Читать книгу The Women of Janowka - Helmut Exner - Страница 12

– Chapter 5 –

In 1910, there were about sixty houses in Janowka which, to a vast extent, were located on the river side of the road, overlooking the fields which reached towards the horizon. In front of the houses, there were flower gardens. In the back, people had their stables and barns and, of course, big vegetable gardens. A stone’s throw away, the river Slusz flowed peacefully. It only flooded occasionally in spring. A small ferry, operated by a Frenchman, crossed the river, enabled the villagers to make hay on the eastern meadows and return it to their barns later on. The parish hall and schoolhouse in which the sexton and his family lived was at the end of the village. On Sundays, a service was held there, led either by the sexton or the elder parishioner. The pastor lived in Tuczyn and was responsible for 56 parishes. He visited most villages only twice a year and conducted school inspections and confirmations. He also signed baptism and death certificates. The baptisms and funeral services themselves were led by the sexton or other parishioners. In order to get married, most couples travelled to Tuczyn, which – going by horse and carriage – was a journey of several hours.

From Janowka, at that time, there were about forty children attending school, joined by some others from the adjoining Janowka colony, which consisted of a handful of farmsteads. There were also some pupils from the Solomiak colony which was two kilometers away. All Protestant children were required to attend school for six years in Volhynia. This rule was common only in Volhynia and in some Mennonite colonies in the Black Sea area. Most people in the extensive Russian Empire were illiterate. Summer and autumn holidays were comparatively long, because parents depended on their children to assist them in working the fields. The basic aim of education was to teach children reading and writing, so that they could read the Holy Bible. It was regarded as a matter of course that this knowledge could also be used for other interests. Arithmetic was also taught, plus more, depending on the educational level of the teacher. Not being a qualified teacher, the sexton ran a tight ship, teaching forty to fifty children of different ages within the confined space of the one-room school. In the 90s of the 19th century, however, education had been taken out of the hands of the Evangelical Church and now teaching Russian was mandatory. German lessons were only permitted between eight and nine o’clock in the morning. Since the Russian administration didn’t have enough Russian teachers at its disposal, they hadn’t been too stringent about these rules, at least not in the villages. Besides, people learned Russian, in addition to Ukrainian, Polish and Yiddish through practical application in day to day life.

There were German, Ukrainian, Polish, Russian, Mennonite and Jewish villages. There were bigger places with a mixture of many nationalities and religions. All mingled together and respected each other’s differences.

Almost all inhabitants were farmers, and many also plied a trade on the side. There were some who had one main occupation and did no farming; like the blacksmith, the miller and a few others. Every home had a stall, a barn, and a garden for fruit and vegetables. In the morning, the cows of the village were picked up by a herdsman, who supervised them during the day while they grazed on a centrally-located pasture beyond the village. In the evening, he drove them back to the village, and without requiring too much attention, every cow would find the way back to its home stable. Some fields and meadows were situated a long way from the village. Every family worked for itself, but helping each other out on a mutual basis went without asking. Some men worked in more distant towns and returned home only on Sundays. Anyone who worked in Shitomir, could come home only rarely, but usually earned good money.

It was only in the last decade that much of the land had been wrested from nature and made useful for agriculture. Beside pastures, corn and potato fields, there were fruit trees. The fruit that couldn’t be preserved was made into fruit wine or distilled into schnapps providing a welcome source of additional income for many people, even if it was unlawful. Distilling licences were expensive. People were self-sufficient, producing their own butter, cheese, meat, fruit, vegetables, and flour for bread. In case there was lack of something, one could always swap with the neighbours. The flat landscape, with trees bordering the fields, could be described as pleasant. Summers were hot and sometimes dry; winters could get freezing cold when the wind was blowing from the east.

“Katlika, don’t let mother catch you,” shouted Friedrich watching from his garden as his sister Mathilde, whom everybody just called Katlika, disappeared quickly in the direction of the river with 18-year-old Eduard Ehmke.

But the 16-year-old girl, who, because of her size, could be taken as twelve, just waved cheerfully. She was certain that her big brother would not tattle on her. Of course, mother Christine had strictly forbidden her to hang around with boys. However, this didn’t have any effect on the fact that she was in love. The riverside with its reeds was the perfect hideout for lovers, offering them a chance to talk to each other, or do whatever young lovebirds usually do, without being disturbed by the looks of others.

Half a year ago, Friedrich had married Serafine, the daughter of Pauline and Karl Rattai, who lived in the two kilometer distant Solomiak. With her blonde hair, she presented a nice contrast to Friedrich who, like all his brothers and sisters, had full dark hair and a dark complexion. Serafine, a wonderful singer, was helpfulness itself, getting along well not only with her parents and brothers and sisters, but also with her husband’s family. Thus, Friedrich felt he had won the lottery with her. Serafine’s forefathers on the mother’s side originally came from Mecklenburg. Living in Poznan from 1760 on, they had been faced with increasing difficulties, like most Germans living among the Polish majority, until they decided to come to Volhynia about 1860 trying their luck here. The family of her father once was Sorbian, had also lived in the Poznan area long ago until they, finally, had come to Volhynia, too.

Friedrich had seized the opportunity to take over the farmstead of a family that had moved to Königsberg, East Prussia. Having saved some money himself, his parents as well as those of Serafine had pooled all their money in order to make the purchase of the property possible for the young couple. On instructions from the authorities, the bank in Kostopol no longer granted loans to Germans even if they had Russian passports. However, Russian citizens couldn’t be stopped from buying a house, of course, if they paid for it in cash.

Friedrich’s parents, Christine and Karl, lived only a few houses further down the road. His brother Gottlieb would take over their farm sometime in the future. The two girls, Katlika and Martha, would have no trouble getting into good marriages since they were both so diligent and clever. Although they were small and thin, they had learned how to be a good farmer’s wife from their mother. Moreover, by now the girls were much prettier than their parents liked. They had to constantly supervise and make sure the young men didn’t go anywhere near them.

“I’m riding over to Solomiak,” said Serafine, as she came out of the summer kitchen, a small separate building used for cooking during the hot season.

“Oh right, today’s Thursday and Salomon is waiting for his butter,” replied Friedrich.

“I’m also dropping by the parents’ place to get some bread. Mother baked yesterday.”

“Would you like me to harness the horse?” asked Friedrich.

“I’m able to do it myself. I’m a big girl already, you know,” answered Serafine, smiling.