Lesia's Dream

by Laura Langston

  “God has many tapestries,” Mama told me, “and they are all beautiful.” I thought of Baba saying the bees do not care if the flower is open only a little. They make do.

  In my head, I made that prairie pretty. I saw rainbows sparkling in the melting snow. I saw food growing in the rich, brown soil… creeks swelling with a melt that would be our water … birds in thickets that would provide us with song. On distant hills, I saw green grass and tiny purple flowers and trees about to burst into leaf. I saw hope.

  And soon I was in love. The prairie would give us land and food and dignity. A beautiful tapestry or a plain quilt, it did not matter. That prairie rolled and waved and dipped. It was endless. Boundless. Sun-kissed. Full of promise.

  Just as we were.

  April 22,1914

  Winnipeg, Manitoba

  Canada was noisy and confusing!

  Horses and buggies moved briskly past imposing brick buildings. Windows held goods Lesia didn’t even recognize. Crowds of people milled about, immigrants as well as townsfolk. As the Magus family threaded its way down the sidewalk to the immigration hall, the smell of bread and fried onions floated out a doorway. Lesia’s stomach growled. Bozhe, she was hungry! She hadn’t eaten in almost two days.

  “Dirty bohunks.”

  “Filthy peasant scum.”

  “Ignorant foreigners.”

  The English words made no sense, but that didn’t stop Lesia from staring at the people who spoke. The men were clean-shaven and wore fine, dark coats, matching pants and impossibly tall hats. The women looked like fancy birds with their long, sweeping skirts, fitted white blouses and high, tittering voices.

  “Dishonest and ill-mannered. They live ten to a room.” A young girl giggled and pointed.

  Lesia was suddenly ashamed of her dirty woollen skirt, her kerchief, the loose hemp blouse with its detailed embroidery.

  “Stupid farmers.They can’t even read.”

  Ivan scowled. He had a gift for languages; he was proud of the English he’d picked up on the ship.

  “What are they saying?” she whispered as they went inside.

  After making sure Mama and Sonia couldn’t hear, Ivan said quiedy, “That we are stupid and dirty and ignorant. That we are dishonest.”

  Lesia was shocked. She could have stayed at home and been ridiculed by Michal Stryk and the rest of the Polish nobility. “But I thought everyone was welcome in Canada.”

  “So did I until I boarded the train and I heard the truth.” Ivan’s eyes flashed in anger. “The British are welcome and so are the Northern Europeans, but they call us the unpreferred Continentals.”

  “But why?” Lesia asked.

  Ivan shrugged. “Why do people hate? Some questions have no answers.”

  Papa overheard them. “Things will be different when we’re with our own people in the Interlake,” he said.

  The official behind the long granite counter took one look at them and waved another man over. The man greeted them in familiar Ukrainian.

  I hope this one doesn’t demand money, like the one at the station in Quebec, Lesia thought. But this interpreter had a friendly, honest face. The Canadian official, on the other hand, had narrow lips, impatient eyes and seemed to dislike the Magus family on sight. In fact, Lesia realized as he barked orders at the interpreter, he seemed to dislike the Galician man too.

  “He wants to know how much money you have.” An embarrassed flush rose on the interpreter’s face.

  “Enough for our section of land,” Papa said. In spite of being swindled four times during their trip, Papa still had the ten Canadian dollars he’d hidden in his sock.

  “You need more,” the interpreter replied swiftly, softly.

  Papa’s answer came just as quickly. “Then tell him we have more.”

  Beside her, Mama stiffened. Lesia gasped. Ivan gave her a sharp kick in the ankle. It was the first time in her life she could remember Papa lying! But what else could he do? They didn’t have enough money to go back.

  The Canadian official had more questions. “Where are you going?”

  “The Interlake,” Papa replied. “A place called Fraserwood.”

  The Canadian fastened a pair of small goldrimmed glasses over the bridge of his nose, then picked up a piece of paper and studied it. Lesia held her breath.

  “There is no land left there. “The interpreter translated after the Canadian spoke.

  “No!” She was light-headed, grateful for Ivan’s hand on her arm.

  It was Mama’s turn to gasp.

  “Most of our village is there.” Papa spoke slowly, as though he were speaking to a young child. “They will make room for us.”

  The interpreter translated again. The Canadian official shook his head. His response was clipped and harsh. His eyes flicked briefly over Ivan and Lesia before settling on Papa. It was that look! The same one that Michal Stryk had given her. Contempt mixed with scorn.

  “There is no land left there,” the interpreter told them again. He lowered his voice. “He speaks the truth, my friend.Trust me, you do not want—”

  The Canadian official interrupted them.The Galician flushed again. “He says to tell you all the good land is gone. The land that’s left is marginal. He says you should not have come. But that’s not true,” the interpreter rushed on. “You can claim a cancelled homestead in another area. There are still some left. Most are marginal, yes, but—”

  “Marginal?” Mama interrupted him. “But how can we …?” Her mouth moved but no words came. The colour drained from her. Her eyelids fluttered. She fell to the floor.

  Sonia began to cry. Lesia grabbed her. People rushed forward. A grey-haired man with big, brown eyes and a thick, droopy moustache called out in Ukrainian for a doctor. Mama was lifted to an out-of-the-way corner and several people, including Papa, hovered around her.

  Once she was propped up with a jacket and being tended to, the brown-eyed man who had called for help introduced himself. “Paid Karol,” he said, extending a large, calloused hand to Papa. “Here to meet someone but they never arrived.” Paul told them that he came from Bukovyna and had been in Canada thirteen years.

  When Ivan asked him about marginal land, Paul said, “There’s no way to know until you have a look. It might be marshy or rocky, or it might be fine.You need to see it. There are a few cancelled homesteads in my area, one south of us and two more north of Cooks Creek.” Paul turned to Papa. “Come home with me,” he suggested with a smile. “You’ll have a place to stay while you have a look.”

  “Thank you, but no.” Papa was stiff with embarrassment.

  “Please,” Paul said. “In Canada, immigrants help immigrants. If you were in my position, you would do the same.”

  “It’s true, Papa,” Ivan urged, “we would.”

  Papa was silent.

  Lesia stared at the floor.

  “You will stay with us,” Paul announced firmly “We would love to have you!”

  Two weeks later, Papa’s grin stretched from ear to ear. “It’s ours!” He waved a small square of paper in front of Mama’s face. “One quarter section of prairie land. Paid for with ten Canadian dollars.” His voice held a touch of awe. “All ours. And in your name as well as mine.Ahafia.”

  Hollers of congratulations echoed through the farmhouse—the house south of Hazelridge belonging to Paul and his wife, Pearl, that had been home to them since they’d arrived in Manitoba.

  Lesia and Ivan exchanged smiles. They’d been so scared when Mama had collapsed.The doctor said she had something called anaemia. She would need good food and lots of rest if she was going to carry the baby to term. The Korols were making sure she got both.

  Lesia gave thanks to God every day for the goodness of the Korols. Even though they had six children of their own, they cheerfully accommodated the Magus family and kept them full with what seemed to be a never-ending supply of food, much of which came from their vast farm.

  “It’s about seven miles northeast of Cooks Creek … about
nineteen miles from here.” Ivan tossed Sonia excitedly in the air.”There’s a small shelter.And good soil.” The tiny girl squealed with happiness.

  It had taken Papa and Ivan more than a week to search out the best cancelled homestead they could claim. Papa had insisted on walking the countryside. Touching with his feet the soil of Canada, as he put it. This country was huge and it still amazed Lesia that everything was so far apart. Even Paul’s farm was miles from his brother Andrew, who was his nearest neighbour.

  “All we have to do is break thirty acres in the next three years and we’ll be rich.” Papa’s eyes glittered with excitement.”Rich!”

  Paul slapped him on the back. Andrew shook his hand.

  “You make it sound so easy, my friend.” Pearl soothed her youngest, baby Mary. “You forget that you’ll water the soil with your blood, sweat and tears.” Her smile showed the gap where her front teeth should have been.

  Ivan laughed. “We’ll do that seven times over for Canada. Won’t we, Sonia?” He tossed his sister in the air again and she laughed even louder than before. Luka and Symon, the five-year-old twins, tugged on Ivan’s sleeve.They wanted to be next.

  Land of their oum. Lesia cut the bread and tried to imagine. She could till and plant and harvest.Weave a skep, start a hive. Pay back Master Stryk. Become a respected member of the community!

  Paul’s oldest daughter, Minnie, sidled up to Lesia. “It didn’t take you long to figure out my Uncle Andrew has lots of money. Did you borrow his money for the land, like you borrowed his money for the doctor?”

  Lesia swallowed her anger and looked away. She’d been so excited to learn Paul had a daughter near her age. But Minnie had disliked her from the moment they’d arrived.

  “Minnie, come help your sisters put out the food!” Pearl called. Victoria and Anastasia, the two middle girls, were cheerfully helping their mother.

  “Cooooooming, Mama!” Lowering her voice even more, she said, “You’ve already touched our bread, I wouldn’t want you touching anything else.” Her large, blue eyes swept over Lesia. “You are too dirty.” Minnie flounced away.

  The familiar prickle of embarrassment stung the back of Lesia’s neck. To think she’d envied Minnie’s long, blond hair and the elegant, factory-made skirts that rustled when she walked. Well, Minnie Korol may have been a pretty girl, but, as Baba would have said, the zluidni had touched her head. The zluidni were those nasty little creatures who lived in the forest and brought misery to everything they touched. And they had touched Minnie and tarnished her soul.

  “Here you go, Lesia.” Pearl handed her a steaming bowl of pyrohy.”You may put these on the table.”

  Minnie glared at her.

  Besides the pyrohy, there was stewed rabbit, pickled beets, warm bread, jugs of milk and a platter of holubtsi, the cabbage rolls they ate back home at festive times, when they had enough cabbage and filling to make them.There was even sour cream to go with them. Lesia hadn’t seen that in years!

  “You’ll need a milk cow, and oxen to clear the land,” Paul was telling Papa as Lesia prepared a plate of food for Mama.”Or you could find someone with a ploughing outfit and pay him to do the work for you.

  “We’ll clear by hand.” Papa waved away his con-cerns.”And we can do without milk for the summer. There’s a creek full of water.”

  After handing Mama her plate, Lesia balanced Sonia on her knee and began to eat, listening quietly as the men continued to talk.

  Andrew frowned. “I’ll lend you the money for the oxen. And a cow. Pay me back when you can,” he said. “This winter. Next summer even.”

  Andrew Korol was quieter than his brother Paul. Just twenty, he had thick black hair, a square determined chin and the saddest blue eyes Lesia had ever seen. He had married nine months ago and lost his young wife to consumption a few months later. According to Pearl, Andrews half section of land was very profitable. It was thriving, but Andrew wasn’t. That’s why Pearl insisted he eat at least one meal a day with them.

  Sonia grabbed at the smoked rabbit. Lesia broke offa small piece, handed it to her and watched Papa shake his head.

  “You and your brother have done enough for us already,” he said. “A team of oxen costs seventy dollars. And a cow is worth another twenty-five. I already owe the landowner in Shuparka one hundred rynskys.”A muscle twitched nervously in Papa’s cheek. “I can’t borrow more money.”

  “You need to take care of your family.” Andrew’s eyes brushed over Lesia. “They’re all you have.”

  She swallowed a small piece of warm, buttered bread.Andrew had to understand. They already owed him five dollars for the doctor’s bill. And Papa was too proud to borrow more.

  It was Ivan’s turn to speak. “Once we clear the first ten acres, I’ll find work. On the railroad maybe.”

  “Work is getting harder to come by,” Paul said. “Wages are low. Working conditions in Winnipeg are terrible.”

  Ivan nodded. “I hear there’s a movement afoot to organize the labourers.”

  Papa frowned. “Stay out of it, Ivan. Remember how you were watched in Shuparka.”

  “This isn’t Ukraine, Papa. Canada is a democracy.” Ivan looked amused. “Freedom of speech is allowed. Workers are allowed to express their opinions.”

  “True enough,” Paul agreed with Ivan. “But there’s repression here too. We must fight for what’s right. “The older man’s eyes burned with conviction. “Just be careful. Look over your shoulder. Both of them.”

  The men laughed. Ivan rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Lesia and Mama exchanged grins. Ivan had obviously found a kindred spirit in Paul Korol. Thank goodness her brother would be too busy to become politically involved!

  When everyone was finished eating, Lesia shyly asked Papa if she could see the deed to their land. She took it outside and found a quiet spot near an elm tree.

  Heart racing, she unfolded the small slip of paper. With Ivan’s help, she was learning to read, but nothing on this paper made sense. Lesia frowned and blinked. The characters were a mess of squiggles. Of course. They were in Canada now. The paper was written in English!

  “I didn’t know you could read.”

  Startled, Lesia looked up. Andrew had approached so silently she hadn’t noticed. “Not English,” she admitted, tucking the deed back into her apron. “Ukrainian. Ivan is teaching me.”

  Andrew was impressed. “Reading Ukrainian is just as important.” He plucked a leaf and twirled it between his fingers. “I became a Canadian citizen last year, but in my heart I am still a Ukrainian.”

  Unlike your niece, Lesia thought, catching sight of Minnie twirling her younger brother, Luka, on the grass. Born just three days after her family had arrived in Canada, Minnie called herself a Canadian and seemed almost proud to deny her Ukrainian heritage.

  Andrew changed the subject. “I wish you would consider taking a cow. And money for oxen.”

  Lesia shook her head. “My father’s right. We already owe you for the doctor.”

  “Then perhaps you and your mother should stay here while Ivan and your father clear the land.”

  “We cannot impose any longer. Besides, I’m used to digging and cultivating.” Just yesterday, Minnie had disdainfully told Lesia she had muscles as big as a horse’s. Well, those muscles were going to be her salvation.

  His blue eyes darkened. “You’ll need plenty of food to see you through.”

  He was so serious. No doubt because of the death of his wife. “I brought seeds from home,” she reassured him. “I’ll plant those.”

  He looked skeptical. “If the weather co-operates, they might produce. But the prairie can be harsh. Spring and summer are very short. Winter comes quickly and lasts a long time.”

  He couldn’t know the hunger her family had endured for months on end in Shuparka, the hunger they’d travelled to Canada to escape. “I’ll weave a skep. Set up a hive. We’ll live off the land and put food by for winter.” Where was Andrew’s faith? Didn’t he know if their efforts
were true, their rewards would be sweet? “If we need more, I’ll find work like Papa and Ivan.” Across the yard, Minnie was watching them with a curious look on her face. Deliberately, Lesia turned her back.

  “You cannot leave your mother alone. And you cannot take a chance with her health,” he said softly. “She needs to eat.”

  Andrew was truly worried about them. Certainly he was right about one thing. Mama needed to eat to regain her strength.

  Lesia gazed past the house and well, past the large garden plot and the thickets of berry brambles to the beckoning fields just waiting to be tilled and planted. Look at what the Korols had. It was impossible to starve in this land of plenty.

  Wasn’t it?

  “If you won’t take a cow, then let me buy you some potatoes and milk. Just enough to see you through the first few weeks. You can pay me back in a year’s time.”

  “I don’t know.” Papa had been so angry when she’d borrowed from Master Stryk. He’d been very unhappy about borrowing five dollars for the doctor. He’d be furious if she borrowed again.

  “I will make it a gift, then.” Andrew smiled and his worry lines disappeared. He looked happier. Attractive. “Accept it for your mama’s sake,” he urged.

  She hesitated. “A small gift, then. For Mama’s sake.” She smiled shyly. “We would be grateful to have it.”

  Papa would have to understand.

  Chapter Four

  May 10,1914

  The Magus homestead

  “This is it!” With a sweep of his hand Ivan showed them the cancelled homestead they’d laid claim to. Papa stood proudly beside him.

  Shifting Sonia from one hip to the other, Lesia stared at the scrubby poplars and aspens, the thickets of shrubs blooming with dainty flowers, the prairie grass that grew almost to her knees, and rock, so much rock!

  It was unbroken and wild. But it was theirs. All theirs.