The streets in Hamburg are paved with cobblestones and the houses are crowded together like in Canada. There are so many people in the streets from so many different places that it’s enough to make my head spin. I guess they’re all waiting for ships.
Early Saturday morning, April 18, 1914
still waiting for the ship!
Here it is, Easter Saturday and we are far from home and far from Tato. Mama has never missed Sunday Mass in her life. What shall we do tomorrow? Easter isn’t just any old Sunday! I wonder if Tato realized when he got our tickets that we would be travelling during Easter?
Later
In Hamburg, they deliver the milk by hitching wagons to huge dogs. It looks so funny!
Later
We have enough to eat as long as we don’t have to stay in Hamburg too long. Before we left, Baba roasted our two chickens and packed them in a cloth with cheese and fresh babka and a jar of cider. We have to eat this before it goes bad. It is what we have been eating since we got to Hamburg. We’re just about out, though, and I know that Mama doesn’t want us to start on the dried bread because we’ll need that for our trip.
Yesterday afternoon, I went with Mama to see if we could find an inexpensive place close by to buy fresh food in case we run out. Our kronen are not lasting long. We do have some Canadian money, but we can’t spend it because Tato told us they only let people into the country if they can show that they have money. I hope the ship
Later
Mama came in earlier and told me to put my pencil and diary down because she needed me to help her with Mykola. He was cranky and Mama was afraid he was going to get sick again. She was up all night with him. I would love to take him out for some fresh air, but we don’t want to go outside too much. You see, Dear Diary, Tato has warned us to keep out of sight while waiting for the ship. He said that since we have no men here to protect us, we could be robbed! From the window, at least, this looks like an interesting place.
Mama set out a bit of our fresh food for lunch. Mykola is now taking a nap and Mama asked me to stay with him and not be noisy. She said writing in my diary would be the perfect thing while she and Baba talked. I want to write down everything about leaving Horoshova so I don’t forget.
On the day that we left, our neighbours gathered in front of the house to wish us goodbye. Halyna was there and she was holding Volodymyr’s tsymbaly. I knew that it was the last time I would see her, and the last time I would see the tsymbaly and I almost started to cry. Roxolana was there too, and even Danylo came. Only Bohdan didn’t come, and I hate him anyway. I can’t believe I’ll never see any of my friends again.
I got onto the wagon and then helped Baba up. Halyna reached up to me and gave me a sprig of lilac. I held it to my nose and breathed in the beautiful scent. Every time I touch it, I remember Halyna, and my brother, and home.
When the wagon pulled out of our yard, the church bells began to ring. All of our neighbours were crying. I kept my eyes straight ahead and thought of lilacs.
Manuschak the blacksmith took us to the train station in Chernivtsi and I watched the countryside roll by. I wanted to remember every detaiclass="underline"
— the rolling hills and our dear Dnister River
— the cherry trees in sweet full bloom
— an old kerchiefed baba walking her cow on a rope
— a stork’s nest in a tree in the middle of the road
— the forest in all shades of green and a blanket of wildflowers on the ground
— the church and the churchyard, where my dido and Volodymyr are buried
Horoshova is such a beautiful place. Why are we leaving?
But —
There’s the lord, and the army, and the priest, and our debt. Mama said that the lord had us so far in debt that my great-great-great-great-grandson would have still been in debt if we hadn’t sold everything to pay it off.
Tato says that everyone is equal in Canada. Don’t they have lords?
When we waved goodbye to Manuschak at the train station, Baba started wailing. As the cart pulled away, she even took a step as if to follow him, but Mama wrapped her arms around Baba’s shoulders and said, “It will be fine, Mama. Everything will be fine.”
It’s hard to think of Baba as being my own Mama’s mother because sometimes she acts more childish than I do. Dear Diary, I feel like crying too, and if I thought I could go home again, I would have followed Manuschak’s cart to the end of the earth.
As the train pulled away from the station, I watched my dear homeland fly past me. Chernivtsi is such a beautiful city with modern buildings and many people, and maybe if we were there for a visit I would have enjoyed seeing it, but all I could think of was how sad I was to be leaving home. The train kept on going for two days. We passed huge mountains capped with snow, and villages that reminded me of Horoshova. We saw towns with tile-roofed houses, paved roads, and even big cities with fancy buildings that looked like something out of a book! When we crossed the border, I wouldn’t even have known that we were in Germany if it hadn’t been for the official who came onto the train to check our papers.
Easter Sunday, April 19, 1914
still in Hamburg
Mama said we had to find a church. This is a problem, because Tato told us not to leave the rooming house unless we had to.
Fortunately, we found a church close to the rooming house. It was a grey stone building that was so tall and pointy that it looked like it could pierce a cloud. Mama shooed us in. People were sitting on long benches. I have never seen people sitting in a church. It seems sinful. I wanted to leave right away, but Mama made us stand at the back, even though the priest was speaking in another language. Suddenly, everyone stood up, and then there was a booming sound above us. Baba screamed and ran out the door. Mama followed her. I stood there, too afraid to move. Mykola held onto my hand and he didn’t move either. I realized that the booming sound was actually nice to listen to. It was some sort of musical instrument. The people in front of us all began to sing.
I wonder what the people did special for Easter? No one in the church had Easter baskets and I didn’t see a single pysanka. How can there be Easter without written eggs?
When we walked back to the rooming house, Baba said that that church was the place of the devil. They didn’t seem to know about Easter at all, and only human voices are supposed to sing to God. As for the devil, how does Baba know? And as for Easter, maybe they celebrate it by playing musical instruments in church. I thought the music was nice. Besides, in our church at home Lysiak’s wife sings so out of tune I bet God covers his ears when he hears her.
It makes me sad not to be in Horoshova for Easter. I wonder which girl brought the nicest basket? I hope it was Halyna.
When we got back from church, Baba set out the last of our food and she also had a surprise for us. She gave Mykola and me each a krashanka! I wonder when she boiled and dyed these? She must have made them before we left. My egg was red and Mykola’s was yellow. In case you don’t know, Dear Diary, making krashanky is not very hard. It is just dyeing a boiled egg to make it pretty. A pysanka is a different matter. They are hard to make and my baba makes the most beautiful pysanky in all of Horoshova. Pysanky are raw and not meant to be eaten — they are given to friends and family for good luck. They have all sorts of colours and fancy designs on them. This is the first year that Baba hasn’t made any. When I am older Baba says she will teach me how.