Prisoners in the Promised Land

by Marsha Forchuk Skrypuch

  Baba must have been planning for weeks. We set an extra plate so that the spirits of Volodymyr and Dido could join us. I think perhaps they should stay in heaven right now though because it is so cold here. Then again, they could enjoy Baba’s cooking! This is a very late night and I must be at work tomorrow, even though it is Rizdvo, our Christmas Day. Good night, Dear Diary, and Veselykh Svyat — or Happy Holidays!

  Thursday, January 7, 1915

  Rizdvo, late at night

  This is the worst Christmas ever. I didn’t mind working on Rizdvo, truly I didn’t. We need the money. But when I got home I found Mama in tears. She has been fired. Mrs. Haggarty did not want to fire her. She is a fine woman and she even sent a package of food home with Mama today. Mrs. Haggarty said it was for Mama’s “own good” that she not work for her just now, but said as soon as the war is over she can have her old job back.

  I am so angry. Doesn’t Mrs. Haggarty know that we depend on Mama’s pay? Oy, how shall we live now?

  Saturday, January 9, 1915

  My hands are sore and every day is the same. Nothing new to write about.

  Wednesday, January 20, 1915, after work

  It has happened. Our rent was due on January 15th. We paid as much as we could, but the landlord is kicking us out if we cannot pay the rest by the end of the week.

  Thursday, January 21, 1915

  Mama came with me to work today. I thought maybe they would hire her, but they say she is too old. She held her head high, but I could see the tears in her eyes. How will we manage? What is going to happen to us?

  Saturday, January 23, 1915

  I have only a few minutes to write, because we are packing!

  The landlord came today and told us we had to be out of the flat by midnight. It doesn’t matter to him that there is a blizzard outside. We must be out. Where shall we go? I am so scared!

  Sunday, January 24, 1915, at Stefan’s

  Thank goodness for Stefan and his parents. The person who was renting the other half of their flat has been arrested. Mr. Pemlych has lost his job too, and they were having trouble paying their rent. They have rented the other half of their flat to us. Between my job, Stefan’s, and what Mrs. Pemlych earns, we have enough to cover the rent. There is very little left over for food.

  Monday, January 25, 1915

  at dawn at Stefan’s

  I know that it is awful for me to say, but I am almost glad that the Pemylchs’ boarder was arrested. Where could we go if he was still living here?

  Friday, January 29, 1915

  I have been too sad and too cold to write. Besides, the days seem just the same.

  Monday, February 8, 1915

  Tato and I had words today. He said that he was going to stand in the soup line. I told him that people who go to the soup line might get arrested. He didn’t believe me, Dear Diary! I am so worried about him! We still have a few potatoes and a quarter barrel of flour. Mykola can still get free milk. I know it’s not very much food, but I would rather go hungry than risk having Tato get arrested.

  Wednesday, February 10, 1915

  My namesday: I am now thirteen.

  At lunchtime today, Mary and the other girls sang “Mnohaya Lita,” or “Many Years,” which was very nice. Mama and Baba made a small batch of potato pyrohy and our family and the Pemlychs all ate together. What really surprised me is that Mykola made a picture for me at school today as a present. It is pinned to the sheet that separates our part of the flat from the Pemlychs’ part. He drew me a picture of our old cottage in Horoshova. Stefan made a poem for me. Here it is:

  Roses are red

  Violets are blue

  Sugar is sweet

  And so are you

  Thursday, February 11, 1915

  Stefan didn’t make up that poem. Mary told me it is an old Canadian poem. I still like it, though!

  Friday, February 12, 1915

  Today it is almost warm. Maybe Tato was right about the soup kitchen. He and Mr. Pemlych have said that they see the same people there every day and no one has been arrested. Maybe the rumours were wrong.

  Later

  Mykola is doing well at school. He brought home an arithmetic test that he got 100% on! Tato hung it up on the sheet beside the picture. I am pleased for my brother but I am also jealous. I wish I was still going to school so that Tato could be proud of me too.

  Monday, February 15, 1915

  This is a terrible day. Tato has been arrested and so has Mr. Pemlych. They are being held at the Immigration Building. Baba says that Mama and Mrs. Pemlych have gone to the Immigration Building to see what they can do to bring the men home.

  Later

  at the Pemlych flat, wrapped in my comforter

  All I can do right now is wait. Here is what happened.

  I knew something was wrong as soon as I finished work, because Tato wasn’t there waiting for me. At first I thought he was just late so I told Mary and the other girls not to wait for me and I stood just inside the doorway and waited. And waited. And waited. After about twenty minutes the boss gave me the eye so I waited outside.

  I was worried about Tato by that time, but I was also worried about myself. It’s dangerous enough walking home by myself, but can you imagine if I walked home in the dark? So before it got dark, I decided I had to leave.

  About half a block from the factory, Stefan came running up the street to walk me home. He came to meet me as soon as he heard what happened to our fathers. Things are very bad for us, but I am thankful that I have a true friend in Stefan.

  Someone is at the door.

  Later

  Mama is back from the Immigration Building. She says the arrests were for “loitering.” That means standing in the street when you don’t have a job. What I don’t understand is where are you supposed to stand if you don’t have a job?

  Thursday, February 18, 1915

  Oy, Dear Diary, I asked Mama to take me to the Immigration Building to see Tato, but she said not this time. She and Mrs. Pemlych went together. I wrote a note and drew a picture for Tato and Mama took that with her. When she came back, her eyes were rimmed with red. She said that she was tired and went straight to bed. I knew she wasn’t really tired, Dear Diary — she was sad. I could her the muffled sound of her sobbing.

  Later

  Mama says that Tato may be sent away but she doesn’t understand where. Oy, Dear Diary, I am so worried!

  Wednesday, February 24, 1915

  Stefan has been arrested. Must go.

  Friday, February 26, 1915

  Why does Canada hate us so much? How could they arrest Stefan when he is not even a man? Even though he has grown tall very quickly, he still has the face of a child. It seems that any Ukrainian male who stands on a street corner gets put into jail. I thought Canada was a land of freedom. This makes me sad and scared.

  Tuesday, March 2, 1915

  Mama and I visited Tato yesterday. It was so crowded that it was hard to speak to him. His eyes have a blank look, like he can’t believe what is happening. He tries to make us feel better, though, and he doesn’t complain. He even made a joke, saying at least they feed him. He and Stefan and Mr. Pemlych are all in the same big room with many other men. I noticed that Stefan’s hands were clenched into fists and he has a scowl on his face. On the way out, Private Howard Smythe bumped hard into my shoulder as if it was a mistake, but I know he did it on purpose.

  Thursday, March 4, 1915

  Since Stefan has been arrested, there is no one to walk me home. Mary and Natalka and the other girls are in the same situation, so we have started to meet up and walk together before and after work. I still have to walk half a block by myself and that is very bad. I am learning new words but they are not ones that I would ever repeat! We all go to the market together too.

  Friday, March 5, 1915

  Oy, Dear Diary, it gets worse and worse. In today’s paper it says that the war is being fought right in Galicia and that the Austrians have lost twenty-five battles in a
row. Who can still be alive in my homeland? It must all be in ashes now. You should see the look in people’s eyes as they pass me. In Canada we are despised and in the old country we are dead. I am so sad.

  Monday, March 8, 1915

  Every day is the same. My heart is wrapped in sadness.

  Monday, March 15, 1915

  It says in the paper that the Allies think the war may be over in three weeks. I am praying that this is true. I want Tato to come home!

  Thursday, March 18, 1915, after supper

  Oy, Dear Diary, in today’s paper it is all about the Russians who are winning battles in Galicia. Also, I just got a letter from Irena. It is no better for her. Here is her letter pasted in below:

  Hairy Hill,

  Alberta, Canada

  Tuesday, March 2, 1915

  Dear Anya,

  I can barely write this letter because I am so sad. Our neighbour Yurij Feschuk has been arrested! Here is what happened.

  Father and our neighbour went to town to get their papers stamped. They stamped Father’s, but then refused to stamp Yurij Feschuk’s. Instead, they handcuffed him and took him away. Father found out that he has been taken to a work camp just outside of Jasper, Alberta. Anya, this is just not right! Our neighbour did nothing wrong!

  Father was afraid that they were going to arrest him too, but they didn’t. Father went to Feschuk’s homestead and closed it up to protect it from the weather. He brought his cow and horse to our place. After all, who would feed them? Anya, I am so sad about Yurij Feschuk, but having milk is nice. It is also good to have the horse.

  Mama is upset and scared. She fears that they will take Father next.

  Your dear friend,

  Irena

  Oy, Dear Diary, that is terrible about Irena’s neighbour, but I hope you don’t think I am awful if I admit that I’m glad that it wasn’t Irena’s father who got taken away.

  Saturday, March 20, 1915

  Dear Diary, every time I think it can’t get worse, it does. Ten Canadians have been killed in battle and three Allied warships have sunk. Canadians are angry as bees and they are taking it out on us. Tato, Stefan and Mr. Pemlych have all been sent to northern Quebec. I heard that it is very cold up there and that there are wild animals that eat people. What did we do to deserve this? Didn’t they ask us to come here in the first place? If the Canadian government didn’t want us, why did they encourage us to come?

  Sunday, March 21, 1915, Easter

  A man sent by the Austrian consulate was waiting by the door of our flat today when we came back from Mass. He was kind, but I could see from the look in his eyes that he doesn’t think our living arrangement is very nice. Baba, Mrs. Pemlych and Mama keep it as clean as they can, but it is difficult when it was so dirty to begin with. We did not have rats in Horoshova. We have killed every single one we have seen, but there are always more. It embarrasses me to see this man’s eyes judging us. Doesn’t he know we would have a nicer place if we could afford it? And how can we afford it when they have taken our men away and no one will hire Mama?

  Thursday, March 25, 1915

  The headline today was all about the great battle raging in the Carpathian mountains and also that Canada is going to spend one hundred million dollars for the war.

  One thing I wonder

  If Germany and Austria are the enemies, why aren’t the battles happening there? Why is it that all of the battles seem to be taking place in Galicia? After the war, Germany and Austria will be fine, but Galicia will be destroyed. I have done nothing to hurt anyone in my whole life. I know it is the same for Tato and Mama and Baba and Dido and Volodymyr too. All we have ever wanted is to have enough food and to live in peace. Is there something wrong with that??????

  Sunday, March 28, 1915

  Dear Diary, this man sent by the consulate, Mr. Foster, is kind. He brought us food and he told our landlord that if we were evicted, he would set the Health Department on him. I didn’t understand what that meant, but he said that it is against the law for landlords to rent out flats that have rats and no hot water. The Health Department is like the health police, so if we are kicked out of this flat, our landlord will be in big trouble. This is a relief.

  Mr. Foster says that Tato is in a good place. He says that the men work on farms without fences. It is clean and healthy living, and there is plenty of food. He said that as soon as there is a house built for us, we will go there too.

  Dear Diary, I really want to believe Mr. Foster, but I don’t know if he is telling the truth. Also, Irena makes it sound like her neighbour who was arrested is in a jail. Can both things be true?

  Tuesday, March 30, 1915

  The Canadians are even angrier today and I don’t blame them. In the newspaper it said that German submarines torpedoed two British steamers. These were not war steamers. There were women and children on them. They say that the Germans laughed as the women drowned.

  It makes me angry, too, that the Germans would do this, but why do Canadians think that all foreigners are bad?

  April 1915

  Sunday, April 4, 1915, at night

  Mr. Foster did not come today. I think it is because it is Canadian Easter.

  Tuesday, April 6, 1915

  The newspaper headlines today are not about Eastern Europe. I am praying that the reason is because the war has moved to someplace else. It is not that I want anyone else to suffer, but my old country needs a rest. Also, when there is a story that mentions anywhere in Eastern Europe, that day is worse for us here.

  P.S. — in case you think I am buying all these newspapers, Dear Diary, you are wrong. Most of the time there is a day-old copy left lying around by one of the supervisors at work and I read it whenever I can.

  Sunday, April 11, 1915

  The time has come. Mr. Foster says that there are houses built for us and in a week or so we will get on a train and travel way up north to the camp where Tato is. Mr. Foster says it is called Spirit Lake Internment Camp. I asked him if “internment” means jail and he says no. He says it means a place to keep us safe.

  He told us that Spirit Lake got its name because of an Indian legend that a huge star appeared over the lake. This star is the Indian spirit of God. I hope that Mr. Foster is telling us the truth. Maybe God is looking over Tato now and will soon be looking over us.

  Tuesday, April 13, 1915

  Mary says that “internment” means something different from what Mr. Foster told us. She said that it is definitely a kind of jail. This makes me worried. Are Tato and Stefan and Mr. Pemlych in a jail right now? Are we going to be sent to a jail too?

  Saturday, April 17, 1915

  Even if “internment” means jail, I would rather be in jail with Tato than be here without him.

  When Mr. Foster came today, Mama told him that we would not go. She said we have done nothing wrong and we do not deserve to go to jail. She asked him why weren’t they arresting the people who call us names? Why don’t they do something about the bosses who fire us just because of where we were born?

  Mr. Foster just sat there and shook his head. “You have no choice,” he said. “All ninety-two people from your parish are getting on the train tomorrow to go to Spirit Lake Internment Camp.”

  Later

  Maureen came to see me this evening. She gave me the carved wooden table and chair set from her dollhouse. Her eyes were round with sadness but she did not cry. I wanted to give her something in exchange. Mama stopped her packing and drew out an embroidered belt that she had made for her hope chest when she was my age.

  Maureen’s mouth made a little O of surprise when I gave her the embroidery. She hugged it to her chest and blinked back tears. I may never see her again, but every time I look at my wee table and chairs I shall think of her. I hugged her tight and even though I wanted to cry, I didn’t.

  Mama made a nest for Maureen’s gift inside our wooden chest so it wouldn’t break. She also carefully packed the dolls that Tato made for us.

  Monday, Apr
il 19, 1915

  Dear Diary, first the good news: Slava is safe. She has been in a home for orphans, but Mr. Foster found her.

  Right now I am sitting in a train that is travelling north into the wilds of Quebec. Mykola is sitting beside me. He is quietly pulling off chunks of bread from a bun that one of the officers has given him. He is putting each bit into his mouth and savouring it. He reminds me of a bird.

  Beside Mykola is Slava. She is eating her own bun and looking out the window.

  This train is not like the one we took from Chernivtsi to Hamburg, where we sat on our trunks in the gloomy darkness of the railway cars. In this one there are big windows and comfortable benches. Baba and Mama sit in front of us, but they face away from us. Mama keeps on turning around to make sure we are still here. She shouldn’t be worried, because although the train is packed full, these people are not strangers. Besides, where would we go?

  The motion lulls me into thinking that we are travelling back home, to our dear Horoshova, but then I remember where we are really going and it frightens me. The train rumbles, but I have taken my coat off and made a table for you, Dear Diary, on my lap, so that I can write neatly.

  At least we will be with Tato again.

  When I look out the window, I see the most beautiful sights. The rocks here are a deep brown grey and the way they’re cut at sharp angles makes me think that God was angry one day and kicked them so hard that they shattered. The lakes still have big chunks of pale blue ice floating in them and the water itself is a deep dark blue. I have never seen water like this. On top of the sharp dark rocks is snow, and there are fir trees with huge ragged boughs. Every once in a while I see a deer or moose. I have tried to point them out to Mykola but by the time he sets his bun down to look, we have passed them.

  Afternoon, still on the train

  You know, Dear Diary, I have not embroidered since leaving our village, and that makes me sad. If we still lived in Horoshova, I would have made more than simple pillowcases and duvet covers for my hope chest by now. Maybe I would even be betrothed. But my hands were so sore while working at the factory that I couldn’t bear to embroider things for my hope chest.