Page 33 of Cilka's Journey
Elena remains a complex character for Cilka. Angry, often uncaring—yelling at the world and everyone in it—yet also showing compassion and tenderness on occasions when she is caught off-guard. She is just surviving, Cilka has often thought. There is no one way to do it.
Elena’s friend, Hannah, speaking again now she has recovered from her time in the hole, remains more antagonistic. The two women are close because, Cilka has found out, they fought in the resistance together—the Polish Home Army. Fighting both the Nazis and the Soviets. Cilka is intimidated by their bravery. And it makes her even more unwilling to share her past.
The next day, Josie hands Cilka two small spring flowers she has managed to pick on her way back from the mine. Brilliant purple petals with a red and black center. Wispy green fronds surround the delicate bloom. Cilka has seen them poking through the icenear the hospital, a sign spring is coming. The possibility of relief from the constant freezing, biting wind and snow gives a sense of hope that life might become a bit easier for all of them.
Cilka tries not to make too much of the gesture from Josie. Truth is, for the first time in here, she feels an aching in her throat like she is about to cry. She swallows. The flowers are placed in a chipped cup, now the pride of each woman in the hut. They have all learned the art of stealing anything not nailed down; smuggling mugs from the mess; a small table discarded from an officers’ hut with a broken leg propped up on random bits of timber; a battered kettle of permanently boiling water on the stove. Antonina, sharing in the uneaten food Cilka brings from the hospital, has chosen to ignore the “extras.” It seems that whatever contraband Klavdiya is looking for, it is not these items. The hut is taking on a cozy appearance. Olga, the embroiderer, who managed not to give the needles back on the first night, has been teaching several others her craft. Threads from the ends of sheets have been taken and turned into beautiful doilies which are strung about the hut. Cilka has continued to help herself to discarded bandages, cleaning them in boiling water and donating them to the embroidery group. Several of the scarves that cover the heads of the women have delicate embroidered edges.
On their monthly visits to the bath hut the women hand over their lace-edged scarves along with their other clothing for de-lousing while they quickly run a sliver of soap across their bodies, and rinse off from a vat of thankfully hot water. Their pubic areas haven’t been shaved again, after the first time, and they are allowed to let their hair grow back, unless they are found to be infested with lice. Most of the women hack their hair short during the bathing sessions. Cilka lets hers grow a little longer. The clothes come back, warm and stiffly hung over a pole, and they have to grab them before they are unceremoniously dropped on the floor.Sometimes the stronger women elbow their way to a new scarf or warmer coat, and so the lace detailing begins to spread throughout the wider brigade.
Spring is sweet but too short. The snow that has covered the ground almost since Cilka arrived melts quickly as daytime temperatures increase. Now the sun is brilliant, reflecting off the nearby hills.
When summer arrives, darkness shrinks down until, one day, there is no night at all. There is no need for searchlights in the yard, unless it’s very overcast. Some of the women in the hut from further south in Europe react to this phenomenon with panic—it seems to go against nature. The men enter the hut and now the women have to see them clearly, up close. Several of the women do not hold back, telling them what ugly pigs they are, and are punished for daring to say so.
Sleep becomes difficult for some as they struggle to shut their eyes in light as bright as day. Tempers flare, and the harmony of the hut is shattered with both verbal and physical fights breaking out.
When Cilka is caught with a nodding head by Yelena, the doctor asks how she is coping with the white nights.
“The what?” Cilka asks.
“The white nights. We will be in daylight for twenty-four hours each day for a while. Everyone adjusts differently.”
“I can’t sleep, and when I do fall asleep it’s only for short bursts.”
“And others in your hut?”
“Some are fine, most aren’t. Fights seem to break out over nothing. How do you cope?” Though she imagines, in the staff quarters where Yelena sleeps, there may be adequate curtains.
“Your first summer will be your worst. Well, for many their worst. There are others who never adjust and struggle each year; some simply go mad. They can’t cope with the sleep deprivation,the change in their body rhythms—it does something to their head.”
She seems very casual about this, Cilka thinks. “Could that happen to me?”
“You will be fine, Cilka.” Cilka hasn’t gotten used to Yelena’s enduring faith in her. “You need to make a blindfold and cover your eyes and slowly let your body adjust. Tell the other women to do the same,” she says. “I’m sure if you look in the linen area you will find some old blankets that have been thrown out. Take a break, take a pair of scissors, go there and cut up enough strips for the women. All you can do is offer.”
Cilka doesn’t need to be told twice. In the linen room she experiments with blankets and other materials she finds until she is happy with the comfort level of having something wrapped around her head. Not too itchy, not too smelly. Twenty lengths are cut and stuffed throughout her clothing. It’s incredible to even be using scissors. In the hut, the women sometimes cut material by running a just-blown-out match along it.
That night, a Sunday when they have only had a half day of work, Cilka distributes the blindfolds, and the women start to settle in their beds, the hut still lit up by daylight. The sound of voices talking outside is heard. They wait for the men to arrive but the door stays closed. The voices continue. Several women get out of bed and cautiously poke their heads outside. Elena opens the door and the voices grow louder.
“What’s going on?” Cilka calls out.
“There are people just walking around and talking; it’s like a party out there!”
They all jump out of bed and rush to the door and windows. Everyone fights to get a look. Slowly, they all venture out.
“What’s happening?” Elena asks a group of women walking past, chatting away.
“Nothing. What do you mean?”
“Why are you outside in the middle of the night?” Elena asks.
“It’s not the middle of the night yet, and we’re outside because we can be. Is this your first summer?” one of the women asks.
“Yes,” Elena tells her. “Well, most of us arrived right at the end of the last one.”
“If you have the energy, you may as well enjoy being outside for a while without having someone standing over you forcing you to work.”
“I didn’t think it would be allowed.”
“Rubbish. You stay inside in winter because it’s too cold and too dark to come outside. I could read a book out here, if I had a book to read, so why not enjoy it? It won’t last for long.”
