“The
Morgenpost
says there won’t be enough apartments or even barracks for the soldiers to live in once they get home.”
I picked up a stone and skipped it three hops across theslow-moving surface of the Spree. We were quiet for a few minutes, and I could hear Arvo struggling with the clothes. “Thank you,” Arvo called when he was done changing. We climbed back up the riverbank to where he was sitting. He looked much less pathetic in men’s clothes.
Giselle’s PE clothes were folded in a tidy pile. He was turning over his uniform and smoothing it out so the other side would dry. “You have a name?” he said to me.
“Yes—” Vivian barged in. She introduced herself and Giselle and then me.
“Thank you,” Arvo said, looking at each of us in turn. “Thank you for food and clothing and very much thank you for medicine. I am much better now.”
He did look a lot better. He wasn’t so pale, and he didn’t guard his body stiffly like people do when they are in pain. Codeine must be pretty amazing stuff. No wonder Mom kept it locked up.
“What happened to you?” I said. “Why were those men trying to kill you? We saw the whole thing; they were officers.”
“You are needing whole story. Please sit down.”
Giselle picked up her PE clothes and made a cushion of them to sit on a boulder, and Vivian and I sat side by side on an old railroad tie. Arvo folded the army towels and put them under his foot to elevate it.
“First thing you girls learn in school about the Soviet Union is that we are your enemy. It is not true. We are ourown enemy. I am no Russian. Estonia is my home. I am alone in the Soviet Army. I am the only one from Estonia in Berlin, and they hate me for it. They spit in my food. They steal my letters to my family and the money I send to them. They never speak to me but to curse. For years I took this as a blind man takes the dark. It has always been so for Soviet soldiers who are not Russian. But I can see now. With the glasnost there is truth about our history in our own newspapers. We didn’t ask the Russians to come; they conquered us.”
“Everyone knows that!” Vivian said.
“Really? Everyone?” I said. Vivi had a talent for making me feel like a second grader.
“Yeah, well, everyone who’s read ahead in the high school western civ book.”
“It’s the whole reason we’re here in Germany,” Giselle added. “To keep you Soviets from gobbling up Germany and Denmark and all the rest of these little countries.”
“This is all news in Estonia, in the whole Soviet Union,” Arvo said. “Our history books said the whole world was longing to be Communist. There would only be peace and freedom when the whole world was Communist.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Because even I know that’s a lie.”
“Now we all know. Last summer we made the Baltic Way, a chain of two million people who held hands from my city, Tallinn, to Riga to Vilnius—six hundred kilometers. Westood together in a line to ask for independence. We are almost free, and I want to be home in my own country when we are finally free. Home …”
And then he stopped, because he was almost going to cry. And I thought, I love my country the same as anyone, but there isn’t any place in America that’s home to me. And then I thought, Never mind that he was almost murdered yesterday; Arvo’s a lucky man.
He turned to Giselle and said, “It is because of your Martin Luther King and Gandhi, too. We read about them, and we try not to seek revenge on our Russian neighbors who stole our houses and jobs and cars. We try to stand up for justice with no violence. I want to be there. I want to be with my family making my country free.”
“Can’t you get a transfer?” Giselle said. “You’re just a translator. They could get someone else to do your work.”
“Is not so easy,” Arvo said. “I asked the only officer who was ever kind to me, but he said no. Then the lieutenants you saw on the bridge
Morgenpost
says there won’t be enough apartments or even barracks for the soldiers to live in once they get home.”
I picked up a stone and skipped it three hops across theslow-moving surface of the Spree. We were quiet for a few minutes, and I could hear Arvo struggling with the clothes. “Thank you,” Arvo called when he was done changing. We climbed back up the riverbank to where he was sitting. He looked much less pathetic in men’s clothes.
Giselle’s PE clothes were folded in a tidy pile. He was turning over his uniform and smoothing it out so the other side would dry. “You have a name?” he said to me.
“Yes—” Vivian barged in. She introduced herself and Giselle and then me.
“Thank you,” Arvo said, looking at each of us in turn. “Thank you for food and clothing and very much thank you for medicine. I am much better now.”
He did look a lot better. He wasn’t so pale, and he didn’t guard his body stiffly like people do when they are in pain. Codeine must be pretty amazing stuff. No wonder Mom kept it locked up.
“What happened to you?” I said. “Why were those men trying to kill you? We saw the whole thing; they were officers.”
“You are needing whole story. Please sit down.”
Giselle picked up her PE clothes and made a cushion of them to sit on a boulder, and Vivian and I sat side by side on an old railroad tie. Arvo folded the army towels and put them under his foot to elevate it.
“First thing you girls learn in school about the Soviet Union is that we are your enemy. It is not true. We are ourown enemy. I am no Russian. Estonia is my home. I am alone in the Soviet Army. I am the only one from Estonia in Berlin, and they hate me for it. They spit in my food. They steal my letters to my family and the money I send to them. They never speak to me but to curse. For years I took this as a blind man takes the dark. It has always been so for Soviet soldiers who are not Russian. But I can see now. With the glasnost there is truth about our history in our own newspapers. We didn’t ask the Russians to come; they conquered us.”
“Everyone knows that!” Vivian said.
“Really? Everyone?” I said. Vivi had a talent for making me feel like a second grader.
“Yeah, well, everyone who’s read ahead in the high school western civ book.”
“It’s the whole reason we’re here in Germany,” Giselle added. “To keep you Soviets from gobbling up Germany and Denmark and all the rest of these little countries.”
“This is all news in Estonia, in the whole Soviet Union,” Arvo said. “Our history books said the whole world was longing to be Communist. There would only be peace and freedom when the whole world was Communist.”
“Seriously?” I said. “Because even I know that’s a lie.”
“Now we all know. Last summer we made the Baltic Way, a chain of two million people who held hands from my city, Tallinn, to Riga to Vilnius—six hundred kilometers. Westood together in a line to ask for independence. We are almost free, and I want to be home in my own country when we are finally free. Home …”
And then he stopped, because he was almost going to cry. And I thought, I love my country the same as anyone, but there isn’t any place in America that’s home to me. And then I thought, Never mind that he was almost murdered yesterday; Arvo’s a lucky man.
He turned to Giselle and said, “It is because of your Martin Luther King and Gandhi, too. We read about them, and we try not to seek revenge on our Russian neighbors who stole our houses and jobs and cars. We try to stand up for justice with no violence. I want to be there. I want to be with my family making my country free.”
“Can’t you get a transfer?” Giselle said. “You’re just a translator. They could get someone else to do your work.”
“Is not so easy,” Arvo said. “I asked the only officer who was ever kind to me, but he said no. Then the lieutenants you saw on the bridge
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