Still in Crimea

CHAPTER 9

My Tree and My Basket

I don't know why but there were days during my childhood when I felt very lonely and "forgotten by everyone". Sometimes there were days when I felt hurt. When that happened I felt like being alone, curling up somewhere and having a good cry. In short, I felt the need to feel sorry for myself. I had two favorite spots for doing that. When things were "really bad" I tried to slip unnoticed into the hall, where there was a large woven basket (such baskets were sometimes used for storing winter clothes, carrying dishes, etc. ). I curled up inside that basket, covered myself up with something and stayed there day-dreaming. I did not think I will die and everyone will be sorry, as it is often written in books, but I did dream about myself as a grown-up and as a mother of children. (From the age of 7 or 8 these were my constant concerns). I had a special saying I invented: "I am a poor little girl, everyone is against me. " Repeating this used to make me feel better.

"My tree" was something different. It was a large tree with strong branches and thick leaves that started close to the ground and it stood in the middle of a large garden. When I wanted to sit back and dream, I used to climb up on that tree, sit on some high branch and stay there for a long time, until they called me home as it was time for dinner or supper. The hours spent on the tree (may be the time spent there only seemed very long) were not hours of being sorry for myself, these were other kinds of dreams. The tree was my "real home": it had "rooms" with "furniture" and that's where I "really lived". In my day-dreaming I came and went, cooked and went to sleep, looked after my children, etc. I found it very hard to part from all this when I was called to come home…

The Nocturnal Burglary

One morning when I woke up, I noticed that everyone was very excited. Everyone seemed to be moving from room to room and discussing something. I found out that there had been a burglary at night. The weather was warm, the air was stuffy and we slept with the windows open. My Mother's sewing machine stood near one of the windows and when my parents woke up that morning, the sewing machine was no longer there. There was nothing left of it except for a white ribbon that got caught on a nearby bush. Since that time we had been afraid of thieves at home and this fear used to haunt me for many years. Thieves and burglaries often came up in my dreams and this nocturnal burglary must have been the basis for these fears.

My First Bad Dream

I had this dream when I was about 5 or 6 and I have remembered it all my life. I dreamed that we were all sitting near the sea and the mountain, the Ai-Petri, could be seen at a distance. Then everyone disappeared and I remained near the sea all alone. The sun vanished and the sky was covered by clouds. It became dark and suddenly I saw a black spot on top of the mountain. The spot grew larger and I realized that a black bear is coming down the mountain. I stood there motionless, as if seized by some force, and the bear was coming closer and closer… Here he was, right in front of me. I screamed terribly and woke up. It was morning time, I was alone in the room, everyone had gone somewhere and I was in bed, afraid to move…

This was the first bad dream I remember. Over the years I had bad dreams from time to time, even at an elderly age. Some of them I even remember and I shall mention them later. I was always glad to realize that neither Iren nor Tusya have ever suffered from similar experiences. I hope my grandchildren will be spared this sort of thing too. I found these bad dreams and fears hard to bear sometimes.

The Accident

The first accident that I recall was also connected with Yalta. There was a whole commotion at home. I found out that late at night, on his way home, Father walked along some winding path (of which there were plenty around Yalta and even within the city center) and fell from the precipice. He lost his pince-nez, was badly bruised and even, I think, broke his leg. Everyone said that he was very lucky as he could have suffered much more serious injuries. He was very much in pain, we all walked on our tiptoes and then our acquaintance, a nurse, was asked to come every few days and change his bandages. I think Father spent about two weeks in bed and then got better. For a long time we all remembered his fall "from the precipice".

The Yalta Embankment

When I started writing about our life in Yalta I thought that I will have to write about the embankment separately. I remember it to be wide, noisy and fancy. I remember that we simply walked around there, went shopping and strolled along, together with Mother and Zyama, to meet Tusya and Benno, who were coming back from school. I also remember the different kinds of horse-drawn carriages that went along the embankment carrying passengers. There was also a special kind of smaller carriage for tours: it was a carriage with a long and wide central seat and it only had two wheels.

When I visited Yalta in 1950 I wanted very much to see the embankment with the eyes of a child I once was. I could not, of course, recognize anything there, even the over-all impression was different. In the past it seemed much wider. Yet, I did remember that "the sea was on the left".

It was still very interesting to see. During my visit in 1950 I thought that I should be able to find the places I remembered both in Yalta and Alupka. I asked about the location of "Sarra", but no-one knew anything about it. We only spent 3 days in Yalta and I never succeeded in finding any signs leading to our old house…

The House-search I Remember Most

I already wrote that house-searches were almost a regular occurrence when we lived in Yalta. One day it was the "reds" which came to search our apartment. It was a regular search, not a special one. These people went around the apartment looking here and there and then one of them, most probably the one in charge, asked: "Do you have any other belongings?" (During that period the authorities confiscated "unnecessary" or "extra" belongings). "No, there was nothing else", - they were told. Suddenly one of them walked up to the dining-room table and pulled at its top. The top moved aside and revealed a large box with all sorts of things in it: there were dresses, a coat with a fur collar and other things. Everyone stopped still and there were a few moments of a strange silence. The man in charge said reproachfully: "You see? And you said that there was nothing more! What a shame!" I thought that everyone was indeed ashamed. I, in any case, felt ashamed and remembered that feeling for a long time. The people who took part in the search were probably very decent people (during those times the people who conducted the searches were often hooligans and robbers who deceived the population). The man in charge made a silent sign and the others started taking out different items from the box. Some were put aside and some were left where they were. Then the items that were selected for "requisition", as it was called, were taken outside and the men soon left.

All of us at home silently put things in order and later I heard someone saying how nice these people were: firstly, they could have taken absolutely everything, and secondly, they had the right to arrest Father, Mother and the rest of us. They obviously saw that we were not really that "rich" and that there were also four children at home. True enough, during those times all these considerations could have been disregarded and the family could have been doomed to destruction. So, we were left with a sense of gratitude towards those people and even though we were sorry to part with our belongings we did realize that the damage caused to us was much smaller than it could have been. I must have been about 6 at the time but I did remember everything: the reproachful expression of the man in charge, Mother's worried and embarrassed expression when the table was opened, the fact that some of our things were left to us and also that no-one was arrested.

Leaving Crimea

We knew that Mother and Father were appealing to the authorities for a permission to leave. Many years later I learned that somewhere in the 1920's, probably in 1921, a special order was issued by the Soviet authorities, stating that Latvian citizens who had left Latvia as refugees during World War I had the right to go back to their homeland. Thus, our parents' application must have been based on that order. The permission to leave was finally received and only later I understood why Frieda, Mother's sister, did not come back with us to Latvia: she did not live there before the war and she therefore remained somewhere in Russia. Aunt Basya came back together with us.

Incidentally, when I joined the Communist Party during the war, when we were living in Kirov, someone in my local party organization (affiliated to the Latvian government which was evacuated there) had asked how did it happened that I had left Soviet Russia for "bourgeois Latvia". The only reply I could give was that I was 7 years old then and I came back with my family. However, the late Fritsis Deglavs, who was then an important party figure, got up and explained the situation and the existence of the above-mentioned order. I did not know anything about it then.

I do not remember anything about our preparations to leave. The only vivid memory I have is that of my parting from my friend Alyonushka Terebeneva. I came to her house and said that we were leaving. I remember that I was sad and I saw that she was also sorry that I was leaving. Suddenly Alyonushka lead me to the windowsill where all her dolls were arranged and said: "Choose anything you like!" Alyonushka must have been a very kind girl… I was somewhat surprised, but it did not take me a long time to make a decision. The little tiny key that served her to "open" her imaginary dolls' house had been something I wanted to have for a long time. When I said: "The little key", I was not even sure that she will give it to me, but she did not stop to think and gave it to me right away. I took it and it became the beginning of my future "treasure collection" which I called by the German word of "Schatzkammer". That collection contained all sorts of treasured memorabilia. The little key survived for some 20 years. It was left in Riga together with the rest of my "Schatzkammer" and other belongings and it all disappeared during the Nazi occupation of Riga. Ever since then I liked little keys like the one I had then. I have not heard anything more about my first girlfriend, the kind-hearted Alyonushka Terebeneva.

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