Grandpa Sergei is attentive to all the little commotions in the village.
At night he came to a decision: “We won’t go to the church on Sunday. We’ll be on our way at midnight. Before we go, return the jug to Sonia.”
Grandpa Sergei makes sure to keep every promise he makes. If you promised to return the jug that night, you have to return it in time, so people won’t say: You can’t trust wanderers. Only when they’re in the woods, which everyone agrees are public property, does Grandpa Sergei allow him to pick cherries or currants.
Yanek loves the forest and the fruit that grows in it. He also loves the animals: the squirrels, the deer, the rabbits. They all have a cautious gait, with tense alertness. Sometimes he sits for a long time without moving in order to catch the silhouette of a deer. Sometimes a bluish green gaze peeks through a thicket: a wolf.
“Grandpa, why don’t we sleep in the woods? Is the forest dangerous because of the wolves?”
“The people who live in the forest are more dangerous than the wolves: robbers, murderers, people who hate mankind and God—their power is great in the forest. They kidnap people and demand a ransom. If they don’t get the ransom, they kill the hostages.”
Grandpa Sergei is a soldierly man. Before they set out, he thinks through every detail: where they’ll cross a stream and where the huts and shelters are located and where people who are liable to attack you are living. Once a tall and wild peasant emerged from a hut. Grandpa Sergei wrestled with him and subdued him. In the end the man pleaded, “Let me go,” and Grandpa let him go.
11
At midnight Grandpa Sergei woke up and roused Yanek. Yanek got up quickly, gathered up their belongings, and put them in their packs and in two bundles. Grandpa Sergei asked, “Is everything packed?”
“Packed,” answered Yanek with a single word. They left. The night was dark, but Yanek knew the way. After an hour and a half of walking, Grandpa Sergei asked, “Can you already see the first light?”
“You can see it, Grandpa.”
Grandpa Sergei pronounced the words “first light” in a special way, as if they didn’t refer to something inanimate but to a living creature he was seeing again.
After they put their packs and bundles down at the foot of a tree, Yanek went out to gather firewood. The darkness was still great, but Yanek knew how to walk in the darkness and find branches that were right for the fire.
Grandpa Sergei, as we’ve said, doesn’t talk a lot, especially not at night. But after Yanek poured tea for him and lit his pipe, Grandpa did speak, but not in his ordinary voice. He spoke to God and said, “Thank you, God, for guiding us until now. You have saved us from evil people, and I ask you to keep helping us. Many villages await us before autumn. Both men and women attack wanderers, and even children are happy to see them suffer. We do what we can, but we need your help. Without you, we have no one to guide us in these hostile expanses. Please, extend your kind hand to us.”
After that prayer, Grandpa Sergei sank into himself. Yanek remained seated where he was. The words that had left Grandpa Sergei’s mouth kept reverberating and slowly sank into the silence of the night.
Grandpa Sergei was a commander in all his limbs. Even when he addressed God, his highest commander, he didn’t grovel. Yanek had already heard Grandpa Sergei pray several times, and every time he was amazed by his direct stance, as though he were not speaking to the God of the whole world, but to the God whom Grandpa Sergei knew very well, at whose side he had fought battles.
More than once he had told Yanek, “God sent us here to learn people’s ways and so that we can distinguish between good and evil, between servants of God and those hypocrites who just pretend. All our wanderings are study. God has us meet with devoted people and with the hard-hearted. We have to cling to the beautiful and the good and condemn the ugly and the evil.”
Meanwhile Yanek sliced the bread and cheese, added a few vegetables, and placed them on the cloth, saying, “Grandpa Sergei, I invite you to supper.”
“Thank you, Yanek, there’s no one like you!”
Grandpa Sergei tasted the food and said, “The bread is baked well, so it’s tasty. Your grandfather, Yanek, said a blessing for all his food, and that’s the right thing to do. To eat and drink without a blessing isn’t proper.”
“Grandpa, are you a religious Christian?” Yanek dared to ask.
“Once I was. Since they stopped allowing me to enter the church, I’ve been praying in my own way.”
“Grandpa, do you know the Jewish way of life?”
“I lived among Jews for many years. Your grandfather and grandmother obeyed the commandments. Your grandfather rose early for prayers, and when he returned from the synagogue your grandmother would serve him two slices of bread spread with butter and a cup of coffee. They were modest people and helped others in secret. Your father and mother don’t obey the laws of the religion, but they inherited your grandparents’ modesty, and they also help people.”
“Why don’t my father and mother keep the laws of the religion?” Yanek wondered.
“They serve God in their way. You can serve God in many ways. Helping needy people is an important commandment. It might seem that greeting people pleasantly is not such an important commandment, but that’s not true. A man or woman who greets you warmly not only lights up the moment for you, but the whole day.”
The night went on. The campfire gave off pleasant warmth. Yanek gave Grandpa another cup of tea and lit another pipe for him. Now Grandpa Sergei will squeeze his eyelids closed and begin his worship of God.
Once Yanek was expecting his father to come and save him from this life in nature. Now he no longer hopes for miracles. Now he loves traveling with Grandpa Sergei and camping under the familiar trees, the cold water he draws from wells or streams, and the silent sitting with Grandpa Sergei toward evening.
During the first months he was shy and didn’t know what to say, what to ask. Grandpa Sergei’s silences frightened him. Now there was a reason for everything he did. He was glad to follow Grandpa Sergei’s instructions. But what he liked best was the training. He enjoyed training. Sometimes it seemed to him that his soul was growing within his body.
12
They reach the village called Nikolaiev in the morning. Right away they settle in a little grove near the village. Yanek remembers the village very well from their earlier visit. It’s different from the others. The houses are small and well maintained and decorated with lilac bushes. Not only that: the villagers don’t mistreat wanderers.
A soldier who served in Grandpa Sergei’s unit lives in the village. His name is Kiril. They visited him the last time, and he had greeted them warmly, invited them into his house, and called Grandpa Sergei “my commander.” After months of wandering, a ceiling covered their heads, and they sat at a table, on chairs.
“How’s life,” their host asked.
Grandpa responded without delay, “Thank God, God nourishes His creatures, and He has not forgotten us either.”
“Were people generous with you?”
“We won’t speak ill of His creatures,” Grandpa Sergei answered.
Their host hadn’t expected that answer.
After he recovered his wits, he said, “Excuse me, my commander, there are good people who deserve to be honored and bad people who should be condemned. Not everyone is worthy of God’s grace.”
“Leave that be,” answered Grandpa Sergei, trying not to argue.
Kiril’s wife lay in the bedroom. For years she’d been sick. She didn’t speak or open her eyes. She slept most of the time.
Grandpa Sergei hadn’t asked about her illness or what the doctors said. If their host wanted to tell him, he would listen to his words. And Kiril did tell: “I feed her three times a day, wash her, and pray to God to restore her to life.”
After eating, Grandpa Sergei and Kiril reminisced about their time in the army, and Kiril made a bundle of supplies for them and wished them a successful journey and blessings fro
m God.
This time they didn’t go straight to Kiril’s house. They settled under a tree. Yanek rushed to gather firewood and make a fire. Before long the kettle on the coals was boiling. He immediately made a cup of strong tea for Grandpa Sergei and placed it in his hands.
“My friend,” Grandpa Sergei addressed Yanek, “could you light my pipe for me?”
“Right away.”
“Tea without a pipe is like a woman without a husband.”
Yanek understood the comparison and laughed.
The morning was fine, and people had risen early to go to the fields. Yanek tried to find the right words to tell Grandpa Sergei about what was happening in the village, but he had no words in his mouth.
“Did they all come out, the women and children, too?” Grandpa Sergei asks.
“The women and children, too.”
“That’s a sign that the harvest day has come, when everyone goes out together.”
Without delay Yanek went to Olga’s house, which was on the edge of the village, near the river. Luckily for him, she hadn’t gone out to the harvest with the rest of her family.
“My name is Yanek,” he introduced himself.
“I remember you. I’ll give you what I gave last time.”
“I only have forty marks,” said Yanek.
“No matter. I’ll give you a little less.”
In a short time she brought a basket full of vegetables and potatoes, a hunk of cheese, a jug of milk, and a loaf of bread.
“You gave me more than last time,” said Yanek.
“I’m allowed to be generous sometimes,” Olga said, and they both laughed.
Grandpa heard about Olga’s pleasant welcome and said, “God is merciful to us.”
Yanek spread the cloth on the ground and prepared the meal.
After praising the bread, the cheese, and the vegetables, Grandpa added that this meal reminded him of other meals in the field. In the army, after a day of training, or after climbing mountains, the bread and cheese were especially tasty. The army prepares a young man for the proper way of life. Physical training is always good, but aside from that, the friendships that are formed in the army are friendships forever.
When Grandpa Sergei speaks about his military service, his eyelids tremble, and he is completely given over to those years.
After the meal, Grandpa Sergei sank into his thoughts and in puffing on his pipe. Yanek sat in his place and saw his home, coming from school, his mother standing on the threshold and waiting for him to come, so she could hug him.
Yanek has happy news. He got “excellent” on his mathematics test. His father comes home from the lumberyard and the happy news widens his eyes. The table is set for lunch. They sit in their regular places. His father says, “Enjoy the meal,” and they start to eat.
Now Yanek clearly sees his mother’s hands serving soup with a ladle.
Many months have passed since Yank began wandering with Grandpa Sergei. The apprehensions and fears that paralyzed him at first have long since disappeared. Now he runs as if gliding.
Suddenly Grandpa Sergei was roused from his thoughts and asked, “Yanek, what are you thinking about?”
“About my home, about Mother and Father.”
“It’s good that you’re thinking about them. Thoughts attach us to the people we love.”
“Can they tell we’re thinking about them?” Yanek asked.
“I’m sure they can,” said Grandpa Sergei.
The words “I’m sure” were so full that they brought tears to Yanek’s eyes.
13
The next morning they slept later than usual. When Grandpa Sergei woke up, Yanek handed him a pitcher of water, so he could wash his hands and face.
Saturdays in the village are different from the other days. Housewives cook and bake for Sunday. The men clean and organize their tools in the storehouse, curry the horses, talk with the neighbors about the harvest and other seasonal matters.
After they ate breakfast and Grandpa silently recited blessings, they went to visit Kiril, Grandpa’s soldier. Even in this quiet, decent village of Nikolaiev, where people don’t attack homeless people, they aren’t pleased to have wanderers drag their bundles along the main street.
When they get close to Kiril’s house, Yanek sees immediately: the house is not as it was. Grandpa Sergei stops and listens, asking, “Are the shutters closed?”
“Closed,” Yanek answers.
They approach the door, and Grandpa Sergei knocks.
“Come in,” says a voice from inside. Kiril is sitting on a wicker chair. His face is gray, and his beard is white. His wife, whom he cared for for many years, has passed away.
Kiril, seeing his commander, says softly, “My wife Magda has departed. She didn’t speak in the last years. Her eyes were closed, but I believed she heard me and understood. We were together for many years. We had no children, but I loved her, and she loved me. We did everything together, in the field and at home. In her last days I promised her that we would be together in the next world, too, just as we were here. She suddenly opened her eyes wide, looked at me, and, without saying anything, she returned her soul to her Maker.”
Grandpa Sergei stood there, stunned. His friend’s sorrow made him mute.
At last he recovered and said, “Kiril, my friend, God is with you even in this hard time. You mustn’t despair. I, too, when I went blind, I was sure that God had parted from me. I was wrong. True, He took the light of my eyes from me. God tests us. The way he tested the Patriarchs, but we have learned that it is forbidden to despair. Despair is darkness. It keeps us away from God.”
“What can I do?” Kiril murmured, and burst into tears. Grandpa Sergei didn’t restrain himself either, and he cried, but he managed to overcome his sobbing and said to his soldier, “You loved Magda, and Magda loved you. That’s a precious treasure to console you.”
“Now I have no one to love. I have no children. My parents passed away years ago. My sister, whom I also loved, has also departed. Everyone has passed away. I’ve been left alone.”
“Kiril,” Grandpa raised his voice, “you’re not alone. God dwells within you.”
Upon hearing Grandpa Sergei’s voice, Kiril stopped crying. He covered his eyes with both hands and said nothing more.
They were silent for a long while.
Then Kiril recovered and said, “Forgive me, sir. I would like to give you something for the road, but I have nothing. Since Magda’s death, I haven’t been working in the field or the courtyard. I sit in the wicker chair most of the day. It’s the chair Magda liked to sit in.”
“Thank God for guiding me to you. I, too, am unable to help you. I’ll pray to God to bring a cure to your sorrow,” said Grandpa Sergei.
“Who’s the boy?” Kiril woke up and asked, forgetting the time before.
“A boy I adopted. He guides me from place to place and buys food for us.”
“A handsome boy.”
“He’s not only handsome, he’s also disciplined and helps me cross fields and streams. Without Yanek, I’d be like a stone.”
“May God preserve you,” said Kiril.
“And you, too.”
Before they parted, Kiril gave him a quarter of a sack of cornmeal and said, “So you can cook a warm meal at night.”
Grandpa Sergei promised to come and visit him in another four or five months.
They returned to their camp under the tree.
That evening Grandpa Sergei didn’t utter a word. Kiril’s face didn’t leave Yanek’s eyes. It seemed to him that most of Kiril’s body had departed for the next world with his wife Magda, and the little that was left of him could hardly move.
Meanwhile Yanek prepared bread, cheese, and vegetables, and they sat and ate. Yanek expected Grandpa Sergei to tell him something about Kiril, but Grandpa didn’t say a word. In the end he said, “God ordered us to live the lives He allotted to us. Not everything goes smoothly in a person’s life. But you mustn’t sink into sadness. S
adness lowers us to the underworld. We have to obey God’s command: to keep living even if we’re harmed. You don’t second-guess a commander’s order. You obey it. A commander’s order is always an order.”
When they first began to wander, Yanek didn’t understand most of what Grandpa Sergei said. His words sounded like secrets to him, which only his soldiers, whom he had trained, and with whom he eventually went out on missions, could understand. But gradually he learned to share in his thinking: it was thinking that never forgets for a moment that God is a God of justice, and that everyone who seeks justice—God is with them. Injustice darkens the world.
At first Yanek pictured injustice to himself like an overcast day that darkens the world and shortens the breath. Now Yanek knows: injustice is God’s enemy. Grandpa Sergei fights it openly and in secret.
14
That night Grandpa Sergei went to sleep early. Yanek stayed awake and watched the sunset, and at the same time he saw his classmates. He didn’t try to stand out, but nevertheless he did stand out, in his height and in his knowledge. Some schoolmates admired and liked him, but others mistreated him.
His great love in the last year was Christina. She was not only pretty but also full of little charming things. She sat in the first row, and Yanek sat in the second, behind her. He could see every movement of her face. Christina also liked him. But she was apparently shyer than he was. Every time they met, they would run away from each other.
On his last day of school he took courage and approached Christina, saying to her, “Today’s my last day in school. I want to say goodbye to you and to wish you success in your studies.”
“Why are you leaving us?”
“Jewish children aren’t allowed to go to school.”
“Why?” she asked, and her lips were pursed.
“Because they’re Jews.”
“That’s grossly unfair,” she said, and suddenly the determination of a girl who stands her ground appeared on her pretty face.
Long Summer Nights Page 4
