinese and Japanese men can’t vote no matter how long they have been in Canada, and Indian men can’t vote even though they have been here longer than everyone else.

  Then Mary asked, “What about Ukrainians?”

  Miss Boyko said, “A Ukrainian man may vote if he has been here long enough to become a naturalized British subject.”

  This is all very strange. In the old country, all men can vote no matter who they are. Even peasant men can vote. Why are those Suffragettes just interested in giving the vote to women like themselves? What about all the other people?

  Later

  When I got home from school, our whole flat smelled like cabbage. It is hard for Baba to keep the house fresh when we only have one window, and especially on cabbage-roll days. Mykola was waiting for me, so we went up to the roof. The fresh air was glorious. I set Mykola on my shoulders and he waved as a grand steamer headed out towards the ocean.