My Russian Family

by Lilia Sariecheva

  • • • • •

  My paternal grandfather Ivan was in the Russo-Japanese War but he was not involved in the Revolution movement and civil war. During the latter upheavals he worked on his land and raised his children. My father was born at home with the help of a midwife in 1918, the same year that Russia started its civil war. It was a hard time. The war ended when my dad was about two years old. Then life became better for people. The period after the civil war was perhaps the best years the peasants had ever known. They owned their own land, so they worked hard and prospered. People still talk about how great this period was for the peasants.

  When my papa Mikhail Ivanovich Sariechev was a child, everybody called him by the nickname Mishka or Min’ka, a name reserved for boys named Mikhail. The word Mishka translates as “teddy bear.”

  My father’s parents were a typical family in that everybody had to help with the numerous farm chores. There were eventually five children in the family and even the smallest were involved in the work. The oldest brother Vassily, the quiet one in the family, worked during the day and watched horses during summer nights alongside other older neighbor boys, using a fire for heat and protection. In wintertime, he gathered and cut wood for the oven. Vassily was the only child that grew huge just like his father.

  Varvara with Vassily, Tania and my father, about 1920.

  When my dad was three years old, he watched the geese like a herdsman. When he turned six-and-a-half he was promoted to watching the horses at night. Dad remembers one night he fell asleep and as he guiltily awoke with the sunrise he noticed that several horses had disappeared. He located his dad in the fields and immediately a search was launched. This was not the first time that horses took off. Several hours later, the men and boys returned empty-handed and found the escapees lounging by the log barn. Horses and kids tend to return home after their adventures.

  The family considered itself somewhat unlucky as they only had two boys for the farm work. The oldest sister Tatiana (Tania) helped in the kitchen garden, dwarfed by the plants that she tended. The other two younger girls, Maria (Manya) and Elizavette (Lizza), were responsible for cleaning the house and doing dishes. Everyone in the family had a scheduled duty. Hard work produces more than just calluses, it can make one eat well, sleep soundly, and feel good.

  The farm provided the necessary income from sales. This imposed limits on consumption by the large farm family. An egg, an apple, a pear, and some meat every day for all family members did not happen. Everyone started each day early. The parents got up at three o’clock in the morning and the children were up by six, yawning, stretching, and rubbing their sleepy little eyes. At 6:30, the oldest children left for school about four kilometers (2.5 miles) away. By 3:00 p.m. they were back home. It was not easy for the kids because the dirt road was dusty or muddy, or frozen and snowy. Children had to walk to and from school by themselves.

  My father still remembers that when he became old enough to start school his two smaller sisters would always sit in front of the house and offer a cheery wave to him as he left.

  17. Mishka

  The elementary school was located on a hill by a lake. It was a picturesque place. In summer, weeping willows were reflected in the mirror-like surface of the water like brides reflected in mirrors before their wedding. In winter, this lake changed into a shining white plate with an icy surface. Schoolchildren liked to slide upon the ice.

  Once Mishka and some other children of various ages came to school a little early to enjoy sliding on the ice. When the bell rang everybody ran to the school’s front door. Mishka ran so fast that he was the first. He grabbed the only small homemade broom and brushed the snow off his coat and shoes. Mishka was a very healthy boy with a fine constitution. His black eyes flashed, glittering and bold. His rosy cheeks glowed. A forelock of his curly hair slipped out from under his hat and it was so black, it looked dark blue. He wore an old coat that he got after his older brother outgrew it. He also inherited his older brother’s shoes. In spite of this, Mishka looked very proud and handsome. The teacher said that he could become a leader or a hero when he grew up.

  Mishka was cute, smart, and very independent. He did not like advice or moral admonitions. If this opinionated boy got something into his head, he would not give it up. Once, nine-year-old Mishka returned from school and informed his parents that he joined the Atheists Club since he did not believe in God. His father Ivan did not have any reaction to this news but his mother Varvara went into shock. For many days, his visibly upset mom asked her son to avoid the meetings of the Atheists Club. Mishka answered that his teacher called people who trust in God, “ignorant and superstitious.” He did not want to be like those people, so he was willing to agitate his mom, sisters, and brother, who did believe in God. Because children did not want their mothers to visit the distant church and believe in God, some of them acted like hooligans. One story was that while their mothers were at church, some boys placed their own excrement on a narrow dirt road between two huge wheat fields. The women unknowingly stepped into it on their way home. Of course, they were barefoot to save wear on their Sunday shoes. With dirty, smelly feet, the angry mothers rushed home to mete out justice against their renegade children.

  The young Mishka finally came up with a strong answer to his mother’s objections. “Mother, do you remember your story of that group of beggars who wandered throughout the country and came to your village back when you were a little girl?”

  Varvara sighed; she knew where this was going. “Of course, it was 1902 and I was 14. It was a small group trying to support themselves as they traveled and spread the word of the Bible by reading it to country people. They had nothing. They had to beg for food. They were evangelists and very popular because most country people could not read at that time.”

  Mishka continued, “You said that one of the men made a prophecy but it did not come true. If the religion and the man were as they said they were, it would have been a true prophecy, it would have happened, right?”

  His mother frowned and then explained, “One man in the group talked in terms of the old Greek Aesop Fables, you know, animals talking philosophically. He said that the last tsar would be toward the end of this century. He would be named Tsar Mikhail and he would have a rooster’s cockscomb on his head.”

  Mishka paused and blinked his eyes, then with a shrug of his shoulder, he said, “Everybody knows that the reign of Tsar Nicholas II ended in 1917, that he was shot dead by an execution squad with his family in 1918, and that he was our last tsar. So where is this Tsar Michael and what is a cockscomb that will be on his head?”

  Varvara took a deep breath and let the air out with a sigh of resignation. “We do not know what a cockscomb meant and the century is a long way from being over. We can only wait and see. That is all we know and we cannot yet understand this prophecy.”

  His mom moved on, “I want to change your mind about the Atheists Club. For this purpose, I will not give you dessert after dinner, because everything beautiful, nice, and sweet is from God.” Mishka, who had a sweet tooth, did not eat dessert for a long time. He did not change his mind. However, his mom did and finally gave him dessert again.

  For years, my father teased his mother about this prophecy and she did not know what to answer or even what to think about the prophecy. Varvara always believed in God but she did not believe in priests. She felt that one should not have to go through an intermediary to get to God, so all the priests, rituals, money collections, and confessions were unimportant to her. She always believed that only evangelists would tell the truth. She considered these wanderers who had no material possessions, only their faith, as truly holy people. She knew deep inside her that these wanderers carried the truth and brought it to the world.

  However, Varvara could not explain why their prophecy didn’t come true. She waited for years but nothing happened. I remember our conversations about this prophecy and my skeptical questions to my granny. I finally got my answer, althoug
h I had to wait until the beginning of the 1990s.

  Elementary school was wonderful for Mishka because his teacher frequently complimented him. He deserved praise and everyone knew it. Mishka was smart and he enjoyed his studies. He loved reading so much that his parents called him a “readoholic.” He was curious about everything. He wanted to know why leaves are green in summer and why lilacs have purple flowers. He tried to find out why sparrows hop, but crows walk. Mishka wanted to know everything about the whole world.

  He organized children to plant a park around the school and made an alley of trees along the road leading to the school. Under Mishka’s leadership, the children transplanted small trees from the forest. The students and the school are now gone, but the trees remain as a living monument to these students.

  It was at this time in 1925 that the grand manor and all the land of the former property owner in this area became the property of the peasants. The peasants were fearful that the local kulaks, who were a class of richer peasants, would steal valuables from this large deserted house under the cover of the dark forest and the long winter nights. The rumor was that the kulaks planned to take everything, even the bricks, for their own needs. Kulaks actually were just the entrepreneurs one finds in every village. They were unpopular mostly because people were jealous of them. The kulaks worked hard, made a little money and then hired people to work the land they had leased or purchased. Thus, they made a little more money and took a little more power. They also were local moneylenders when they had some. The Kulaks were everywhere in Russia and they caused many problems when the Red Power took away their local power and control. The Russian word kulaki translates as “fists.” The communists eventually wiped out the kulaks; they no longer exist.

  So, the potential theft problem was real enough but what to do? The decision was quick and simple. The villagers dispatched seven-year-old Mishka and his friend, eleven-year-old Alexe to the noble’s house to guard it. If the kulaks showed up, the boys were to run back to the village and sound the alarm. This action was cruel by today’s standards because the house was cold inside. The glass in the windows had already been stolen and the inside temperature was below freezing. The young boys didn’t even have matches to build a warming fire. The peasants were not cruel. At this time and place, they just did not spend any effort thinking about such unimportant things. In their minds, the children were old enough to take care of themselves. It was normal for a young boy to think about his own survival and to do whatever he had to do.

  Mishka and Alexe did not complain a bit. They went up into the attic to spend the night but it was too cold to sleep on the floor and they didn’t have any light. What to do? It seemed very boring to do nothing until morning. They found some debris to sit on. Then Mishka’s fingers touched something strange. It was a treasure. He found a nail! And another one! And more! All night long, the boys searched for nails in the trash and debris. Nails were scarce since industry after the civil war was not very functional. Manufactured goods were few and very expensive. The two boys triumphantly returned to their village at sunrise with their pockets full of nails. Everyone praised them-nails were better than money at that time. Some people were even jealous that they did not send their own boys to watch the nobleman’s house.

  When Mishka was eleven years old he finished elementary school with the highest grades. His parents decided to send their son to Ryazan to continue his education at a well-known, distinguished school. They rented a room for him and he lived alone. Mishka was only eleven but he was very independent. The boy cooked for himself, washed his clothes without a washing machine, ironed them, cleaned his small room, and studied at school by himself. There was no money for food, so the farm provided everything he ate, including sliced stale bread. His beloved milk was not on the menu.

  By New Year’s vacation, Mishka had high marks in every class. Happy and content, the boy departed for his small village to spend time with his family. He took a last look at the old Ryazan train station from the train’s window and closed his eyes, dreaming about homemade pie and a mug of warm milk. The New Year’s celebration was huge, but of course, the Red Power prohibited any Christmas celebration. The train was going very fast and its wheels were saying “Sleep-sleep-sleep.” Passengers were taking naps and no one was looking out windows even though it was a tempting view. There was a broad carpet of snow shining so blindingly that it was difficult to look at its dazzling beauty.

  Mishka didn’t sleep long. After one and a half hours the train stopped at the small country train station called Denezhnikovo and the boy got off the train. He looked around and found a strong stick about a meter (3.281 feet) long, which he planned to use as a depth-gauge of the snow. Squinting his eyes, he walked with vigorous strides, following the road. His way was long. Mishka had to walk seven kilometers (4.4 miles) to reach his village. After walking about six kilometers, he saw the river from the top of a ridge and beyond that, his village. There was a dense stand of trees and bushes near the river.

  Suddenly, Mishka became apprehensive. He knew that something was wrong but he didn’t know exactly what. The boy turned to look back and was startled. A large, skinny wolf was standing about four meters (13 feet) behind him, staring directly at him. Mishka was scared, but he held his ground. He raised his stick and screamed, “Go away! I’ll kill you! Urgh-uh-uh!”

  When the boy shook his stick more aggressively and moved a step closer to him, the animal ran away. When Mishka arrived home, his parents were very angry with him. They had planned to go to the train station the next day to meet their son, and Mishka knew that when he found an earlier train. He agreed with his mom and dad, thinking this time they are right, not me.

  Mishka kept silent about the wild beast. Oddly, 25 years later, his ten-year-old son encountered another wolf at the same place and at the same time of year.

  It is great to study at a prestigious school and it is greater still to have vacations. Mishka enjoyed his school tremendously but it did not prevent him from dreaming about his vacation with his family and friends. On the first night home, he slept so soundly that he did not wake up until mid-morning when loud voices from the next room aroused him. He pricked up his ears when he heard his name and listened to the conversation. A neighbor was telling his mother that yesterday she and her husband saw Mishka and a wolf from a window in their house which overlooked the ridge across the river. It was an ordinary experience to meet a wolf at that place. The neighbor was not surprised at that, but Mishka’s bravery did surprise her. Mishka smiled happily. At this moment, the drapes on the wooden screen that partitioned off his bedroom opened noisily. Mishka’s mother, with angry eyes shining, went over to her son’s bed with his big walking stick in her hand. Mishka could not believe his eyes.

  “I’ll teach you how to travel alone in wintertime!” cried his mother as she shook the stick. Mishka did not wait for a good scolding. He jumped from the bed, took to his heels and ran for it!

  18. A Few Rubles

  Childhood memories are happy and bright to nearly everyone, even though bad experiences occasionally slip in. Later on, one tends to remember their childhood without the pain, just with fondness and with humor.

  People are miserable without shoes and shoes tend to wear out all too quickly. Maybe this explains why so many stories of poverty involve shoes. The long wet Russian winters meant that shoes for a man usually only lasted a year or occasionally two years with special care. Some men go through three or four pairs of shoes each year!

  My father was 13 years old and lived alone in Ryazan where he attended school. His shoes were about finished. He had happily obtained a government coupon as a reward for being the best student. This coupon was required to purchase a new pair of shoes. All he needed was eight rubles but even that was a princely sum. It was 1932 and Mikhail’s parents had no money.

  Mikhail learned of a homeowner who needed a new septic system in his back yard. It involved digging a large hole of about three cubic meters (over 100 cu
bic feet). Following some negotiation, the young scholar undertook the task for precisely the eight rubles required for the shoes. Every day after school, he struggled with his enterprise and eventually completed it. The owner praised the work and said, “Come back in a few days and I will pay you!”

  Then it was, “No money yet! Come back next week!” After several months, it became obvious to the young entrepreneur that the homeowner did not intend to pay him. The next trip, he told the homeowner, “Pay me now, or I will put all this dirt back into the hole.”

  The man responded, “If you do not stop bothering me, I will tell the militia!”

  Mikhail seized the initiative and called the bluff. As he stood with his toes sticking out of his shoes, he told the homeowner, “If you do not pay me right now, then I will go to the militia and I will tell them everything!”

  The homeowner paid his debt and the next day Mikhail appeared in school wearing his new pair of leather shoes.

  Six school years flew by like six days. Mishka is a small boy’s name, so now people called him Mikhail. He was handsome and he still had black curly hair and shining black eyes. Everyone said he resembled a hawk.

  He finished high school with the highest academic marks. He had excelled in school athletics: captain of the soccer team, fastest runner, and best downhill racer on skis. He was friendly to all but still had no girl friend. He made a habit of dancing with every girl at the school dances. When he was angry, his friends were tense, but when he laughed nobody could be serious. Thirty-five years later, teachers and students enjoyed telling these stories to me, his daughter.