Liongina Zazaitė–Polikaitienė

“It was the autumn, an early morning came, They knocked at the closed window frame. The strangers intruded our dwelling, They didn’t ask for water or the shelter. Mother was wringing her hands, calling on God’s mercy, and weeping her bitter tears. The gatecrashers arranged the papers under their wish, Marauded the house, not looking at us. The truth is that they speeded us on our way. The tackled horse was on the trot. Mum and dad made the sign of the cross to the lot. The lindens, the spruces we left behind, the beds unmade, the cattle not fed All the doors left open as they fled. Crying granny hastened through the meadow, she was eager to make her bow. But the time was running low. Our family was sold to Siberia. The throngs were packed into the load, The others were fussing around the railway road. We started wandering away from our homeland. The cattle- truck was locked and nailed. The ration was cold and stale. When it stopped, people rushed for water. By the armed soldiers they were escorted. Electrical poles in distance announced of city approaching. We knew that some wind will be let in. Despite our flush with shame and apologies we had to empty our bowels inside. From the cattle –truck to the barge were displaced. The perishing cold seeped into the bones. Both young and aged noticed the scenery changed. I was in great sorrow for our tiny Lithuania. I heard the Mūša sough every night in my dreams. After awakening the same despair was in the air. At last we came to stoyanka (Engl: halt) Small houses are standing on the bank on the river. Not zemlyanka (Engl: dugout). There were some bigger houses in sight. Mummy, daddy, which of them will be given by might? We were herded into the huge abode, The others were lying on their sackload. Stinkbugs and roaches were crawling on walls, So cramped and jam-packed, you had to stride warily not to fall. Soon we all got malaria, from the corners we heard only Jesus, Maria. No letters, no parcels, no telegrams. We were fortunate to have beside our mums. My dearest mummy, you went through the kolkhoz blood, sweat, tears and heartache. You knew no words in Russian, but managed to get some potatoes, to scary grim hunger from children away. At school we were equal. No Lithuanian books in the bag. We couldn’t answer when asked. We were oppressed by unutterable heartache. But soon we learned to read and to write, we played games, hit a ball, We sang and even danced not only the simple bops but the Kazachki (Engl: Russian dance) Even the Russians were surprised by our valiancy. One by one we started earning a bit. It was very hard but we didn’t admit. Our bodies were bitten by gnats and midges. When we went to the woods for the berries, were scared to death by the roaring bears. We grew up buoyant, diligent and never downhearted. From parents that property was imparted. Our mum was telling the stories without any twinkle, We all like the tiny tots fell asleep to the sound of her soft voice.”