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an excerpt from The Kulak's Daughter
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| Olga's been hiding out at the family windmill, waiting for a storm to pass. She falls asleep and wakes up to the sound of men's voices. This is part of their conversation. Papa's voice is not loud, but it's strong. "This was my father's farm. Stalin can't have it." He shakes his head, while light and shadow dance on his face. "Look at my windmill," he says proudly, waving his arms, like the windmill did during the storm. "It's brand new. I'm going to ride out these hard times. How bad can it get? We'll survive. Like I said, we'll cooperate. I'll make deals with them. I'm a reasonable man." I hear laughter, but it's not a happy sound. Just then, something terrible happens. It must have been the dust, or maybe it's just me still being wet from the rain. "Haa, haa, haa, CHOO!" I sneeze. In the silence that follows I stand up and, covered with shame and straw, show my bedraggled self. The men all laugh, and this time they sound happy. I bow my messy head, expecting Papa's tongue lashing. Instead, he lifts my chin and says, "This is why I'm staying - for the children. This is their land, too. It's their future." Papa pulls a stray piece of straw from my hair. "Let's go home, Olga," he says. "Your mama is worried about you." |
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| The Kulak's Daughter will be published in the spring of 2009, by Blooming Tree Press. | |||
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gabrielegoldstone@yahoo.ca |
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