tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-10566288981821242402024-03-04T23:58:25.986-08:00 К далеким звездам... To distant stars...Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.comBlogger64125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-34964322607871817612024-02-07T08:30:00.000-08:002024-02-07T08:43:45.512-08:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty eight - the ending)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: medium;">chapter 28</span></b></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The study in
dark colours</span></span></b></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span><b><span style="background: transparent; font-size: medium;">(the ending)</span></b></span></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPb3TOaKMnbuXbEEkbtQtUzDtf7B0u8zCtR_ikdjEYHw-BCDrK4g1xoTjwXpMt4V-nwt6eT3t70wtjD29QhvQjaq9evbhq4jxLTPQ2y5w7HIDvMTHCLvj4at2TwVKXOSnAzZVuQJ7X80S6RKNgpLyk5HlkdJxOBHRDd-wNXLe1yqeU8raM2bfoXV8zqCvt/s4080/IMG_20230103_160449.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiPb3TOaKMnbuXbEEkbtQtUzDtf7B0u8zCtR_ikdjEYHw-BCDrK4g1xoTjwXpMt4V-nwt6eT3t70wtjD29QhvQjaq9evbhq4jxLTPQ2y5w7HIDvMTHCLvj4at2TwVKXOSnAzZVuQJ7X80S6RKNgpLyk5HlkdJxOBHRDd-wNXLe1yqeU8raM2bfoXV8zqCvt/s320/IMG_20230103_160449.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></span></div><span style="font-size: small;"><b><br /></b></span><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Sometimes I think
that perhaps my fate in that gloomy yard would have been easier if I
had had a brother or a sister, even a younger one. At least it would
have taught me responsibility from an early age. And, who knows,
maybe I would have learnt much earlier how to defend not only my
sibling but myself too. On the other hand, I am not sure that it
would have really changed my destiny very much. I used to believe
that as I had two children, they wouldn't share my psychological
problems. However, my younger son has always had the same
difficulties with socializing. Actually, it's quite understandable as
he, unlike my daughter, has always been much closer to me by nature.
And that explains, I think, why we still live under one roof. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> By now I have
learnt that I can rely upon my son when I am in a tight corner. Still
I regret that I have never had a brother or a sister who I could ask
for help or advice when I desperately needed a friendly shoulder. And
how nice it would have been to have tea together, discussing our
everyday life, occasionally reminding each other of something that
happened in our half-forgotten childhood. Surely, we would remember
different details and it would be most curious to compare our
memories. I understand that it's some kind of idealization but that's
how I imagine having a sibling nowadays.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> But back then,
that is in my early childhood, I didn't feel like that at all. I
suspect I felt rather irritated when various adults asked me if I
would like my mother to give me a little brother. At that time people
believed that it was a proper question to start a conversation with
when talking to a little girl, especially if her mother was somewhere
nearby. I think I was about three when I was asked about it for the
first time, or at least it was the case that stuck in my memory. I
remember I felt a bit confused but blurted out “no!” without
thinking. My parents' acquaintance was so obviously startled by my
reply that I ran away from her, still shouting “no,no!”, before
hiding behind my mother's skirt. It was long and wide enough to give
me a good shelter but it didn't save me from a little lecture that
followed. The woman, who we so unluckily met in the street, told me
with some heat that I was completely wrong and explained to me what a
blessing it would be for me to have a little brother to play with. I
was sharp enough to understand what was expected from me and after
that never failed to answer “yes” when some smiling woman
pestered me with that question.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It can seem
incredible but only after I wrote the previous sentence did it
suddenly occur to me how painful all those conversations must have
been for my mother. I used to listen to a lot of her stories, and one
of them was about my poor little brother, who was born when I was
about two, and who lived only 15 minutes after his birth. There was
something wrong with my mother's second pregnancy, and it was one of
those unfortunate cases when doctors had to choose between a mother
and her baby. Perhaps she had some foreboding of it because she
delayed going to the maternity home until my father led her there by
the hand. My mother knew beforehand that she was going to have a
C-section but she was not ready for what happened to her after that.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> My mother had
never liked official medicine – first of all because her own mother
was so fond of it. But this time it was the closest collision with
the Soviet health service that she couldn't avoid. After her
operation she was lying in a hospital bed, completely helpless and
entirely in their power. She couldn't just leave and slam the door
behind her back. Personally, what I always disliked about Soviet
doctors was their manner to communicate with their patients. As a
rule, they were frowning and scribbling something in your medical
card, explaining to you as little as it was possible, even if there
was nothing life-threatening in your diagnosis.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Still, I believe
my mother's doctor didn't tell her at once about her baby's death for
a different reason. He saw that she was extremely weak, recovering
longer than usual after anesthesia, and, in spite of everything,
impatient to see her new-born son. So he decided to tell her later,
and it was a real shock for her when some nurse came and asked her
rudely why her husband hadn't taken her baby's body away. No wonder
that after such a brutal revelation my mother had a fit of hysterics
and couldn't be calmed down for a long time. The doctor scolded the
nurse furiously but it looked like he didn't have much power over his
nurses. For instance, he knew that my mother suffered from
constipation after her operation. Every morning he ordered a junior
nurse to give an enema to her. Every time one of those unpleasant
middle-aged women who usually did that kind of work in hospital
answered “yes” but did nothing afterwards.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It was going on
in that fashion for a few days until my mother's ward-mates explained
to her in secret that the nurse was just waiting for some money
offered to her for her services. To my mother's distress her young
naive husband and younger sister refused indignantly to give money
for that, saying that in the USSR, thank God, they had free medical
care. Weren't they taught at school that such habits were just the
vestiges of capitalism that had to be rooted out? She didn't waste
much time, trying to dissuade them, but unexpectedly quickly found a
way out of the situation. It was really simple. By that time her
bedside-table was packed with apples, oranges, cookies, and sweets,
because in her state she had no appetite for all those tasty things
that her visitors had brought to her. So, without further ado, my
mother gave all of this to the nurse and, sure enough, she got the
prescribed treatment that very day.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Hypocrisy –
that's what I have always hated about the USSR. I understand, of
course, that any human society is partly based on it. Yet the Soviet
system was one of those where it flourished most lavishly. We were
taught from an early age that our country had free education and free
medical care. But everybody knew it was not really true. If you
wanted your child to enter some prestigious university or get good
medical care in hospital you had to be ready to pay or, to be
precise, to bribe, because such payment was forbidden in the USSR.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Luckily for my
parents I wished to become a physicist, and the physics department
was one of the bribery free ones at university. Although, all our
neighbours, as my mother sarcastically informed me, refused to
believe that I joined it without greasing somebody's palm. But there
was no doubt that the Medical University was one of the most corrupt
in our city. There were scary rumours going around that it was
completely impossible to join it without a hefty bribe. I remember
one pitiful story that was popular when I was just finishing school.
A poor girl, who was obsessed with her desire to become a doctor,
tried to enter the Medical University for free for seven or eight
years. Miraculously, she did succeed in the end but relinquished her
studies some time later. Maybe she really had a nervous break-down,
as people believed. But I suspect the girl had just discovered that
she had to pay for every single exam if she wanted to finish her
education. And, perhaps, her parents just couldn't afford it.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> No wonder that
after such an educational race, doctors were eager to get some extra
money in addition to their more than moderate salaries. Actually, a
lot of people in the country were looking for some illegal or
half-legal ways to increase their small incomes. All that talking
about equality and the bright communist future, when everybody would
have everything in abundance, didn't deceive most of the people. They
tried desperately to get some extra money or creature comforts at any
cost. As a result, our medical personnel were frowning and often
rude, our shop-assistants were usually rude and malicious. What I
especially hated about doctors, nurses and, strange to say,
hairdressers, was a widespread custom to put surreptitiously some
money into one of the big pockets of their white uniform. I have
never been good at it. As for me, it was humiliating for both: for
those specialists and for their patients or clients. I am glad that
those times are over and that nowadays I can look a doctor in the eye
and ask how much I owe him or her. If they offer me a choice to pay
them or to go to the cashier, I always choose a doctor because those
35 years that I lived in the USSR taught me not to trust the state. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> But coming back
to my 28-year-old mother, as she told me later, she left the maternal
house extremely thin with big gray patches in her beautiful auburn
hair and with a firm decision in her sore heart not to step over that
threshold ever again. For some reason she believed those health
problems that she developed after her ill-fated C-section were caused
by the anesthesia or narcosis, as she always called it with distaste.
But I believe it was just bad treatment and her grief because of the
loss of her baby-son. As far as I can remember my mother had always
had a soft spot for boys.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">To be continued...
</span></span>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>39. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>40. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">41.<a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-eight.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;"> The study in dark colours</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px;"><b>42. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-eight.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The study in dark colours (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px;"><b>43. <a href="1. Festive demonstrations 2. A merry-go-round 3. The settlement in the steppe 4. The settlement in the steppe (the ending) 5. Urban life and its advantages 6. Collectivization and electrification of all the country 7. Roaming through the village and a man with two horses 8. My mother's struggle for freedom 9. A boy from the orphanage across the road 10. Living at the edge of the city 11. My grandmother's imprisonment 12. My mother's departure from the village forever 13. My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria 14. My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending) 15. The last visit to the village 16. My mother's helping hand 17. The only man she ever loved 18. My father's only friend 19. My grandmother's visits 20. Cibul'ka and two little pigs 21. The forest of my dreams 22. The forest of my dreams (the ending) 23. My parents' wanderings around the country 24. The forest at last 25. The forest at last (the ending) 26. The importance of family 27. The importance of family (the ending) 28. Why did they kill him? 29. The great famine of '47 30. The great famine of '47 (the ending) 31. The informer 32. The informer (the continuation) 33. The informer (the continuation) 34. The informer (the ending) 35. Too much of a good thing 36. Too much of a good thing (the continuation) 37. Too much of a good thing (the ending) 38. The same pattern 39. The same pattern (the continuation) 40. The same pattern (the ending) 41. The study in dark colours 42. The study in dark colours (the continuation)">The study in dark colours (the ending)</a></b></div>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<br />
</p>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-23557770367221206282023-12-11T09:07:00.000-08:002023-12-11T09:28:45.002-08:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty eight - the continuation)<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 28</b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The study in
dark colours</span></span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">(the continuation)</b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8IRk5qE0TLO9vxOji3yZrSWTFqI-CVKKozgiEPvCwoANSRzRPZhwtT8bcPW24srlqbh8gpM9xUjIVgh9UmjyCYzWSgqxw-p7xPPT5XN3K6pP-vS4Npx3ir318b8kswNhMLg1m2r0ceLjMCLl5wHmRSKtyljO0T6fwGhlKuQu8x6K6yhYQWJi5Z-HI7H8/s4080/IMG_20231023_164837.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgf8IRk5qE0TLO9vxOji3yZrSWTFqI-CVKKozgiEPvCwoANSRzRPZhwtT8bcPW24srlqbh8gpM9xUjIVgh9UmjyCYzWSgqxw-p7xPPT5XN3K6pP-vS4Npx3ir318b8kswNhMLg1m2r0ceLjMCLl5wHmRSKtyljO0T6fwGhlKuQu8x6K6yhYQWJi5Z-HI7H8/s320/IMG_20231023_164837.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It's
such a pity that I forgot all about my father playing the guitar. I
can't even say that my memory is that bad because I remember a lot of
little episodes from that time when we lived in the factory region.
It looks like I was especially receptive to nice colours. No wonder I
still remember that fine piece of fabric that my father brought for
my mother from his business trip. It was lilac crepe de Chine with an
unobtrusive tracery of dainty catkins scattered all over it. I was
not forgotten either and got a bright yellow stuffed ostrich that was
taken away from me by some child on that very day and my mother had
to run somewhere to get my toy back. I completely forgot if she was
successful in her quest or not. I think I was about three then and it
seems I was not attached to my toys too much. The appreciation came a
bit later and after that my mother had a real trouble pulling me
away from a counter behind which dolls of different sizes and shapes
were sitting or standing on the shelves. At that age I couldn't share
my mother's feelings when she was telling me with a note of pride in
her voice how I treated my very first doll. I was slightly shocked to
hear that I cut its head open as soon as I managed to grab a suitable
tool with my little hands. “Why!” my mother exclaimed in
disbelief. “Don't you get it? You just wished to see what was
inside its head.” That was so typical of my mother. Being
non-trivial herself, she always thought highly of originality in
others.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> To
my mother's luck, by the age of four I had already understood the
meaning of toys and loved to play with a couple of tiny plastic dolls
that were really cheap. So it was not a problem to buy a new one if I
lost or broke one of them. It's amazing how easily I can withdraw
them from my memory. The slightly bigger doll named “Ballerina”
was quite pretty. Although its brown curls were just engraved on its
plastic head, its blue eyes were surrounded by real eyelashes. And,
what is more, its tutu was made from real fabric despite its small
size. As for the smaller doll, it was rather homely and naked with
short crooked arms and legs. Yet I found it even more fascinating
because it came with a nice open-work bed, red or blue. Surely I
couldn't accept my mother's explanation that my little doll was just
a baby in a cot. So I always urged her to sew a long skirt for it to
hide those bandy legs. Every girl desired her doll to look like a
little princess! It was so captivating to dress and undress it,
especially if you had some pretty clothes for it in stock. I remember
once one of my playmates shook my imagination when she showed me her
own baby doll in a bright red swimming costume, which she painted
herself right on her doll's body, borrowing in secret her mother's
nail polish. That was definitely an unusual approach.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As
for real babies, I found them rather frightening, with that habit of
theirs to start shouting all of a sudden. That was the price for
being the only child in the family, I suppose. Sometimes I could
observe our neighbour's trouble with their baby but I didn't have the
slightest desire to cast a closer look at it. The reek that was
coming from their front garden was too overwhelming. My reluctance to
approach that little creature only increased when I learned from my
mother's acid remarks that the stink was wafted to us from its wetted
swaddling-clothes, which its lazy parents didn't want to wash and
preferred to dry in the sun instead. As if we hadn't had enough foul
smells in our yard even without them. However my main problem was not
that - but my inability to find my place among all those children who
were playing in our yard or running through the intricate labyrinth
of yards that formed our surroundings. I was afraid of babies and
found those who were two or three years younger than me rather
stupid. Most of them couldn't talk properly and their drawings seemed
to me just laughable. </span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I
remember my surprise when we once visited my parents' acquaintances
and their little boy showed me his sketch-book scribbled all over
with incomprehensible twisted lines. To my bewilderment he hastily
drew two more lines with a wry loop on the top of each and informed
me proudly that those were his mum and dad. I just couldn't get it
but his parents only smiled warmly at their so-called portraits. My
mother assured me that the boy would draw much better when he grew up
a bit but I could hardly believe it. Actually it didn't really matter
whether I could or not because in our yard most of the children were
older than me and it was a much bigger problem. I don't know exactly
why I provoked those children's aggression. Was it only my stubborn
refusal to hold my tongue and inability to defend my convictions with
my own fists? Perhaps I shouldn't have boasted that my parents never
used beating as a punishment to force me to behave. Wasn't it rather
natural that all those children were inclined to make up for that
deficiency in my up-bringing?</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As far as I can
recall, mostly I got it from that girl, just a year older than me,
who lived on the opposite side of our yard. It seemed that she could
attack me without any reason at all. It definitely looked like that
when I was once standing, surrounded by other children, telling them
an idea for a new game. Funny, I still remember that most of the
children were taller than me and that meant that they were also older
as I was not too short for my age. Yet all of them were listening
attentively to my little speech. Suddenly that fiend of a girl jumped
out of nowhere and pushed me to the ground. If I did say something
that infuriated her I wasn't aware of it because her attack took me
completely by surprise. I remember it was a painful fall as there was
some sharp stone just where I landed. But that time I didn't run home
in tears as usual because the others persuaded me not to, telling me
a scary story about that girl's fierce parents who would beat her for
certain with a leather belt if they learnt that she attacked me
again. I believe they threatened her with that after my mother,
having lost her temper at last, banged against their gates, shouting
that she would kill anyone who touched a hair on my head. I'm afraid
it was the only way to protect your child at that place, where I
started to learn what “the law of the jungle” was. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I can't say I was
completely friendless at that time. In fact, when I was five I even
had a suitor – a curly-haired boy of three. My mother loved to tell
me later how persistent that little fellow was in his desire to marry
me as soon as possible. He wished me to move to their flat or else
was ready to live with my parents. In the end, we started to build
our own house from shell rock debris, some boards and tin-plates that
were piled up in our yard. For me it was just a game, but I think my
little friend really believed we were going to live there. To our
resentment every morning we found our house destroyed by an angry
woman who took care of our yard. In response to our complaints my
mother advised us to be quiet and consider ourselves lucky that our
parents weren't fined for our willfulness. A year or so later my
little friend's desire to marry me evaporated of course. It's a usual
story with men. Nevertheless it's nice to remember that once I met a
suitor, who believed that marriage was a necessary institution.</span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">To be continued...</span></p><p lang="en-US" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: left;"><br /></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>39. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>40. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the ending)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div><b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px;">41.<a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-eight.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;"> The study in dark colours</a></b><div><b>42. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-eight.html">The study in dark colours (the continuation)</a></b></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-71834198725427533872023-09-20T08:51:00.002-07:002023-09-20T09:00:36.706-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty eight - the continuation)<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 28</b></span></p>
<p style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The study in
dark colours</b> </span></p><p style="text-align: center;"><b>(the continuation)</b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5RNoRioxjEcsX0d85xkwcfeBEfY7En7W21arQ-rssAwpDRvAlz-J4nfbsGNpG6eayDnUq0WNk4bW0E6eO1NJOi37aOiBCL32_n_B7VYBDtW_-4RCR9YZoL_8_E30RlWKJdBeAS80a9bFFYk9-5k1CZITz1kllw9AXITqxw-YPAp9bJ5zDhjFyhpi56_Z/s4080/IMG_20230903_182946.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjH5RNoRioxjEcsX0d85xkwcfeBEfY7En7W21arQ-rssAwpDRvAlz-J4nfbsGNpG6eayDnUq0WNk4bW0E6eO1NJOi37aOiBCL32_n_B7VYBDtW_-4RCR9YZoL_8_E30RlWKJdBeAS80a9bFFYk9-5k1CZITz1kllw9AXITqxw-YPAp9bJ5zDhjFyhpi56_Z/s320/IMG_20230903_182946.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><p></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> After
some reflection it suddenly came to me that I was not the only one
who had a hard time during those five years in the factory region. I
was not so little not to remember anything about my parents'
sufferings at that time. Yet I can't find even a shred of
recollection about it. Perhaps it is still hidden somewhere in my
subconsciousness and that's why I always had that sensation of dark
colours that prevailed in the picture when I was thinking about that
period of my life. Who knows, maybe I didn't understand then what was
really happening. Later, of course, my mother told me a lot of
stories about those misfortunes that unexpectedly fell on their
heads. Besides I still have our old black-and-white photographs that
only confirm her tales. For instance, a picture of my father with his
chin unshaven lying in a hospital bed, or our family standing in
front of our shabby dwelling made from unplastered shell rock: father
in his military uniform and mother with me in her arms looking so
thin with her cheeks sunken.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I was five when
my father had an attack of appendicitis. I have no recollection of my
own about it but my mother used to tell me in detail how in spite of
keen pain and high temperature he stubbornly refused to go to
hospital. When he got there at last his surgeon told him that his
operation had been done just in time to avoid peritonitis; the
complication that even now, with all the variety of antibiotics, is
considered life-threatening. So my father was really lucky in this
case. Still, he had to endure a lot of pain because at that time such
simple operations were usually done only under local anaesthesia. No
wonder he so desperately delayed going to hospital.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> But
it was not that incident that traumatized my father most of all. I
believe it was the loss of two fingers on his left hand that changed
his character forever. By that time father had already started
working at the machine-building plant in the model workshop where
they made models of the machine parts from wood. In the old photo
taken there he is actually smiling, evidently showing his coworkers
how easily he can work with a chisel in his right hand, helping
himself a bit with his mutilated left one still in bandages. At that
moment he didn't know yet that although he would work with wood as
skillfully as before, he wouldn't be able to play his beloved guitar
any more.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> And,
indeed, no matter how hard my father tried, he couldn't play the
guitar properly after that accident. Following his friends' advice,
he tried to change his hands while playing it - but in vain. His
right hand simply was not able to do the job of the left one. It's a
mystery for me but I don't remember anything about my father playing
the guitar. It's especially incomprehensible because I have always
had a soft spot for its sound. According to the inscription at the
back of the photo, where his left hand is still in bandages, I was
almost seven then. But all that I can remember it's the finding of an
old half-cracked guitar in our shed and pestering my mother with
questions. To my astonishment she warned me not to upset my father
with questions about it and then told me with some reluctance that it
was my father who used to love playing it. However, some time after
his accident, he smashed his favourite instrument in a fit of anger. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I asked my son if he remembered anything else because I knew his
grandmother couldn't skip such a tale while recounting her endless
stories to him. He was sure it happened soon after we moved to our
settlement at the edge of the city. But apart from that my son could
only recall that when thinking about that episode he always imagined
his grandfather sitting with his guitar on a tree-stump in our yard,
trying again and again to press the strings on the finger-board with
his right hand. And then suddenly jumping to his feet and smashing it
against the stump. Now we will never know how exactly it all happened
and how many weeks or maybe months passed before my father admitted
defeat. </span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> My own
achievement in this area has been limited to ”A grasshopper sitting
in the grass”, a popular song from a Soviet cartoon, that I used to
play on two strings of my husband's guitar. Perhaps for that reason I
have never really understood in full measure why his inability to
play the guitar became such a blow for my father. As far as I can
remember from my mother's tales, he never even took part in any
amateur concerts. He just loved to come home from work and play with
gusto all his favourite tunes - exactly as many years later my young
husband would do. As for my father, it reminded him, I think, of his
teen years, when he and my mother used to stroll around the village
or through the fields with his guitar for company. And it was not
just some warm reminiscence for him but a real passion for music. One
of my mother's stories undoubtedly shows it. </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I remember her telling
me with amusement how they once went to the small town of Savran'. It
was at a ten-kilometer distance and they could hardly expect that
someone would give them a lift. So they had to get up at the crack of
dawn to get to the local market in time. But it was worth it. They
spent a few exciting hours there and there they heard a new tune on
the radio that fascinated them both. My father loved it so much that
when they were coming back home, he asked my mother's permission to
leave her half-way to the village and then ran to his orphanage just
to grab his guitar and play that marvelous tune while he still
remembered it. My mother even gave us the name of the tune - “The
smith's dream”. It's a pity that my son couldn't find it on the
Internet. I haven't tried to check it myself, thinking that maybe it
was for the better. It would be really disappointing if it turned out
that I didn't like that music as much as my father did in his teens.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I understand, of
course, that the change of my father's character was not aroused only
by his failure with the guitar. One can't be young and cheerful
forever. As a rule, the older we become, the more pressure we have to
endure. My father's new job at the plant was much more tiring than
his military service. Especially with only one day-off per week at
first, that is until communists finally decided to give people
another day-off to have proper rest. Unlike white-collar workers they
still had to work one Saturday a month though. Black Saturdays they
used to call them. Hard work and constant lack of sleep – that's
how I remember my father's work at that damn plant. In addition, he
spent part of his evenings studying at a technical secondary school.
No wonder he became more irritable and much less cheerful.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Nevertheless,
I believe my father's failure with the guitar was a crucial point. I
can't call it “the last straw” because it meant much more than
just “the straw” to him. It was one of those cases when you
suddenly find yourself deprived of something that gave you joy and
support in life. Surely, he could still listen to music on our
record-player. I remember his favourite singer was Robertino Loretty,
a boy with an unusually clear and strong voice. But listening was not
the same as eliciting music from the strings with his own fingers.
Haven't I felt the same when I had to say farewell to my cycling
trips through the fields because of the problems with my legs? It
seemed nobody could understand then why it was such a big tragedy for
me.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">To be continued...
</span></span>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>39. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>40. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the ending)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div><b>41.<a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-eight.html"> The study in dark colours</a></b><p></p>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-73350323878371239702023-06-30T09:24:00.003-07:002023-07-04T00:51:47.056-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty eight)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 28</b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">The study in
dark colours</span></span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pKj6l-nE5Rk-356rj7QYhwj9BVQpGmcyIjrU1QhCkuSa8_rcGE4IfXt-mwE-kZTRh3WCQBONdxYHfwla45zrixirhK-lInHl7TgdaeMDV11G1MLU726iFdSBAG2MwDTQx7iwzuRtPE9s9cEazggwOj_5SlGRGiQRgnjOYN8NHJLEl9Sk2Sge-jzlbcTl/s4080/IMG_20230605_132537.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg4pKj6l-nE5Rk-356rj7QYhwj9BVQpGmcyIjrU1QhCkuSa8_rcGE4IfXt-mwE-kZTRh3WCQBONdxYHfwla45zrixirhK-lInHl7TgdaeMDV11G1MLU726iFdSBAG2MwDTQx7iwzuRtPE9s9cEazggwOj_5SlGRGiQRgnjOYN8NHJLEl9Sk2Sge-jzlbcTl/s320/IMG_20230605_132537.jpg" width="320" /></a></b></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I
suppose I was slightly older than a toddler when my mother got her
own piece of land at last or - to be precise - it was my father who
received it from the state as an orphan. Although, the idea was
definitely my mother's – she learnt about such an opportunity from
some woman, who advised her not to miss it. When I think about the
beginning of our settlement among the wild steppe I always imagine a
lot of fresh fragrant air and abundance of thick motley grass.
Naturally, there was no electricity or water-pipes back then and only
a few people here and there were building their first temporary
dwellings and digging their wells for imported water. Yet, I believe
my young parents were happy there, on that first plot of their own,
and were full of plans for their future house. Who knows, maybe
that's why I have always loved camping so much? I mean that it took
its origins from my early childhood when my first impressions from
wild nature were intensified by my young parents' elation.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> In
any case, our first dwelling was hardly much more reliable than a
tent. It was a small hut that my father built using wooden boards
which he hastily put together. Later he managed to get some kind of a
trailer where we could even risk to spend the oncoming winter. I
don't remember anything about that time, of course, but I clearly
recall my parents' warm reminiscences about it. There were no
children in the neighbourhood and my only friend at that time was a
red dog named Silva.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> She
was completely useless from my mother's rural point of view. It
seemed incredible but that kind creature never barked at anybody who
crossed the boundaries of our plot. Who would like to feed a guardian
like that, especially taking into account that we didn't have any
fence for a while? So my mother was determined to get rid of the poor
animal sooner or later. I am glad I forgot how she did it in the end.
Somehow Silva disappeared from our lives, but she left a few tales
connected with her behind - something amusing to replenish my
mother's considerable amount of stories.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> One of them
started when our neighbour came to our trailer and looking at our
amiable dog vigorously wagging its tail asked if it was a bitch.
Sitting on my mother's lap, I seized this new word at once and
uttered enthusiastically: “Bitch, bitch!” Our neighbour started,
rolled her eyes in horror, and shook her finger at me: “You mustn't
say this word! It's very bad.” It was an unfortunate remark. It
only egged me on and I started to shout with relish: “Mummy a
bitch! Daddy a bitch!” In vain that woman tried to admonish me. The
more she persisted the more delightedly I continued to shout. My
parents did have some trouble with me on that day – as soon as I
saw one of them I began to shout my favourite new phrase. They were
clever enough not to pay any attention to that and only when it
became too much for them did they run out of my hearing to find some
secluded corner where they could laugh to their hearts' content.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> When
autumn came my father was offered a flat in the factory region. It
was very tempting to him because it was situated near the sea and he
really liked fishing and swimming. My mother didn't like that place
at all and especially the flat, which was wet and shadowy. On the
other hand, winter was approaching and she wasn't sure that it was
safe to live with such a small child in such conditions when you had
to walk forty minutes to the nearest tram-stop, and it took even more
time to reach any shop or pharmacy. Not to mention that in the USSR
more or less abundant snowfall was always a big problem on the roads.
Actually, it could be a real disaster in our southern parts where we
seldom had a lot of snow in winter. Yet my mother loved her new place
among the wild steppe so much that she hesitated in her choice for
some time. </span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It
was Silva who helped my mother to make her decision in the end. At
least I remember her telling me that she chose the factory region at
that moment when she noticed that playing with our dog I tried to
follow her on my fours and sniff the ground. “Definitely children
need children!” she thought in panic. But my mother shouldn't have
worried because of that. Many years later who knows how many times I
saw my dear grandson jumping from our sofa and galloping on all fours
with apparent ease to the next room. Obviously, it was an easy task
for him while he was so small and light. Our boy tried to do it even
when he was nine but couldn't do it properly at that age. There was
nothing wrong in that – he just liked our cats and tried to imitate
them.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Anyway,
in my early childhood my mother decided to move to the factory region
and there I spent five miserable years. They say a person's memory
usually turns pink in due course. It was not so with those five years
as well as with other dark periods of my life. I know that my mother
was right – children need children to learn how to find their place
in human society. I'm afraid I have never been good at it. As for
those five years I can't even say that everything was so gloomy then.
After all, there were multicoloured festive demonstrations that I
loved so much and visits to my dear aunt's dormitory where all her
room-mates seemed to like me. </span></span></span></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Still, I hated the very place where we
lived: the abundance of gray colour and lack of greenery, the great
heaps of garbage and a revolting public toilet at the back of the
yard. And, in addition, a variety of foul smells coming from the
nearest factories. Incredible but some of those odours I even liked
and still do. For instance, the smell of hot pitch. Or the strong
odour of seaweed drying in the sun in large quantities that was
later used in production of iodine. I am sure there was something
else that I found nice there. As an unspoilt child I needed very
little to amuse myself. Yet dark colours always prevail when I begin
to recollect my life in the factory region. I believe it's because of
the children. There were too many of them at that place and unlike my
dear kind-hearted friend Silva they were aggressive and always ready
to fight. As I was not ready for such relations and could never hold
my tongue even at that age I often got it in the neck and ran home in
tears. But only by the age of seven or eight, that is when I started
primary school, did I learn the skill to fight back. </span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">To
be continued... </span></span></span></span></span>
</p><p style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></span></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>39. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>40. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html">The same pattern (the ending)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-57510238930117833852023-04-16T06:42:00.008-07:002023-06-03T03:15:09.079-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty seven - the ending)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 27</b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="en-US"><b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The
same pattern</span></b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: medium;"><b>(the
ending)</b></span></span></p><p align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: medium;"></span></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: medium;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5e9Sb5OS8eCns4q62MeukI85l7mmt5-gRQInRXXYD-kqSJV538J0qiOZ9NVGnyLkJCnCqpd2af_IoxLPW0PHBsHlYfoZp7PfUTXlSy8AIKDMZHB9GXMFmRvWL5xz-jq68H0x2u0CN6dxPk2GrUVKl03Q4vRbSrUDJLHEZZOsirvWnm0OU4o4-K9DXA/s4080/IMG_20230529_114042.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhA5e9Sb5OS8eCns4q62MeukI85l7mmt5-gRQInRXXYD-kqSJV538J0qiOZ9NVGnyLkJCnCqpd2af_IoxLPW0PHBsHlYfoZp7PfUTXlSy8AIKDMZHB9GXMFmRvWL5xz-jq68H0x2u0CN6dxPk2GrUVKl03Q4vRbSrUDJLHEZZOsirvWnm0OU4o4-K9DXA/s320/IMG_20230529_114042.jpg" width="320" /></a></span></span></div><span><span lang="en-US" style="font-size: medium;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></span><p></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> After</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
sending a letter with her consent my mother left Odessa for Georgia
where my future father served in the army as an extended-service man.
They got married in the small town with an exotic name of Manglisy. I
used to love my parents' stories about Georgia and its beautiful
nature. It was so exciting to listen how my reckless mother, being
already pregnant with me, used to climb some dangerous path in the
mountains just to see some breath-taking landscape from there. I
deeply regretted that I had never seen all that beauty with my own
eyes. Yet Georgia was out of reach for me. As I knew from my own
bitter experience, there was no hope to persuade my parents to visit
any place that was further than the center of our city. My young
pregnant mother, as I suspect, was glad to leave Georgia. She was
fond of its beautiful nature but local folk's attitude sometimes
spoilt her pleasure. I could hardly believe some of my mother's
stories.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> For
instance, that story about a shop assistant in the local grocery –
he was supposed to like my mother as she was young and good-looking
but he didn't. He never looked at her and made every effort not to
serve her. It was just ridiculous - as soon as my mother reached
him at last after standing in a queue he went to the opposite end of
his long counter and began to serve other people there. When my
mother approached him for the second time that adamant man repeated
his trick and she found herself standing in the end of a long queue
again. If some kind soul hadn't helped my mother to deceive that
salesman, she wouldn't have bought anything on that day. This story
seemed to me completely incredible. Shop assistants </span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">in
the USSR</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
were rarely friendly or polite but in that case it was undisguised
hostility. I just couldn't understand why that man with his southern
temperament didn't like my young mother so much if she was as pretty
as her old photographs clearly show.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> My</span></span><span lang="en-US">
mother was sure it was her nationality that caused all the trouble.
This explanation seemed to me out of place too. I was brought up to
believe that our country was a big happy family of friendly
republics. We were taught this at school and of course our books,
films and TV programmes always tried to show us that it was truly so.
I remember how I loved those big concerts on our TV where skillful
actors in national costumes performed dances of different republics.
They followed one after another and I was always eager to discuss
whose dance and attire I liked best. Girls from Central Asia with a
lot of plaits seemed to me most appealing. They looked so exotic in
their embroidered skull-caps and light wide trousers. And what a
pleasure it was to watch those girls dancing with their numerous
plaits flying behind them! In spite of my pleading, my mother didn't
allow me to grow my hair long enough for plaits. She had too much
trouble with her own long and thick hair when she was a child. All
that combing and braiding took so much time. It was even worse when
she was </span><span lang="en-US"><span style="background: transparent;">too
little to do it herself</span></span><span lang="en-US"> - her harpy
of a mother used to braid her hair so tightly that she thought her
eyes would pop out of her head.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother was right, of course, saying that I was not
industrious enough to take care of long hair. So inspired by those
oriental girls I just took some darning thread and made a wig with
several plaits for my favourite doll. Something still worried me
though. Finishing the story about that Georgian salesman my mother
told me that people from eastern republics disliked Russians. It
meant Ukrainians too as we looked so similar. How could it be true?
It didn't correspond too much with the idea of international
friendship that was cultivated in our country.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> Nowadays
it seems really odd that </span><span lang="en-US"><span style="background: transparent;">in
my young days</span></span><span lang="en-US"> so many Ukrainians
didn't distinguish themselves from Russians. We seemed so brotherly.
Maybe that's why now there are so many elderly people who still can't
realize the fact that Russians spat at more than thirty years of our
independence and crossed our borders in a malicious attempt to bite
off as much of our territory as they were able to. I can do it, thank
God, and the story of that Georgian salesman became clear in my mind
at last. Surely, he disliked my young pretty mother so much because
she was a wife of a military man who was an occupant on his land.
It's natural to hate occupants. And did it really matter to that man
if they were Russians or Ukrainians?</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> By the way, I had the same experience in Poland when I
was twenty. At that time it was not so easy to visit other country
even if it belonged to the socialist camp. But to our luck there was
some exchange programme between universities. That's why, in spite of
the “iron curtain”, I went abroad and stayed in Polish city of
Katowice for three weeks. At first I felt a bit depressed because of
my boyfriend who was not allowed to join our group. He was very
irritated that I didn't cancel my trip for his sake and didn't even
see me off. It was rumoured later that he and his friend were had
been struck off our list because of their zeal to tell political
jokes and ask provocative questions during our lectures on political
economy. And what else could it be, considering that they were both
excellent students? </span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> My close friend's young man was not with us
either for some reason. Maybe it was also for his tongue because he
was a great lover to joke, inventing nicknames for everyone and
everything. So we both were rather upset but soon we felt better
going with other girls through all the shops. It was so exciting to
buy things that could be found only in the black market in our own
country. Moreover we discovered a cosy cafe where we could taste
delicious strawberry ice-cream and whipped cream with various fruit.
When we were leaving Poland all the girls sighed not so much for the
shops with cheap tights, pretty knickers, and abundance of cosmetics,
but for that cafe with its wonderful desserts. </span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> As for people's attitude to us I can't be really sure.
We weren't spoilt by our own authorities' or shop-assistants'
consideration and wouldn't have noticed anything even if there had
been some frostiness in the air. Our student-guides seemed friendly
enough, accompanying us almost everywhere, and only an old porter in
our hostel seemed to hate us. He had never looked at us, exactly like
that Georgian salesman in my mother's story. What is more, he tried
very hard not to give us our key, pretending he didn't understand
Russian at all. Being stubborn too, we learnt how to pronounce 188 in
Polish. It sounded similar enough to the Russian version, but in vain
we repeated in turn the number of our room. The old man only muttered
something under his nose, not looking at us as before. So we gave up
in the end and just started to write our number on the piece of
paper.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> That settled the matter at last but one question was
left unanswered. Why did that old Pole dislike us so much? Here we
had again the contradiction between reality and the nice picture that
was drawn for us at school. They had always told us that people from
Eastern Europe were very much obliged to the USSR for being freed
from German occupation. So it didn't even occur to us that those
people could perceive our country as another occupant or at least
something close to that. It was not actually a secret that the USSR
kept countries from the socialist camp under its thumb. Yet you can't
understand such things when you have lived all your life in the great
empire. We would say of course that they lived “under our
protection”. It's amazing how the choice of one word can change the
whole meaning of the phrase.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I don't think my young mother understood all of this at
the time. She was just glad to leave Georgia for Odessa. Here she was
at home. “Odessa welcomed me warmly,” - she used to tell me,
describing her first impressions when she came here from Bashkiria. I
am sure she felt the same when she returned here from Georgia. Here,
in this southern city of Ukraine, I was born. I can't say I have ever
felt at home in Odessa, but I have always loved its surroundings:
wide fields, the sea and our estuary with its salt as brine waters. I
think my mother was also fond of the land in the first place. She
came from a family of peasants after all, and that's why she has
always cared for gardening so much.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">To be continued...
</span></span>
</p><p lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The same pattern</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>39. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2023/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-seven.html">The same pattern (the continuation)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-16496354486409747922023-02-21T08:27:00.007-08:002023-06-03T03:11:55.832-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty seven - the continuation)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 27</b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The same pattern</span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(the continuation)</b></span></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMWNkOAGKpHRFZl1mLIYe8UYKHrG9deX_Up5pNVdKzwGjRYgRDJu4A1QqvlcN5CTURsC6bsAzpjANyzPeFP2O1KRb7460R2un16KEFvkbihUyWsl1FIVmArNzTpyPCFcVBoz9k9aFtBq5mZzefXlLCU2IIbqjcpzEdF-s-TxXGa7AE8NifrhyQU8A5w/s4080/IMG_20230529_114355.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjlMWNkOAGKpHRFZl1mLIYe8UYKHrG9deX_Up5pNVdKzwGjRYgRDJu4A1QqvlcN5CTURsC6bsAzpjANyzPeFP2O1KRb7460R2un16KEFvkbihUyWsl1FIVmArNzTpyPCFcVBoz9k9aFtBq5mZzefXlLCU2IIbqjcpzEdF-s-TxXGa7AE8NifrhyQU8A5w/s320/IMG_20230529_114355.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Luckily,</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
not all the teachers in my mother's school were so awfully
disappointing. For instance, her first teacher was undoubtedly good.
Otherwise my mother wouldn't be able to help me so much when I was at
primary school. So was her teacher of technical drawing. It's a pity
I don't remember much about him. But it's obvious that he was really
good, because when my 21-year-old mother arrived in the multinational
oil-bearing republic of Bashkiria she found a job of a draftswoman
without difficulty. Nobody could believe that she learnt the skill of
technical drawing so well in her rural school. “But she is from
Ukraine,” people usually said behind her back.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> These words sound so strange in today's reality when
Russians are destroying our cities with their missiles and shouting
fiercely at us that there has never been such a country as Ukraine.
It might seem incredible to them but I learnt to be proud of being
Ukrainian in their favourite country, that is in the USSR. In that
country, in spite of its other numerous faults, there were Ukrainian
language lessons at schools, and books, and newspapers in Ukrainian,
and tuneful Ukrainian songs on every big concert broadcasted by
central TV. </span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> That's why it was such a shock for me to discover that
Russians, without any convincing reason, suddenly started to hate
Ukrainians. At first I took it as a bad joke and tried not to pay
much attention to it. Actually, it was easy for me because I stopped
watching TV long before that unpleasant discovery and didn't know
much about ridiculous tricks and twists of Russian propaganda. I
understood how serious it was only after they started to send
missiles on our heads. Although even then it took me some time to
realize that it was not a nightmare but was happening in real life.
Still, who knows, maybe I will live to see my dear country free and
prosperous one day. I do hope it will never be a part of Russian
empire again. As for Russians, I don't think I will ever be able to
forgive them – even if the time comes when they understand what
they have done and begin to repent of their present crimes.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It seems that my anxiety about our current desperate
situation led my narration in the wrong direction. So I must get a
grip on myself and jump back to my young Ukrainian mother, who, 70
years ago, tried to start a new life in the northern republic of
Bashkiria, where ill-assorted folk was pouring in from different
parts of the USSR. Some of the people were sent into exile there,
others were tempted by big salaries in the oil-extracting industry.
My mother, however, didn't get much money in her design office. What
was more they took her on probation at first and even she (with her
bad appetite) couldn't imagine how it was possible for her not to
starve.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Fortunately, one of her room-mates had such experience.
So, following her advice, my mother started to buy a bucket of
potatoes a month, adding to this vegetable diet a bit of sweets with
jam inside them and some salt sprats. She didn't have a lot of
choice, considering that food was extremely expensive in Bashkiria.
In that climate with its long frosty winters and short hot summers
only potatoes grew willingly and therefore were cheap. After getting
her pay rise, my mother was able to loosen her belt at last and even
started to cook borsch in a small iron mug in the common kitchen.
Attracted by the delicious smell of the vegetable soup all the
dormitory used to gather round just to look at her. It seemed to them
very amusing that she could eat her fill from that mug and even found
something to give to a cat with whom she became friendly.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I can't be sure why my mother decided to leave
Bashkiria after only a year of staying there. She definitely liked
her job and was promised another pay rise in six moths or so. Not to
mention her popularity among young male population. My mother didn't
even mind bitter cold and a lot of snow in winter. Later, she always
recalled Bashkiria with warm feelings but not without a touch of
bitterness caused by the uncompromising discord between her and two
of her cousins. So maybe a letter from her younger sister's room-mate
came just in time, giving her an excuse to leave for Odessa and help
the poor girl in her predicament with her greedy friends. Anyway, at
that time my mother didn't think twice after she made her decision.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> She
arrived in Odessa without delay and did help her sister giving her
avid friends a good talking-to. Besides, my mother found a job of a
copyist in some design office soon after that. Her salary there was
not high, of course. Only those who worked in privileged branches got
more or less decent wages. Mostly labour and especially mental work
were poorly paid in the USSR. But, on the other hand, food was much
cheaper in our southern city. Here my mother could eat fruit and
vegetables to her heart's content. </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">Moreover</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
there was fish - plenty of freshly caught fish in the markets! Even I
remember that in my early childhood my young father used to go
fishing to the sea at the weekend. Where on earth have all that fish
got to I'd like to know? I am aware that I am old but it's difficult
to accept the fact that during such a short period as my lifetime
people redoubled their population and were able to do so much harm to
our planet. In my mother's young days the sea and the rivers were in
much better condition, of course, and </span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">were
swarming</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
with fish. She didn't like it as much as I do, though. Still, she
could eat fish in stead of meat and save some money for clothes.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> At that time my mother really needed new garments
because of some unpleasant episode that happened during her only
summer in Bashkiria. It was a real shock for her to learn that one of
her room-mates used her clothes in secret. As my mother's informant
told her that girl took one of her gowns from the sack with her dirty
garments every time when she had a date. What was especially
infuriating was that she didn't even trouble herself with laundering
– she just put it on in haste and went to meet her sweetheart.
Quick in her anger as usual my mother seized the content of the
wretched sack and burnt it all. Afterwards, she was told that the
unscrupulous girl wept bitterly when she learnt about it. She just
couldn't understand why my mother didn't give all of that to her if
she didn't want to wear it any more. But it was not in my mother's
nature to treat her offenders like that. I couldn't do it either.
Yet, it's difficult for me to imagine what I would do in her place.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Anyway, I don't recollect the details, but I do
remember my mother telling me with amusement that she had only one
summer dress when she arrived in Odessa from Bashkiria. Perhaps she
bought it here, in our city, not having enough money to buy anything
else. It was a good gown though and some of her ill-wishers started a
rumour that my mother owned at least ten identical dresses. Otherwise
how could she always look so neat and clean in her only garment? But
my mother's secret was really simple. As her dress was made of some
high quality fine-spun fabric she washed it every summer evening and
put it on in the morning as fresh as new.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It's a pity I don't remember anything about the colours
of that gown. My son can't help me here. He remembers his
grandmother's stories much better than I do but he forgot about the
colours, of course. Such things mean very little to men. But a new
nice dress means so much when you are a young girl. Even now when I
am sixty-five I remember my own feelings at that age. Not that I
often had a garment that I really liked but if I did it gave me a
completely incredible sensation. It seemed it was a part of my body
that turned me into a new creature, much more attractive and
self-confident. Still one can't be young forever. I think my mother
realized it when she was twenty-four and that was one of the reasons
that urged her to accept her old friend's proposal at last. She did
it just in time from a common point of view. At the time of my youth
women of all generations believed that a girl, who reached the age of
twenty-five, had little hope to start her own family. I think there
might have been another reason for my mother's decision. By that time
she had to get tired of fighting alone for the better place under the
sun. She really needed someone reliable beside her and her old friend
was definitely of that kind. Not to mention that he loved her
faithfully since their school days.</span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To be continued...</span></p><p lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>38. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-27.html">The same pattern</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-62097513057773795552022-12-21T06:42:00.007-08:002023-06-03T03:10:59.929-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty seven)<p style="text-align: center;"> <b style="font-size: large;">chapter 27</b></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The same pattern</span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><span style="font-size: large;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHub72d8LYMUq4TaCsEyG1rFSZ56CFT81KpxTdTzXyIUlHTDCttvtIsMbtJxC6mLPo4HpGx0uNRTJEoHzmgDteCjgMkldMk3cvOmROGYDhbQuu7dlkmzllGgRRDWnWycB0lYMPObQ1-5_DfumSgHhmgPdYSkkpVdJeMTsNklGorOXuoR1RhkNTVccz9w" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="" data-original-height="2304" data-original-width="3456" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEhHub72d8LYMUq4TaCsEyG1rFSZ56CFT81KpxTdTzXyIUlHTDCttvtIsMbtJxC6mLPo4HpGx0uNRTJEoHzmgDteCjgMkldMk3cvOmROGYDhbQuu7dlkmzllGgRRDWnWycB0lYMPObQ1-5_DfumSgHhmgPdYSkkpVdJeMTsNklGorOXuoR1RhkNTVccz9w" width="320" /></a></span></b></div><b><span style="font-size: large;"><br /><br /></span></b><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> As far as I can remember communists always proclaimed universal
education as one of their greatest achievements. But, in the first
place, they used it for brainwashing. In fact, it was not something
new – any political regime has always exploited it for that
purpose. Yet education is a double-edged sword, because it also gives
you knowledge and widens your horizons. No wonder that dangerous
ideas usually sprang up among the students. I remember </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">how
we used to rebel</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">
against the system. Actually, it was quite peaceful – we just
laughed heartily at political jokes and at the portraits of our
leaders hanging everywhere. Obviously, we felt superior, because we
were young and bright and inwardly believed that we would never look
like those on top, who were definitely much too old to rule our lives
and seemed rather weak-headed into the bargain. What is more, their
words too often didn't correspond to reality. After that they could
hardly expect us to respect their dull speeches pronounced from
various tribunes. Our country was the biggest but it was not the
richest or the happiest place in the world as they zealously tried to
convince us. That's why we laughed so much when someone told us a
fresh joke about our leader or about the whole situation in the
country. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> And what a bore it was to learn the teachings of Marx
and Lenin at school and then again at university! The small
consolation was that people in China, as it was said, always had to
carry brochures with their leader Mao Zedong's quotations in their
pockets. It looked like poor Chinese had to endure more ridiculous
things from their authorities than we did. For instance, the
notorious hunt for sparrows. The clever idea was that those
gluttonous creatures ate too much grain in the fields considerably
diminishing their harvests. That's why the great helmsman Mao
appealed to the nation and ordered to kill them all. I was too small
to remember reports about this campaign in our papers but my mother
assured me later that people were even offered money for tiny bodies
of the unfortunate birds. Anyway, the Chinese followed the
instructions as thoroughly as they usually do and the result was
disastrous. Deprived of their natural enemies, various insects, and
especially locusts, began to breed uncontrollably, and a year later
attacked the fields in great numbers. No wonder that later trying in
a hurry to restore the subtle balance of nature, Chinese had to buy
sparrows in the neighbouring countries. I remember that my mother and
I found this very amusing. But it was not. All this madness with
killing sparrows provoked great famine and thousands of people in
China starved to death. In comparison our own leaders seemed to us
more sensible. As a matter of fact, we got very little information
about their blunders but it was impossible to hush up everything. For
example, constant shortage of food in our shops clearly showed that
there was something wrong with our agriculture too.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I remember that only in the beginning of Leonid
Brezhnev's rule - when I was in primary school - food was in
abundance in our shops. Oranges, bananas, even olive oil of good
quality were available for everybody. What is more, meat could be
purchased without standing in a long queue and my mother used to
send me to buy it. Later I always recalled that time with nostalgia.
It seemed nobody knew for sure why our economic situation began to
deteriorate so badly. People usually blamed some negligent managers
or generous help to our “brothers”, that is to other socialist
countries. Anyway, they always told us that those were only temporary
difficulties and our socialist system of economy would defeat all the
others in the end.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> “We
were born to make a fairy-tale come true” - these words from the
popular song expressed, as it seemed to me, the very spirit of Soviet
school education. When I was in my teens I loved to sing along
whenever I heard it on the radio. It raised my spirits a little even
at the time when I already knew that there was no truth in those
enthusiastic words. As a matter of fact, it was not that what was
waiting for me after university. In reality, I got a dull and
low-paid job in some laboratory, where most of the people just
imitated scientific work. I was always ready to run out of that place
an hour or two earlier, preferring to stand in queues for meat or
milk and butter than to listen to idle talk of my colleagues. It was
not a very good time for a young clumsy </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">creature
like me</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> to start
her career as a housewife but there I was standing in queues and not
knowing that the USSR was gradually drawing to its close. Still, at
least ten years of that nervous and unstable life were waiting for
all of us. Not to mention those awful “wild 90s” that were going
to come after that.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> In my mother's young days the situation was quite
different. It was gradually getting better and all the hardships
could be easily explained by the aftereffects of the recent War.
Moreover good education gave young villagers a chance to escape
poverty and hard labour in the fields and find a nice job in the
city. Yet it was difficult to get it because the level of teaching
was pretty low in the villages. My mother's teacher of Russian is a
good example of that. He was likable and full of goodwill but the
only task that they had ever got from him was to compose some
sentences in Russian. It was not so easy for most of them as their
native language was Ukrainian. But it was not really a problem
because their kind teacher always turned a blind eye whenever good
pupils helped the others or even wrote surreptitiously in someone
else's copy-book.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> They did have a lot of fun during those lessons,
knowing beforehand that their teacher would be utterly happy to give
them all high marks for their sentences. Yet there was no chance to
improve their Russian with such manner of teaching. And Russian as
the official language was really important for those who wished to
leave the village. That's why in the end my mother and some of her
friends came to their headmaster and told him about their
predicament. When, after the inspection, the headmaster asked their
teacher why he had not taught his pupils properly the latter was not
perplexed in the slightest and answered with a serene smile: “But
they have been so clever! You would think so too if you read all
those sentences that they composed for me”. To be honest, I am at a
loss here. Was that man really as simple-hearted as villagers
believed him to be or was it just a clever pretense in order to avoid
his punishment?</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> Anyway,
it was not the only case when my mother fought for better education
in her village. She came to their headmaster one more time after she
discovered with a shock that it was not her younger sister's lack of
ability, as she had always believed, but her teacher's fault that the
child was so bad at maths. It was her teacher who couldn't solve
problems and at that time when every pupil had to learn the table of
multiplication by heart that woman didn't know it at all. And why
should she if the wretched table was printed </span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">on</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">
the back cover of every copy-book that was meant for calculations?
That or at least something like that she told the headmaster when he
caught her at it. As for solving problems that teacher had her own
way to reach the right answer. At first she performed some chaotic
operations with figures in an attempt to achieve it. When, after
numerous efforts, she failed that woman was never embarrassed. If her
result was less than it was necessary she just told her pupils
enthusiastically: “And now our question is what we will get if we
add something to this figure”. Or she asked them to subtract
something from it in the opposite situation. Surely this last step
had always given them the right number that coincided with that one
in the list of answers in their textbooks.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Not knowing any other teachers for more than two years
her poor pupils really believed that adjustment was the right way to
solve problems. Their semi-literate parents definitely couldn't help
them to notice that something was wrong. My mother wouldn't have
noticed anything either if strangely long solutions of simple
problems had not caught her eye when she was turning over the pages
of her sister's copy-book. When the child got a new teacher at last
it didn't turn out, of course, that the girl was brilliant at maths.
But her marks definitely became better and she learnt how to solve
problems without pleading her elder sister to do it for her.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> As for my aunt's first teacher only now it occurred to
me that my mother has always used that woman as a measure of
ignorance. How often I heard her saying with scorn: “Oh, them! I
am sure they don't even know the table of multiplication”. People
said about that teacher that she never sat for her own exams, sending
instead some clever girl her cunning mother had hired for that
purpose. If it was really so her examiners couldn't be unaware of it
and this leads me to a frightening conclusion that at the time of my
mother's youth bribes and corruption in Soviet educational system
throve even more lavishly than they did in my young days.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;">To be continued...</span></p><p lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>37. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html">Too much of a good thing (the ending)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></p>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-56763003035693139212022-04-29T09:19:00.008-07:002023-06-03T03:09:35.711-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty six - the ending)<p style="text-align: center;"> <b>chapter 26</b></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span><b><span style="background: transparent; font-size: x-large;">Too
much of a good thing</span></b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="background: transparent;">(the ending)</span></b></span></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b></b></span></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHuhG_a5CVye6XkTkeqoLapFL5qWW9Qr2qhExx8xoy-hvPgQ9XeAkED3G8CVSJCJCD6xq0L2z-hUUTEZoCXqJvXa9of6l2OFt1E-nqyYIqkK3xuO6lVLfGmWI0VSWsw3OQUX1jt7OWzfwV2QxD-AKb2antJxn45K8LGTSUo8519g03ttQs7eDrbC2vQ/s4080/IMG_20230422_112456.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiSHuhG_a5CVye6XkTkeqoLapFL5qWW9Qr2qhExx8xoy-hvPgQ9XeAkED3G8CVSJCJCD6xq0L2z-hUUTEZoCXqJvXa9of6l2OFt1E-nqyYIqkK3xuO6lVLfGmWI0VSWsw3OQUX1jt7OWzfwV2QxD-AKb2antJxn45K8LGTSUo8519g03ttQs7eDrbC2vQ/s320/IMG_20230422_112456.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> It
may seem strange but I still remember my mother's expression when she
started to tell me about her first teacher. She smiled in some
confusion, blushed a little and confessed that unlike me she was fond
of that woman. Actually she liked her so much that found her very
pretty in spite of that nose of hers, which was very long and
slightly crooked with its tip almost reaching her upper lip. My
mother thought it was really attractive and for a while she was seen
walking around the village with her face oddly distorted. Perhaps
people were afraid she was losing her marbles. But it was not so. My
mother just wished to look like her beloved teacher and tried to
bring her own well-shaped nose closer to her lips.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> There was another
remarkable story connected with that teacher. I imagine my mother
always watched her with loving eyes and what a shock it was for her
when she saw that kind and well-educated woman going to the loo! She
just couldn't believe it at first. I was seven or eight myself when I
was laughing my head off after I learnt that at my age </span></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> my mother believed that adults didn't have any natural needs to go to
the loo. Now it strikes me as rather odd. How could it be that she
had been so ignorant in those matters? And it was not something
unique. My mother's mother could tell the the same story. She was
even a couple of years older when she was shocked by the sight of a
priest going to the lavatory. It's a pity that owing to discord
between my mother and grandmother I know so little about rural life
and can only guess where the roots of this mystery lie.</span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> According to my
mother, villagers didn't have any special toilets at that time. So
perhaps it was just a clever tactics to train small children to be
properly ashamed of their actions and to use secluded bushes or
remote corners of kitchen gardens for natural needs. But most likely
working hard since dawn to dusk, parents didn't have enough time to
teach their little ones. The neglect of small children – that was
what my mother could never forgive her own mother and relatives. But
that was how they grew and life itself gave them their first lessons.
</span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> When leaving for
work, peasants usually locked small children up in their huts. Of
course, it was not safe for such small kids to stay alone, but it was
a widespread custom. My mother herself was about five when she had to
look after her baby-sister. No wonder that once when they ran out of
clean swaddling clothes she pushed the little one away in irritation.
To her dismay being shaped like a loaf of bread in her nappies the
baby rolled off the high bench-stove bouncing down the steps on its
way to the floor. Luckily, her sister got off easy, paying for her
fall with only one or two scratches on her forehead. What is more, it
was one of those rare cases when my mother managed to avoid her
punishment. She was quick enough to hide in a narrow space behind the
stove where her mother couldn't reach her with her leather belt.
Somehow it didn't seem right to her because she was even guiltier
than her mother thought. In fact, she just couldn't resist the
temptation and drank all the milk that was meant for the baby. That's
why she fed it with borsch, that is vegetable soup with tomatoes and
beetroot, and provoked her sister's diarrhea. Anyway, on the whole
that episode had a happy ending. Yet, it was not always so.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I think my mother
was a baby herself when an awful tragedy happened in the village.
Later it became a legend which adults told to their kids when they
wished to remind them how dangerous it was to play with fire. If
those poor children had not played with it they wouldn't have been
trapped in the burning house. But nobody really knew what had
happened as nobody was left to tell the story. Parents as usual
locked their kids up and left for work or maybe for the market place
in the neighbouring town. When the house caught fire those poor souls
couldn't find their way out without outside help. But their rescuers
arrived too late to save the two elder kids. Only a baby was found
miraculously alive among the smoking ruins. It was saved by a
wash-tub that fell over it from the wall or, perhaps, as people
believed, it was the elder boy, who covered the little one with it in
the nick of time. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> The entire
village was shaken by that terrible accident and the authorities
realized at last that they had to do something about it. Soon after
the tragedy some official visited all the houses in the village,
threatening with severe punishment for anyone who would lock their
children up. I don't know exactly when the first kindergarten
appeared in the village but in the early sixties, during my only visit to
the village, I learnt that they had already had one. I was only five
then but I remember this clearly, because it was my grandmother's
working place. </span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I must admit that
my attitude to my former country changed dramatically after the
Soviet Union collapsed. It's not really surprising, considering how
many nasty revelations we have had since then. Still after thinking
things over it suddenly came to me that there was after all something
good that Soviet state had done for the peasants – for example,
kindergartens and universal education. Unfortunately, it can't
outweigh, of course, the disaster of collectivization or the huge
bloody machine of political repressions.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;">To be continued...</span></span></p><p lang="en-US" style="background: transparent; font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>36. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2022/02/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html">Too much of a good thing (the continuation)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-41948536018918905092022-02-04T08:01:00.007-08:002023-06-03T03:08:01.983-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty six - the continuation)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;">My mother's stories</span></span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>chapter 26</b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Too much of a
good thing</span></span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>(the continuation)</b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPESY_UeCZsU204ahMEd_dLd7DdzrDrcA7jyKVUV01Y6iYWgL2njXeyaNe1xtAlIfAgIvadR91kSXdvlyyfo2xracLv6HBf3HugnRrjZBHoHIhhlYCWLUVkpC7yt3QejZ9iSLL0jnMlxeLlGmV3_rtDUDFqYfQAFHA2ZWYF6nPQU0PReDINPs4Im3Lw/s4080/IMG_20230422_112438.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhvPESY_UeCZsU204ahMEd_dLd7DdzrDrcA7jyKVUV01Y6iYWgL2njXeyaNe1xtAlIfAgIvadR91kSXdvlyyfo2xracLv6HBf3HugnRrjZBHoHIhhlYCWLUVkpC7yt3QejZ9iSLL0jnMlxeLlGmV3_rtDUDFqYfQAFHA2ZWYF6nPQU0PReDINPs4Im3Lw/s320/IMG_20230422_112438.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div><p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> A
lot of people help their children to do their homework when they are
at primary school. But for my mother this situation was special. She
herself had unfulfilled ambition of becoming a primary school
teacher. Who knows how often I heard the sad story about my mother
giving up her education because of her mother's imprisonment? And
there I was at last – her only pupil. No wonder she was so eager to
help me. Who could have predicted then that my future mother-in-law
would be a teacher at primary school and my husband would play the
guitar with the same zeal my young father used to? It's amazing how
such things work. It's true that I took notice of my future husband
when he was playing the guitar but I don't think that his mother's
profession added much to his charm. I just considered this a funny
coincidence.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> As
for me back then when I was seven I really couldn't do without my
mother's helping hand as I spent too much time sitting at home with a
sore throat and a running nose. So my mother had a lot of additional
work, learning our homework assignment from my class-mates, then
helping me to do it and at last bringing my copy-books to our quite
unpleasant and arrogant teacher. I suspect I caught a cold so
ridiculously often partly because of that woman as she was so rude
and shouted so much at her pupils. It was just my bad luck. My
mother told me once that while she was waiting for me and walking to
and fro along the school corridor she couldn't help noticing that
only our teacher's voice was heard behind the door. It seemed that
other teachers could do their job without shouting.</span></span></span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I don't remember
that woman shouting at me. Perhaps I didn't give her a lot of
opportunities as I was good at reading and maths. Still it was
difficult to watch her abusing the others. It looked like our teacher
especially disliked the boys. At least I still recall one unlucky
child shrinking near the blackboard while she was scolding him and
calling him a blockhead for not being able to grasp her explanation.
I knew she disliked me too, because she never missed the chance to
throw something offensive in my direction. Once, for example, when I
began to eat a meat ball with a bit of garlic in it, which my
reckless mother gave me for lunch, our teacher immediately squinted
her beady eyes at me and, wrinkling her disdainful nose, asked loudly
whose terrible smell it was. And I, it seemed, tried only to increase
my teacher's antipathy towards me.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It really looked
like that when we got a home-task to write a composition “My
favourite teacher”. Everybody grasped at once who we were expected
to be fond of. And only I came straight up to our teacher during the
break and asked for permission to write my composition about Tatyana
Ivanovna, who worked in the class next-door. That cheerful and kind
woman taught us once for a few days and I was hugely impressed by her
character. It seemed like a miracle that a teacher could be so nice.
We all hoped she was going to stay but not with our luck, of course.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Still people can
get used to almost anything. So in due course we got accustomed to
our harpy of a teacher and even became less frightened of her. My
mother's dark predictions that she would dislike me much more after
my insolent request didn't come true. By our fourth year our teacher
even smiled sometimes, while telling us that it was her last year at
primary school too. Actually, she was a teacher of French and that
was what she was going to teach after she had finished with us.
Smiling slightly artificially, she tried to tempt me with her future
French group, but I replied firmly that I would prefer to study
English. It was impossible, of course, to learn a foreign language at
an ordinary Soviet school. The whole school programme, it seemed, was
created to prevent people from learning it. But I didn't know that at
the time and was looking forward to my first English lesson without
my first teacher anywhere in sight. It's lucky I couldn't know then
that I would become more or less good at English only in my
mid-fifties. Still better late than never.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As
for my last year at primary school, by that time I began to feel much
more comfortable there. Now I spent more time at my lessons than at
home with a nasty cold. After studies I used to come home tired but
cheerful and spent an hour or two telling my mother about everything
that happened during the day or about something interesting that I
discovered in books. New insects or plants, or Solar system – there
were a lot of things that I found utterly exciting. My mother in
return would tell me about something funny or dramatic that happened
in her school days.</span></span></span></span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To be continued... </span></p><p style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; text-align: left;">2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>35. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2021/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-six.html">Too much of a good thing</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-30942269480819787202021-12-24T07:01:00.003-08:002023-06-03T03:06:33.377-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty six)<p> </p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;">My mother's stories</span></b></span></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;">chapter 26</span></b></span></p>
<p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: large;">Too
much of a good thing</span></span></b></p><p align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"></span></b></p><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><b><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirvyPEN5tePR_GBNS90RCrcbNEOEYgy0hf6x7XWXqmU9gWS0znUXHaWC1pNUNc_8FzR1T1HdVmuIUILziJ-UhsUWxouhf_RF4PKQ6gNIxatWp4R9-3vnsrvzS58GNvtckddIJ_rX3jez7Bcww5ywtBT55ea-usnABq3g9uACGw7Zc-PGlNIIQ4XUm_EA=s5184" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/a/AVvXsEirvyPEN5tePR_GBNS90RCrcbNEOEYgy0hf6x7XWXqmU9gWS0znUXHaWC1pNUNc_8FzR1T1HdVmuIUILziJ-UhsUWxouhf_RF4PKQ6gNIxatWp4R9-3vnsrvzS58GNvtckddIJ_rX3jez7Bcww5ywtBT55ea-usnABq3g9uACGw7Zc-PGlNIIQ4XUm_EA=s320" width="320" /></a></b></div><b><br /><span style="font-size: large;"><br /></span></b><p></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;"> Nearly
two years have passed since I finished the previous chapter of my
memoir. I don't know exactly why but I went back to my stories in
Russian. They just lay there, unpolished, as though asking me to
finish my work. There were actually a few of them and they had been
written at the hardest period of my life. Still, my little trips and
adventures of the time shone even brighter in the dark background.
But the language and the plot were far from being satisfactory. So
that's what I had been doing for two years – rewriting my old
stories in Russian. It was a slow work, but it was worth it. Now I
like those stories much better and I can jump back to my memoir in
English with clear conscience. It has been nudging me recently as if
reminding me that I am not so young anymore. As a matter of fact, I
am not young at all and, surely, it would be more prudent to complete
my old projects before coming to something new.</span></span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> So here I am with
an unfinished memoir. Sometimes I think maybe it has been a mistake
to start it in English. I could definitely express my feelings and
thoughts better in my native language. But I can't change it now,
having so many pages already under my belt. I started them in a
feeble attempt to comprehend why there has always been so much
misunderstanding between me and my mother. Why did she use to step
aside when I especially counted on her help or understanding? It
seemed at such moments that she was watching me with cold pride as if
telling me: ”You have never appreciated me as a mother properly.
Let's see how you'll cope with this by yourself”. </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Perhaps it's just
my imagination playing tricks on me. But the fact is that my mother's
behaviour was often a mystery to me. I understood a lot while writing
these pages. My mother's desperate reluctance to visit her native
village, for example. Before that I had never understood in full
measure the significance of her father's execution in 1937 and its
connection with my mother's loathing for her fellow-villagers. And
now I have the last task in front of me. I have to try to unravel my
mother's attitude towards me, her own daughter. Actually, it has
always been the main purpose of these memories.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I must admit
that, having had a married daughter for so many years, I began to
understand this possessiveness and this selfish desire to rule your
child's life much better. You can never be free from it. It's almost
impossible to erase the inner belief that “mother knows best” and
allow for your children's right to make their own mistakes. I am
afraid it has always worked like that in the world. So I began this
part of my recollections in order to clear up not only my mother's
behaviour but my own as well.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As a matter of
fact, I have been trying hard not to repeat her mistakes but mostly
failed. I did manage to avoid some of them, of course, but instead I
made some of my own. As for my mother, she found it was quite natural
to interfere with her child's affairs even after that child became an
adult. She has never realized that too much of protectiveness is not
good. Surely it's not anything unheard of. But the older I became the
more infuriated I felt about it. It seemed as if invisible ropes
entangled my limbs not allowing me to walk free. I can't be sure even
now that I entirely got rid of them.</span></span></p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Nevertheless
it would be unfair to blame my mother alone for my lack of
confidence. It was me who was attached to her very much when I was a
little one. Partly I have to blame the conditions of my early
childhood for that. At that time my parents had to rent a small room
where the three of us definitely lived cooped up together, sleeping
in one bed. I remember it seemed to me very funny when my mother told
me once how I used to wake up very early and crawl over my parents,
trying to open their eyes with my little fingers. After we moved to
the wet flat in the factory region we had more space, of course, but
still I slept with my mother for some reason. I don't remember much
of that time, but I do recall my great discomfort when she suddenly
announced that she wanted me to sleep without her. I got used to it
in the end but I certainly didn't welcome this first step to
independence. </span></span></span></span></span>
</p>
<p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I suspect I was
naughty till I reached the age of five. So maybe that's why there was
a time when I preferred the company of my indulgent aunt to that of
my mother. The latter was very much against physical punishment,
trying hard not to step into her own mother's shoes. She chose to be
stern – at least it was her weapon to force me to behave. I
remember it hurt my feelings a lot when my kind mother suddenly burst
out with rage, her face turning ugly gray in a flash. Nevertheless,
it worked and I did try not to provoke her fury too often. Surely it
was not easy for me. </span></span></p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> From time to time I couldn't help pestering my
mother with something or other. That's how I brought on my head those
two ugly episodes when she threw away my delicious ice-cream or cut
my new dress into pieces. I can't be sure but maybe it would have
been better for both of us if she spanked me sometimes instead.
Gradually, I learnt from my mistakes. Anyway, our relationship
improved a lot when I reached the age of five, the age of persuasion,
that is the age when I could be persuaded to behave. My mother used
to assure me that I reached my peak of intelligence and goodness at
that age. Although I have a feeling that she loved me best when I was
at primary school. At least as far as I can remember we were most
intimate at that time. </span></span>
</p><p align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;">To be continued ...<br /></span></span></p><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span lang="EN-US" style="line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;"><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div></div></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div><div><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div><b style="text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div><div><b style="text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br /><b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b style="text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div></div><b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b style="font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif;">33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html" style="color: #3e82bb; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div><div style="line-height: 22.176px;"><b>34. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/06/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-five.html">The informer (the ending)</a></b></div></div></div></div></div></div>Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-49793724411038643752019-06-14T21:40:00.006-07:002023-06-07T03:11:44.661-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty five - the ending)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><b>chapter
2</b></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>5 </b></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="background: transparent; font-size: x-large;">The
informer</span></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;">
<span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;">(the ending)</span></b></span></span></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"><br /></span></b></span></span></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; orphans: 2; widows: 2;"><span style="color: black;"><span style="font-family: "times new roman";"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUslu1ioii5sgH7aGxM1MkONFCBJDKyjtGgIIdym_2OUjg6zAGcwqwmFuGEKRzewH1HJTy-7FyVhKCt15Ng1ReZcmbCmKRbE-qMmTvpcXrnnGkblwvs0ulsUaNyd8wvxgJwcIDy8EXXnk8miqFSCNyRyaLhvEXFU93eCo2z-uoJpMnsxhGDXtpZkQELw/s4080/IMG_20230605_121101.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiUslu1ioii5sgH7aGxM1MkONFCBJDKyjtGgIIdym_2OUjg6zAGcwqwmFuGEKRzewH1HJTy-7FyVhKCt15Ng1ReZcmbCmKRbE-qMmTvpcXrnnGkblwvs0ulsUaNyd8wvxgJwcIDy8EXXnk8miqFSCNyRyaLhvEXFU93eCo2z-uoJpMnsxhGDXtpZkQELw/s320/IMG_20230605_121101.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> When
I think about all those numerous people, who used to scribble
information against their neighbours and colleagues, I usually recall
our own neighbours, who live just across the street: a woman, five or
ten years younger than my mother, and her divorced son, who have
always considered our street as the continuation of their yard. I
could never understand them, as if they were aliens. Still her son
reached the top of his outrageous behaviour at the time of wild 90s,
when he slaughtered two pigs just under my kitchen windows. It was
not a matter of a minute and our panes vibrated with the pig's awful
yells. In vain I tried to close my ears with my fingers: it didn't
muffle the sound. So when it came to the second pig, I lost my head
completely and ran out of our house with firm intention to stop that
horror at any cost. I remember how furious I was when my husband
stopped me at our gates. Nowadays I feel grateful for his
intervention. What an awful scene I could have witnessed if he hadn't
forced me to return to the house! </span></span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Actually, that
man has always preferred to do all his dirty and unpleasant work in
the street. I remember him sawing up the tiles with a disk grinder on
concrete floor in front of their gates. The sounds were so piercingly
annoying that I wondered how he could stand them working there for
hours, not even wearing protective earmuffs. Sometimes I thought the
man just loved being exposed, being watched by all his neighbours and
passers-by. And, maybe, the feeling of unfriendly glances at his
back. My son, perhaps, understands our neighbours better, saying it's
not as complicated as that. In his opinion it's their well-known
tendency for neatness – they just don't want to pollute their
precious yard.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Anyway, it was
not all of that that stopped us saying hello to each other in the
end. It was their dogs, whom they have always allowed to run freely
in the street. The thought that those audacious animals weren't pigs
for slaughter after all didn't help much. “Don't be afraid”, our
neighbours usually said to scared passers-by, “They are only
barking. They wouldn't bite”. But I knew it was not true. The small
white dog was really only barking. In fact, he was doing it all day
long and part of the night, often without any visible reason at all.
But his main fault was that he egged his companion on. And that big
black dog did bite sometimes. I witnessed it three times at least. Not
to mention one lucky girl, who got off with only her bag ripped
because the owner of the dogs called them back in the nick of time.
Standing at my open window I saw the girl coming to our neighbour's
fence to show her torn bag. I was unable to catch the words, only the
tone and was struck by our neighbour's rude answer. In confusion I
tried to guess what arguments she could have offered to justify
herself for being so rude in such a situation. What gave her so much
confidence in her own rightness? Did she really like to terrorize
people with her dogs or was it that she just didn't understand what
she was doing?</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> In any case,
those dogs didn't usually bark at us as we were their neighbours, but
they often used the space in front of our gates as their toilet. I
believe they were marking their territory, showing us where the
border, in their opinion, actually lay. Several generations of our
neighbours' dogs have had this irritating habit, but in reply to my
mother's accusations that woman always said that they were just
animals and that she could do nothing about it. Naturally I got tired
of dirtying my shoes while coming home in the dark, but it was only
when my mother got senile and I understood that it was my turn to
clean after those nasty animals, I decided to teach them their spot.
And it turned into a real war for the territory. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I had to get up
very early to shoo them away. Sometimes even risking my skin and
jumping out of our gates. My task was to persuade those animals that
I was as fierce as a dog myself. And I really was sometimes. Our
neighbour was quick to catch me at it and she asked me with
indignation what was the meaning of that – shouting “shoo” at
her dogs. I started to explain to her that I was going to teach her
dogs to behave if she was not able to, but she didn't give me a
chance to finish my speech. Every time when I opened my mouth to
continue she began to talk too. Such kind of conversation usually
turns into a real battle of lungs, when two furious women are
shouting at the same time, trying to muffle each other's words. Two
women from the market – that's how people usually call them. It's
really funny to watch such a scene, but I had no desire to take part
in it. So I used the only decent option left for me and turned my
contemptuous back on that woman. But I didn't stop my war with her
dogs and did win that miserable space in front of our gates in the
end. The price of my victory was that our neighbour stopped saying
hello not only to me but to all the members of my family. </span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> So every time I
am thinking about our neighbours as I try to understand their
motivation, I imagine them scribbling a denunciation about me being a
spy at the time of Stalin's rule. Just to punish me for my
interference with their dogs' up-bringing. And then I begin to think
about all those people who are shouting now, demanding to bring
Stalin's statues back. Perhaps, they are not as harmless as they
seem. Wouldn't they be the first to write a denunciation against
people, whom they were angry with, if that bloody regime suddenly
came back? They don't understand, it seems, that they would not be
out of reach themselves and could be hit by the same stick that they
are so eager to use against others. </span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><br /></span></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> To be continued...</span></span></div><div lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span><span style="background: transparent;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="background-color: white; color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br />
<b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div>
</div>
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
</div>
<b>33. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter2-5-informer.html">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-48726264066390472992019-03-31T07:09:00.006-07:002023-06-07T03:08:49.187-07:00My mother' stories (chapter twenty five - the continuation)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><b>chapter
2</b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>5
</b></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span><b><span style="background: transparent; font-size: x-large;">The informer</span></b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;">(the continuation)</span></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul1Yal-oamclI0DjmQn3JXaaSPwEy9nUqaNsqSOfzA-hcZm4maY7ACwjD6gTsJhDDwth043nLj0efZSD0oj8KVnMxXut7_2rZjZkDd6Pg-HlwAJh8e4jg375Ixckaw2gbc1cGwAvxs6zdRzXnnjzcIFcyQ7C80wlybBO7kbmQEGBQk257wgMg11C_ew/s4080/IMG_20230605_131632.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhul1Yal-oamclI0DjmQn3JXaaSPwEy9nUqaNsqSOfzA-hcZm4maY7ACwjD6gTsJhDDwth043nLj0efZSD0oj8KVnMxXut7_2rZjZkDd6Pg-HlwAJh8e4jg375Ixckaw2gbc1cGwAvxs6zdRzXnnjzcIFcyQ7C80wlybBO7kbmQEGBQk257wgMg11C_ew/s320/IMG_20230605_131632.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Although </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">at school </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">we learnt about the 20</span></span></span></span></span><sup style="text-align: left;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">th</span></span></span></span></span></sup><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;">
Congress of the Communist Party that condemned Joseph Stalin's cult
of personality there was nothing in our textbooks to show us the real
scale of political repressions of the time. In fact, I don't remember
the term “political repressions” used there at all. We rather
heard about them from some vague rumours circulating among the
people. So I imagined Stalin's cult of personality as his portraits
hanging everywhere on the walls and printed on the front pages of all
the newspapers. But didn't we have the same with our current leader
Leonid Brezhnev? His portraits looking at us from everywhere and TV
news starting with inevitable words “Today Leonid Ilyich..." </span></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">followed
by what he had said or done</span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">? So what was the difference?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I don't know why
I couldn't see this difference. It was so easy to do just by paying a
bit more attention to one of my mother's little stories. It happened
on the day of Stalin's funeral. My mother was 23 then and at the
height of her beauty. No wonder she and her friend couldn't get rid
of some young admirer. They met him somewhere in the street and he
just didn't want to leave them alone. But my quick-witted mother did
find the way to shake him off their tail. Losing her patience with
him at last, she exclaimed loudly “How dare you bother two mourning
girls on a day like this?!” And it worked immediately: the young
man turned pale, muttered “Sorry” and flew away as quickly as his
legs could carry him, leaving them behind laughing quietly at his
back.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> “Quietly” -
that's it. At that time I think even jokes about Stalin were told in
a whisper. It was so different from what it was like at the time of
my student youth when jokes about Brezhnev were extremely popular.
Although my future husband and his friend did pay for their zeal in
retelling them. At least our professor of History of the Communist
Party hinted to us that was the reason why they weren't allowed to
visit Poland with our group of students. Yet, we were lucky to live
at that period when people weren't sent to Camps for their long
tongues any more – they were just forbidden to go abroad.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Actually it's odd
that the news about Stalin's repressions came to me like a shock. If
I hadn't been blinded by my grudge against my mother, I think, I
would have easily got the right notion of them from another
remarkable story of hers. In that story she was telling me how she
got her father's rehabilitation documents. After getting them my
mother was sent to some archives to learn more details about his
destiny. She was really impressed by a large room with filing
cabinets along the walls. A woman, who was in charge there, fished
her father's card from one of the drawers and went to look for his
folder. My mother was just standing there, looking around at all
those cabinets, and all of a sudden she realized that they were full
of numerous cards and folders with the names of poor people, who were
ground by Stalin's repressive machine. Feeling as if the room started
to spin around her she rushed out of there and never came to that
chamber again. </span></span><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;">I couldn't
properly appreciate this story when I was a child, of course, but
when my mother was telling it to my children I used to feel only a
familiar fit of irritation - “feeling unwell” again and again
while I was deprived of something important because of her unstable
character. And the true significance of her story just slipped my
mind, obscured by old offenses.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As for the story
about the informer, it was much longer and no less significant. I
imagine it as a few pieces of a puzzle with big gaps between them,
and my task is to put them all in chronological order and try to see
the whole picture. I have already told how all the village was
buzzing after people learnt what part my mother's neighbour played
in her father's fate. The informer said to everybody, who would ask
him, that he was forced to write his denunciation. Actually, I think,
it could be true but nobody believed him. People began to recollect
that my mother's neighbour got his lucrative job of the food store
manager just after her father's arrest, and he also got her family's
fertile piece of land by the river. Didn't it look like a reward for
the denunciation? Meeting the informer in the street some people
hissed into his face “You just wait till Nahum Andreevich comes
back!” I have a suspicion that those haters were the same people,
who used to abuse my mother for being “a daughter of the enemy of
the people”.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Anyway, my
mother's poor father never came back, of course, but she was told a
lot of thrilling details about her neigbour's destiny by her visitors
from the village. How the informer's 18-year-old daughter, for
example, couldn't bear the shame and turned gray overnight. How the
informer was stupid enough to go to the opening of some War memorial.
He shouldn't have gone there, of course, considering his new status
and the people's attitude. It was, I think, the deeply rooted fear to
miss such social events that drew him there. At the time of Stalin's
rule you could easily draw attention of the punitive agency's
ruthless eye if you didn't show proper respect to such gatherings.
That time was already slipping away but people hadn't understood this
yet. In any case it was the informer's big mistake to come to that
crowded meeting as there he was attacked by my hot-tempered
grandmother, who was cursing him and shouting something about her
poor husband. Who knows, perhaps that ugly scene was the last straw,
which led that man to his untimely death. Soon he had a stroke, was
paralyzed and died half a year later. Although it's difficult for me
personally, but if to think about it without prejudice, in that way
he became one more victim of Stalin's bloody regime, which killed him
a few years after its creator's death.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I remember once
my mother told me that when her father started to work at some small
plant in the neighbouring town the authorities didn't bother him at
all, and it was only when he used to come to the village that people,
who were in charge there, didn't leave him alone. She was sure they
longed to get rid of her father, because he, in her words, liked to
poke his nose into other people's business, and didn't think he had
to hold his tongue. And those guys did have plenty of things they
would prefer to keep secret.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> In the the USSR
people never had proper respect for the State property, and the
higher the position of a person was the more freely they could misuse it.
They definitely didn't limit their appetites with “three
spikelets”. It was not something unusual that my mother's neighbour
the informer with his lucrative job of the food store manager had
enough grain to feed his chickens even during the famine. Certainly
he didn't take that forage from his official rations. So it's quite
understandable why the local elite longed to get my grandfather out
of their way, considering him too nosy and dangerous. And a
denunciation was a very convenient way to get rid of inconvenient
people.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> </span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"></span></b></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> To
be continued...</span></span></span></span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br />
<b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The informer</a></b></div>
</div>
<b>32. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2019/01/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html">The informer (the continuation)</a></b></div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-16336416506582946662019-01-30T09:21:00.007-08:002023-06-07T03:16:32.248-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty five - the continuation)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<br />
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: x-large; text-align: left;"><span style="background-attachment: initial; background-clip: initial; background-image: initial; background-origin: initial; background-position: initial; background-repeat: initial; background-size: initial;"><span style="font-size: medium;">chapter
25</span></span></b></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The informer</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"><span style="font-size: medium;">(the
continuation)</span></span></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><span style="background: transparent;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBmeeo06hwsCig1qP4eVq5npMUF1meP7dYMI-P1rt-KR53xjGYIYdsOpUAmuZVGD_Ae8MdnXClWs8UpFO2u08NPq8vN76K-g-CjOoXy03zKHZq8o3ION3Bn0MmrwGsAjxzh7mV1FAn9msgYeLXOODN8_t69UNLQ0tVBXDB_Bm8rtzmW9EWoIRGEXOgw/s4080/IMG_20230605_131656.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgeBmeeo06hwsCig1qP4eVq5npMUF1meP7dYMI-P1rt-KR53xjGYIYdsOpUAmuZVGD_Ae8MdnXClWs8UpFO2u08NPq8vN76K-g-CjOoXy03zKHZq8o3ION3Bn0MmrwGsAjxzh7mV1FAn9msgYeLXOODN8_t69UNLQ0tVBXDB_Bm8rtzmW9EWoIRGEXOgw/s320/IMG_20230605_131656.jpg" width="320" /></a></div></b><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="background: transparent; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I
don't know exactly when my mother learnt the truth about her father's
fate. But it definitely happened at the beginning of the 60s. By that
turbulent time known, as Khrushchev's Thaw, she hadn't lived in the
village for several years. After travelling all over the country or
through half the country at least, my mother settled down in Odessa, a city near the Black Sea. She and her young husband had to rent
their place of living at first. My mother had a lot of funny stories
about that time. I remember her telling me with amusement how when I
was a baby we lived at the edge of the city in some kind of a shed,
which she used to call “a goat box”. Or telling me with awe how
I, being a toddler, narrowly escaped my untimely death when I came up
on my unstable legs to a big and very aggressive chained dog and
tried to seize it by the ears. I was saved by our landlady, who
snatched me from under the very nose of the astonished beast at the
last second.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Anyway, it was
not something new for my mother to endure privations. I believe she
felt much worse when my father got a flat in the factory region at
last, and she had to suffer from foul air, bad water and lack of
greenery. Occasionally her mother visited her there. My grandmother
usually arrived surrounded by a bunch of her fellow-villagers, and my
mother had lots of trouble making the bed on the floor </span></span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">for all of them</span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">. I think
in that wet and shadowy flat she got the first news about the
identity of a man whose denunciation brought her poor father to his
destiny.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It was especially
painful for my mother to learn that the man was their neighbour. And
she used to be so friendly with his wife! That young woman was
respected in the village as she married a much older man with two
small children to look after. My mother liked her because she was
benevolent and, unlike most of the villagers, was always ready to
share the secrets of her housewife skills with anybody. It was she
who taught my mother how to remove stains from linen by boiling it in
soap solution. In my mother's own family sheets were never washed,
and unless they were new they looked revoltingly dark gray.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As for borsch
(the famous Ukrainian vegetable soup), which was an important part of
everyday meal, her granny didn't know how to cook it properly. She
threw all the vegetables into a pot at the same time, boiling all of
them till the beetroot became soft enough, while the rest got
overcooked, of course. Trying to disguise the unpleasant odour, the
old woman put too much dill into her borsch, but it didn't help. The
smell that she got in the end was really disgusting and the taste was
not much better. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> My mother's
mother on the whole hated most of the housework, and, to be honest, I
do understand her. Nevertheless, as my mother used to tell me with
bitterness, her mother did cook tasty dishes, but only on those rare
occasions when a crowd of guests was expected to a feast. On ordinary
days making borsch she poured too little oil on the frying pan and
her fried onion was always burnt and smelled badly.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Naturally my mother
was eager to learn why, when their neighbour's young wife was making
borsch, the flavour floating through the air was so delicious. So she
tried to be somewhere nearby just to watch this skillful housewife in
the process of cooking. Soon she knew by heart in what succession the
vegetables had to be thrown into the pot. After that, every time her
younger sister was called to dine, she asked suspiciously who had
cooked borsch. Although their mother always answered her sister had, the distrustful girl used to run to the pot, and lifting
its lid, sniffed carefully. If it was not true, the little
one understood it at once and snorted scornfully, “Let the person
who made this broth eat it herself then!” My mother was pleased, of
course, with such appreciation of her cooking, and felt really
grateful to her new friend for all the priceless knowledge that she
had so selflessly shared with her.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> My mother had
never been able to get anything useful out of her own mother, who had
very little patience for her unloved daughter, and was always ready
to pull her by the hair if she was not quick enough to understand her
explanations. No wonder my mother was so happy to find a friend and a
teacher in their neighbour's young wife. And what a blow it was for
her to learn that her good friend's husband informed the punitive
agency against her dear father!</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Why did he do it?
He seemed to be like any other man in the village. Although there was
one peculiarity - he never looked into your eyes while speaking to
you. Was it guilty conscience or just fear that people could find out
the truth about him being an informer?</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> If this was his
worst fear, it came true in the end. It happened after Nikita
Khrushchev started the rehabilitation of political convicts. All the
village was buzzing about that man when the shocking news had finally
reached it. As my mother was told by her agitated fellow-villagers, their neighbour the manager was summoned to the punitive agency and
asked why he had written the false information against her father. It
turned out that the man, whom my grandfather had supposedly killed,
was in good health and the oil-mill that he had set on fire stood
undamaged. They didn't ask themselves, though, why they didn't check
this information much earlier.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Many years later
I learnt to my dismay that at the time of Stalin's rule millions of
denunciations were written, and they were full of such groundless and
often ridiculous accusations, which nobody bothered to check. It was
difficult for me to accept that my grandfather's story was not some
local blunder but a tiny part of the global process that was much
more sinister, thinning out the country, killing its best citizens in
the first place. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"><br /></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></span></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: justify;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br />
<b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b>31. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/11/my-mothers-stories-chapter-25.html">The informer</a></b></div>
</div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-41485871191047997312018-11-27T10:15:00.006-08:002023-06-03T02:26:02.379-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty five)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><b>chapter
2</b></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><b>5
</b></span></span></span>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The informer</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyNmUca81sqUztkUrWhdmyiZG-pwmxnYjGXIvW84xt9p0IVkPd3oD_Yq6Ko-69bggUVdGJ260QMx2MgOhn3k52J_-2yte_4enLZZH044bY91SCIjNzxplJmRBv261tfzAg7_UQxv4Vin41PPLuJP5Qtlt3TzZ4wab4reNX22__3-rqH1_TRPPyCDW-w/s4080/IMG_20230530_163954.jpg" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhVyNmUca81sqUztkUrWhdmyiZG-pwmxnYjGXIvW84xt9p0IVkPd3oD_Yq6Ko-69bggUVdGJ260QMx2MgOhn3k52J_-2yte_4enLZZH044bY91SCIjNzxplJmRBv261tfzAg7_UQxv4Vin41PPLuJP5Qtlt3TzZ4wab4reNX22__3-rqH1_TRPPyCDW-w/s320/IMG_20230530_163954.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> After
her miraculous survival in 1947 my mother lived in the village only
four more years. I don't know why but I have never before associated
my mother's heart problems and nightmares during that period with the
damage that she received at the time of the famine. She almost starved to
death then and definitely needed a special treatment and really good
nourishment. I am sure she got nothing of the sort. As far as I can
remember my mother's tale, her mother did take her to see a doctor in
the neighbouring town a few times. But she was not satisfied with his
prescription. So, choosing the time when the doctor left his
consulting room, her mother bribed a nurse asking her for some
injection, which, in her opinion, would be good for her daughter's
heart. But obviously it was not, because as soon as my mother got it
she unexpectedly fainted. The doctor, who just came in at this
moment, scolded the nurse furiously. My mother, however, flatly
refused to look for help of official medicine after that incident. So
she continued to suffer from nightmares, dreaming about a snake
hiding inside her pillow almost every night, and inevitably
attracting sympathetic stares when, extremely weak with her heart
racing, she was slowly dragging herself through the village.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> It so happened
that the children of my mother's generation had a big gap in their
education because of the Second World War. Actually, since 1941 till
1945 they attended school only for about a year when they were under
the Romanian rule. Then the Germans came to replace the Romanians and
those didn't bother themselves with education on the occupied
territories, having enough trouble on their front line. Thus children
started studying again only in 1945 after they had been freed by the
Soviet army. I think my mother was still at school at the age of 19
or even 20. Yet she never finished it. Her excellent memory suddenly
began to fail and she couldn't utter a word when a teacher asked her
a question.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> No wonder that
seeing her people whispered behind my mother's back, foretelling her
untimely death. But she survived this time too, and being encouraged
by one of her teachers, left the village with firm determination not
to set her foot there ever again. Nevertheless, 30 years later she
had to return to the village and live there for a month taking care
of her ill mother. As soon as the old woman felt better my mother
hired a bus and took her to our city with all her worldly
possessions. I remember even the chickens were brought to our place
as we lived in a private house and had a spacious yard. And here my
grandmother lived for the last two years of her life, quarreling in
turn with her two daughters and changing her place of living all the
time – exactly like her own old mother used to do during her time.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> A
few years later my mother tried to go to her native parts one more
time, moved by her elderly aunt's plea to visit her. But it was a
total failure. I remember how they departed: she and my 7-year-old
daughter, who was full of elation that she was accompanying her
granny on this trip. My father had to see them both off to the train
station. I was not really surprised when an hour or two later my
father and daughter suddenly appeared saying they came back by tram
but my mother had to reach home much later. As it turned out they
took a taxi but half way to the station she felt really sick. So
after vomiting at the edge of the road my mother couldn't force
herself to board any kind of transport and said that she would come
home on foot.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> When they were
leaving something in my mother's countenance prepared me for such an
ending. But still, although I had had a nasty feeling that something
like that was going to happen, I felt infuriated. Didn't my mother
know she suffered from seasickness most of all in cars? Surely they
had to catch a bus! Knowing my mother's love for theatrical effects,
I suspected it was just a little performance organized for me
personally. Nowadays I understand it was not a pretense. In spite of
her love for a bit of acting it would have been too much even for her
to pretend like that.</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> As for my rage
because of the trip which hadn't taken place it was my usual reaction
to my mother's tricks at that time. It seemed to me that all my life
was punctuated by such enthusiastic beginnings which suddenly came to
a failure. How often did I hear from her “Oh, I really wanted to do
this or that but I felt dizzy all of a sudden. I just couldn't enter
that shop, or office or whatever it was”? And that was not all.
Didn't she have this nasty habit to persuade me to do something and
then pour a cool bucket of discouragement on my head? I believed the
roots of my lack of self-confidence lay there. And wasn't it my damn
uncertainty and constant hesitation that prevented me from reaching
any success in my life? However, I think it was my marriage that
killed our trust in each other once and for all. I couldn't forgive
my mother for her extreme hostility towards it, and what hurt my
feelings even more was her stubborn refusal to respect my right to
make my own mistakes. </span></span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> And only now, so
many years after I split up with my husband, I began to understand my
mother's desperate reluctance to visit her native land. It was not
only a place of hard labour and poverty. It was the place where her
mother always preferred her sister to her, where her beloved father
was arrested and everybody could poke their finger at her calling her
“a daughter of the enemy of the people”. I imagine what a shock
it was for my mother when she learnt who had written the false
information against her father. She could never have thought it was
him! Who could have guessed it was their neighbour the manager –
the very man who had enough grain to feed his chickens even during
the famine, and whose hen once laid an egg in their yard during that
hungry time?</span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: right;"><span><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
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<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></div>
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<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px;">29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The great famine of '47</a></b><br />
<b>30.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/09/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24-ending_27.html"> The great famine of '47 (the ending)</a></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-18757435891276917242018-09-27T08:03:00.007-07:002023-05-29T08:47:31.465-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty four - the ending)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 24</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span><b><span style="font-size: x-large; font-style: normal;">The great famine of
'47</span></b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-style: normal;"> (the
ending)</span></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><span style="font-style: normal;"><br /></span></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvUYu5RTWHarz2dzP1FrUWqBgODJ8rF6DqxhS0wDTf5ucgCIH7HF5uKSMr_KHnuK1S3J9r4u-JSEZ-djeqeieMtLHrpCOGqN9D-s_t83d0mJMSnWNn7ylU3EvY1M0m9XjIIY5tGybDX2h-FcerWDA1AFsX1x-BLf-iPkCtLJTqtKS9cL7OyKLySh-TQ/s5184/IMG_8791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhgvUYu5RTWHarz2dzP1FrUWqBgODJ8rF6DqxhS0wDTf5ucgCIH7HF5uKSMr_KHnuK1S3J9r4u-JSEZ-djeqeieMtLHrpCOGqN9D-s_t83d0mJMSnWNn7ylU3EvY1M0m9XjIIY5tGybDX2h-FcerWDA1AFsX1x-BLf-iPkCtLJTqtKS9cL7OyKLySh-TQ/s320/IMG_8791.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> The
awfulness of the idea of starvation never occurred to me when I was a
child. I liked my mother's tales about the famine and found them rather
amusing. I don't understand now what was so fascinating about them
for me but I am afraid I was actually laughing listening to the story
about cutlets from grass and stew from sparrows that my mother's
granny Euphemia cooked for them that deadly spring of 1947. At the
time I didn't realize, of course, that my mother and aunt were really
lucky to see the end of that year. In fact, I didn't find it odd that
instead of gulping down that stew the poor girls began to cry the
moment they noticed tiny birds' legs sticking out from the pan and
flatly refused to eat it. Euphemia, on the contrary, seemed to me
rather unfeeling when I learnt that she got angry with her
granddaughters' untimely sensitivity and ate the sparrows completely
by herself.</span></span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Nowadays after
having the experience of half-starvation in the wild 90s (following
the noisy fall of the USSR) I know that the old woman was right. It
was not rats or human flesh after all. Although some people ate the
latter too, overcome by the instinct of self-preservation. And can I
really blame them? Can I be entirely sure that I wouldn't have done
the same in their place? Yet it's a relief for me that there were no
known cases of cannibalism in my mother's village.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> And my mother, it
seemed, tried to draw her own death ever nearer with that
overscrupulousness of hers - like in that amazing story about an egg
that I remember so well. She and her sister were really lucky to find
that egg in their yard one day. It was definitely laid by their
neighbour's hen, because he was one of the few who still had chickens
left alive. Most of his fellow-villagers slaughtered their cattle and
poultry long ago, knowing that famine was coming and that it was
better to eat their animals before they started to lose their flesh. They knew that they wouldn't be able to keep them alive. But
their neighbour was lucky to work as a manager of a food storehouse.
No wonder he had enough grain to feed his chickens even during that
hard time. However, the most incredible thing was that after finding
that egg lying on the ground, my mother and aunt didn't eat it at
once. Having months of starvation behind their backs, they just stood
there arguing and offering that small vessel with proteins to each
other. The end of the story has been variable: sometimes my mother
said they gave the egg to a cat in the end, another time – that
they ate it together, giving the cat its share. I don't know exactly
why she was playing with details in some of her stories. Was it just
her love for the art of story-telling or her usual desire to create
another picture which would confirm that she was different, that in
no situation she would forget about her dignity.</span></span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;"> And their situation
was really desperate in the year of famine. It was even worse than it
could have been because of her mother's unfortunate habit of lending
everything to everybody in spite of the fact that she rarely got her
things back. Yet, it was a really great misfortune that she lent her
sister two sacks of wheat for her daughter's wedding just when the
famine was about to start. If I remember correctly it was the very
sister, who joked once, when answering their claims: “If I borrowed
things and then gave them back I would never become rich”. Sure
enough they never got their grain back. Nevertheless when at the end
of winter they almost ran out of food supplies they were saved by
their mother's other fault – her passion for clothes. She never
had enough of them – even that money that her poor husband had
saved in secret to buy them a house she wasted on garments after his
arrest.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Although I have
to do my grandmother justice and mention that she bought two suits
for her husband too, sincerely believing that sooner or later he was
going to come back. Most of those clothes were dark-coloured or
black, because, as my mother used to tell me with disgust, black was
her mother's favourite colour. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> Anyway, in the
year of famine my mother and her sister appreciated at last how lucky
they were that their mother's trunks were full. So when it became
clear that their food supplies wouldn't last them long she filled two
heavy bags with those dark-coloured garments and went to Western
Ukraine to swap clothes for food. By that time their granny Euphemia
had already left for her elder daughter's place. The old woman always
did it after having one of her numerous huge rows with their mother.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> My mother and her
sister were left alone. Waiting for their mother's return, the girls
tried to spare that food that she left for them as much as possible.
But the day came at last when they had eaten the last crumbs and
still their mother hadn't come back. So they were just staying in
bed, drinking water from time to time. Lying there for three long
days, my mother had some kind of hallucinations – as soon as she
closed her eyes a long table began to float in front of her. It was
crammed with different dishes, but mostly it was bread, freshly baked
bread, nice and brown. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I remember my
mother told me once that actually there had been some people she
could have asked for help. I think she meant her aunt who lived in
the neighbouring town and their fortunate neighbour's young wife.
That girl married the man when he was left a widower with two small
children. My mother and she were almost of the same age and they
immediately became friends. That young woman could definitely give
them something in secret from her husband the manager. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="background: transparent;"> But here my
mother's pride, her habitual shield from the outer world, played a
bad trick with her. Perhaps she had some hesitation if she should go
asking for help but soon she and her sister were too weak to walk
anywhere. They were saved by their mother's long-expected return. Her
arrival, I am afraid, was not so triumphant as she had meant it to
be. As she went to the toilet at the train station two sacks with
food were stolen from her. Hot-tempered as usual their mother tried
to attack her companions whom she had asked to keep an eye on her
things. Furious, she accused them of a secret agreement against her.
But everything was in vain – she couldn't prove anything, of
course. Luckily for the girls their mother had never let go of the
smaller bag with cereals. So now she could act as a savior of her
poor daughters, starting cooking porridge for them as soon as she
came home. That small bag lasted them long enough to live till the
field works started in spring and the state began to provide peasants
with miserable rations of bread giving them back at last the small
part of that grain which they grew with their own hands.</span></span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 23.76px; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
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<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-size: 15.84px;">
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: xx-small;"></span></span></div>
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<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: small;"></span></div>
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<b style="background-color: white; font-family: Georgia, Utopia, "Palatino Linotype", Palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
<b>29. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/05/my-mothers-stories-chapter-24.html">The great famine of '47</a></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-49735432833837868502018-05-22T06:29:00.006-07:002023-05-29T08:44:25.223-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty four)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 24</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The great famine of '47</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihoM36AXZwH5SQrz1RtDKk6C_VSoLOO_vTXiZkgfcrCuCffuJXuGaCIeWexoZ9E43REv4e7h2H494rOkucUjhSiWORE_jEAIRM9FpqCtfXJcYUfy52Sc2QEPmd5OlNWTkhe85TEQKvaFqZOezH6AzlsgeMyHcOKPXJt9jl_TrQR7PbUOSumpQBtiZAA/s5184/IMG_8791.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3456" data-original-width="5184" height="213" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgihoM36AXZwH5SQrz1RtDKk6C_VSoLOO_vTXiZkgfcrCuCffuJXuGaCIeWexoZ9E43REv4e7h2H494rOkucUjhSiWORE_jEAIRM9FpqCtfXJcYUfy52Sc2QEPmd5OlNWTkhe85TEQKvaFqZOezH6AzlsgeMyHcOKPXJt9jl_TrQR7PbUOSumpQBtiZAA/s320/IMG_8791.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Somehow listening to my mother's stories I have never
understood what it was for her to live in her village marked as “a
daughter of the enemy of the people”. I think she was too proud to
show me that it bothered her too much. It was not really strange, of
course, that she was so eager to leave the village, considering
poverty and hard labour. But it couldn't explain why my mother was so
determined not to set her foot there ever again. In contrast to her
grudge against her mother she was fond of her grandmother and aunt,
her father's sister. The latter didn't have children with her husband
and they treated my mother as their own child. Moreover she really
missed her beloved oak forest, where she used to spend so many happy
hours wandering with her granny. So why was the very thought of
coming back so hateful for her?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> For a long time I believed it was my mother's hatred
towards her own mother that prevented her from visiting the village.
Yet, after putting together all the details, while writing my
memoirs, I began to think that the main reason was rather different.
It was her fellow-villagers' enmity that hurt her feelings even more
than her mother's dislike. It was them who couldn't forgive my mother
her proud demeanour, her flat refusal to bear her status of “the
daughter of the enemy” as a stain of shame. I imagine it was not so
easy for her to stand on her dignity because of the rural custom not
only to hiss accusations behind someone's back but to throw them
straight to their faces. So that was the time, I think, when my
mother developed a habit of using her pride as a shield against
everything and everybody, a trait that cost me so many inconveniences
in my childhood and irritated me so much in later years.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I don't remember exactly if my mother had ever had any
doubts as to her father's innocence. But I do recall clearly her tale
about some young Komsomol activists, members of Young Communist
League, who came to her house once. They explained to her that if she
meant to continue her education she had to join their ranks but
before that she had to sign a statement with - a renunciation of her
father.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother didn't think twice to say “no”, adding
mockingly at the end that Komsomol could easily do without her but
she couldn't do without her father. It was dangerous to joke like
that at that time and my mother was really lucky to get away with it.
Nevertheless, that refusal predetermined all her future life. The
doors of the college were closed for her after that in spite of her
good marks at school and all the hopes of a good career were now
lost.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Besides, my mother had to pay for that refusal when a
great famine of 1947 broke out in the country. I remember her looking
at my father with a mixture of light envy and amusement and telling
me with mild indignation that during the famine he got as much bread
as an adult in his orphanage, while they received half as much as
ordinary citizens being “the family of an enemy of the people”.
To my surprise my father reacted with good humour to her remark. He
just smiled reminiscently and said that he had even more than that –
there were one or two pieces of sausage floating in his soup on all
red-letter days. And what a joy it was for orphans to fish those
small delicious bits out of their festive broth!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> At the same time my mother had to survive on their
miserable bread rations – she and the majority of the population,
that is, those who didn't belong to some strictly limited privileged
group. The others weren't in much better position than my mother's
family. Actually, they began to receive that poor help from the state
only after the field work began in spring. Before that, in autumn,
that very state grabbed most of the wheat that was grown on the
collective farms' fields, leaving peasants to survive with that grain
that they managed to grow on their personal plots. And it was not
much as it was a notorious year of great drought and bad harvest.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> They say Stalin's regime never stopped trading in
grain. Even in 1933 and 1947, at the time of great famines, heavy
laden trains continued to cross our borders – exactly like in that
joke that was popular at the beginning of the Second World War when
the USSR was still happily trading with Germany. As my father told me
the narrators of the joke started with the question “Do you know
what our wagon wheels say when they go abroad and then on their way
back?” The answer, as for me, was simple and brilliant: going
abroad the wheels rattled “rye - wheat, rye – wheat” and coming
back they tapped “screws – bolts, screws – bolts”. The
narrators pronounced slowly the first pair of words, giving their
listeners the impression of heavy carriages full of grain. The second
pair, on the contrary, was pronounced in quick succession, creating
immediately the image of more than half-empty wagons with small piles
of iron produce somewhere at the bottom.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> So that was the price for our industrialization. But
still I can't grasp why they continued to send grain abroad when
people were eating grass and swelling from starvation. I can accept a
wide-spread explanation that communists organized the famine of 1933
just to suppress peasants' rebellions and force them to enter
collective farms. How else could they make people work hard without
getting any money for their labour? But the famine of '47 was
different. It happened just after the war, when the country had been
rendered lifeless with heavy death toll. It seemed mad to organize a
new famine at the time like this, even if Stalin was afraid of new
rebellions. But then I remembered a phrase which was ascribed to
Stalin </span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="text-align: left;">“</span><span style="text-align: left;">No one is irreplaceable”.</span></span><span style="font-size: small; text-align: left;"> </span><span style="text-align: left;">It inevitably
reminded me a well-known Russian proverb “</span><span style="text-align: left;">Women are still giving birth</span><span style="text-align: left;">” where the same thought was put into simpler words. </span><span style="text-align: left;">I can only imagine how modern feminists
would react to such a statement. As for Stalin's words t</span><span style="text-align: left;">hey
say nowadays that the great moustached leader never said anything of
the sort. But does it really matter? It's enough to know that it was the invariable motto of communists at the time of
Stalin's rule.</span></div>
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<br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; font-weight: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued..</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
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<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
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<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></div>
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<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; text-align: left;">27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span></div>
<b>28. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2018/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-three.html">Why did they kill him?</a></b></div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-61855045091138068852018-03-22T11:53:00.004-07:002023-05-29T08:34:59.201-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty three)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 23</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>Why did they kill him?</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUZ9EDrp3w0G4je7kpqJe04ZOulzBStbUqBv2_g0lr8xI2E_Vuj8Krvc06PcSTd2S1N0SRF_CyVPd4Hoe40UW-QIN8bi_it4dr-Fntfd7Ifo-nOm-7QtO2H2yi4y4OiqAYEzm5-42VCJQPtFcI-RKfdZtXdCDdltA8BJxllYOBSmflQjDuKHgPMjNmA/s2272/DSCN4926.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2272" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbUZ9EDrp3w0G4je7kpqJe04ZOulzBStbUqBv2_g0lr8xI2E_Vuj8Krvc06PcSTd2S1N0SRF_CyVPd4Hoe40UW-QIN8bi_it4dr-Fntfd7Ifo-nOm-7QtO2H2yi4y4OiqAYEzm5-42VCJQPtFcI-RKfdZtXdCDdltA8BJxllYOBSmflQjDuKHgPMjNmA/s320/DSCN4926.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> It's
strange how people's memory works. I have been writing my memoirs for
more than three years now and my mother's mental abilities have
deteriorated dramatically during this time. Only a year ago she
remembered a lot about her childhood and youth and only what she was
doing a minute or two ago slipped her memory completely. Nowadays she
has forgotten most of her past, even her violent mother, whom she
hated so persistently for so long. Nevertheless her father has
recently emerged</span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">,</span></span></span></span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
escaping the dark hollows of her memory. So she was just sitting
muttering to herself in her present-day manner “What has happened
to him? I can't remember”. Giving her a clue, I reminded her that
her father was executed when she was only seven. My mother looked at me
perplexed and asked with sudden tears in her voice “Why did they
kill him? He was so good”. Trying to distract her, I started to
tell her about a great number of people, who were marked as “enemies
of the people” and executed at that awful time. And she suddenly
remembered “Oh, yes. I was a daughter of the enemy of the people.
So how did they humiliate me?” After some struggle my mother did
fish out that she had been forbidden to sit at the first row at
school – her place could be only at the back of the class. </span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> The
detail that I have forgotten. </span></span><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">It
was strange. </span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">She
used to tell me that being an excellent pupil she was sitting at the
first row, at least at primary school. My daughter confirmed she
recalled the same. So maybe my mother was just trying to use her
imagination to refill the dark holes in her memory. Or, perhaps, she
was forbidden to sit in the front after the War when she refused to
sign the renunciation of her father. Who knows? </span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">My
mother in her state can't help me </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">now.</span></span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-weight: normal;">But
never mind. I s</span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">till
remember a lot – all those things that she used to tell me when I
was a child and she was a young strong woman with excellent memory
for poems and her own past. Although even then her memory was not so
good for everyday business that always seemed to her too mundane to
pay too much attention to.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> Anyway,
I remember that as “a daughter of the enemy of the people” she
didn't get a free lunch at school. It was an important addition to
the nourishment, because most of the children never got enough food
at home. Yet, there were some sympathetic teachers, who used to send
my mother to the kitchen to wash the dishes – so that she could
receive her lunch as </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">a</span></span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
payment for her work. How often could they do it? It's a pity I
forgot and my children don't remember either. Nevertheless it's a
great relief for me to know that if I have some doubts about my
recollections I can always ask them as they used to listen to my
mother's stories as often as I did at the same age. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> But
I do remember clearly my mother telling me that she never saw her
father again after he went to the hearing. Only a note came from him
some time later. In that small piece of paper, given to them in great
secrecy, her father revealed the place where he had hidden the money
that he had saved to buy a house for the family. I think he knew what
was waiting for him. But even then, in his desperate state, he was
trying to be funny as usual and added in the end of the note that he
was treated there as a Gypsy from a well-known joke. The hint was
transparent enough – they knew he meant “tortured”. Many years
later, reading Alexander Solzhenitsyn's book</span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">,
</span></span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">I
learnt with a feeling of deep revulsion and terror that my
grandfather's case wasn't extraordinary. It was a usual practice.
Actually, punitive agency got official permission for such methods of
inquiry. My shock was especially profound because I was growing up
watching a lot of movies about The Second World War where brutal
German fascists ruthlessly tormented our selfless patriots before
killing them. And our soldiers were so brave and noble. If some of
them, mad with grief after getting a letter about his wife and
children killed by </span></span></span><span style="color: black;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">a
</span></span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">German
bomb, tried to be violent with German captives, the others always
stopped him saying “We can't behave like them”. I could never
watch those touching scenes without tears in my eyes. It was such an
awful irony suddenly to discover that our people could “behave like
them” and even worse, because they tormented their own compatriots
just to force them to sign a document with some absurd accusations
brought against them. No wonder people usually admitted everything.
Death was preferable if the alternative was the everyday torture.</span></span></span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;"> I
remember how, thinking about Stalin's repressions,</span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
I used to feel pity for all the poor people, who were doomed to live during that terrible time. But then something changed in my perception. I
think it started when Russian propaganda raised a turbid wave on TV
in order to clean Stalin's reputation. I felt confused when photos of
old women lovingly clutching his portraits suddenly popped up all
over the Internet. Looking at them I thought at first those women
were just a little bit touched in their heads. But I was knocked down
completely by a photo of a plump woman who wasn't even that old. A
sweet smile was playing on her lips </span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">while</span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
on the portrait she was holding the head of the great moustached
leader was surrounded by the USSR National Emblem that looked like a
halo of a saint. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> I
don't know exactly when it happened. Perhaps, at that moment as I was
watching that photograph or a bit later</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">,</span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
when I realized the extent of Stalin's rehabilitation in Russia.
Anyway, a frightful thought came to me once</span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"><span style="background: transparent;">:</span></span></span></span><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;">
that bloody regime couldn't have existed if a lot of people hadn't
supported and justified it. And what is more there were plenty of
those, who were ready to fulfill a horrid work of torture and
shooting. I was not even sure if it was my own thought or I came
across it while reading online. But it didn't matter. I just felt it
was true at that moment. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><span style="font-style: normal;"><span style="font-weight: normal;"> So
that's why those hideous traumatic scenes from the old War movies
were shown so convincingly. Movie-makers didn't have to look for
German War criminals to consult. They could easily find a lot of good
experts with a long practice in their own country - that is in my
former country, which I was brought up to believe was the best in the
world. A ruthless reality gradually undermined this stupid
conviction, of course. But nothing could compare with that crashing
blow that it got when the whole truth about Stalin's repressions was
revealed to the people. It seemed most of my compatriots felt like
that at the time. And now even my best friend has recently told me
that Stalin's regime was not really that bad – there were plenty of
good things too. </span></span></span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="font-style: normal; line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I do hope that my head is more resilient and nobody
will ever be able to persuade me that a mass slaughter of people can
be justified by some high purposes or the future happiness of all the
others. It's painful for me to admit it but it looks like people can
be made to believe anything at all. The herd instinct – that is
what that sly mass propaganda uses here, I think. This irresistible
desire to join the majority even if they are all walking to the
precipice.</span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div style="text-align: right;"><span><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></span></div>
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<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
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<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="font-weight: normal;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b><span style="background-color: white; font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: small;"></span></span></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; font-weight: normal; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The importance of family</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>27. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html">The importance of family (the ending)</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-89133522862442855442018-01-14T04:40:00.001-08:002023-06-12T06:37:18.773-07:00Пять любимых вещей моего детства (часть вторая)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: 20pt;"><b>Празднование
Нового Года</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: 20pt;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAbFQsoa76umtyfirg5X1zxt-5Vtn9RpXc0bXEfWRO1_nx_r6Gk3TFRH9F_OzUDOztrxN-uXReC7eFQvwt136vifSrAO7nrNImPWrWxO3qEAmhuy5DZXlldfPgKx2kfbTGgXnf9bwdAKeI8an6PIwZZJRrmKRKEVXl69X8TpyVJ7H0ndzNVu1PjUQjg/s2272/DSCN6531.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1704" data-original-width="2272" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjxAbFQsoa76umtyfirg5X1zxt-5Vtn9RpXc0bXEfWRO1_nx_r6Gk3TFRH9F_OzUDOztrxN-uXReC7eFQvwt136vifSrAO7nrNImPWrWxO3qEAmhuy5DZXlldfPgKx2kfbTGgXnf9bwdAKeI8an6PIwZZJRrmKRKEVXl69X8TpyVJ7H0ndzNVu1PjUQjg/s320/DSCN6531.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Не только внезапно
выпавший снег чудесно преображал серые
одесские зимы моего детства. Было и
еще одно событие, которое я ждала с неменьшим нетерпением. И
хотя моя мама никогда не готовила
каких-то особых блюд к праздникам, и моя
любимая тетя Зина была единственным
человеком, который мог заглянуть к нам
на огонек у меня всегда возникало
трепетное праздничное ощущение, когда
я думала о приближении Нового Года. Этот
праздник любили все: и взрослые, и дети.
Мерцающий серебристый дождик и
разноцветные бумажные гирлянды,
развешанные повсюду, сразу изменяли
окружающий серый мир. В каждой классной
комнате в школе, в каждом магазине и
почтовом отделении появлялась
поблескивающая стеклянными украшениями,
нарядная елочка. А на главных площадях
города устанавливались огромные елки.
На закате существования СССР, когда мои
дети были маленькими, такие елки выглядели
удручающе бледно, так как украшались
они в основном бумажными гирляндами,
фонариками и дождиком. Но во времена
моего детства для них не жалели ни
разноцветных стеклянных шаров, ни бус.
Все дети смотрели на такую искрящуюся
на солнце </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">красавицу </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">с восхищением, и
даже рассказы взрослых о том, что на
самом деле эта </span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;">громадина</span><span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> сделана из
еловых веток, прикрученных к металлическому
каркасу, не могли испортить нашей
радости.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> А как
много интересных программ вдруг начинали
показыва</span><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="ru-RU">ть</span></span><span style="font-size: medium;">
по телевизору в предновогодние дни!
Сколько у нас, оказывается, было хороших
фильмов и искусно нарисованных
мультфильмов, где сказочный сюжет
разворачивался на фоне завораживающих
зимних пейзажей. Предновогодним вечером,
конечно, вся страна усаживалась смотреть
традиционный «Голубой огонек», где наши
любимые актеры и певцы общались друг с
другом, сидя за уютными столиками в
богато украшенном зале, периодически
прерываясь для какого-нибудь
развлекательного номера или представления.
Казалось, они встречали Новый Год вместе
с нами, принося ощущение праздника в
каждый дом. Выбора у нас, конечно, не
было с одной телевизионной программой,
но на заре своего существования «Голубой
огонек», действительно, казался чем-то
свежим и необычным. Да, и готовили его
в то время с гораздо большим рвением и
энтузиазмом.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> И, конечно
же, на Новый Год все малыши и ученики
младших классов объедались конфетами.
Так было, по крайней мере, в больших
городах, которые всегда намного лучше снабжались.
Один нарядно разукрашенный пакет со
сладостями мой папа получал для меня у
себя на заводе. Другой пакет мне выдавали
в школе и третий – я получала в Театре
Юного Зрителя после просмотра новогоднего
представления. Помню, с каким энтузиазмом
мы рылись в этом ассорти из разнообразных
конфет, печенья и нескольких мандаринок.
А в какой восторг я пришла, когда
новогодние сладости оказались упакованными
в картонную коробочку в виде заснеженного
сказочного домика!</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Весь
мир, казалось, пытался нам внушить, что
волшебство было возможно не только в
сказках, и в том возрасте в это,
действительно, легко было поверить. Это
было время, когда в декабре полки
магазинов ломились от разнообразных
елочных украшений. Каждое семья обычно
имела свой неповторимый набор елочных
игрушек. Среди детворы было принято
ходить друг к другу в гости посмотреть
на елку, а потом с увлечением обсуждать
чья же из них самая пушистая и нарядная.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Мне было
11 или 12 лет, когда мама сказала, что она
устала убирать иголки и наотрез отказалась
наряжать елку, которую папа, как обычно,
купил в заводском магазине. Я понимала,
что у нас мало места, и что наш большой
дом еще не готов, но все-таки я расстроилась.
Мне не хотелось говорить «прощай» своему
детству.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Когда
я вспоминаю елки моего детства, в моей
памяти всплывает не это грустное деревце,
стоящее покосившись в углу нашего
недостроенного дома и на которое я,
пребывая в расстроенных чувствах,
повесила несколько игрушек, присыпав
их сверху дождиком. Я вижу пушистую
красавицу, поблескивающую разноцветными
шарами, фигурками зверушек и сказочных
героев. Серебристые нити дождика только
усиливают всеобщее таинственное
мерцание, а белые комки ваты кажутся
неотличимыми от настоящего снега.
Конфеты и небольшие яблоки соблазнительно
свисают на ниточках. Они казались намного вкуснее, когда я срезала их с
колючих, слегка пахнувших хвоей веток.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Новогодней
ночью никто не пробирался к моей елке
на цыпочках, и утром я не находила под
ней никаких подарков. Только Дед Мороз
и его хорошенькая внучка Снегурочка,
оба в белых шубах и шапках, традиционно
стояли у обложенного белой ватой ствола.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Мои
родители выросли в деревне, и они не
понимали городского обычая дарить друг
другу подарки по праздникам – особенно
если это было что-нибудь бесполезное.
Я, конечно, расстраивалась, когда мои
родители и даже моя тетя забывали о
моих днях рождения, тем более что мои
подружки всегда хвастались своими
подарками.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> В те
времена, к счастью, в большинстве семей
еще не было принято класть подарки под
елку. Поэтому новогодним утром я была
совершенно счастлива, разглядывая Деда
Мороза и Снегурочку, одиноко стоящих
под елкой на полу. Они стояли там, будто
напоминая, что еще один солнечный цикл
завершился и самые длинные ночи уже
позади. Солнце теперь будет подниматься
все выше с каждым днем, приближая приход
весны с шумным щебетом птиц под нашими
окнами и легкими белыми барашками
облаков </span><span style="font-size: medium;">в</span><span style="font-size: medium;">
кристально-голубом небе.</span></div>
<div style="margin-bottom: 0cm; text-indent: 1.25cm;">
<br /></div>
<br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><b>1. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/12/blog-post.html">Пять любимых вещей моего детства (Снег - часть первая) </a></b></span></div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-10983462620391801982017-12-27T11:58:00.005-08:002023-05-29T08:28:16.893-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty two - the ending)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 22 </b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">The importance of family</span><span style="font-size: large;"> </span></b><br />
<b>(the ending)</b></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><br /></b></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n96efMw-ABpRB9IIg61QA-mvw77Mq7IAq11E6UrlgcS2PQakdyok-mUhmAzSp9VANkGJZOM5Urp8MgyNjoJHRR6ZiR2oqs0DUIjOcT0bBMgDQSCxV4giEEtpYbV8I_rfX_XDRWPef1-R43UGOj5NYQfvtXzQd0aKy9-ekQOO51H1Xeyuy6FlgBaqlw/s4080/IMG_20230506_125524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg7n96efMw-ABpRB9IIg61QA-mvw77Mq7IAq11E6UrlgcS2PQakdyok-mUhmAzSp9VANkGJZOM5Urp8MgyNjoJHRR6ZiR2oqs0DUIjOcT0bBMgDQSCxV4giEEtpYbV8I_rfX_XDRWPef1-R43UGOj5NYQfvtXzQd0aKy9-ekQOO51H1Xeyuy6FlgBaqlw/s320/IMG_20230506_125524.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br /></b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> I don't know why the authorities usually hid the fact
that political convicts were executed. The first thing that comes to
my mind is that they did it just because of refined cruelty, playing
cat-and-mouse game with their victims' relatives. Yet, I understand I
am wrong - there definitely were some practical reasons. It's
believed now that they merely tried to conceal the real scope of
political repressions. Perhaps, it's true. Somehow I can't imagine
communists of high rank inventing this secrecy just to save their
subordinates from the necessity of telling the truth straight to the
anguished faces of numerous people. Some information, however,
filtered even through the closed doors. Dark rumours were spreading
around the country but people didn't want to believe them. Who knows
how many poor souls continued to haunt different officials'
thresholds trying to learn something reassuring about their beloved
ones' fate?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> Anyway,
due to this cruel policy my mother had been waiting for years for her
father's return, not knowing that ”ten years without the right for
correspondence” stood for a death penalty. She learnt about his
destiny only at the beginning of the 1960</span><sup><span lang="en-US">s</span></sup><span lang="en-US">,
at the time of so-called Hruschev's Thaw, when political prisoners,
who survived Stalin's camps, started to come back, cleared of all
charges. I was pretty small then but still I remember my confusion
when I saw my mother crying with some papers in her hands and saying
something about my grandfather. I don't think I understood her
explanations at that time, but later I learnt that those papers were
my grandfathers' rehabilitation documents, which declared his
innocence twenty years after his execution. They put an end to my
mother's hopes that her father was alive and lived somewhere with
another family. It seemed possible to her because political convicts
usually got ten years of deportation after their term of
imprisonment. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> And indeed, one man came back to the village with a
wife and two sons twenty years or so after his conviction. He was one
of those, who fell under the heavy tread of the notorious Law of
Three Spikelets and, funny enough, got twelve years for twelve kilos
of stolen grain. His return shook all the village, though not because
he managed to survive, but because of a remarkable love-story
connected with him. There was a girl in the village, whom he promised
to marry, but infinitely delayed their wedding. Twice she tried to
marry another man and every time her light-winged lover popped up
just before the wedding to break it up, swearing eagerly that he
would marry her soon. Even after his arrest he continued to feed her
with his oaths in his reassuring letters. And what is more, he
managed to persuade her to sell her own house to take care of his
sick mother. So his unexpected return with his wife and two children
turned into a really tragic ending for that trustful devoted soul.
Suddenly, after all those years of waiting, she found herself without
a roof above her head. I remember this story seemed to me so
outrageous that I felt a great relief when upon finishing it my
mother began to tell me soothingly that the villagers didn't allow
this to happen and made that unfaithful lover buy some hut for the
poor woman in the end.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My grandfather, however, was not so lucky as that man
and in vain his daughter had been waiting for years for him. But
despite all the oppression that she had to endure as “the daughter
of the enemy of the people” my mother continued to cherish her
recollections about him. She liked to tell me in loving detail how
her father used to carry her in his arms and didn't allow her mother
to beat her. Or how he used to take her to the river bank, where he
put her down on the grass, and she was watching him swimming and
diving in deep waters of the pool named Fishers' Pit. People usually
avoided this dangerous place because two men drowned there once, but
her father was fearless. He worked at the water-mill and liked to
tell his little daughter about dangerous tasks of fixing something
high above the ground or in some deep tight hole, which nobody
volunteered to fulfill except him. No wonder her father was a real
hero in my mother's eyes. He was a remarkable man in many respects.
For example, he finished three classes of parish school. It was rare
accomplishment for villagers of his generation. He liked reading, of
course, and was always in the center of any company having a fresh
joke for any occasion. Who knows maybe those funny stories about
Stalin that he didn't fear to tell triggered the repressive machine
to persecute him? Although it's very well known that this machine
eliminated a lot of people, who didn't have even such a little fault
in store.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It would be funny if it was not so sad but my
grandfather was one of the few, who really believed in bright
communist future and was mocking his fellow-villagers' desperate
attempts to increase their wealth. It was very stupid of them in his
opinion because the time would come soon when there wouldn't be any
money and everything would belong to everybody.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> So perhaps, it was my grandfather's readiness to
believe in better things that ruined him in the end. He did get a
warning. Some kind soul, risking their own life, sent him a note,
advising not to go to the hearing but flee from the region as soon as
possible. Years later I read Eugenia Ginsburg's recollections about that
awful time, and she really met some people, who managed to avoid
imprisonment just fleeing to another region. But she, as well as my
poor grandfather, thought that her innocence was too obvious to be
afraid of something. As if those ruthless investigators, who used to
invent ridiculous accusations against innocent people, needed any proof.
I remember my mother telling me with anguish in her voice how her
father put his best suit on and went to the hearing. It was a turning
point in her life but I don't think she could realize this at that
moment.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
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<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
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<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
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<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<b style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; text-align: left;">25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b><span style="font-size: medium;"></span><br />
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<b>26. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/10/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-two.html">The importance of family</a></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-14415287603787004512017-10-31T10:07:00.005-07:002023-05-29T08:25:23.633-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty two)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 22</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b>The importance of family</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUGYcTiL6HhXvN207zVlKXIiuZGePHV8uztKa5oKGzFOP4XcSZkN8n9Lg0fseGA94nuv35VOXrFMjtDzAd2m2klZM88jZczSOMDZiFmuD76zp9a0tleI5nX1qq1YvsX60ElDjsYgPVjWhYwnJ0a3nh3uPWH3MuiINMFnvNfapQaGbhHUQ850huudU6A/s4080/IMG_20230506_125524.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgPUGYcTiL6HhXvN207zVlKXIiuZGePHV8uztKa5oKGzFOP4XcSZkN8n9Lg0fseGA94nuv35VOXrFMjtDzAd2m2klZM88jZczSOMDZiFmuD76zp9a0tleI5nX1qq1YvsX60ElDjsYgPVjWhYwnJ0a3nh3uPWH3MuiINMFnvNfapQaGbhHUQ850huudU6A/s320/IMG_20230506_125524.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><b><br /></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> There
was something mysterious about my father's childhood. He could
remember himself only since the start of primary school when he was
already seven. All the earlier recollections, for some reason, passed
completely from his memory except for one vague episode when a man in
a military uniform visited him in the orphanage. Yet, he couldn't
recall anything else about the man or his purpose. My mother, who
remembered herself since the age of two, found this gap in his memory
rather funny.</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I remember how she dropped something casual about this
strange forgetfulness for the first time and seeing my astonishment
tried to make fun of my father as usual, but he stopped her with one
glance. It was not a laughing matter for him. As an orphan he was
very sensitive about everything connected with his origin. In fact,
all that was left for him from his parents was their names in his
birth-certificate and the city of Zaporizhzhia as his place of birth.
In vain did he try to get any additional information about his
parentage after he came of age. Nevertheless, even this tiny
knowledge gave him a reason for pride. </span>
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<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> First of all, it was his surname, of course; the
surname that he shared with the famous Ukrainian poet and which was
so attractive to the girl he loved that she agreed to marry him. I
remember two thick volumes of Taras Shevchencko's poetry always lying
on the stool near my father's bed. It was actually the same book of
two different editions and he liked to reread them both. He told me
once that his favourite verse was “I was thirteen. I herded
lambs behind the village on the meadow”, confessing to me that he couldn't read
it without tears in his eyes. It struck him as very touching that at
the same age of thirteen he also shepherded lambs behind the village
and just like the poet he had neither parents nor home.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Another reason for my father's pride was the city where
he was born. He never visited it afterwards but he loved the sound of
it, often calling himself Zaporizhian Cossack. He really liked to
believe that his ancestors belonged to those free, warlike people,
who created Zaporizhian Sich, a kind of republic, which was located
on the banks of the Dnipro River centuries ago.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Listening to my father my mother couldn't help teasing
him sometimes, telling him with a sly smile that his surname and his
place of birth could have been invented and he might not be Ukrainian
at all. It always made my father angry - as if she tried to deprive
him of the dearest recollections about his family.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Many years later when the first and the last president
of the USSR Michael Gorbachev made the secret information available
for ordinary people the knowledge of the true extent of Stalin's
bloody repressions came to us as an awful revelation. It was the time
when I learnt that my mother could be right after all. A popular
magazine “The new world” started publishing a previously
forbidden book “The Gulag Archipelago” by Alexander Solzhenitsyn
and with a spasm of disbelief I discovered that there really was such
a practice to change political convicts' children's names before
sending them to orphanages. So who knows? Perhaps my father was one
of them.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother's attitude to her family was completely the
opposite. It's so odd how people don't usually value those things
that they have in abundance. My mother lived in the village full of
her relatives and could trace her family line back to her
great-grandparents at least. There were no doubts that she was
Ukrainian. Yet, it seemed she never appreciated any of this in the
slightest. I used to think it was just her usual aspiration to be
different. “I am not like others” - was not it her favourite
motto, her unconquerable argument in all the discussions? But after
writing so many pages about my mother's life in the village I think
I've started to understand her better. Being Ukrainian meant slavery
for her and hard work in the fields without any money paid for her
labour. No wonder she was so eager to leave the village. Listening to
my mother's stories I used to believe that she left the village
because of her mother's mean attitude to her. But now I don't think
so. She would have left even if her mother had been fond of her –
only in this case, of course, she would have had her mother's support
and blessing.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother's arrival in Bushkiria was definitely a
change for the better for her. She lived in the town of oil workers,
worked as a draftswoman and got real money as her salary. I remember
her telling me with slight bitterness “Can you imagine? Every
nation admitted I was theirs except Ukrainians. Germans, Jews,
Russians,...” Then casting away her frown she began to tell me with
a smile about one woman, who assured her that she belonged to her
nation. My mother's blond hair had turned rich auburn by that time
and her eyes were green. As the woman herself was dark-haired,
round-faced and her eyes were dark and narrow, everybody laughed, of
course. But she continued to persist good-naturedly “No, no – you
are definitely Mordovian. Just look at me. Can't you see we look
alike?”</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> As for being Ukrainian and her life in the village my
mother tried to forget about it, I think. She felt rather like an
outcast there in spite of her success at school and popularity among
the boys. One of her most aggressive suitors shouted at her once that
she thought too much of herself being in reality a daughter of a
criminal and a slut. And what else could he think if everybody in the
village knew her mother had affairs with married men and her father
had been announced “an enemy of the people”? And it was true. Her
mother didn't hide her love affairs from her children. It was not a
rare occasion when a man stayed for the night in their house. In
gratitude he usually fixed something or brought some wood for the
fire. Masculine hands were always in great need on rural farms. My
mother, however, couldn't talk about those men without a note of
anger in her voice, muttering bitterly “Just imagine – sleeping
with her lover and children in the same room!” Only recently I've
suddenly realized that it was not something unheard in the village.
At that time most of the poor families had to sleep in one room as it
was the only one in their shabby huts. But it was not my mother's
father who slept with her mother in one bed. I believe that's what infuriated
her so much.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Speaking of her father it's surprising how much she
remembered about him considering that she was only seven when he was
arrested and executed. It happened in 1937, the very same year when one
of the most prominent waves of Stalin's repressions rolled all over
the country, ruining lives of so many innocent people.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="font-size: 15.84px;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest at last</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>25. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/08/my-mothers-stories-chapter-21-ending.html">The forest at last (the ending)</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-81267048919991645082017-08-29T09:31:00.003-07:002023-05-28T08:29:49.888-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty one - the ending)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b style="font-size: large; text-align: justify;">My mother's stories</b></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<div align="CENTER" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"><b>chapter
21</b></span></span><span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="en-US"><b> </b></span></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The forest at last</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span><b>(the ending)</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTrqGL0N3oy8xaOjp6neyCAfiuviBxMR8x3Ru3htOKbURJGo5-7iUExuGdg9bUmtnOOMm0OnPhpVL3ttIg69qSRrBmAF9e3g-Q4xg2qfAz_FQYsP8atPH4USvtWeHXHk5GIFMojaDQ68hMPv7YAxM1q8fUEh-U4POgQGbD8bK9vu1ERXjoTrpaqdymg/s2592/DSCN9645.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgVTrqGL0N3oy8xaOjp6neyCAfiuviBxMR8x3Ru3htOKbURJGo5-7iUExuGdg9bUmtnOOMm0OnPhpVL3ttIg69qSRrBmAF9e3g-Q4xg2qfAz_FQYsP8atPH4USvtWeHXHk5GIFMojaDQ68hMPv7YAxM1q8fUEh-U4POgQGbD8bK9vu1ERXjoTrpaqdymg/s320/DSCN9645.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><b><br /></b></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> I started doing physical exercises every morning to prepare myself for
future trials, but here, unexpectedly, my mother showed her
changeable character in full measure and put up a real fight. I don't
know why she was so totally against my second walking tour.
Supposedly, it had something to do with the idea of a tent, which, in
her eyes, was a very convenient place for a young girl to lose her
virtue. She tried to scare me off with a story of a man from her
village, who died from pneumonia after he fell asleep on bare ground
in May. I objected to her that it wouldn't be bare ground if we put
inflatable mattresses under our sleeping bags, but she paid no
attention to my words. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Just before our one-day training tour, when we were
going to learn how to put up tents and build the fire, my mother
suddenly felt ill and asked me not to stay the night there. I had a
nasty feeling that she was pretending being ill as she was not very
good at it. Yet I couldn't risk it, growing up with the knowledge
that my mother's heart was weak. So I promised her to come home
before dark. It was difficult to leave the camp when the fire was
already crackling merrily under the cauldron and soft fingering of
the guitar was flowing through the still evening air, but I came to
our leader and told him I couldn't stay. I left together with another
girl, who lived in the next street and who'd told some lies just to
join me. It took us half an hour to reach the nearest bus stop and
after another forty minutes I was home. It was already getting dark,
but I was not really surprised to find my mother in a very good mood,
wrapped up completely in her domestic affairs. It was, perhaps, one
of the points of no return, which we had a lot in our relationship.
Mutual disappointment I would rather call it.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Anyway, our battle continued till that very day when my
father came home from work and said that it looked as if his factory
trade union was not going to pay for my walking tour. My mother
seized this opportunity at once saying we couldn't afford to waste so
much money on my entertainment. So suddenly everything was over and I
had to go to the club to tell our instructor I couldn't go. I
remember the agony I felt while walking there. Leaving the club I
tried to suppress my tears, but they were rolling down my cheeks. I
heard some boy sneering behind my back at such improper behaviour at
my age, but it didn't matter to me at that moment. I felt too
miserable.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> My father didn't usually interfere with my mother's
decisions. So it was a real stroke of luck when he, seeing my
despair, suddenly took pity on me and said he would give me the money
for the tour. I don't think I have ever had such a dramatic change
from total misery to radiant happiness again. My mother didn't give
up yet, however, and tried to use her tears as a last resort. She had
never used tears as a weapon before and I remember how difficult it
was for me to say “no” to her. But somehow I did and the day of
my departure came at last. My globe-shaped rucksack was extremely
heavy, swollen with my sleeping bag, clothes, food supplies and an
inflatable mattress. We were going to carry tents and mattresses in
turn, as I learnt later. It added several extra kilos to our
rucksacks, which tried to bent us to the ground even without them.
It's still a mystery to me how I managed to reach the club with that
monster on my shoulders. My longing to see the forest had to be
really strong to give me strength for that. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> And then there was an intercity bus with a spacious
luggage compartment where we had to cram our rucksacks. On the bus I
found that there was something wrong with my chair – it stuck in
one position and I couldn't move it. Our instructor, as usual, didn't
pay much attention to my problem. Sitting near the dark window with
my back upright I felt uncomfortable and unlike the others couldn't
sleep. Yet it didn't bother me too much at that moment. Listening to
the soft drone of the engine, while our bus was making its way along
the dark road, I felt happiness bubbling quietly inside of me. After
all these years of dreaming about travelling I was going to see the
forest and the mountains at last. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> At that moment I didn't know, of course, what was going
to happen to me there. Although it was not difficult to predict that
our instructor would be as ruthless and sarcastic as ever and that it
would be really hard to walk in the mountains with all these uphills
and downhills and huge rucksacks on our shoulders. But who could have
guessed how unbearable it would be? Or that our instructor would
hurry those who began to fall behind, banging with his alpenstock on
their rucksacks? I had to gather all my strength not to give this man
the pleasure of hurrying me with his stick. It was more than enough
for me to be his favourite scapegoat on this tour. He loved
bombarding me with his jokes, egging the others to laugh at me. They
didn't laugh only once when during a conversation about everyone's
favourite dishes, he suddenly glanced at me and shouted gleefully:
“Look! Look at her expression!” He got no laughter in response,
only averted eyes. This reaction was not, actually, odd. It was our
last week in the mountains – the week of near starvation. Lack of
food was especially annoying because at first we often buried the
remainder of our porridge with tinned meat in the soil, not being
able to finish it. It was our instructor's fault, of course, but he,
it seemed, didn't feel too guilty and entertained himself every
evening by starting conversations about food.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Incredible as it is, in spite of all the trials and moral
pressure every time I had enough strength to raise my head I felt the
same quiet happiness bubbling inside of me: while looking at the
slopes covered with woods or inhaling fresh scent of pine-trees or
looking at the bonfire and singing to the light strumming of the
guitar. Or just peering at the distant tops of the Carpathians
wrapped in light lilac haze early in the morning. The mountains,
unlike people, didn't deceive my expectations, being even more
beautiful than anyone could have imagined.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br />
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></b></span></div>
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></b></div>
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<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b>23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></b><br />
<b>24. <a href="https://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/07/my-mothers-stories-chapter-twenty-one.html">The forest at last</a></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm; text-align: justify;">
<span style="text-align: left;"><br /></span></div>
</div>
Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-6308738609219227602017-07-24T10:21:00.002-07:002023-05-28T08:24:38.879-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty one)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 21</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>The forest at last</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEulHBSpOT-4_uVTat9yf2xKOj8Q9IhDx3LACOVMTGzYAJcYa2hQ4dW8j7uyXDuBFFT0lfRS9oOyH7t1wnyrt1wwShkavxiegVZ9TCU9i7tJU7ZdY-_XgMcmGEvszlDjtGS_2zwvCe61Zimjo9EVtqL4Xs5sPWjHVrbH_rJoxwCpfYsLSBKE5p2g2Eg/s2592/DSCN9342.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhGEulHBSpOT-4_uVTat9yf2xKOj8Q9IhDx3LACOVMTGzYAJcYa2hQ4dW8j7uyXDuBFFT0lfRS9oOyH7t1wnyrt1wwShkavxiegVZ9TCU9i7tJU7ZdY-_XgMcmGEvszlDjtGS_2zwvCe61Zimjo9EVtqL4Xs5sPWjHVrbH_rJoxwCpfYsLSBKE5p2g2Eg/s320/DSCN9342.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><br /><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><br /></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> For
a long time I held a grudge against my parents for tantalizing me
with their tales about different nice places and never going anywhere
with me for company, not bothering themselves with my longing to see
the mountains and the forests. Now I understand that they didn't do
it on purpose, but it only recently came to me that my parents
travelled a lot in their youth not because they loved travelling as I
do. It was not entertainment for them. At that time a lot of people
were rooted out of the habitual soil. A huge fly-wheel of
collectivization and industrialization scattered them ruthlessly all
over the country. So was it really surprising that after finding
their place under the sun my parents were happy to settle down at
last and didn't want any more travellling in their lives?</span></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Moreover, it was not so easy to travel in the USSR.
Tickets were more or less cheap, of course, but there were always
great difficulties with accommodation. There weren't enough hotels in
our country. Nevertheless, even those that we had stood half-empty,
and it wasn't a simple thing to get there. I remember one of my
co-workers once told me how he had to run around an unfamiliar city
for hours till he found a hotel with a receptionist, who decided he
looked trustworthy enough and it was safe to take his bribe and give
him a room.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US"> Deficit
was a usual thing in the USSR. Popular goods never stayed long in our
shops. As soon as they appeared on the shelves a huge queue would
line up in front of the counter. Circling like a snake it filled the
whole room of a shop with its long tail sticking out of the entrance
door. I have never belonged to those quick-witted people, who had
acquaintances among shop-assistants and could buy goods hidden under
their counters. Even more so I was not one of those crafty ones, who
used to make money on total deficit of goods. So my lot was to stand
in queues. In the 80</span></span><sup><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">s
</span></span></sup><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">it
seemed I spent half of my work-free time standing in those lines. No
wonder in that. It was the time when Soviet Union era was gradually
drawing to a close. But in the 70</span></span><sup><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">s</span></span></sup><span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="en-US">,
when I was a teenager, our economic situation was not so desperate.
There was still plenty of milk, butter, sausages and cheese, and it
was only for meat and imported clothes that people pushed each other
in lines. And for tickets too, I think, because at that time walking
tours and camping were getting more and more popular. It was like a
gulp of fresh air for everyone, who loved nature and travelling.
After getting the tickets they were free like a wind to go wherever
they liked. The whole country lay in front of them and no hostile
receptionist or a greedy owner of a private house could prevent them
from putting up their tents in some remote picturesque place. </span></span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I remember how my parents, as well as other adults,
used to roll their eyes when they saw young people with heavy
backpacks and the inevitable guitar attached to one of the rucksacks.
Lunatics – that was a proper word for those youngsters from the
older generation. I, on the contrary, watched them with greedy
interest. And what an unexpected gift it was when one of my
classmates told me that she'd discovered a tourist club not far from
our school. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> A short young man with round blue eyes and light-brown
moustache, who was in charge in that club, called himself a tourist
instructor. I liked him very much when I first saw him. He was so
funny, joking all the time and making us all laugh. How exciting it
was to listen to him talking about all the wonderful places where we
could go with him. And about tourist rallies where we could take part
in sport competitions and singing near the huge camp-fire. It was he
who told us about the code of true tourists, who never left garbage
after themselves, burning all the litter that could be burnt and
burying everything that could rot in the soil. They could cope even
with tin cans, putting them into the fire for a while, then squashing
them flat and burying too. Squashing was necessary to prevent some
small animal from getting stuck in a can with its head. All of that
sounded so fascinating. It seemed that tourists were so different,
much better people than the rest of mankind. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Surprisingly my mother didn't object too much to my
first one-week tour that had to take place during our spring
holidays. A fortnight before that our instructor booked a gym hall in
our school and gave us such a training session that my legs ached
terribly at least a week after that. It didn't decrease my
determination to toil somewhere far away from home with a heavy
backpack on my shoulders. Besides, our rucksacks weren't going to be
too heavy, because we didn't have to carry tents or a lot of food,
eating mostly in local canteens and sleeping on the floor in gym
halls of rural schools. To be honest, I didn't like much that first
tour. Living at the edge of the city I could see the same
country-side just beyond the boundaries of our settlement. Actually,
I loved those wide fields with narrow forest belts along the roads
but it was the last week of March and everything looked bleak and
sad. Only once did we cross a real forest with huge trees. Yet, those
bare branches without any greenery on them gave me a sensation of
theatrical scenery in brown and gray shades. Although even that
gloomy forest gave us an unexpected present when a wild sow with a
bunch of cute striped piglets crossed our path.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> By the end of the first tour I had completely changed
my attitude towards our instructor and didn't find his constant
joking funny anymore. I understand now that he used it to keep a
large group of teenagers under his control. Nevertheless it was
difficult not to notice how maliciously he chuckled making fun of one
of us in front of the others. His disciplinary measures didn't add
any charm to his image either. In my opinion he went too far giving
slaps on the side of the head even for little faults. And it didn't
matter that our instructor never used them on me personally. “Let
him try!” I sometimes thought fiercely but was always very careful
not to break any of his orders, trying to avoid any clashes with this
man. </span>
</div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> It may look odd but all these disappointments didn't
extinguish my passion for travelling or lessen my desire to go on the
summer walking tour through the Carpathians with our instructor. And
what choice did I have? Our leader warned us that this three-week
tour would be much more difficult and demanding, but, whatever his
other faults were, he did manage to describe vividly all the
attractions of that mountain region. He told us of swift mountain
rivers, waterfalls and the most beautiful lake of Sinevir, where the
water was incredibly clear and blue. And of pine-tree woods with
mysterious thickets of fern on the ground and smooth columns of
trunks going high up in the air, where we could see patches of deep
blue sky between tree crowns. Wouldn't it be a real forest at last –
the forest I had dreamt of since my early childhood?</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
<div class="MsoNormal" style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div class="MsoNormal" style="line-height: 23.76px; text-indent: 35.4pt;">
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></span></b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: x-small;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; font-size: large; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></span></div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></span></b></div>
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<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></span></b></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></span></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></span></b></div>
</div>
</div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1;">The forest of my dreams</a></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></span></b></div>
<div style="background-color: white; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;">
<b><span style="font-size: large;">23. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/04/my-mothers-stories-chapter-20.html">My parents' wanderings around the country</a></span></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-50770566004797257962017-04-16T14:39:00.004-07:002023-05-31T08:17:51.510-07:00My mother's stories (chapter twenty)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My mother's stories</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter 20</b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: x-large;"><b>My parents' wanderings around the country</b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><b><br /></b></span></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9LuWRTQWf2wGCNJQ7L9f-EI5ykQwYDr4uAQkrU6WgClhcspCVK9mSopUO7k49XBjA5DfF-C5H3_nUeIkqdEmZys8VxumGB1tZzvpkYJlOn8MLs6XabGB7e0MDasDghDMx1e27l2-fbfLQ7Yer_5yZzBCc-hOvkpyo4xG4O2hQGCJ82hc8-ImIKLWQA/s2592/DSCN0001.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="1944" data-original-width="2592" height="240" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEha9LuWRTQWf2wGCNJQ7L9f-EI5ykQwYDr4uAQkrU6WgClhcspCVK9mSopUO7k49XBjA5DfF-C5H3_nUeIkqdEmZys8VxumGB1tZzvpkYJlOn8MLs6XabGB7e0MDasDghDMx1e27l2-fbfLQ7Yer_5yZzBCc-hOvkpyo4xG4O2hQGCJ82hc8-ImIKLWQA/s320/DSCN0001.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br /></div></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> Listening to my mother's tale about her escape from the
village I used to admire her nerve and bravery. I have never
travelled without company myself and even now it's difficult for me
to imagine without a shudder a young rural girl, alone on a train,
going in an unknown direction. Although, it was not completely
unknown. Two of my mother's uncles visiting the village invited her
to live with them and their families after she finished school. They
lived in the opposite sides of the country and after some hesitation
my mother decided to go south first. There in the city of Sochi her
father's cousin lived with his wife. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> The city was stretched out enormously, squeezed between
the Black Sea coast and the wall of the Caucasus. I loved my mother's
description of beautiful subtropical greenery and a huge mountain
overwhelming the scenery. It would be so exciting to see with my own
eyes all those exotic plants, which would never survive in our
climate. But I wouldn't dare, of course, to sleep in the city garden
like my mother was going to when, trying to save a bit of money, she
failed to reach her uncle's house on foot on the day of her arrival.
Luckily for her a woman, who was passing by, stopped near her bench
and explained how dangerous it was for a young girl to sleep in the
park. Realizing what danger she was in, my mother gladly accepted the
woman's invitation and spent the night sleeping on the floor, while
that kind woman and her husband occupied the only bed that they had
in their humble dwelling.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother didn't tell me much about her living at her
uncle's – only that her uncle and his wife were glad to see her -
but she didn't stay long with them. Perhaps she felt a bit ashamed
because she tried to work on a tea plantation and failed in spite of
her quick hands and experience of hard work in the fields. She
really liked the picturesque nature of the place but the hot sun and
humid air made her too languid. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> So without regret my mother moved in the opposite
direction to the distant northern republic of Bushkiria where her
mother's brother lived with his big family. Surprisingly, long snowy
winters with bitter frosts suited her much better. She told me a lot
of funny stories about that year that she spent in Bushkiria. I loved
snow and snowy winters were a rare treat in our steppe region. It
sounded so fascinating for me when my mother used to describe piles
of snow reaching the roofs of the houses. People had to dig passages
along the streets, which looked like a maze of white corridors with
high walls.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> The town, where my mother's uncle settled down, started
as oil workers' settlement. Oil fields were found in that region in
1937. By the time my mother arrived there fourteen years later it was
a growing industrial town with international population. Some of its
inhabitants, as well as my mother's uncle, were sent into exile to
Bushkiria, but mostly people were attracted there by high northern
salaries - even long frosty winters and lack of fresh fruit and
vegetables couldn't frighten them off. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> One of my mother's acquaintances, who married a native
Bashkirian, invited her once to spent the night in their house. Her
husband was absent for some reason and the woman didn't feel safe
alone with her children. My mother made a lot of funny discoveries
that night. The first one waited for her just on the threshold of the
house. As it turned out aboriginal houses had low holes instead of
entrance doors. Actually, it was not so stupid to save warmth in that
climate, but of course my young mother was laughing her head off
crawling into the house on all fours. That strange house gave her a
lot of opportunities for fits of laughter, but she found especially
amusing a long bed stretched from wall to wall where the whole family
slept together. Later, after she knew the natives better, she learnt
that they found our habits no less funny than she found theirs.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> I loved listening to all those stories and just
couldn't understand how after having such adventures, seeing all
those amazing places, where people's customs were so different, my
mother preferred to limit her life to our yard, markets and shops. It
was a rare luck to persuade her to go to the beach. As for the cinema
she stopped joining my father and me, when we were going there,
before I even started primary school. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> It seemed to me at first that my father was more
persuadable. We used to spend a lot of pleasant evenings discussing
our only trip to the village or dreaming about different nice places
where we could go together. I loved his stories about Georgia where
he served in the Army for three years and then stayed there for some
more years as an extended service man. I longed to see with my own
eyes beautiful mountains covered with woods, and rivers, and
waterfalls. It would be really thrilling to walk along a suspended
bridge swaying frighteningly under my feet, trying not to look at the
turbulent mountain river rolling its swift waters far below.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> My parents tried to calm me down saying that I had been
to Georgia because they got married there and there my mother spent
most of her pregnancy. Actually, I liked the idea but still it was a
small consolation considering the fact that I obviously couldn't see
anything at that time.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> I used to listen enviously to my friends' tales about
those places where they went to on holidays. I could respond to them
only with my sole trip to the village, but even those recollections
were inevitably fading away. During my school years I remember only
once that we had an excursion to the neighbouring town. My mother
didn't allow me to go, referring to my poor health and frequent
colds. She was summoned to school and my class teacher tried to
persuade her that she was wrong in her attempt to keep her daughter
wrapped in cotton wool. </span>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> My mother didn't change her mind, of course, in some
matters she never did. And what a triumph it was for her when she
learnt that the sea was rough on the day of the excursion and most of
the pupils vomited over the board of the ship. “Now you can see how
right I was not to let you go!” my mother exclaimed gleefully.
Nevertheless, watching my classmates discussing excitedly the
details of their adventure I couldn't get rid of an uncomfortable
feeling that I was deprived of something that was really important.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> To be continued ...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="line-height: 150%; margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b style="text-align: left;">(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></span></b></span></div>
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"></span></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 22.176px;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></span></div>
</div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></span></div>
<div style="line-height: 23.76px; text-align: left; text-indent: 0px;">
<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-size: 15.84px; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: medium;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The forest of my dreams</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="line-height: 22.176px;">22. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2017/03/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html">The forest of my dreams (the ending)</a></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-91470238580179498112017-03-23T11:14:00.003-07:002023-05-28T08:14:45.643-07:00My mother's stories (chapter nineteen - the ending)<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>My
mother's stories</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>chapter
19</b></span></div>
<div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<b><span style="font-size: x-large;">The
forest of my dreams</span> </b></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;">(the ending)</span></b></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div><div align="CENTER" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><b><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnk7S5U6oGjVjnzZ1i5ZM1Hm3m003VfHFRKhIuStM1EZZDMbMNP8zvpUrZOVYsgOSoDwUujqb8sCkIn-XCMCQzkHzQ2OsbROJ7UehSh2SDz2bXeDkE27eO5RWYntWRLiUdpMjhc27UejIvkEsiTalvtnLhztQ67BD-6x65WrX1PVidBmNz7ZHxFOZ-Bw/s4080/IMG_20230506_125531.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" data-original-height="3072" data-original-width="4080" height="241" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjnk7S5U6oGjVjnzZ1i5ZM1Hm3m003VfHFRKhIuStM1EZZDMbMNP8zvpUrZOVYsgOSoDwUujqb8sCkIn-XCMCQzkHzQ2OsbROJ7UehSh2SDz2bXeDkE27eO5RWYntWRLiUdpMjhc27UejIvkEsiTalvtnLhztQ67BD-6x65WrX1PVidBmNz7ZHxFOZ-Bw/s320/IMG_20230506_125531.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><br /><span style="font-size: medium;"><br /></span></b></div>
<div lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><span style="font-size: large;"> So
it was quite understandable why I was fascinated with the idea of the
forest. It was it seemed to me a completely different world full of
hidden magic. So many creatures found their home in its mysterious
depth that every few steps there promised new wonders and new
discoveries. I always felt a thrill of excitement when I examined
woodland sceneries on postcards or in reproductions of paintings in
my textbooks. And who knows how many pages in my sketch-book I
covered with drawings of trees and huge flowers and mushrooms
sticking out of spiky grass between their trunks? If I couldn't get
to a real forest at least I could create it with my coloured pencils.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> The
forest out-of-reach continued to tantalize me even after we moved
from the factory region with its foul smells to a new settlement
among wild steppe, where the land seemed untouched and the air filled
with herbal scents was fresh and sweet. But it was definitely a place
of heavy battles during the Second World War, and people digging
virgin soil for future kitchen-gardens used to find a lot of empty
cartridge-cases there. I forgot how our plot of land looked like when
we just arrived there, but my father used to tell me later that there
was a big old crater in the middle of it. He served as an artillery
man in the Army, so I could trust his judgment that it was a
shell-hole or a pit left by an aircraft bomb explosion.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: medium;"> None
of these things, however, disturbed me very much. They rather added
charm to the place I had already loved for its unspoilt nature. We
even had our own small forest near the railway. It was actually a
narrow forest-belt planted there with soil-binding purposes, but it
gave us so many opportunities for entertainment. Moreover, just
opposite our dwellings two forest-belts met each other. They went at
different angles and before coming to an end they overlapped each
other a bit. So in our vicinity we were lucky to have two
forest-belts with a nice wide lawn between them. That lawn covered
with motley grass was a wonderful place for outdoor games or for
sitting near the fire telling scary stories. It was so easy to
imagine, sitting there in the dark, that we were in a remote corner
of a real forest.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> Playing
among the trees we met another reminder of the War. As my father
explained to me those strange oblong pits, that we came across in our
forest-belts, were just old half-crumbled trenches. As for me those
oddly-shaped hollows only increased some mysterious aura of the
place, especially in winter, when my beloved forest-belts were
covered with white sparkling snow. In summer my favourite occupation
was to hunt insects there with my best friend Tonya. It was the time
when I learnt how to catch tiny creatures without doing them any
harm. Most of our captives I released in a day or two because I
couldn't discover how to feed them. I loved to watch all the
creatures that lived in our forest-belts, even frightful spiders.
And, certainly, I was fond of nightingales spilling their warbles in
May, cuckoos with their repetitive calls, magpies chattering and
swaying their long tails, not to mention hedgehogs with their funny
tapping and snorting.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> All
these observations only increased my desire to see a real forest,
which would be definitely much more beautiful and diverse than our
humble forest-belts stretched along the railway. But no matter what I
said to my mother she wouldn't even listen to me when I pestered her
with requests to go to the village. I was sure if only we got there
she, unlike my father and aunt, would go to the forest with me. But
her face darkened every time I started talking about visiting the
village.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> I
remember how startled I was by my mother's reaction when I had just
arrived from my only trip to the village. I began to tell her at once
that I noticed tears in grandmother's eyes when she was saying
farewell to my aunt, my father and me, asking us to visit her again.
I expected my mother to be touched but instead she turned towards me
with her face distorted and snapped in response that her mother was a
filthy hypocrite and I shouldn't take her words literally. She used
to tell me very often how easily her mother would lose her temper and
beat her with a leather belt for every tiny fault that her eye could
catch. This time my mother threw another piece of shocking
information at me, describing vividly how her mother stopped beating
her at once if someone knocked at the door. And that was not all –
after letting a guest in she usually kissed her freshly beaten
daughter and asked her in a sweet voice to go to the yard to play.</span></div>
<div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;">
<span style="font-size: medium;"> After
such a story I should have understood there was no hope for me to
persuade my mother to go to the village. But it's difficult for a
child to accept that something is impossible. In childhood you
believe that everything is achievable – just be persistent and try
again. I don't remember how much time passed before I realized that
my mother would never change her mind about the village. As a matter
of fact, it was impossible to persuade her to go anywhere further
than the center of the city, and even those trips she often canceled
under some far-fetched pretext. I just couldn't understand her
behaviour! Didn't she like to repeat that she traveled across half of
the country when she was pretty young and had just escaped from the
village? And she really loved to describe her adventures and
wanderings at that time.</span><br />
<span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"><br /></span>
<span style="font-size: medium; text-align: left;"> To be continued...</span></div><div align="JUSTIFY" lang="en-US" style="margin-bottom: 0cm;"><div style="text-align: right;"><b>(c) Anna Shevchenko</b></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left;"><b>1. </b></span><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 25.2px; text-align: left; text-decoration-line: none;"><b>Festive demonstrations</b></a><br style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;" /><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>2. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/06/five-favourite-things-since-my_27.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A merry-go-round</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>3</b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The settlement in the steppe</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>4. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/07/five-favourite-things-since-my_26.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">The settlement in the steppe (the ending)</a></b></span></span><br /><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>5.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/08/5.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Urban life and its advantages</a></b></span></span></span></div>
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<span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">6. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/10/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Collectivization and electrification of all the country</a></span></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span lang="EN-US" style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 28px; text-align: justify;"><span style="line-height: 22.176px; text-align: left;"><b>7. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Roaming through the v</a></b></span></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/11/five-favourite-things-since-my_25.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">illage and a man with two horses</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">8. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">M</a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2014/12/five-favourite-things-since-my.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">y mother's struggle for freedom</a></b></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-family: "georgia" , "utopia" , "palatino linotype" , "palatino" , serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><b>9.</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"> <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/03/my-mother-stories-part-nine.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">A boy from the orphanage across the road</a></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">10.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/04/my-mothers-stories-part-ten.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> Living at the edge of the city</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">11. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/06/my-mothers-stories-part-eleven.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My grandmother's imprisonment</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">12. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/09/my-mothers-stories-part-twelve.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's departure from the village forever</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">13. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs </a></b><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/10/my-mothers-stories-part-thirteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">and mishaps in Bashkiria</a></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">14. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2015/11/my-mothers-stories-part-fourteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's triumphs and mishaps in Bashkiria (the ending)</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">15.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/01/my-mothers-stories-part-fifteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> The last visit to the village</a></span></b></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">16. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/03/my-mothers-sotries-part-sixteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My mother's helping hand</a></span></b></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="line-height: 23.76px;"><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">1</b></span><b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">7. </b><b style="color: #77a8d1; font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/05/my-mothers-stories-part-seventeen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; line-height: 22.176px; text-decoration-line: none;">The only man she ever loved</a></b></span></div>
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<b style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">18. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/07/my-mothers-stories-part-eighteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">My father's only friend</a></span></b></div>
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<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">19.<a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/08/my-mothers-stories-part-nineteen.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;"> My grandmother's visits</a></span></b></div>
<div style="font-family: georgia, utopia, "palatino linotype", palatino, serif; line-height: 22.176px;">
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">20. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/10/my-mothers-stories-part-twenty.html" style="color: #77a8d1; text-decoration-line: none;">Cibul'ka and two little pigs</a></span></b><br />
<b style="line-height: 22.176px;"><span style="font-size: large;">21. <a href="http://annashevchenko56.blogspot.com/2016/12/my-mothers-stories-chapter-nineteen.html">The forest of my dreams</a></span></b></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1056628898182124240.post-60251481970507046752017-02-01T10:39:00.002-08:002023-05-28T08:10:23.734-07:00Магия старых фотографий<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
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<span style="font-size: large;"> </span><b><span style="line-height: 150%;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">Магия старых фотографий</span></span></b></div>
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Как обычно, наша очередная вылазка в погоне за новыми впечатлениями
началась со звонка моей подруги Тамары. В трубке что-то шуршало, и ее голос
казался каким-то далеким и отчужденным. Все же мне удалось разобрать, что у них
на работе организовывается экскурсия в Каменец-Подольский, и она спрашивает
меня, не хочу ли я к ним присоединиться. Я, конечно, хотела. Неожиданная
перспектива вырваться из серой паутины будней так меня взволновала, что я даже
не особенно вслушивалась в Тамарин рассказ о городе и его
достопримечательностях. Мысленно я уже составляла список того, что я возьму с
собой в дорогу.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Поезд, к счастью, отправлялся днем,
а не рано утром, как это бывало, когда мы путешествовали автобусом. В день
отъезда я, конечно же, нервничала и торопливо сновала по дому, собирая свои
пожитки с таким рвением, будто я отправлялась не в двухдневную поездку, а на
другой край Земли. Больше всего я боялась забыть паспорт, крем для лица и
зубную щетку. Билеты были у руководителя группы – так что хотя бы о них можно
было не беспокоиться. Фотоаппарат я попросила у моего зятя Алеши. За 10 минут
он объяснил мне, как им пользоваться, и я сделала несколько пробных снимков,
судорожно пытаясь запомнить все его советы. Для дальнейшего обучения времени уже
не оставалось, и торопливо попрощавшись со всеми, я отправилась на автобусную
остановку с дорожной сумкой через плечо.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Лето было в самом разгаре, и вокзал
встретил меня раскаленным асфальтом и духотой. В поезде было не менее жарко и
душно, и это еще усугублялось тем, что открыть окно в купе мы не могли. Как-то
во времена нашей студенческой молодости у Тамары парализовало половину лица на
нервной почве. И хотя она успешно справилась с этой проблемой, доктора
посоветовали ей избегать сквозняков. Поэтому мы смиренно парились в нашем
закупоренном купе, утешая себя мыслью о том, что каждый стук вагонных колес
приближал нас к новым местам и новым впечатлениям.<o:p></o:p></div>
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На следующее утро мы вывалились из
поезда в Каменце-Подольском, совершенно разбитые после ночи проведенной в
душном вагоне. Немного отдышавшись, я тут же решила проверить, как я усвоила
Лешины уроки и принялась снимать здание вокзала. Строение, правда, глаз не
радовало. Это было убогое провинциальное, типичное для времен СССР, здание. Мой
зять потом удалил все эти фотографии, и я считаю напрасно. Они так хорошо
показывали, что первое впечатление далеко не всегда самое верное. Вокзал был
скорее исключением. Все остальное настолько мне понравилось, что я неустанно
щелкала фотоаппаратом, с удивлением замечая, что мои снимки не так уж плохи,
как этого можно было ожидать.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Старинный город с его
многочисленными церквями, часовнями, высоченным каменным мостом и настоящей
старой крепостью, казалось, переносил нас чудесным образом на несколько
столетий назад. Он был таким уютным и ухоженным, что невольно вспоминался Львов
– другая жемчужина Украины, которой так не хватало работы реставраторов и
заботы властей.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Особенно меня очаровал небольшой
дворик старинного католического костела. Я сделала несколько неплохих фотографий
разноцветных клумб под желтыми стенами с продолговатыми готическими окнами.
Затем довольно удачно щелкнула двух монахинь в развевающихся черных одеяниях,
неторопливо удаляющихся по неширокому, мощеному булыжником проходу. Долго и
безуспешно пыталась сфотографировать уходящую ввысь колонну у входа в костел.
Меня восхитили разноцветные флажки, расходящиеся веером от верхушки колонны и
слегка трепещущие на фоне голубого неба. Я сделала много снимков, но мне так и
не удалось схватить яркость цветов.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Но самое незабываемое впечатление
оставила поездка на берег Днестра к месту под названием Бакота. Как рассказала
нам наша экскурсовод пани Станислава, так называлась деревня, которую затопили
во времена СССР, чтобы создать гигантское водохранилище. Для местных жителей
это было настоящей трагедией знать, что их дома и деревенское кладбище с
могилами предков навсегда скрылись под водой. Но удивительное дело, былая
трагедия не наложила отпечатка на дух этого места. Открывшиеся глазу широкие
зеленые просторы дышали такой умиротворенностью, что просто не верилось, что
когда-то люди нанесли здесь безжалостный удар по природе. Как это, к счастью, иногда бывает, здесь она
восстановилась, и водохранилище не превратилось в отвратительный водоем с
затхлой зеленоватой водой, как это часто случалось с так широко
разрекламированными в СССР искусственными морями. Здесь же серовато-голубая
гладь воды, окаймленная высокими зелеными берегами, манила свежестью и чистотой. Мы начали спускаться
вниз по бесконечной извилистой тропинке. Ветви деревьев смыкались над головой,
и казалось, будто мы движемся по извивающемуся зеленому тоннелю. На полпути
вниз, у пещеры отшельников мы остановились, и пока пани Станислава рассказывала
об их жизни и о целебных свойствах воды в источниках неподалеку от пещеры, я
отправилась на смотровую площадку, где все еще далекая голубоватая вода
просвечивала сквозь ветви деревьев. Многочисленные ленточки, повязанные у входа
в пещеру, говорили о неиссякаемых толпах паломников. И что удивительно –
никакого мусора, ни здесь возле пещеры, ни там наверху, где на краю цветущего
поля нас ожидал наш автобус. Это немного озадачивало: кто-то убирает или у
людей просто не поднимается рука разбрасывать мусор в таком месте?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Когда мы, наконец, добрались до
укромной бухточки, где пологие волны бились об узкую полоску берега, все наши
женщины бросились купаться. А я по недомыслию оставила купальник далеко наверху
в автобусе и стояла в растерянности, с завистью глядя, как они плещутся.
Тронутые моим огорчением все начали дружно меня уверять, что наши мужчины еще
не скоро спустятся, и я могу искупаться и так, без купальника. Немного
поколебавшись, но, понимая, что времени у меня в обрез, я попросила Тамару меня
прикрыть, поспешно разделась и в чем мать родила прыгнула в набегающие волны.
Бодрящее ощущение прохлады после изнуряющей жары вызвало прилив новых
животворных сил. Казалось, что эта вода была такой же целебной, как та – у
источников возле пещеры. Выходить из воды ужасно не хотелось, но я знала, что
времени у меня нет. Поплескавшись немного, я выскочила на берег и торопливо
оделась, балансируя попеременно то на одной, то на другой ноге. С, казалось бы,
утроившимися силами, мы начали бодро взбираться наверх по крутой тропинке и
почти сразу же столкнулись с отрядом детей младшего школьного возраста,
спускающихся организованной цепочкой и крепко прижимающих к груди надувные
круги. С легким содроганием я представила себе, как бы мне пришлось
выкручиваться, если бы вся эта компания застукала меня, когда я плескалась в
воде без купальника.<o:p></o:p></div>
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После подъема мы с Тамарой
отправились бродить по цветущему полю. Я щелкала фотоаппаратом снова, но ни на
одной из моих фотографий не была схвачена красота буйно цветущего разнотравья,
ни красота широких просторов реки, текущей между высокими зелеными берегами. А
два аиста, приземлившиеся неподалеку, просто не желали фотографироваться. Они
поднимались в воздух и отлетали подальше, как только я наводила на них
фотоаппарат.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Когда наш автобус двинулся, наконец,
по направлению к городу, я, глядя на проносившиеся мимо живописные пейзажи,
вскочила со своего места в порыве энтузиазма, и, пристроившись возле открытого
окна, продолжала щелкать фотоаппаратом. На удивление две из этих фотографий,
сделанных неопытной рукой во время движения автобуса, оказались несмазанными и
на них ясно видна пышная зелень окружающих лесов, где, по словам пани
Станиславы, все еще водились лоси.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Долгое время после этой поездки
каждый раз, когда я рассматривала свои фотографии, мне казалось, будто от них
исходит едва заметное сияние, возвращающее меня в экзотический мир старинного
города и свежей зелени разнотравья на берегах Днестра. И дело было не в том,
что я рассматривала их на экране компьютера. Такое же ощущение у меня вызывали
другие мои фотографии, сделанные в бумажном варианте. Я привезла их из еще
одной нашей с Тамарой незабываемой поездки в биосферный заповедник
Аскания-Нова. Эти снимки, пожалуй, лучшего качества, хотя и сделаны еще
пленочным фотоаппаратом, за несколько лет до нашей поездки в
Каменец-Подольский. Снимал Тамарин младший сын Юра, по моей просьбе. Он,
наверное, уже и не рад был, что согласился, когда я носилась за ним по пятам,
упрашивая щелкнуть и то, и это.<o:p></o:p></div>
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А поначалу поездка в Асканию-Нова,
казалось, тоже не обещала ничего особенно хорошего. До заповедника мы
добирались часов 6, на два часа дольше, чем должны были. Как оказалось,
водитель нашего автобуса свернул не на ту дорогу где-то в середине пути. Было и
еще одно разочарование: один из наших спутников говорил, что мы будем проезжать
ковыльные степи, и я с нетерпением ожидала их появления, расписывая Тамаре, как
чудесно серебрится ковыль, если солнце светит под правильным углом. Но
ковыльные степи так и не появились. Распахали их что ли или может быть это
случилось из-за того, что наш водитель сбился с пути?<o:p></o:p></div>
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Гостиница, куда нас поселили на одну
ночь, тоже не радовала. Она была чистой, но весь ее убогий интерьер и
отсутствие горячей воды навевали щемящие воспоминания о советских временах,
когда гостиниц было мало, и попасть в них без взятки администратору было
невозможно.<o:p></o:p></div>
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После того, как мы перекусили
привезенными с собой припасами, большинство из нашей группы, включая Тамариного
мужа и сыновей, решили остаться в гостинице и дожидаться обещанного обеда. А мы
с Тамарой и еще несколько таких же любительниц дальних странствий отправились
бродить по парку. Гигантский дендропарк скорее напоминал экзотический лес с
разнообразными высоченными деревьями неизвестных мне пород. Вдоль дорожек у
самой земли была натянута зеленая проволока. Как объяснил попавшийся нам по
дороге егерь, эта проволока показывала, что мы не должны ходить по траве.
Несмотря на восторженные рассказы моего бывшего мужа о том, что в Германии
людям разрешается лежать на газонах в парках, эта проволока почему-то не
вызывала протеста. Я не хотела никакой мятой травы в заповеднике. Людей
становится все больше, а деревьев и травы – все меньше. Наверное, поэтому у
меня возникло это странное ощущение, будто я в музее и должна просто любоваться
и ничего не трогать руками. Мелькнувший вдали на лужайке фазан так меня
растрогал, что когда мы отправились на экскурсию в зоопарк, я была полна
энтузиазма и донимала бедного Юру просьбами снять всё-всё-всё. На что он ворчал
в ответ, что пленка в фотоаппарате все-таки не бесконечная.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Зоопарк в Аскании-Нова был,
несомненно, намного лучше нашего Одесского: много маленьких прудиков для птиц,
а вольеры и загоны для животных – намного обширнее. Хотя, конечно, для копытных
никакого загона не может быть достаточно, как заметил кто-то из нашей группы.
Но нам тут же сообщили, что имеется огромный участок в 250 га, где те же
копытные содержатся в почти естественных условиях.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Больше всего меня восхитили павлины,
свободно разгуливающие по дорожкам зоопарка. Мы попытались погладить одного
наименее пугливого, но он отступал каждый раз, когда кто-то из нас протягивал
руку. И как забавно павлины, распустившие хвост, начинали вращаться вокруг
своей оси, величаво представляя главное свое украшение всеобщему обозрению.
Довольно таки душераздирающие крики павлинов доносились даже до нашей
гостиницы. Но это мне нравилось тоже, как и рассказ нашего экскурсовода о том,
что кто-то известный сказал о павлинах: «У них походка вора и крик дьявола».<o:p></o:p></div>
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А как меня поразили африканские
страусы, огромные, больше двух метров ростом, и луп-луп на нас своими глазищами
из-за ограды. Все умиляло меня тогда. И рассказ экскурсовода о том, почему у
страусов самец черный, а самка серая. Это потому, что он высиживает яйца ночью,
а она - днем. А на большой пруд в центре зоопарка прилетали гнездиться птицы со
всей округи.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Было, правда, и грустное зрелище:
бизон полулежал, поджав под себя ноги, а верблюд стоял в углу своего загона, и
шерсть слезала с него клочьями. Экскурсовод сказала – они болеют. Зебра, зато
порадовала – она стояла, прислонившись боком к сетчатому забору своего
обширного загона. Мы остановились и, просовывая руки через сетку, долго и с
энтузиазмом гладили ее крутой полосатый бок, а она одобрительно помахивала
хвостом.<o:p></o:p></div>
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На следующий день с утра у нас было
запланировано «сафари». Я не совсем понимала, что это означало, но все же
надеялась, что стрелять нам ни в кого не придется. Мы прошли по выложенной
плиткой дорожке, обсаженной кипарисами с одной стороны, и поднялись на
небольшой холм, откуда открывалась чудесная панорама парка со всеми его
лужайками, холмами и цветущими кустами во всем их майском великолепии. Две
машины ожидали нас внизу: одна крытая «Газель» и другая – пикап с открытым верхом.
Удивительно как люди сразу разделились на две группы: одним непременно хотелось
ехать в закрытом пространстве «Газели», а другим – чтобы ветер обдувал их со
всех сторон. Тамарин муж и старший сын выбрали «Газель», а Юра и мы с Тамарой,
получив бинокли, тут же бросились к открытому кузову пикапа. Усевшись, мы
поплотнее застегнули наши ветровки, а Тамара повязала голову шелковым платком.
Пикап тронулся не сразу потому, что в нашей машине захотело ехать на два
человека больше, чем полагалось. Все сидели, вцепившись в сиденья, и никто не
хотел вылезать, но потом одной молодой паре пришлось таки перебраться в душную
«Газель». Эта машина ехала впереди, и в салоне у них играло радио. Зато мы
прокатились с ветерком, и пыли было мало, хотя нас ею пугали те, кто предпочел
другую машину. Тем, кто не надел ветровки с капюшоном было холодно – одна
девушка не выдержала и перебралась в «Газель». А вот симпатичная загорелая
женщина в футболке сидела, как ни в чем не бывало, и улыбалась. Она выразила
мои мысли, сказав, что немного разочарована, так как сетки, разгораживающие
дикую степь, портят всю картину. Но, в общем-то, издалека сетки были почти
незаметны. И как бы иначе егеря перегоняли животных из одного участка степи в
другой, мешая им вредить друг другу, а некоторых, особо нежных, загоняли на
зиму в стойла? Времена настоящих диких степей давно прошли. Цель биосферного
заповедника – сохранить генофонд животных, который все сокращается из-за того,
что биологический вид <span lang="EN-US">homo</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US">sapiens</span>
продолжает увеличивать свою популяцию, вытесняя всех остальных.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Особенно ярко отношение современного
человека к Природе продемонстрировал эпизод с лисенком. Вдруг наш пикап резко
затормозил, хотя в обозримом пространстве не просматривалось никаких стад
бизонов, лошадей Пржевальского и прочих копытных. Сказали, что в траве
спрятался лисенок. Пятеро из нас: я, загорелая женщина в футболке и трое парней
с фотоаппаратами вылезли из машины. Лисенок лежал, притаившись в траве на
животе, уткнувшись носиком в землю. Пятеро представителей <span lang="EN-US">homo</span><span lang="EN-US"> </span><span lang="EN-US">sapiens</span> окружили несчастное
животное и самые смелые, включая женщину в футболке, начали осторожно
раздвигать траву, держа свои руки в сантиметрах 10 от животного. Три
фотоаппарата нацелились на боящуюся пошевелиться жертву и сделали не менее
десяти снимков. Я не рискнула раздвигать траву, а вдруг лисенок бешеный и
укусит? Но все обошлось, и Юра сделал три снимка моим фотоаппаратом. Много
позже мне вдруг пришла в голову мысль: может быть лисенок вовсе не притворялся
мертвым, как казалось, а напротив ожидал, что мы оставим ему что-нибудь
вкусненькое за его готовность фотографироваться? Вот так оно чаще всего и
происходит – мы просто не понимаем, что же на самом деле происходит в дикой
Природе.<o:p></o:p></div>
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На следующий день после нашего
возвращения в Одессу я отнесла пленку в фотоателье и с нетерпением ожидала,
когда будут готовы снимки, а позже с благоговением расположила их в
хронологической последовательности в своем альбоме. Я видела, что фотографии не
отражают всей красоты огромного дендропарка, но когда я их просматривала, мне
казалось, будто я переживаю нашу поездку снова и то, что не сумел ухватить
фотоаппарат, дорисовывало мое воображение.<o:p></o:p></div>
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Тамара рассказывала мне по телефону,
что в первый понедельник после нашей экскурсии все ее коллеги пришли на работу
с сияющими улыбками на лицах. Я обычно не могу улыбаться, когда меня
фотографируют, но почти на всех фотографиях, привезенных из этой поездки у меня
на лице тоже счастливая улыбка. А вот у Тамары на большей части снимков
какой-то потерянный грустный взгляд. У меня было сильное подозрение, что ее муж
приложил к этому руку. Он был все такой же, как во времена нашей студенческой
молодости: любитель побалагурить и язвительно пошутить. Когда мы прибыли в
гостиницу, я слышала, как он отчитывал Тамару за что-то за моей спиной. Но все
на что меня хватило, после утомительной дороги – это сказать ей потом что-то
вроде: «Не бери в голову – ты же знаешь этих мужиков». И в глубине души я
порадовалась, что мои дети отказались ехать. А как их отказ расстроил меня
вначале! Но потом я вдруг почувствовала, что все к лучшему – я снова могла
ощутить себя молодой и свободной отдаться целиком окружающей меня экзотике,
отвлечься на время от своих проблем и, надо признать, от душевных переживаний
моей подруги тоже. Вот почему я так непринужденно улыбаюсь в объектив
фотоаппарата: и когда сижу на суховатой траве в степи с биноклем в руке, и в
парке среди цветущей травы на фоне пышно разросшихся желто-зеленых кустов, и
когда стою на вершине холма, раскинув руки как птица. Это была Юркина идея,
чтобы я сделала вид, будто собираюсь взлететь. Он сказал - все так
фотографируются, когда они на вершине холма.<span style="font-size: medium;"> <o:p></o:p><span style="text-align: left;">Навер</span><span style="text-align: left;">ное
именно тогда я почувствовала себя
впервые по-настоящему свободной. Моего
переменчивого мужа не было больше рядом
со мной. Зато некому больше было молча
хмуриться или ворчать. И некому было
испортить мою чистую радость от нашей
поездки.</span></span></div>
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Anna Shevchenkohttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08056236865233721027noreply@blogger.com0