Friday, July 3, 1914, lunchtime
I helped Stefan with the papers again this morning and then we went up to the roof to read one of the unsold copies. Reading the paper is hard, but it is a good way to practise my English. Sometimes I read it out loud and Stefan corrects me. I was so surprised to see a story about “Ruthenians,” which is another word for our people, like “Galicians” and “Bukovinians.” This story said that the government was upset because of all the “Ruthenians” who can’t find a job. Some cities have even been setting up soup kitchens. That’s sort of like the milk depot, only with soup. It sounds nice, but it isn’t. The story says that people who go to the soup kitchens will be “deported,” which means sent back to the old country.
What if this happened to us? We are pennies away from disaster. I pray that Mama and Tato can keep their jobs. If we were deported, that would be the end of us! We have nothing left in Horoshova. We sold it all. Oy. I am so worried.
Tuesday, July 7, 1914, bedtime
I haven’t seen Stefan for a few days but he came to our flat today to show me another article in the newspaper. He knows that I like to read stories that mention our people. This article said, “Ruthenian vote may sway election in Manitoba.”
!?!?!?
Stefan explained to me that there are thousands of Ukrainian men in Manitoba who can vote. Isn’t that wonderful? It does get me worried, though. If they sway the vote the wrong way, will other voters get angry with them?
Friday, July 10, 1914
A letter came all the way from Horoshova just for me. It is from my dear Halyna. I have pasted it into my diary.
May 25, 1914
Dearest Anya,
I miss you so much. I hope you find the time to write to me soon.
Horoshova seems empty without you. I think of you living in that beautiful big house with lots of food to eat and plenty of money. I am happy for you, but I have a confession too. I am jealous.
When I get very sad, I take out Volodymyr’s tsymbaly and play a simple tune. It makes me cry but then somehow I feel better. How I wish I could come to Canada and be with you.
It is not good here. The lord has increased our taxes yet again and Father does not have the money to pay. Do you remember Pan Smitiuch, our teacher? He has joined the Austrian army. There is no one to teach the older students now, although I have been asked to work with the younger ones. I am not educated like Pan Smitiuch, but I do the best I can. As the days go on, it seems like Horoshova is turning into a village of women. The men who don’t die in the coal mines either flee to Canada or join the army. How I wish everyone would leave Horoshova alone.
I don’t want to make you feel bad, so I will tell you of happier things. The flowers are blooming and our cow Chorna gave birth to a beautiful pink-nosed calf. I am calling her Kvitka because she reminds me of the flowers. I planted fresh flowers at Volodymyr’s grave and also for your dido. I have decided to adopt these graves and treat them like family, since we were almost family in life.
I hope that you can write to me soon. I think of you every day and send you my love.
Your best friend forever,
Halyna
Dear Diary, I hope I haven’t ruined your pages with my tears. I was so happy to get a letter from Halyna, but now I am not so sure. I am so worried about her and also worried for everyone in Horoshova. It sounds like she didn’t get my letter yet. She must think that I have abandoned her. Oy, I am so sad.
I hope my letter gets to her soon. I told her all the horrible details about our trip on the ship and where we live. I even told her about our stinky outhouses and how much I miss Horoshova. Maybe when she reads it she won’t be as sad. She shouldn’t be jealous either.
Wednesday, July 15, 1914
Dear Diary, today is Volodymyr’s namesday. At breakfast, Baba put out an extra plate and then we all held hands and sang “Vichnaya Pamyat.” I could feel my throat choking up with sadness as I sang, but I didn’t want to cry because I know that would make Mama cry too. We are trying to remember all the joy that Volodymyr brought into our lives. Tato says there is no point in dwelling on the sadness. One thing that I will always be grateful for is that my dear brother taught me how to read and write, and Halyna too. It is such a comfort to me to be able to keep in contact with her. Just think, if Volodymyr had not taught me how to write, Tato would never have given me you, Dear Diary.
Later
This is the second time I got a letter in a single week. This one is from Irena. In case you don’t remember her, Dear Diary, she is the girl I met on the ship. I have pasted her letter below too.
General Delivery,
Hairy Hill, Alberta, Canada
July 3, 1914
Dear Anya,
I promised you that I would learn to write and here is my first letter to you! Are you proud of me?
How is your new house? Is it really three storeys tall? Where do you sleep? I am so excited to think of you being in that giant place.
Our house is not as grand as yours. Our neighbours are far away and at first I wondered how my father could build a homestead all by himself. It is something like our old house in the village, only more simple. The roof is made of sod and the floor is mud. The homesteaders came all the way from the Willingdon district, a day’s drive by horse and wagon, to help my father build his homestead. This is called a “building bee” and it is just like a toloka in the old country. They put our home together in a single day! My father showed me where he lived before and it is just a hole in the ground, with logs propping up some sod.
There are other children in the area, although our closest neighbour is a single man named Yurij Feschuk. He is from our village in the old country. There is no school here, but there might be one in a year or two. Right now, I walk to the married neighours’ and several of us children walk the five miles to the nearest school.
My teacher helped me write this letter — he says I am learning fast.
We have only a small crop of vegetables and wheat because our land is still covered with trees. My father and I clear what we can while Mama tends Olya and the house.
I long to be back in my old village with my old friends and without this back-breaking work. It is good to be here with my father, though, and he keeps on reminding me that here in Canada we are free.
I miss you, Anya! Please write. Tell me about Montreal.
Your true friend,
Irena
P.S. Olya sends you a big kiss.
P.P.S. I am keeping the necklace you made me in a safe place. I look at it often and think of you.
It is strange to think of Irena out on the prairies. I hope she is able to make some good friends at that school. Maybe Stefan is annoying sometimes, but at least he is a friend. And I have Mary and Maureen too. I wonder where Slava is?
Monday, July 20, 1914
When I go to the market, I see that there are more men on the street and waiting in line at the soup kitchens.
Stefan wrote that letter to the factory owner for me yesterday and I signed it myself. I went to the factory as soon as both Mama and Tato had gone to work. Guess what? They hired me.
Oh, Dear Diary, how will I ever break the news to Tato? I know it was wrong of me to sign his name, but this is something I need to do. He is going to be so angry with me for going behind his back. I hope I can convince him that this may save our family.
Here is what the factory is like. There are rows and rows of girls sitting at tables with sewing machines. The lead seamstress put me beside Mary and she showed me that I am to run a seam down one side of a blouse, then stop. Then do the same thing with the next blouse. I have a huge wicker basket of partly sewn blouses. Once I do that one seam in all the blouses in the basket, I pass the basket on to the girl in front of me and she does a different seam.
I get paid a penny for every ten seams. We are supposed to do at least 500 seams a day but today I only did 234 and I also poked my thumb with the needle. Mary told me they won’t pay y
ou for work that has blood or dirt on it. Hopefully, my fingers will toughen up. If I had a sewing machine at home, I would have my hope chest finished in an instant!
I got home just before Tato did. Baba gave me a look but she said nothing.
Friday, July 24, 1914
Stefan came to my door as soon as he saw that I was home from work. He showed me the newspaper headlines from this morning: Austrian Government Sends Serbian Government Stern Note. Stefan said that he overheard men in the soup lines talking about it. He says that Austria thinks Serbia planned for that student to assassinate Archduke Franz Ferdinand and Princess Sophie. If this is true, there could be a war!
Saturday, July 25, 1914, afternoon
Stefan was sitting on the bottom step when I came back from my half day today. “Russia is backing Serbia, and Germany is backing Austria,” he said. “There is probably going to be a war.”
Oy, Dear Diary, I am afraid. Horoshova is close to the border of Russia. If there is a war, it could be in my old backyard. I hope Russia thinks twice about this, and Germany too.
Something else awful happened. Do you remember that man in the dirty brown hat? He passed us as we sat on the steps and flicked a lit cigarette at Stefan. I saw him pass and noticed that he flicked his hand and muttered “Austrian scum” to us. I didn’t realize about the cigarette until Stefan’s pant leg started to smoulder. I tried to put the fire out with my hands and I burnt my palm. Stefan covered it with his newspaper bag until the smouldering stopped. He is more angry about his ruined pants than the burn on his leg, seeing as these are his only pants. I told Stefan that he should tell the police, but he laughed at that and said, “Do you really think they would take our side?”
Monday, July 27, 1914
I knew something was wrong even without reading a newspaper. A man from our neighbourhood was being beaten by a group of thugs in the street and yelling for help, but there was nothing I could do for him and I ran all the way to work. Then when I got there and punched in my time card, the boss said something under his breath about “you Austrians” being unreliable.
Mary says that Austria and Serbia are on the “brink of war.” Their governments are not even on speaking terms anymore. Oy, this is bad!
When I finished at the factory, Stefan was waiting for me and Mary. He was still wearing his burned pants and his leg was bandaged. He said that in these “uneasy” times, immigrant girls are not safe. This makes me worry about Mama. She has to travel so far by trolley and then on foot. I wonder how safe she is?
When we got to the market, the lady who usually sells me onions gave me a dirty look and slapped down my change. At least she didn’t call me an Austrian.
Wednesday, July 29, 1914, after work
Austria has declared war against Serbia! All the girls at work are talking about it. I am so afraid! This is a bad bad day.
Thursday, July 30, 1914, bedtime
Tato was at the chytalnya until very late again last night. Mama looked so worried that I sat with her until Tato came home. After I kissed Tato goodnight and went to bed, I thought I would fall right to sleep, but I couldn’t. Instead, I listened to Mama and Tato whispering in the other room.
Tato said that people at the chytalnya were talking about the war. It said in the newspapers today that more than a million Russian soldiers are getting ready to fight. If Russia gets into the war, what will happen to Horoshova? We are so close to the border.
Friday, July 31, 1914, after work
It was so hot and sticky in the factory today that I felt I could hardly get my breath. During break, one of the girls showed me a newspaper. It is all about the war. Right on the front page it says the Austrians are attacking and that the Russians are ready to fight. There was also a story that said Canada might fight too. Oy, this is not good for any of us!
August 1914
Sunday, August 2, 1914, after church
Tato doesn’t often come to church with us but he did today. The priest read a letter that was written by Bishop Budka. The bishop has urged all men of fighting age to return to Galicia and fight with the Austrians to protect our lands.
Mama and Tato said nothing to each other all the way home and then they locked themselves in the bedroom to talk. I had my ear against the door and heard everything that they said. Bishop Budka’s letter has made Tato think. I could hear his voice crack with emotion, and although I couldn’t see it, I think Mama sat close to him on the bed and hugged him. I don’t want Tato to go. Didn’t we come to Canada to be free of all that? But Tato said, “What if the Russians invade Horoshova?”
My heart pounds in fear at the thought of it. Why do all these countries want to fight? Mama told him that he had to think of Mykola and me and her and Baba before he thought of Horoshova, then I heard them both weeping.
Monday, August 3, 1914, at lunch
Oy, Dear Diary, this is a very bad day. Stefan showed me today’s headlines as I was leaving for work this morning. Germany has declared war on Russia! And Germany has invaded France! Britain is getting into the war, and Stefan says that means Canada will definitely be in the war too!
I was so worried about this all morning that I wasn’t watching my sewing as carefully as I should. I poked myself with the needle. I had to wrap my finger tightly with a strip of cloth so my blood wouldn’t ruin the garments.
Tuesday, August 4, 1914, after work
Tato has lost his job. They have fired the Ukrainians at his factory. When Tato asked why, his boss said, “For patriotic reasons.”
I don’t know that means, so I asked Mary. She told me it means they don’t like foreigners. She says it didn’t help that Bishop Budka had just told Galicians to go back to the old country and fight for the Austrians and Germans. I asked her if we might get fired too, but she said that the boss wouldn’t be able to get enough Canadian girls to do our job, so we are probably safe.
Later
I had no choice. I had to tell Tato that I took a job. He would have found out anyway, now that he is going to be home in the daytime.
He was upset that I went behind his back. I was so ashamed that I burst into tears. I told him that I only did it for the family, and then I held out the $5.71 that I have earned so far. He set the money on the table, then sat me on his lap. “I should be the breadwinner, not my wife and daughter.”
“It will get better,” I whispered.
He hugged me tight. I could feel his tears on my cheek.
It is like a weight off my shoulders to have finally told him. I don’t like keeping secrets from my parents.
Wednesday, August 5, 1914
Tato went to the market on his own so that I would have one less chore, but Baba scowled when she saw his choices. The onions are shrivelled and he bought the expensive eggs by mistake and he forgot to get the soap, so next time, we will go together.
At dusk on my roof
My hand trembles as I write this. It has happened. War has been declared.
Later
Stefan tells me that the newspapers are full of stories about “the foreigner problem” and how we are a burden to Canada. How can the newspapers say such things?
Tato has been to every factory for miles around and no one will hire him. Tato says that they think he is the enemy.
I fear for Halyna and all of our dear friends in Horoshova.
Friday, August 7, 1914, late at night
Tato walked me to work today. He tried to pretend he was doing it for my company, but I think he’s worried about my safety.
Tato spends his days either at the chytalnya or looking for another job.
Almost forgot — Mama also has a travelling companion. Mrs. Haggarty’s housekeeper, Mrs. Casey, is one trolley stop away from us. Tato walks Mama to the trolley stop and watches while she gets on, and then Mama rides one stop on her own and then Mrs. Casey gets on and sits with her the rest of the way. Mrs. Haggarty sends her gardener to walk them both from the trolley to her house.
Mama says that Mrs. Case
y is a stern-looking woman (but she is actually very kind) and they both feel safer when they travel together. I wouldn’t mind if women like Mrs. Haggarty got the vote.
Mrs. Casey should get the vote too.
Later
Mama should get the vote too.
Saturday, August 8, 1914, after supper
Tato was at the chytalnya almost all day today. Even when he comes home he still seems to be thinking about what he heard and discussed there, which is probably all about the war. Sometimes he talks to Mama about it when he doesn’t think anyone else is listening. Other times, he keeps it to himself.
It was so hot in the factory yesterday that one girl fainted. Our flat gets very hot and stuffy. It gets hot up here on the roof too, but at least there is a breeze and today is a little bit cooler.
Sunday, August 9, 1914
Tato came to church with us again today and there was another letter read aloud from Bishop Budka. He says that since Britain and Canada have now entered the war, he is supporting the British. This is all so confusing! Britain and Canada are on the same side as Russia. Isn’t Russia Galicia’s enemy? Tato is angry at Bishop Budka. He says that it is because of Bishop Budka’s letter last week that so many Ukrainians were fired.
Tuesday, August 11, 1914
Dear Diary, each day is more dreary than the next. It is very hot at the factory and no cooler at home. Halyna sent me another letter, dated before the war began. It is pasted below:
Horoshova, Borschiv County, Galicia
July 24, 1914
Dearest Anya,
Thank you for your May letter. It was so interesting to read about your trip over the ocean and about your new house. I am thrilled that you are going to school and that you are learning English. Life is not very good here. As you know, the Archduke was assassinated. This has caused much trouble for us. They say there is going to be war. The army is hungry for soldiers but also for our crops. Our taxes have gone up so much that I think we must starve.
Prisoners in the Promised Land Page 6
