Ravenscraig

by Sandi Krawchenko Altner

  Eight days had already passed on the uncomfortable colonist car carrying them west from the port of Quebec City to Winnipeg. She found it was very warm in July on the prairies, much warmer than it would be at home. Hannah’s matted hair and crusted clothing stuck to her skin. She longed for a proper bath. She tried to think when it was that she last felt clean or even the shame of not being clean. She shifted sleeping Mendel who was draped over her lap. How was it possible that a baby could weigh so much when he slept? She smiled wearily at her mother-in-law. Despite the travel, Bayla appeared bright-eyed, and youthful, belying her fifty-three years.

  Across from Hannah, the three older children slept on. She settled back and looked out at the endless miles of prairie. It seemed a very long time since the family had said their goodbyes in Zalischyky and climbed aboard the cart with their bundles of belongings.

  For more than two months they had journeyed. Hannah fixed on the memory of the hoof beats and the creaking wagon that had carried them along the familiar paths, past the cherry tree orchard and finally onto the big road to the train station in Chortkiv. From there, they had embarked for Hamburg. Bayla had been frightened of the train at first, Hannah recalled. The huffing and puffing of the great steam engine was more than she could have imagined.

  Hamburg was a bustling center filled with noise, hucksters, and confusion. At the dock, Hannah watched in horror as people who said they were agents made their way through the crowd and sorted who would board and who would not. She saw Jewish neighbors turned away in favor of Ukrainian peasants. She counted herself fortunate to have received clear instructions from her husband. She knew how to process the documents and purchase the passports. She also knew how the bribes worked and how to avoid the confidence men.

  Zev’s most important advice, it turned out, was to dress the family as Ukrainian peasants and to speak only in Ukrainian on the dock. Zev had learned that the agents were paid a fee for every immigrant they placed on the ships and that a premium fee was paid for the farmers. He told her that she was to say that she was taking her family to Manitoba to join her husband on the farm at Shtombur.

  Both Hannah and Bayla found the medical exam distressing, but soon their papers were stamped. They gathered up the children, and together they were shoved along through the crowd and onto the steamship.

  The children were thrilled with the ship. They could not wait to clamber aboard to make new friends among the other children. At the dock, there were many people who spoke Yiddish and Ukrainian. Others spoke languages they did not recognize. Some wore clothes that were different and had light blonde hair and blue eyes. It was a startling sight for Hannah and Bayla who had never seen skin that light with bright eyes and hair to match.

  The only thing all the passengers had in common was that they were immigrants, saying good-bye forever to the only life they had ever known, and leaving people they would touch and hug for the last time. Their heartache was the same no matter what language they spoke.

  In the weeks before the trip, Hannah had successfully overcome her fear of the passage by focusing on the tremendous amount of work that needed to be done to prepare for the voyage. She was confident that the family was as ready as it would ever be, with food and clothing and the few treasures brought from home. As they all made their way down the stairs to the steerage deck, she thought only of Zev and how their long separation would come to an end.

  She was fine until she saw the sleeping accommodations. There were no separate rooms, but one large space filled with cots placed side-by-side and stacked three high. Each cot was only two-and-a-half feet wide and six feet long, and connected to the next with sturdy metal bars. This formed the berth for each passenger.

  Hannah and Bayle had huddled down in their assigned births with the children in the middle tier. For privacy, they placed sheets between themselves and the strangers, but so tightly packed were they that all through the night the jostling passengers bumped together. Bayla, ever practical and optimistic, praised the tight arrangement for it helped them stay warm and kept them from being pitched onto the floor by the movement of the ship.

  Hannah was so unnerved she didn’t sleep at all for the first two nights and Bayla had stern words for her, telling her that she must get some rest for the sake of the children. Think of the baby, Bayla scolded her, for her milk would stop and he would go hungry if she didn’t eat and drink enough. Hannah did as she was told.

  She was thankful for the fresh air on the deck. In the first few days, there was singing and dancing on deck, for there was great excitement about going to the golden land. A young man had a fiddle and another a balalaika and a third a symbalis. The familiar songs were full of hope and happiness.

  All of that changed when the storm came up on their eighth day at sea. Hannah shivered with the memory. The ship had pitched and lurched through the rise and fall of the waves in the North Atlantic. Water splashed down on the deck, driving everyone inside for cover. In a short time, the already putrid air of the steerage deck became laden with sharp, bilious smells from vomiting passengers. There was no place to get away. She hunkered down in the berths with the children and together with Bayla, comforted them as best she could through the ordeal. Hannah was astounded at Bayla’s resolute bearing through the height of the violent storm and ashamed at her own feelings of terror.

  Hour after hour, the ship climbed the crests and crashed down between the swells. People who were not squashed into the bunks or clinging tightly were thrown about like rag dolls. Gripped with fear, Hannah could hardly breathe. With every groaning sway, she believed the ship would split apart and scatter them over the water like so much refuse.

  She prayed that if this would be her time and that if the ship were to sink, that death would come swiftly to spare suffering. She imagined floating in the ocean and considered what it would be like to drown in that cold black water, helpless to protect her children. Her body went rigid with fear as the passengers around her moaned and cried out with each violent shudder of the ship.

  At the worst of it, Hannah had become so ill that she bordered on being delirious. Her fear of dying changed into an oddly appealing resignation; perhaps her misery was near an end. Had it not been for the children, she might truly have welcomed drowning. When the storm finally ended, Hannah had firmly resolved that never again would she set foot on a ship: not even a boat if she could avoid it. Remarkably, the children and Bayla came through the frightful night seemingly unaffected, their spirits apparently completely restored by the brilliant dawn of a new day that brought calm seas and a bright blue sky, as if the storm had never happened at all.

  Sitting on the train and remembering the horrible experience, Hannah shivered. By comparison, the discomfort of the train was little more than an inconvenience. Now, it was almost over.

  Bayla smiled to herself and turned to the window to quiet the waves of feeling rising in her chest as she thought of Baruch. What sacrifices he had made. It had been so many years, almost fourteen, since she had seen her husband. Would he still love her? Would he still think her pretty? Would they have enough time and enough health to enjoy their lives in this new country, in this Canada that had no czar?

  She reached out her hand and gripped Hannah’s arm as happiness rose within her, her eyes lighting up in a way Hannah could not remember seeing before.

  “After all these years, Hannah.” The two women hugged each other. Nothing more needed to be said.

  The passengers were starting to move about and gather their bundles. Expressions of joy and prayers of thanks in a dozen or more languages bubbled into the thick air of the railcar. A Christian woman struggled to her feet and started to sing in Ukrainian. Very soon others joined in. They sang in a solemn way, but the song was one of hope, called Mnohaya Lita, which translated into “Many Happy Years”. It was a very old song that Hannah had heard sung many times at celebrations in Zalischyky. The tears ran down their faces and their voices were choked with emotion.

  Winnipeg
was finally coming into view. Little Mendel stirred and started to fuss in Hannah’s arms. Heaped together, the other three children seemed more like a bundle of rags than future citizens of the new country. Now the exhausted travelers were rearranging their aching bones on the hard wooden seats and coming to life with excitement and anticipation. To start anew, to reunite with family, to see what life would bring as the future spilled out before them like the endless grass of the prairie. Would they finally have peace? Was it possible the violence would now truly be part of the past? Would they be left alone to live their lives as a family? Would there be no more fear? No czar telling them where to live and how to die?

  Hannah felt her heart quicken. Sixteen months had passed since she had seen Zev. Would he be waiting there in Winnipeg? How would she know where to find him? So many people lived here in this modern city. Would anyone know where to look for him? Would anyone speak Yiddish? Of course, there would be many people speaking Yiddish. Zev had said so. Now she was worrying just to be worrying. But what if he is not there? Where should she go? Oh, yes, Patrick Street. Ask for Patrick Street. They might even be at the train station in this minute! Tears welled in Hannah’s eyes. Eagerness filled her and numbed the aching weariness.

  “Isaac, Ziporah,” she called gently, so as not to startle them. “We are here. Wake up, Aaron. It is time to get our things together.”

  So, this is the new land. Would she ever see her home in Russia again? Or her sister and her family?

  Hannah accepted that blessings and burdens were her life, her torment at times. To be so thoroughly happy and miserable all at the same time and for so much of the time, you needed to be a Jew, she thought. Only the Jewish heart can ache in this way at the same time it is bursting with love for the thought of seeing her family again together.

  What if he is not there? What if he is sick or hurt? It had been four months since the tickets had arrived.

  The clacking of the train on the track was slower now. The tall grass gave way to little wooden shacks. Finally, they crossed a big river that curved just like the Dniestr in Zalishchiky. The travelers craned to see out the windows and catch their first glimpse of the city. They marveled at the neat little wooden houses, packed tightly together. They twittered with wonder at the flowing robes and bare feet of the Indians leading heavily laden horses.

  Finally, slowly, the train chugged to stop. The gasping steam engine and the shriek of steel on steel made it seem as if the train was a great beast that had expired with the weight of the past sufferings of every passenger on board. It was a fitting announcement to mark both the end of the voyage and the start of a new life.

  Baruch drew the cart up to the corner and stopped.

  “This is good enough,” he said to Zev. “I don’t want the horse should get too nervous with so much excitement with the people. I will wait with her.”

  “But Mama will want to see you, Papa,” Zev said gently, seeing how anxious his father was. “You should come inside the station.”

  “Ach, maybe again we are waiting and they are not coming on the train,” he answered. The two had met every train that had come into Winnipeg in the last four days. “Look, the train is stopping. Go now.” Baruch nudged his son. “Is better for the horse for me to stay. You go on, Zev.” Baruch jumped down from the wagon and brought a feedbag with a handful of oats to the mare.

  Zev saw his father’s tumbling emotions. After a lifetime of hardship and disappointment, these last few days of anticipating the arrival of his wife had been almost more than he could bear. Baruch had not spoken his feelings aloud, yet Zev knew that his father was worried that having been away from his wife so many years would leave little left of his marriage. It is a lot to ask of a woman to wait so long, and Zev knew no matter what he told his father, only seeing his mother would erase the fears in his heart.

  Baruch stretched his hand up to rub the mare’s muzzle and turned and smiled at his son. “Maybe this is the right train, Zev. Go find our family.”

  Zev smiled back. Though his father was barely over five feet tall, Zev saw him as a quiet giant of a man. No one in the family had suffered more than Baruch Zigman. He turned to elbow his way through the crowd. Everything would be different now that the family was again together. Surely they would arrive on this train. But what if they were not? Had they been delayed at the medical inspection in Quebec City? Maybe they were all in quarantine.

  He worried about Hannah and the trials she had undergone. How many months had his wife carried the full weight of providing for the family? How would she look? How would they all look? How tall must his children be! And what of little Mendel? Who knew that God would bless him with the new son when he left for the New World? Poor Hannah, so hard she worked. One day his Hannah would live like a lady. Now, at least, she would be here so that he could take care of her and the children. His heart filled with pride and excitement as he searched the crowd.

  “Children, don’t be going far. You stay close to me. Ziporah, you hold on to Aaron!” Hannah shouted orders over the noise and confusion of people disembarking. She felt the ground sway beneath her and realized it was that every ounce of her flesh and bone had been imbued with the movement of the train. She steadied herself under the weight of Mendel. “Where are our bundles? Isaac? Do you have the small trunk?” There were so many people, so much shouting and confusion.

  “Rooms for rent! Lady, come with me this way, I will take you to the fine home you need here in Winnipeg. A bargain for you and your children,” a man called out to Hannah in Yiddish. A second appeared at her elbow.

  “You need food? Come eat at my place. Just here across the street by the station. Good food. Food from the old country, and then we find you a room for your family, no?” This one spoke fast, switching from Ukrainian to Yiddish and even English, as one traveler after another shook him off. Hannah had come to learn a couple of words in English on the ship. She also knew enough to talk to no one, that there would be scoundrels and conmen waiting for the immigrant train.

  “No, no, thank you. My husband is here. Do you know him? Zev Zigman. Do you know Zev Zigman?”

  Isaac was the first to spot him.

  “Mama, Mama! Look, it’s Papa! Isaac pushed hard through the crowd to reach him, and Hannah waved wildly to catch his attention. Zev’s face broke into a grin as he shoved along through the horde to reach them. Finally, as Isaac leapt out of the crowd, Zev swept him off his feet. Then he stepped back to proudly appraise his height and strength. In the next instant, the family fell into one great embrace, the children jumping with excitement. Hannah drank in the vision of her husband’s face, so close to hers at last. She was so thankful to see him and to feel the strength of his arms around her. Tears overcame her as she realized that they had made it. All of them were alive and in the same place at last.

  “Is it really true? Am I not dreaming, Zev?” Hannah laughed and cried and held out shy little Mendel to meet his father. For several minutes they were caught in the rush of happiness that came with the simple fact of finally being together once again. In a flurry of emotion, everyone was talking at once.

  “And where is Baruch?” Bayla asked quietly, unable to hold back her tears. Zev grabbed his mother into an embrace.

  “He is here, Mama, and he is well. He is nearby with a surprise,” he said, kissing her wet cheeks, delighting in seeing her and holding her close.

  “A surprise?” Bayla was annoyed and relieved all at once. “And me at the station, he doesn’t come to see!” Zev laughed and hugged her again and she smiled back.

  “You will see him, Mama. In just a few moments, you will see him.” With this, Zev moved his family through the throng and out to the street in front.

  The train station’s doors fronted onto Fonseca Street, which was bathed in sunshine and gaily dressed with flags. The air was sweet and the breeze warm and light.

  The children quickly forgot their tiredness as they gawked at the buildings and the people. Hannah was overwhelmed wi
th the enormity of the moment as she listened to her children all talking over each other, so delighted to see their father at last. The questions splashed down on Zev like a welcome summer rain. Hannah watched and was replenished by the easy patter back and forth. The time apart was maybe not so long after all.

  And now, what life would their children make for themselves in the new country? What life would there be for all of them here?

  They had come to a building where a long line of travelers stood. “Zev, what is this place?” Hannah asked. “Do we have to go through yet another line to talk to officials?” She was horrified at the thought.

  “This is the immigration shed. No, you finished your papers when you arrived in Quebec City. These people are registering to get their farms.”

  “Why is there a tent there?” asked Ziporah.

  “There is not enough space for all of the people who are coming to stay in the immigration sheds,” Zev answered. “They need to sleep somewhere until they can find their parcels of land and start building. It is already August next week. There is no time to put in a crop. They will be lucky to have time to build shelter to protect them through the winter. The government will allow them to stay here for two or three weeks but most will be on their way as soon as they can.”

  “And who will help them?” Ziporah was pained to think that their fellow immigrants would have to now regain their strength in a few days in a shed or a tent, only then to go out to build a house somewhere out in the country while she was going to a house and a meal that had been prepared for them.