{"id":6452,"date":"2020-01-16T17:38:43","date_gmt":"2020-01-16T17:38:43","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/cassandravoices.com\/?p=6452"},"modified":"2020-01-16T17:38:43","modified_gmt":"2020-01-16T17:38:43","slug":"siberian-blue","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/2020\/01\/16\/siberian-blue\/","title":{"rendered":"Siberian Blue"},"content":{"rendered":"

Prokopyevsk<\/a><\/span>, 1974<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

SNOW is everywhere. So much of it, that the whole world looks like an old black-and-white movie. Through the grey haze, a pale and tired winter sun tries to warm the frozen land but only succeeds in turning water crystals into some kind of sparkling fairy dust.<\/p>\n

Snow piles on double-sloped roofs like gigantic fur hats worn by Tartar warriors. It covers orchards and gardens with one unspoiled crispy sheet, broken here and there by naked trees and brush. Blackcurrant and raspberry bushes stretch crooked twig-fingers in a feeble attempt to gather some snow from the air as protection from the bitter cold.<\/p>\n

Snow lies in huge mounds on the sidewalks where the cleaners have pushed it aside. Flakes of it fly in the air, which gives it colour and a shape resembling Grand-Dad Frost\u2019s long silver beard to be tousled by the strong northerly gusts. Snow spirals up and off the tops of snowdrifts just as a desert breeze blows sand off the crest of dunes. But it\u2019s not warm here, far from it. It\u2019s freezing, and all things come alive if only to cloak themselves in the fluffy white mantle against frost-bite.<\/p>\n

Snow Castle<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

I\u2019m a real Siberian child, enjoying myself outside in sub-zero temperatures. Melted snow on my mittens cakes up into a layer of large ice diamonds. It\u2019s impossible to brush them off now, as the ice clings to the wool fibres. I don\u2019t really care though – I\u2019m all covered in snow, from head to toe. But I\u2019m not cold, having warmed up from playing with my friends, building a snow castle in an enormous snow bank built by the bulldozer at the side of my house. The castle looks more like a hobbit-hole, inhabited by four tiny, white, furry creatures, popping out here and there on the sides of a snowy hill.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s probably -25C. But so what? Our castle of snow is being invaded by evil mercenaries from the neighbouring building, two-storied and posh. But the castle belongs to our post-war barrack, mine and Anyuta\u2019s. We live in the barrack and the castle is ours by God and all man-made laws. We won\u2019t surrender it while we\u2019re alive!<\/p>\n

Anyuta is covering the north exit, viciously attacked by an older more experienced soldier, Ruler, while I deflect a heavy snowball bombardment from the south. Ruler thought he was very clever when he started the attack of the gate defended by a \u2018woman\u2019 three years his junior. Nasty bastard! But Anyuta proved to be a tough nut. She\u2019s spun around in the narrow exit to kick Ruler with incredible energy. Her tiny ice incrusted woollen boots are called valenki<\/em>. That round face, outlined by the fake fur of her pink coat\u2019s hood, is so close to mine, upside down, laughing. Her big brown eyes are shining through the cloud of vapour like two ice-glazed cherries, cheeks bright red, lit by the cold and the fight.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m throwing back the snowballs to my red-headed opponent, Toast, trying to cover Anyuta\u2019s exposed face. The fat Toast is as evil as Ruler, because he\u2019s purposefully aiming at Anyuta. But I\u2019m a warrior! I\u2019m a knight! A bogatyr<\/em>! I will save my sweet maiden and our beautiful home, even if I have to die in the battle. I\u2019m picking up a snowball in each hand, springing up and running towards my enemy screaming \u201cHuraaaaaah!\u201d<\/p>\n

Toast has not expected that. With the first snowball I knock his hat off and his red hair bursts like a flame among the all-consuming whiteness. The second snowball smacks right into his scarred cheek and he immediately pleads for mercy, because I\u2019m already at his bastion. All his snowballs, which he was preparing so patiently before the battle, are mine!<\/p>\n

\u201cOn your knees, you disgusting creature! Kiss my boots, as you surrender!\u201d I say, pushing his red head towards my valenki<\/em>.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m already on my knees, you dope! Stop pushing my head! My ears are freezing!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPlead for mercy, and I will give you back your useless helmet!\u201d<\/p>\n

Toast starts crying and I stack his rabbit-fur hat on his flaming head. It immediately falls down and he\u2019s not picking it up, hoping he\u2019ll catch cold and it would be a perfect excuse for him not to go to the kindergarten in the morning. His grandma would be fussing around him day and night, feeding him like a piglet for slaughter and pouring hot tea with raspberry jam down his throat. Plus, he could always blame me for his misfortune.<\/p>\n

\u201cTypical Germans,\u201d I grumble. \u201cJust a little kick in the ass, and there you are, crying like a girl!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYeah, right, I didn\u2019t knock your hat off, did I? Now, if I get ill, it\u2019ll be your fault, and I\u2019ll tell my grandma you did it!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cWell, tell her whatever you want, you sneak!\u201d I reply defiantly, even though I\u2019m not looking forward to Toast\u2019s grand-mother\u2019s visit to my home and accusing me of all the imaginable sins that a five-year-old boy could have done. I know that my mom would just laugh it off, but my granny would be very disappointed with me, and I hate when she tells me she\u2019s disappointed.<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not Fascist!\u201d <\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201dI\u2019ll tell your grandma that you were throwing snowballs at Anyuta\u2019s face. It\u2019s a miracle you didn\u2019t hit her, you nasty fascist sneak!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019ll tell my grandma you called me a \u201cFascist!\u201d I\u2019m not a Fascist!\u201d Toast started crying in earnest.<\/p>\n

Anyuta and Ruler are standing beside us.<\/p>\n

\u201cStop blubbering, Zhenka,\u201d says Anyuta, \u201che didn\u2019t do anything bad to you!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe knocked my hat off!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cYou\u2019re such a sissy!\u201d says Ruler. \u201cIf you keep sniffling and go complaining, we\u2019ll never play with you again. And when you go to school some day, everybody will know you\u2019re a sneak and a traitor, and nobody will ever talk to you! Ever!\u201d<\/p>\n

Sasha, the Ruler, has already started school, and he was quite an authority among us, the kindergarten kids. He already knew how to count \u2018til one thousand, and could even properly hand-write his name.<\/p>\n

I could only count up to ten and print my name with huge crooked letters (even though I was pretty proud of my achievements and even intended once to print my initials with pee on the snow).<\/p>\n

We\u2019ve always liked to listen to his stories about the teachers, uniforms, broken pen-boxes and other kids in such an \u2018adult\u2019 institution as THE SCHOOL. Everything seemed to be so magical and appealing in his \u2018grown-up\u2019 world. We still have to wait for two years to enter that wonderland called THE SCHOOL and stop being called \u2018kids.\u2019<\/p>\n

Toast has stopped crying as if a divine illumination had descended on him from the gathering snow clouds and the early winter dusk. The last rays of sunlight tinted the snow around us fuchsia-pink, like the magical blood of the fallen heroes who were fighting for our hobbit-holes (pardon, CASTLE) so bravely and now are no more.<\/p>\n

We can almost see them, our imaginary knights, archers and common soldiers, dying in the field for our lord and ladyship\u2019s honour and our home. Zhenya the Toast\u2019s head is covered with fallen snowflakes that make his red flaming hair burn with an ominous pink sparkle.<\/p>\n

\u201cI was joking, you dopes,\u201d he finally says, shaking the tears off his colourless eyelashes and putting his hat on. He realized he may indeed catch cold and it won\u2019t give him any advantage now. \u201cIt\u2019s so easy to scare you! Would I ever give my pals away? Is that how you think of me?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cFriends then,\u201d says Sasha the Ruler. \u201cPeace to this beautiful unspoilt and unconquered castle! Long live the king and the queen! I have to go home now. The blasted Crow (his primary school teacher\u2019s nickname) gave us loads of homework to do. Enjoy the potty training in your kinder-garten tomorrow.\u201d<\/p>\n

Little Germany<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cI have to go too,\u201d sniffles Toast. \u201cMy grandma will be awfully worried. It\u2019s getting dark. Plus, she\u2019s been cooking apfel-kugel<\/em> today. Yummy!\u201d<\/p>\n

Zhenya looks like an apfel-kugel<\/em> himself \u2013 all round and \u201ctoasted\u201d. His red hair, freckles and a scar on his cheek make him resemble a plump, freshly fried doughnut, stuffed to the brim with the German delicacies his grand-mother fills him with all day long. Zhenya is not stingy \u2013 he brings his granny\u2019s culinary production to the street in amounts that could feed a small battalion of the Red Army \u2013 and we all gorge ourselves on pies and sweets cooked according to the ancient German recipes.<\/p>\n

Zhenya\u2019s grand-mother is indeed German, but not one who was born in Germany. She\u2019s Volga settlement German \u2013 eighteenth century<\/a><\/span>.<\/p>\n

Tsarina Catherine II signed a decree allowing\u00a0 foreigners who so desired to colonise unspoilt Russian territories. More than 30,000 Europeans were recruited, mostly from Germanic kingdoms and principalities. Most of those Germans and their descendants settled on the River Volga, living in their own communities unmolested until the Second World War.<\/p>\n

Jealously they guarded their traditions, language and cuisine, carrying in their hearts a nostalgia for their forefathers, who\u2019d left their homeland centuries ago to find happiness and prosperity in wild and cold Russia. In spite of having been born in their new \u2018Motherland\u2019, somewhere deep in their consciousness, they always missed their ancestors\u2019 walks on the Rhine, Christmas Markets, mulled wine and roasted chestnuts.<\/p>\n

But when the war broke out, \u2018Little Germany\u2019 attracted unwanted attention from Stalin. The Great Leader thought Germans on the Volga might easily side with the enemy \u2013 they were Germans after all \u2013 even though they\u2019d lived through two centuries of Russian history and become as Soviet as anybody else in my huge country.<\/p>\n

But their foreign blood made them potential traitors, and the whole settlement was sent to Siberia, the Urals and Kazakhstan, where they were thinly dispersed amongst the locals. Thus, my little town in the middle of nowhere, has real foreigners in its midst, speaking Russian in a German accent so thick, that we can hardly make heads nor tails of what they are saying.<\/p>\n

I laughed to myself, when Zhenya\u2019s Granny was telling my own babushka<\/em>, that she finally bought herself a nice pair of sobaki<\/em> \u2013 our word for dogs. When obviously she meant to say sapogi<\/em> about her new boots. Evidently the subtleties of our so-called barbaric language eluded her, so uncorrected she carried on bragging about the warmth and comfort of her new winter dogs.<\/p>\n

She comes to our humble home complaining about me. Because I bring her Zhenya to tears quite often. I call him a fascist, especially when he makes me mad. That happens a lot, because he is too girly, and one girl, Anyuta, in our company is more than enough. But to his face I\u2019ve never called him \u2018Toast\u2019, \u2019doughnut\u2019 or \u2018fat-factory,\u2019 because it would be a dig below the waist.<\/p>\n

However, post-war, the fallout from fascism is still felt by all, and calling someone a fascist just because of his German heritage isn\u2019t nice either. Toast\u2019s granny detests the fascist label as much as he does.<\/p>\n

But when she visits us for a chat with my grandma, and brings us a big slice of straight-from-the-oven apfel strudel<\/em>, then I bless the Germans (and Germany) for remembering how to bake those delicious pies, and wonder where Toast\u2019s granny gets apples in the middle of the winter.<\/p>\n

The carrots I have at home are no match for her warm pie and its golden crust covered with melted sugar. Granny gives it all to me, wiping a tear from her eye; while, like a starved puppy, I lick its sweet filling from my fingers.<\/p>\n

Once, when Zhenya\u2019s grandma had just left, I proceeded to devour the pie my eyes had been feasting on for hours, and she sat beside me, stroking my hair.<\/p>\n

\u2018Gemography\u2019<\/strong><\/p>\n

\u201cEat, sweet child, eat. It\u2019s not your fault we\u2019re so poor. I wish we had money and connections to get you some bonbons or a chocolate bar. I wish your father came over more regularly and took care of you. But soon, you\u2019ll grow up, go to school and learn how to read and write, even gemography\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI already know how to read, Babushka. They taught us in kindergarten! And it\u2019s \u201cgeography\u201d, not \u201cgemography\u201d. Ruler told us he will study geography next year.\u201d I saw myself as practically a scientist, since I knew how to pronounce the word \u201cgeography\u201d, and an adult like my grandma didn\u2019t.<\/p>\n

\u201cOh, that\u2019s good! It\u2019s so good indeed. You\u2019re such a clever boy, Mishenka! Now, the school will be so easy for you! And then you\u2019ll study hard and you can be whatever you choose to be! Imagine, you\u2019ll be a doctor when you grow up? You\u2019ll wear a white gown and a stetho \u2026 stethacope \u2026 that thing to listen to the chest. Everybody will respect you, and the people will greet you on the street \u201cGood morning, Mikhail Gennadyevich\u201d, and you will have your own office and a nurse \u2026 Imagine! You just have to study hard at school and get good grades.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI will, Babushka. Can\u2019t wait to go to school! Can I go next year?\u201d already seeing myself dressed in a white gown with a stethoscope around my neck.<\/p>\n

\u201cNot yet, sweetheart. You\u2019re only five. Just wait for two years.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cBut why? I can already count to ten.\u201d<\/p>\n

My grandma hesitated: \u201cYou have to grow up a little. Otherwise the school desk will be too big for you. You won\u2019t see what the teacher writes on the black-board.\u201d<\/p>\n

My dream of becoming a doctor soon burst like a soap bubble. I\u2019d have to study first. On top of that, I\u2019d have to wait for two long years before even beginning my studies.<\/p>\n

So unfair! I turned back to the apfel strudel<\/em>, finishing the remains of the slice in two seconds and started to feel sleepy, with the images still floating in front of my eyes: a white gown, a stethoscope, a blackboard (whatever it is in reality, but I see a black, charred by the fire board from a pirate ship), a doctor\u2019s office and me there, behind the school desk.<\/p>\n

Bride-to-be<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Toast\u2019s round shape, and Ruler\u2019s tall and lanky one, start to disappear in the snowfall. It\u2019s become a little warmer now, and snowflakes glide through the air like extra-terrestrial insects, waltzing around in their mysterious mating dance. They finish and die, covering the earth with their tiny bodies to protect it from the winter cold. The entire world is blanketed by their heroic sacrifice. I don\u2019t know anything else beyond our barrack, orchards, kindergarten and the two-storied buildings where Toast and Ruler live.<\/p>\n

Anyuta takes my hand. A year younger than me, I consider her a perfect candidate to be my bride when I decide to get married. She\u2019s pretty, sweet, and she plays with boys, while other girls in the kindergarten only play with stupid dolls and don\u2019t go out to the street without their parents<\/p>\n

My grand-dad doesn\u2019t like Anyuta. He calls her \u201clittle gypsy\u201d, and says Anyuta\u2019s mother is a \u201cslut.\u201d Trying to defend the lady of my heart and her mother, I told him once that I\u2019m a slut as well.<\/p>\n

\u201cThat boy is properly stupid! Honestly! Now, he\u2019s a slut too!\u201d he turned to my grandma. \u201cI tell you once again, don\u2019t let him play with that gypsy girl! She\u2019ll be the exact copy of her mother! Mark my words.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a child, for God\u2019s sake. You shouldn\u2019t use those words in front of him. What if he goes and says to Ninka \u201cGood morning, Mrs. Slut?\u201d What then? Are you going to explain to her where he heard the word and why he called her so?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cShe knows it herself that she\u2019s a slut, your Ninka woman. Did you see her with a new tall guy the other day? She just dumps the little gypsy at her mother\u2019s and jumps on anyone with a cock and a pulse,\u201d my grandpa grumbles. \u201cWhat else can you call her? Virgin Mary?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t mention the Virgin Mary, for God\u2019s sake! God forgive us,\u201d my grandma made a quick sign of cross on her chest. \u201cPlease, don\u2019t say that in front of the child again! There\u2019s no need for him to learn all those words of yours!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cHe\u2019s a boy! He\u2019ll learn them sooner or later, won\u2019t he? Especially if he keeps playing with that little gypsy girl,\u201d retorted my grand-pa. \u201cHe doesn\u2019t understand what we\u2019re talking about anyway. Do you, Mishok?\u201d He turned to me.<\/p>\n

\u201cOf course I do!\u201d I was really eager to show my grand-dad that I\u2019d already grown up. \u201cI also have a cock! And Anyuta has a cunt!\u201d<\/p>\n

I rushed to demonstrate all the information I\u2019d learned about sex from Ruler. He\u2019d told us once, that both Toast and I had cocks so small, that we could do nothing with them but pee. That was how I came to comprehend that strange object on my body. Obviously\u00a0 aware of it, I\u00a0 didn\u2019t know it was called a \u201ccock\u201d.<\/p>\n

He\u2019d also said that women had cunts which I interpreted as merely the absence of having a cock. Consequently, I\u2019d undressed a doll in the kindergarten, confirming my theory that girls had indeed absolutely nothing there. Just a small hole at the bottom.<\/p>\n

\u201cMishenka, my little boy, don\u2019t say those words. There are bad, really bad. Only drunkards and criminals use them. You won\u2019t use them, will you?\u201d My granny looked like she was going to cry.<\/p>\n

\u201cI told you!\u201d my grand-dad seemed to be pleased. \u201cLittle gypsy! She\u2019s teaching him all this stuff. And these are only flowers \u2013 the berries will come later.\u201d<\/p>\n

Scared, I was sure I\u2019d said something awful. Granny was about to cry and I hate seeing my grandma crying. I told myself, that I\u2019d never ever use those words in front of her again.<\/p>\n

An ugly beast<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

Anyuta and I stand in the gathering darkness in front of our barrack. She lives in number 6, and I \u2013 in number 1. There are ten one-room flats in total in this long, dark, red-brick building. The snow on the roof almost blends into the snowdrifts, as if the building is even bigger.<\/p>\n

I don\u2019t want to go home yet. Neither does Anya. The falling snow sparkles yellow in rectangles of light cast from the apartments. Above the half-curtain that covers only the bottom part of the window, I can watch Anyuta\u2019s grand-mother cooking dinner.<\/p>\n

Standing in front of her flat, I feel far away from my own home. Unable to see what my own granny is doing, I get a physical sensation of being miles away, in a raging snow-storm at the North Pole. I\u2019m gripped by fear that I\u2019ll be lost and because of me, grandma will cry with grief.<\/p>\n

Anyuta is holding my hand. \u2018We\u2019d better make ourselves a house,\u2019 she says. \u2018I\u2019ve never seen such a snowfall in my entire life.\u2019 I agree. I\u2019ve never seen such a snowfall either. I couldn\u2019t even distinguish the windows of the barrack from the building now. What I saw resembled a series of pale suns secreted behind gossamer.<\/p>\n

We walk towards the row of toolsheds built in front of the barrack. A sheet of freshly fallen flakes lay undisturbed, and clean ahead of us. Hand in hand; we\u2019re knee-deep in the snow. Pioneers in uncharted territories, the first to spoil the virgin beauty of land that hasn\u2019t known a man. At least today. The last wind left a snowdrift to tower in front of the sheds and for us it\u2019s like the Himalayas!<\/p>\n

When we approach the danger zone, at the gap between those sheds leading to the public latrines, Anyuta stops me with her hand.<\/p>\n

\u201cLet\u2019s not go there. Mom says an ugly beast lives there and he has very stinky breath. Do you smell it?\u201d She sniffs the air, but the usual summer stench can hardly be perceived in the freezing cold. \u201cShe says he likes to eat small children, especially girls!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cI\u2019m not a child, Anya! I\u2019m five! And I\u2019m a whole year older than you. You don\u2019t even know what five means yet! You still show your fingers when they ask how old you are. But I\u2019m a grown up man! Don\u2019t be afraid, my princess, I will protect you!\u201d<\/p>\n

I know exactly where the stench comes from, because my mum tried to teach me how to use the latrine once. Petrified with fear, I refused even to approach a big gaping hole on the floor, full of excrement and flies.<\/p>\n

But I don\u2019t tell that to Anyuta. Besides, her mother may be right. The beast might live inside that stinky pit. I pull her a step forward, then, after a moment of thinking, I decide to make a snowball for good measure. \u2018If the beast comes out, I\u2019ll throw the snowball right between his eyes, and he\u2019ll die forever!\u2019<\/p>\n

Easier said than done, though. I suddenly smelt the putrid stench of the latrine monster. Did someone cough out there, in the gap? Or roar? The snow is waist high and we\u2019re so far from home! We can\u2019t run fast either. We\u2019re stuck in the snow. Scared, I see Anyuta\u2019s eyes wide with terror. Has she seen the beast? Can the beast cast a freezing spell?<\/p>\n

Anyuta\u2019s tomcat, Shaitan, jumps out of the shed with a piece of sausage in his snout and dives into the gap. Something inside the shed falls down with a loud metallic clatter. In a split second, we see two bright green spots. Shaitan\u2019s eyes are glowing in the forbidden gap, until he turns his head back, listening to the night. Everything returns to normality. The total silence, interrupted sometimes by a howl of the wind under the rooftops, and the barking of a dog somewhere.<\/p>\n

Anyuta smiles.\u201dOof, Shaitan scared me breathless! I\u2019ll tell my grandma now who steals her smoked sausages from the shed. She thinks mum drinks wine with her boyfriends there, and they eat the sausages for a snack,” she\u2019s looked away.<\/p>\n

\u201cYou know that Shaitan means \u2018demon\u2019 in Turkmenish? I saw it in a cartoon. I called the cat Shaitan, because he was scratching me badly even when he was a kitten. I love him though, when he\u2019s not hungry. He can be very friendly. He doesn\u2019t like when I pull his tail though. Or touch his belly.\u201d<\/p>\n

The Perfect Spot<\/em><\/strong><\/p>\n

We\u2019ve decided not to climb the Everest, but walk around it, to the toolshed\u2019s doors, where the wind, for some reason unknown to us, has blown all the snow away. And there, we\u2019ve found a perfect spot for our home: the wall of snow makes a mountain on one side, the shed-door on the other, and the \u2018snow-hat\u2019 hanging from the roof above us.<\/p>\n

It almost touches the peak of the Everest, and so it isn\u2019t snowing here. It\u2019s warm and cosy. We make a huge table on the mountain side, two cubical chairs, and as a final touch, I cut the window into the outside world. Anya starts \u2018cooking dinner\u2019 \u2013 snowballs with sugar, and I\u2019m making cookies from the harder pressed sheet of snow I\u2019ve cut on the side of the mountain. The cookies look so good! I rub them against the door to perfect them in the shape of stars, crescents and circles.<\/p>\n

\u201cHow did you do that?\u201d Anya\u2019s brown eyes are again wide open.<\/p>\n

\u201cWhen you marry me, I\u2019ll make these cookies for you every day. Even in the summer. I\u2019ll find snow for you\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

I suddenly feel that I should kiss her and give her a snow doughnut as an engagement ring. She\u2019s so near. I reach out and kiss her on the lips, like I used to kiss my mum before I grew up to the mature age of five. Anyuta\u2019s lips were wet and covered with snot. I barely stop myself from spitting out and saying \u201cOof, yak!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cDon\u2019t do that again,\u201d she says angrily, \u201cI\u2019m too young to be a mother! You know where all this kissing leads!\u201d<\/p>\n

I honestly don\u2019t know. How could I?<\/p>\n

\u201cFirst, it\u2019s all this kissing-wissing, and then \u2013 oops, you\u2019re pregnant. That\u2019s what my grandma said to my mom,\u201d she explains patiently. \u201cYou can get pregnant from kissing, you silly.\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cPregnant?\u201d Even the word bewildered me. It sounded so funny.<\/p>\n

\u201cYes! Belly with a baby! How do you think you were born? Found in the cabbage patch?\u201d<\/p>\n

Wasn\u2019t I? Until this moment. My mum always told me, that as I was born in the middle of the summer, I was found among the cabbages on my granny\u2019s orchard. She said she went out to bring a cabbage for soup, and found me, big, fat and pink, but with a head of long black hair. She always said that I was born with long black hair. However, the contradiction of \u201cbeing born\u201d and \u201cfound in the orchard\u201d never bothered me until now.<\/p>\n

\u201cDo the men get pregnant?\u201d I ask her trembling with fear.<\/p>\n

\u201cMmmm,\u201d she touches her chin with her mitten and looks up thinking. \u201cI\u2019m not sure\u2026\u201d<\/p>\n

In shock now I realize, I\u2019m way too young to be a mother as well. On the other hand, why are men called fathers? I\u2019ve never heard anybody call a man Mother. Even though, Uncle Semyon has a really big belly. God, he must be pregnant. My heart sank. What will my grandma say when my belly starts growing? Why on earth have I kissed her? And Anyuta\u2019s still trying to recall what her grandma said.<\/p>\n

\u201cI think so,\u201d she says finally. \u201cDo you think only we women have to suffer?\u201d She takes my snow doughnut though. \u201cIt\u2019s beautiful! Are those mini diamonds?\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cIt\u2019s just snow!\u201d I immediately forgot about my little \u2018pregnancy problem\u2019, more concerned by an imminent slap from my grand-dad, when he finds out I\u2019m having a baby.<\/p>\n

\u201cSnow is mini-diamonds, you silly. Look!\u201d She catches a drifting snow-flake. \u201cLook at it closer. Do you see how beautiful it is? It\u2019s like a little flower, only pointy. Look!\u201d<\/p>\n

The snow-flake is indeed the most beautiful thing I have ever seen so far, and I immediately decide to immortalise it on paper for Anyuta. As soon as I get home, I\u2019ll draw it!<\/p>\n

\u201cMishenka, where are you, sweet kitten?\u201d I hear my granny\u2019s voice from far away. \u201cCome home, child! It\u2019s freezing cold out here!\u201d<\/p>\n

\u201cCan I play a little longer, Bab?\u201d I said sticking my head out of the improvised window to see granny, but the sash collapsed and our sweet home flooded with millions of mini-diamonds that smashed my childhood dreams. Still vivid. In snow.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

Prokopyevsk, 1974 SNOW is everywhere. So much of it, that the whole world looks like an old black-and-white movie. Through the grey haze, a pale and tired winter sun tries to warm the frozen land but only succeeds in turning water crystals into some kind of sparkling fairy dust. Snow piles on double-sloped roofs like […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":159,"featured_media":7079,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[18,1],"tags":[5165,7483,7876,8376,8377,9729,9896,9897],"class_list":["post-6452","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-society","category-uncategorized","tag-kazakhstan","tag-prokopyevsk","tag-river-volga","tag-siberia","tag-siberian-memoir","tag-urals","tag-volga-germans","tag-volga-settlement"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6452","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/159"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=6452"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/6452\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=6452"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=6452"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/casswp.eutonom.eu\/index.php\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=6452"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}