section7mfu | Zaporoche ~ an Illya backstory~ chapter 3

link to chapter 2: http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/220467.html

"It is a brave thing Nicholaí and your eldest son are doing." the priest said, "I only hope it will be enough when the Nazis finally arrive. Though there are a great number of Russian troops in Kyiv, they do not seem truly prepared for the hell that is to come. Their discontent and hard heartedness towards Stalin will not make for brave soldiers willing to give their lives for our leader. Joseph Stalin has done many cruel things to his people, and here in the Ukraine as well. I wonder if the troops will show any sort of loyalty to him in response to his murderous ways."

"Yes Father," Marina Kuryakina spoke up."I remember the Holodomar with great sadness."

"What is Holodomor?" Illya asked.

Marina looked to her daughter-in-law, unsure if she should tell the boy. Yet Tanya nodded her approval. Hard times would be coming and the boy would have to face some harsh realities.

"It means in Ukrainian, "death by hunger" and It took place just before your were born Illyusha my child. It is known by other names...the "Terror-Famine" and "Famine-Genocide" here in Kyiv. Millions of people died of starvation." She lowered her voice as if unwanted ears were listening to her seditious talk. " It was a deliberate act of genocide by Joseph Stalin and the Soviet government. The famine was the result of actions and policies of the totalitarian regime that caused the deaths of millions of Ukrainians, Russians, Kazaks and many others."

"Baba, what is genocide? I do not know that word."

Marina thought for a moment, trying to word it carefully enough as Illya was still a child. " It is the deliberate and systematic destruction of a particular group of people...it could be because of what ethnic group they are, their racial, religious beliefs. It could be anything that someone holds against them, and for no sane reason."

"But why would someone do that Baba?"

"I do not know my child, it to me a form of insanity just to murder people for who they are or what they believe."

Illya frowned as he thought over her answer, his face suddenly went paler than normal. "Does this mean we are going to die Baba? We believe in God but I am told in school God does not exist. So we if we believe in religion, will we be genocided? Will the government come after us like they did Father Demya." His eyes began to well up.

"Nyet, nyet my Illyusha, do not cry. We are safe, we keep to ourselves now. We have no church to go to now."

Illya slipped from his chair, climbing into his mother's lap as he fought back his tears.

"Mama, I do not want to die," he sniffled.

Tanya rocked him for a few minutes until he was comforted, regretting they had included him in the conversation at the table. She did not like to see her son frightened, but she knew letting him hear such terrible talk was really for the best, even though it upset him. He had to be ready, as Nicholaí had once said, for when the time came. That time was fast approaching. War was looming over them like a giant shadow of Baba Yaga.

The conversation subsided as the meal concluded and Father Demya said the prayer of thanks.

"Slava Ottsu , i Synu , i Svyatomu Dukhu, nyne i prisno i vo veki vekov. Amin'_glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen."

"Vasha matka stala Nebesnoy tablitse_your womb became a Heavenly Table, bearing the Heavenly Bread - Christ our God. Whoever eats of Him shall not die, O Birth-giver of God, according to the word of the Nourisher of honorable than the Cherubim, and more glorious beyond compare than the Seraphim: without defilement you gave birth to God the Word: true Theotokos, we magnify You".

"Thou, O Lord, hast made us glad by Thy works; in the works of Thy hands shall we rejoice. Lift up the Light of Thy countenance upon us, O Lord! Thou hast put joy in my heart. With teh fruit of wheat, wine and oil have we been satisfied. In peace I will both lie down and sleep; for Thou alone, O Lord, makest me to dwell in hope".

"Glory to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit, now and ever and unto ages of ages. Amen".

"Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy! Lord, have mercy!"

"God is with us, through His Grace and love for mankind, always now and ever, and unto ages of ages. Amen."

The priest, Tanya, and Baba all crossed themselves, "Amin."

Illya followed suit, but his mind wandered, as he puzzled as to why prayers alway seemed to be so long.

"Father, would you care to join us by the fire? We usually sing some songs while Madam plays the concertina." Tanya graciously asked.

"That would be lovely, it has been a long time since I have sat with a family. The concertina, Nicholaí's I presume. He and his music were missed after Holy Supper at Christmas. Is he well?"

Tanya's eyes filled with sadness. "I pray he and our son Dimitry are alive. We have seen them only a few times and the last was when they came home to ready the house for winter. I can only hope now that Spring is arriving, they will safely return to us."

The priest bowed his head, offering a silent prayer, asking God to keep them well and let them return to this wonderful family.

They sat together in front of the fire as Madam began to play on the concertina... a familiar melody to a one they all knew, 'Kalinka,' a folk song of love. Father Demya joined in with his wonderful deep voice, though it was a song about a man in love with a woman, the priest sang it with gusto... after all, he hadn't been a priest all his life. Marina and Tanya sang behind him in the chorus...

"Mozhzhevelʹnik, mozhzhevelʹnik , mozhzhevelʹnik, moy mozhzhevelʹnika,

V sadu yestʹyagody, moya malina.Pod sosnoy, pod zelenyye sosny,

Ulozhi menya spatʹAkh ty, dorogaya sosna, akh ty zelenyye sosny,

Vy ne shelestyat tak gromko na menya Krasivaya gornichnaya , milaya devitsa!

Juniper, juniper, juniper, my juniper, In the garden there's the berry, my raspberry.

Under the pine, under the green pine, Lay me down to sleep Oh you dear pine, oh you green pine,

Don't you rustle so loud over me Beautiful maid, dear maid, please fall in love with me!"

Illya hopped up, trying to dance the Kazachok, bringing laughter to the others as he struggled, finally landing on his zhopa, and making him laugh out loud as well. It had been a long time since there was this much laughter in the Kuryakin dacha.

The next morning the priest left early to make his way to Hortitsa and the town of Zaporoche, he carried with him a small sack containing a loaf of potato babka, some carrots and turnips and a goatskin water bag.

It was the last time Illya Nickovich saw Father Demya, but he would never forget the wonderful visit and the stories the priest told him. He dreamed of meeting other Kazaki someday, and to learn to ride as they did...

http://section7mfu.livejournal.com/223039.html