Prisoners in the Promised Land

by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

  Stefan came by and we played some ball. I told him about the Suffragettes and he told me that the Suffragettes in England are so rude that they stormed the king’s palace. Deep down, I know the Suffragettes only want to help white women, but it gets me mad when boys say bad things about girls. I told Stefan that I didn’t believe him. He turned and left without saying another word. I know it was mean to say, but it made me feel good to see him angry.

  In a few minutes he came back with a newspaper. Sure enough, there was an article about Mrs. Sylvia Pankhurst in London, England. She and her friends had stormed Buckingham Palace. They also slashed five masterpieces in the National Gallery.

  “How can you give votes to people like that?” said Stefan. He said to do it would cause anarchy.

  I don’t know what anarchy means but I didn’t want to let Stefan know that, so I just looked him in the eyes and shouted, “No it won’t.”

  While we were arguing, Mykola wandered right over to the edge and was dropping twigs over the side. My heart was in my mouth when I realized it. I crept up behind him and grabbed him by the waist quickly and pulled him to safety.

  That’s what I get for arguing with Stefan. I should know better by now.

  Saturday, May 30, 1914

  Dear Diary, I am sorry for ruining your paper with my tears. A big steamship called the Empress of Ireland is now at the bottom of the sea. One thousand people have drowned. Everyone at school is talking about it. This wasn’t the steamer we waved to yesterday, but one that left from the Port of Quebec.

  To think that just a month ago, we were on a ship in the exact same place where the Empress of Ireland sank. I feel dreadful about those people who drowned, but Dear Diary, please don’t think badly of me if I confide to you that I am grateful it wasn’t our ship.

  Later

  Stefan needed help selling an extra edition of the newspaper because everyone wanted to read about the Empress of Ireland. He gave me a stack of them and asked if I would sell them at the other end of the block. When I was done, he gave me a penny.

  I am saving my penny. Maybe I’ll use it to light a candle for the poor souls who sank with the Empress of Ireland.

  June 1914

  Monday, June 1, 1914

  Dear Diary, there is a sale on ribbons at the dry goods store. For my penny, I could get a beautiful blue ribbon that is one inch wide and long enough to go around my hair and tie in a bow.

  Later

  I can’t buy the ribbon. I would feel guilty every time I wore it. How I wish I had no conscience!

  Wednesday, June 3, 1914

  The cold weather suits my mood. I am sad, Dear Diary. Natalka Tkachuk is no longer at school. Had she just been able to stay a couple more weeks she would have finished her year.

  I had thought Natalka was stupid, but she is just tired. Her mother works the evening shift in a clothing factory, so it is up to Natalka to mind her brother and sister in the evening. Mary told me that she also does the cooking and the housework. Mrs. Tkachuk broke her arm at the factory on Friday. Natalka’s father must find enough money to pay the doctor, plus of course Mrs. Tkachuk can no longer work. Her boss offered to let Natalka take her place. She won’t be paid as much as her mother because she needs to be trained, but at least there will be some money coming in. Poor Natalka. Poor Mrs. Tkachuk!

  I hope God doesn’t mind, but after school, I walked with Mary to Natalka’s house and I gave her my penny. I shall say a prayer for the dead souls on the Empress of Ireland, but I cannot buy them their candle.

  I asked Tato what would happen if he got injured. He told me that he has insurance with the Ukrainian Sick Benefit Society and not to worry.

  I asked him why Mrs. Tkachuk didn’t have Sick Benefits and he says that it costs a dollar a month to join so mostly just men join, because it is expensive and their jobs are more dangerous.

  What if Mama gets injured?

  I must remind her to be careful.

  Monday, June 8, 1914, after school

  Dear Diary, I feel bad that I haven’t written more, but there isn’t much to write. Each day seems like the last. I still haven’t heard from Halyna. I wonder if she misses me?

  — I miss the cool sweet evening breezes of Horoshova.

  — I miss our cow and chickens.

  — I miss my old school and my classmates.

  — Sometimes I even miss Bohdan!

  Thursday June 11, 1914, late

  The girls in my class here are nice and so is Maureen, but why do the others have to be so mean? I am still studying every day and I want to do well, but it is hard to concentrate when it is so hot out.

  With Natalka working, it has made me think of what I might do to help my family. Everything is expensive here and I hear Mama and Tato whispering about money when they think everyone is asleep. There are so many things to pay for — food, water, fuel, rent, insurance, clothing, trolley fare for Mama. In Horoshova, we grew our own vegetables and we got eggs from our own chickens and milk and butter from our cow, and of course there was no trolley. I had no idea it would cost so much to live in Canada. Eggs are 14¢ a dozen. Can you imagine? I shall ask Stefan and Mary if they have any ideas where I might find work. Maureen might also know.

  We are lucky because Baba bakes our bread. A single loaf costs 5¢ in the store, so I don’t know how people manage who don’t bake their own. Our barrel of flour will cost $3.00 to replace when it is empty, and that is half a week’s salary for Mama.

  Thank goodness for the milk depot.

  Baba is experimenting with beans. The taste is not bad, but Mykola now passes gas all night and this is awful, seeing as we share a bed! This is one reason I would like to sleep on the roof.

  Monday, June 15, 1914

  Dear Diary, I am so happy! We had our exams today and I think I did fine. I am glad that I studied so much, but I am even gladder that they are over with.

  Friday, June 19, 1914

  Baba’s left knee has swollen up. I think it is because we had more rain today than we’ve had since we’ve come to Canada. She says it doesn’t bother her, but I know better. Mama has run out of her herb supply, so she cannot make a poultice.

  It is too much for Baba to be carrying groceries up all these steps every day. I told her that I could go to the market by myself because I am old enough. She still needs to get down the stairs to the outhouse, but I can’t help her with that.

  Saturday, June 20, 1914, morning

  What a lovely day! Cool and pleasant with just a few sprinkles of rain. We got up bright and early and I took Mykola with me to the wooded area around St. Gabriel’s House and we picked wildflowers. I am sure that I have feverfew.

  Later

  Mama has made a feverfew poultice for Baba’s knee. If only she didn’t have to walk up and down the stairs.

  Even later

  Mama has decided that Baba is not to walk up and down the stairs until her knee is better. Baba is not unhappy about this. I have noticed that since we came here, she does not like to go out of the house. I think she is afraid of all the new sights and sounds.

  Baba is using the chamber pot for you-know-what and guess whose job it is to empty it? I am happy to do it, but it is embarrassing. What if I run into Stefan? That would be more humiliation than I could stand.

  Monday, June 22, 1914, bedtime

  I have been going to the market every day since Friday and I really do enjoy it. French-speaking farmers come in from the country and lay out their fruits and vegetables and other things in the backs of their wagons. Seeing these farmers with their suntanned faces reminds me of the old country.

  Tuesday, June 23, 1914

  last day of school

  Miss Boyko had us come to school early and we all walked over together to church. There was a special Mass because tomorrow is the namesday of John the Baptist. The church was filled to overflowing and there were more than the usual number of hymns.

  When we got back to school, Miss Boyko handed out our report cards
. Each was bound in ivory-coloured cardboard and held together with a lovely red ribbon, which I plan on using for my hair. Not only did I pass my level-one English, but I got a B! Miss Boyko even put a silver star on my report card. She wrote that it is for “diligence.” I thanked her and didn’t let on that I don’t know what diligence is. Mary told me later that it means “working all the time to get better.” Mary got the top marks in the class and she got a gold star, which Mrs. Boyko says is for “excellence.” Mary says that means she’s really smart.

  Slava did not pass. I thought it was kind that Miss Boyko still put a star on her report card. It is blue and beside it, she wrote, Rome wasn’t built in a day. Never give up. Miss Boyko is such a nice lady. Slava didn’t seem to mind that she didn’t pass. She was thrilled with the ribbon and the star.

  I feel sad about finishing the school year. I have no idea whether I will be back. The other day, Stefan showed me a newspaper photograph of women who had graduated from university. What a wonderful country this is, that women can go to university. It makes me wonder where they got the money to go.

  Mama insists that I will be going to school in September and Tato says that one of the reasons we came to Canada is because girls as well as boys can have a future here. But if we don’t have enough money to pay our bills, what kind of future will we have? I dream of buying Mama and Tato a big house with windows and lots of rooms. We could sleep on the bottom floor when it is hot outside and on the roof when we wanted to. It would also be nice to only have one outhouse in the back and room enough to play and maybe room for a cow and a couple of chickens. I know that there are people who live in houses like this because I have seen them. In Canada, all things are possible.

  Wednesday, June 24, 1914

  St. Jean Baptiste Day

  Today was a holiday and Tato stayed home from work although Mama still had to go in for half a day. We all walked together to St. Catherine Street to watch a most amazing thing. It is called a “parade.” It is something like a provody but much fancier. Instead of just a priest holding an Icon and us villagers walking behind, this took up the whole street and the people were carried on wagons pulled by horses. Each wagon was decorated like a stage for a play and the people were dressed in costumes. Tato said they’re called “floats.” On one of the floats was a man dressed up like John the Baptist holding his head on a platter.

  Now that school is over, I must find a job. I can’t let Mama or Tato know because they would forbid me. That doesn’t change the fact that we need money. I hear them whispering and I know how close we are to disaster. What if Mama got sick, or Tato got fired? The streets are filled with clusters of men without jobs. I know that keeping things from my parents is bad, but if we were still in Horoshova I might be betrothed by now, so they shouldn’t be treating me like a child.

  Stefan says that I can help him with his newspapers whenever they have an extra edition. He will pay me a penny each time. That is not enough though. Mary said she would go with me to the clothing factory.

  Friday, June 26, 1914

  on the roof at dusk

  Today, Mary and I went to the garment factory where Natalka works. There are some girls who are younger than me. Surely they would hire me too? I didn’t see Natalka, but she may have gone in earlier.

  We walked up to the man who was stamping the time sheets. I let Mary do the talking. The man looked us both over and said that Mary was hired but that I was too young. I told him that I saw girls younger than me go inside. He just shook his head. He filled out a time sheet for Mary, then stamped it, and she went inside. I will have to ask her what they do in there.

  Saturday, June 27, 1914

  I was so busy studying for my exams and now I don’t have to any more. Baba gives me housework and errands but I feel useless. She says to go out and play but I can’t find Stefan. Mary was at the factory this morning. I took Mykola with me and we walked to Slava’s house, but she wasn’t there either. One of the tenants told me that she and her father have moved. I don’t know what to think about that.

  Baba has set me to work on making a duvet cover for my hope chest. This is very tedious work. I would like to start on some embroidery, but Mama hasn’t had time to teach me. Oy, I wish I could make bead jewellery instead of this plain sewing. At least that would be fun.

  Later

  I went to Maureen’s house for the first time today. It smells like cabbage just like ours does, because her maimeo (that’s Irish for baba) cooks cabbage too. They don’t eat cabbage rolls. They have cabbage and potatoes.

  I also got to meet Maureen’s little sister, Brigid. She has the most beautiful toy! A small carved wooden house with four rooms and even tiny wooden furniture. There’s a small carved husband and wife and two children.

  Maureen said that her father carved it before she was born. Brigid let me play with her. I would love to have a little house like that!

  Sunday, June 28, 1914

  in my cozy bed, writing by lamppost light

  Dear Diary, I forgot to tell you about Maureen’s flat. It is very much like ours. I thought that because her family speaks English, she would be rich, but she’s not. There was a picture of the Virgin Mary on the wall and also a Cross. On the floor was a braided rug made from all sorts of colourful scraps of cloth. I think her father made their wooden kitchen table and chairs because they were decorated with carved patterns.

  I told Tato about the little house that Maureen’s father had made for her and her sister. He said that if I drew a picture of it, he would try to make one for me and Mykola.

  Monday, June 29, 1914

  Another great tragedy. The clouds cried all day because Franz Ferdinand and Sophie have been shot.

  I am talking about the Archduke Franz Ferdinand, heir to the Austrian throne. And Ferdinand’s wife, Princess Sophie. The person who killed them — a student — was a Serbian who wanted his province to be free of Austria.

  It is wrong for him to kill the Archduke and the Princess. I can only think how horrible it must be for their families. Ferdinand and Sophie had children. Who will look after them now?

  I almost forgot. I tried a new food today. After I helped Stefan with his newspapers he asked if I would like a sandwich. I thought he meant something normal like lard or honey, but he handed me a slice of bread with something that looked like mud spread on top of it. It smelled like nuts. I nibbled at one corner. It tasted like nuts but it was gooey. He finished his whole sandwich before I even had a second bite.

  “It’s not going to kill you,” he said. Then he told me it was called peanut butter. Imagine, making butter out of peanuts!

  I took a big bite and almost choked! The taste is good, but it is so gooey that it sticks inside your throat. Stefan pounded me on the back and then he got me a glass of water. I finished the rest of the sandwich taking smaller bites.

  His mother bought peanut butter at the Empire Day sale. Neither of his parents likes it, so Stefan has been eating it for breakfast and lunch nearly every day.

  Stefan told me that I better not mention to my parents that I had been in his flat without his parents there. I felt my face go hot with embarrassment when he said that! I don’t think of Stefan as a boy. He’s just my friend.

  Tuesday, June 30, 1914

  Dear Diary, it is still raining a little bit and it’s cold outside. I don’t mind, really, because when it is hot outside, it is boiling hot in our flat.

  I can’t sleep because I keep on thinking that I need to get a job. I told Stefan about what happened at the clothing factory and he told me that it is the law that children can’t work until they’re fourteen. I told him he was wrong because there are definitely girls younger than me working there.

  He said that they must have brought a note from their parents.

  This doesn’t help me, though, because my parents don’t want me to work and they would not lie about my age. Besides, neither of them could write the letter in English.

  Speaking about Stefan, his fla
t is one half of a large room. There’s a cloth hung from a clothesline separating it from the other half of the room. I could hear someone snoring over there. Stefan said that his parents rent out the other side to a night shift worker. When his older brothers lived at home, they kept the whole flat, but it is too expensive for just the three of them. (So I guess I didn’t do anything bad by being in Stefan’s flat because we weren’t really alone, right?) His parents are hoping to save enough money to bring Stefan’s uncle and aunt over. One ticket is fifteen dollars and

  Before bed

  Sorry about that, Dear Diary. Baba let out a huge shriek and scared me. She was rolling out the pyrohy dough when a big black mouse ran up her skirt and onto the table. This is the first time I have seen one in broad daylight. You would never know Baba has a bad knee by the way she chased that poor thing around the room.

  Baba and I cleaned the flat from top to bottom but we couldn’t find the mouse. It is near dark now. Mykola is asleep but I keep thinking I can see mouse eyes.

  Oy, I almost forgot to tell you about the thing Stefan does to save money for his family. He walks along the railway track and picks up coal for the stove. I must try this.

  July 1914

  Wednesday, July 1, 1914

  Today is Dominion Day, which means it is Canada’s namesday. I only know that because there’s a sale at the store and they are calling it a Dominion Day sale. It doesn’t seem to be a holiday and there are no parades.

  When Tato came home from the chytalnya tonight, I finally got up the nerve to ask him if he would sign a letter stating that I was old enough to work. He didn’t say anything for a minute or so. Then he gathered me onto his knee like he used to when I was little. He buried his face in my hair and it almost sounded like he was crying. “My dear Anya,” he said. “Try to be a child for just a little bit longer.”