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Authors: Sofi Oksanen
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jabs alone. It started off innocently enough. Anna expressed concern about whether Juudit would find any buyers for the lard in Tallinn. It was easy in the countryside. The Germans were going from house to house chanting “ein Eier, eine Butter, ein Eier, eine Butter.” They sounded so desperate, it made Anna feel sorry for them.
“The children in Germany are dying from hunger. A lot of these men have children. You don’t understand it yet, but you will once you have your own kids hanging on your skirt.”
Her eyes fastened on Juudit’s middle. Juudit lifted her hand to her waist and cast a glance at the china cabinet, the row of empty tins for the soldiers waiting on the shelf—they couldn’t send their families their own provisions, but other food was allowed. There was a scurry at the edge of the room and Juudit saw a mouse run behind her suitcase and another one follow right after it. She pressed harder against her belly and Anna continued her lament as she pulled open cabinet drawers filled with chocolate for the soldiers. Leonida had been bringing chocolate, along with a five-liter churn of hot soup wrapped in a wool scarf, to the guards shivering on the antiaircraft platform they’d built on the roof of the school. The guards were more alert once they’d had a little chocolate.
“Those soldier boys don’t have anything to give in return, a few ostmarks perhaps. I’ll get by all right, but those children!”
If Juudit hadn’t desperately needed the supplies, she would have gone right back to Tallinn. Everything Anna said seemed to point to Juudit’s worthlessness. She decided not to care. She wouldn’t come back—but then what would she sell? She had to find some other way to make a living. Her stenography and German weren’t enough, there were too many girlswhose fingers knew their way around a typewriter better than hers did, too many young women looking for work. But nobody made moonshine in town. When she left Johan’s house, she’d left behind all of her husband’s things, and she regretted it now. But there was no point in hankering after his brand-new overshoes and winter coat. Her mother had said that she would reclaim Johan’s house when they returned to Tallinn. She couldn’t do anything with the place now, the house had suffered too much damage from the Bolsheviks, and no one knew where Johan had stashed the ownership documents. But Juudit had to think of something. Something other than tins of lard and moonshine. Because she wasn’t coming back here, and she couldn’t survive on German aid packages alone. Juudit still held her arm to her middle. Anna’s furtive glances at her waist made her want to protect it, although there was nothing to protect. What was going to happen when her husband came back? Juudit was sure he would insist that Anna live under the same roof with them, always watching her, making sure she made his fricadelle soup the right way. In town, you could make it practically every week, after all.
The tension created by Anna’s pointed comments broke when Aksel came to fetch his slaughtering knife and toss his work gloves on the stove to dry. The scent of wet wool spread through the kitchen, the lamp’s flame flickered. The hog had been hung up in the shed the day before and Aksel had slept there all night with one eye open for thieves. Rosalie came in from the cowshed, and when the others went to get the meat, Juudit took her hand and wouldn’t let go.
“Has something happened that I don’t know about?” Juudit asked. “You’re all acting so strange.”
Rosalie tugged away, but Juudit wouldn’t let her go. It was just the two of them in the yard—Leonida had gone to tell the others what size pieces of meat she wanted. They could hear her voice from the shed, pushing its way between them. Juudit’s chapped lips were tight.
“No,” Rosalie said. “It’s just that Roland has come home, and it feels so bad to be able to see him when your husband’s
“The children in Germany are dying from hunger. A lot of these men have children. You don’t understand it yet, but you will once you have your own kids hanging on your skirt.”
Her eyes fastened on Juudit’s middle. Juudit lifted her hand to her waist and cast a glance at the china cabinet, the row of empty tins for the soldiers waiting on the shelf—they couldn’t send their families their own provisions, but other food was allowed. There was a scurry at the edge of the room and Juudit saw a mouse run behind her suitcase and another one follow right after it. She pressed harder against her belly and Anna continued her lament as she pulled open cabinet drawers filled with chocolate for the soldiers. Leonida had been bringing chocolate, along with a five-liter churn of hot soup wrapped in a wool scarf, to the guards shivering on the antiaircraft platform they’d built on the roof of the school. The guards were more alert once they’d had a little chocolate.
“Those soldier boys don’t have anything to give in return, a few ostmarks perhaps. I’ll get by all right, but those children!”
If Juudit hadn’t desperately needed the supplies, she would have gone right back to Tallinn. Everything Anna said seemed to point to Juudit’s worthlessness. She decided not to care. She wouldn’t come back—but then what would she sell? She had to find some other way to make a living. Her stenography and German weren’t enough, there were too many girlswhose fingers knew their way around a typewriter better than hers did, too many young women looking for work. But nobody made moonshine in town. When she left Johan’s house, she’d left behind all of her husband’s things, and she regretted it now. But there was no point in hankering after his brand-new overshoes and winter coat. Her mother had said that she would reclaim Johan’s house when they returned to Tallinn. She couldn’t do anything with the place now, the house had suffered too much damage from the Bolsheviks, and no one knew where Johan had stashed the ownership documents. But Juudit had to think of something. Something other than tins of lard and moonshine. Because she wasn’t coming back here, and she couldn’t survive on German aid packages alone. Juudit still held her arm to her middle. Anna’s furtive glances at her waist made her want to protect it, although there was nothing to protect. What was going to happen when her husband came back? Juudit was sure he would insist that Anna live under the same roof with them, always watching her, making sure she made his fricadelle soup the right way. In town, you could make it practically every week, after all.
The tension created by Anna’s pointed comments broke when Aksel came to fetch his slaughtering knife and toss his work gloves on the stove to dry. The scent of wet wool spread through the kitchen, the lamp’s flame flickered. The hog had been hung up in the shed the day before and Aksel had slept there all night with one eye open for thieves. Rosalie came in from the cowshed, and when the others went to get the meat, Juudit took her hand and wouldn’t let go.
“Has something happened that I don’t know about?” Juudit asked. “You’re all acting so strange.”
Rosalie tugged away, but Juudit wouldn’t let her go. It was just the two of them in the yard—Leonida had gone to tell the others what size pieces of meat she wanted. They could hear her voice from the shed, pushing its way between them. Juudit’s chapped lips were tight.
“No,” Rosalie said. “It’s just that Roland has come home, and it feels so bad to be able to see him when your husband’s
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