Читать книгу The Women of Janowka - Helmut Exner - Страница 11

– Chapter 4 –

In almost every family there is, according to genetic disposition, an accumulation of distinguishing physical features: hair colour, height, posture, striking noses, dark or light skin, freckles, big or small feet, fat or slim. Of course, the whims of nature play a role in deciding whether maternal or paternal features dominate in each particular child. But family traits go beyond the mere physical. There are also certain characteristics, qualities, attitudes and likes or dislikes, which are grouped in many familes. One can say “the love of horses is in his blood.” or “good cooking runs in the family”, but such qualities are probably based on family traditions and upbringing. Nevertheless, it is truly astonishing when after a hundred years, despite being separated from a family who was scattered throughout the continents, one comes across these same character traits, attitudes and likes and dislikes.

This is exactly how I felt when I first met the descendants of my family who had emigrated many years ago. On my father’s side, people have always been rather small. Dark hair, grey-green-brown eyes and a dark complexion have been unmistakable indicators of a family connection. For generations, there’s been a tendency to have the small finger of the right hand shorter than that of the left hand. This is cause for a good laugh when this or that cousin meets for the first time. Many women in the family have been of such petite stature one should never have thought they had the tenacity and strength required to bring up the many children, drive a team of horses over a field, care for their parents and grandparents and, if necessary, assert themselves against all men. For a long period of time, this family has been living and surviving because of the very power of these small, inconspicuous, thin, tough women.

I had exchanged some letters with Aunt Frieda and talked to her on the phone a couple of times. Her English is perfect, and the East European German she learned from her parents is fair. I already knew her oldest daughter and youngest son from their first visit to Germany. I was immediately attracted to them because they were both petite and dark-eyed. And, of course, cousin Darlene also has this ‘magic little finger’. Even more agreeable to me was the fact that both, despite their modern academic professions, were connected to the land and surrounded themselves with horses, cats and dogs, grew tomatoes and potatoes, and enjoyed the company of a big family – brothers and sisters, granny, parents, grandchildren and a confusing number of cousins. It was exactly this lifestyle I knew from my father and it defines family for me.

And now the first meeting with Frieda in Manitoba, Canada. She’s a small person, and although at the age of 78 her hair is grey, she’s unmistakeably a dark type, loud, full of energy and warm-hearted. The embrace is long and firm. Frieda – a daughter of the petite Mathilde who, in 1904, had brought her older brother (my grandfather) home from the river in Volhynia, so that he could deliver the butter to Salomon, the Jew.