The chicken is all gone and our bread is stale, so Baba opened the jar of honey and spread each piece of stale bread with a spoonful. As we were eating, a bee flew in from the open window. It buzzed around and then landed on my bread. I am not afraid of bees. No one in my family is afraid of bees because my grandfather was a beekeeper.
I remember Dido’s strong arms wrapped around my waist when I was Mykola’s age. He smelled of smoke and honey. Dido would let the bees crawl all over him, but the only time he ever got stung was when they got caught in the hair on his arms. It makes me sad to think of going across the ocean and leaving Dido buried in Horoshova. At least Volodymyr is not alone. Mama says that their spirits will follow us to Canada. I hope she is right.
Monday, April 20, 1914
Finally, our ship is here!
I’m scared. I don’t want to go. All of the passengers are lining up with their baggage. The sailors load luggage and about six people at a time into a little boat and that takes us to the big boat. I have never been on any boat before. Oy!
Thursday, April 23, 1914
I haven’t written for a while because the contents of my stomach have been spewing all over the place. I’m feeling a little bit better today. Tato warned us it would take a few days to get our “sea legs.”
Right now, I am sitting inside a wooden compartment that is so small that I bump my head if I stand up. This is where Mykola, Mama, Baba and I sleep! There are two top shelves and two bottom shelves. I sleep on one of the top shelves, and Mykola wants to sleep on the other one, but Mama won’t let him. Baba is afraid to sleep on the other top one, so it stays empty. Mykola sleeps with Mama on a bottom shelf, and Baba sleeps on the one below mine.
Our ship looks glorious from the outside, but it is awful inside. It smells like an outhouse. We are at the very bottom of the ship. Someone told me that on the last trip, they had cows down here, and I believe it.
These wooden compartments are stacked on top of each other, so all night I have to listen to the groaning and snoring and gas passing of the people above me.
On the first night, I stuck my head out of my compartment for a bit of fresh air. Just at that moment, someone above me was sick to his stomach. The you-know-what landed right in my hair. It was horrible. Thank goodness Mama got up in the dark and got some sea water and helped me get clean. Sea water is not exactly nice smelling but compared to you-know-what, it is heavenly!
Tato had written Mama a letter explaining how bad the ship would be, and that’s why we brought the dried bread and water with us. We have been sipping our own water because the water on the ship is cloudy. Tato told us that when we run out of our own water, we are to boil the ship’s water before drinking it, and if we can’t do that, Mama is to put a little bit of the vodka into the water to make it fresher. He also told us not to eat the ship’s food. We are not tempted to eat it because it smells awful.
Everyone in steerage was given a metal plate and a knife and fork. A couple of times a day they announce that food is ready and people line up and get stuff slopped onto their plates. There is no table, so people have to take their plates back to their beds and balance them on their laps. When they’re done, they’re supposed to wash their own plates, but all there is to wash the plates is sea water. We aren’t hungry because the sea is so rocky. Also, it smells bad down here and that puts you off your food. I find that a bit of dry babka dipped in water can sometimes stay down on a sick stomach. A small spoonful of honey is nice too.
May 1914
Friday, May 1, 1914
our 11th day on the ship
We are doing better than most of the people in steerage. There is a mother and a baby and a girl my age in the compartment beside ours. They speak our language, but it sounds a bit different from ours. Mama says they are probably from Bukovyna, which is the crownland right beside Galicia. The baby has been sick since the first day. Part of the problem is that they’ve been drinking the water from the ship. We have so little of our own water left that we have been saving it for Mykola, but Mama brings cups of boiled ship water to the family when she can get it. It is so crowded in the steerage kitchen that it is not always possible.
The girl’s name is Irena, and her baby sister’s name is Olya.
Irena reminds me of Halyna. She has green eyes that sparkle when she smiles and her hair is the same light brown. Oy, I wish Halyna could be with me. The lilac she gave me is pressed and drying inside of my diary, and I look at it and sniff it when I feel sad. I am going to be so lonely in Canada. I thought maybe Irena would be coming to Montreal like us, but they’re going to a different part of Canada. Her father has a farm far far away from Montreal. I told her that my father has something even better — he has an important job in a modern factory and we have a grand house on Grand Trunk Street. I didn’t tell her the reason Tato could only go as far as Montreal in the first place is because his money was stolen as soon as he got off the ship!
Later
Irena brought beads also, and she has some fancy ones. We have decided to make each other a necklace. I am going to use black and red beads. Here is the pattern I am making for her:
Saturday, May 2, 1914
our 12th day on the ship
Irena and I explored. We took little Olya with us so Irena’s mother could sleep. Sometimes we take Mykola, but Mama says we can take either Olya or Mykola, but not both of them at the same time.
On the steerage deck, I can look out onto the ocean and breathe in cold salty air. People sit on the floor of the deck and lean against the wall or they stand at the railing and look down into the water. I don’t like to lean over the side because I am afraid of falling into the waves.
The two of us take turns carrying Olya and we walk up and down the deck. The breeze is fresh, and it is also good to stretch our legs.
One of the men from Bukovyna took out a reed pipe and started playing. The first song was a sad one, all about leaving Bukovyna behind, and I almost cried. One woman wailed and the man looked really upset, so he changed and started playing the bars of a kolomyika.
The woman stopped crying and the man sitting beside her got up. He clapped to the music, and then looked at his wife. “Let’s dance,” he said, but she stayed sitting. He looked around to see if anyone else would come up.
Irena passed Olya to me and then stepped forward.
With the grace of an angel, she swirled through a series of fancy dance movements. I wish I could dance like that!
After Irena finished, someone else stepped forward, and then another and another. It was all so much fun that even Olya’s baby hands were clapping in time to the music. Of all the days on the ship, this was the best!