Friday, June 16, 1916
Speaking about mean, Slava’s father is not going back to the factory. Today he was sent to a mine on the east coast of Canada. About twelve men were chosen for that. Slava cried and cried. I think it is terrible that they are separated. They are the only family each other has. I do as Tato says and think of her as my little sister. She will be living with us in Montreal.
Thursday, June 29, 1916
Dear Diary, I thought we would have left by now, but we are still waiting for the official papers. There are not very many people left at the internment camp. Most of the unmarried prisoners from the main camp are now transferred to other places. I think it is mean that they are not being freed.
Another mean thing — Mama was not given her wedding ring back, and she didn’t get her few dollars back either. Baba did get her broken ring back, but she cannot wear it, of course. I try not to think about it too much, though, because that will not change the situation. Thank goodness Tato got the money that he earned while he was a prisoner.
Wednesday, July 19, 1916
In two days, we leave!!!
Thursday, July 20, 1916
I saw my Pikogan ladies again, Dear Diary! Here is what happened.
The younger one was standing at the edge of our camp, motioning for me to follow her. I ran into the bunkhouse and got my gift. I also found my beaded necklace and slipped it over my head. I am proud of it and I wanted to show it to my dear Pikogan elder.
The lady took me a different way through the deep woods. After what seemed like an hour of walking I was tired and hungry, but we finally came upon a clearing. There were children playing and a young man was cleaning a rifle.
The lady went into one of the tents and I could hear her talking to the elder. Then she opened up the tent flap and motioned for me to come in. The elder looked frail and her eyes were weary. This broke my heart. Why was she sick? The younger lady motioned for me to show the elder my beadwork. I lifted the necklace over my head and handed it to her.
Her eyes lit up. She took the necklace in her grizzled hands and held it to her heart, then she held it close to her eyes, carefully examining the beadwork, then she gave it back.
Then I drew out my rushnyk.
Dear Diary, I know what you are thinking! The rushnyk took me so long to make! But I can always make another. I can never replace these friends.
The elder held out her hands and I passed it to her. She caressed the needlepoint as if the cloth were a child, and then she held it to her face and examined each stitch. She draped the rushnyk around her shoulders and smiled. I thought at that moment that she looked so noble. I think she is the spirit of the lake.
I began to stand up, but she held up her hand as if telling me to wait. Then the younger woman left the tent. She came back with a canvas bag. The elder opened the bag and pulled something out of it that looked like a fur. I unfolded it and gasped. It was a vest, much like a kamizelka from the old country. But instead of being decorated with colourful embroidery and beads, it was tooled with something I had never seen before. They are like long white beads.
It was so beautiful I was almost afraid to touch it. The younger woman took it from my lap and motioned for me to put it on. It fit perfectly.
I was so overwhelmed that I felt like bursting into tears. I kept on saying thank you thank you thank you as I was getting up and leaving the tent. The younger lady led me back to the internment camp. When we were just outside the camp, she tipped her head and then she disappeared.
Each time I touch this soft leather vest, I think of my dear friends. And when I hold it to my face, there is a scent of smoke and wild berries. I will never see my Pikogan friends again, but they will always be with me.
Friday, July 21, 1916, early morning
(hot and humid)
We are finally leaving Spirit Lake Internment Camp! I can see the blackflies and the mosquitoes outside the train window, but the ones that were inside have all either been swooshed out or swatted. Even though the windows are open, no more flies are getting in because we are moving too fast.
I am sitting beside Stefan. Mama and Tato are in front of us. Baba is sitting with another of the older women and they are having a good conversation. I am not exactly sure where Mykola is right now. He had been sitting with Slava, but he dashed off down the aisle.
I almost forgot — Stefan says those long beads on my vest are made of porcupine quills. Can you imagine?
Later
We are still in a train going south to Montreal. Stefan is leaning against the window and is sound asleep. I think half of the people on the train are either asleep or trying to sleep. I must end here, Dear Diary, as your pages have run out. Please know that I am safe, and happy, and with my family. And also with Stefan.
Epilogue
Once the Soloniuks were back in Montreal, money was still very tight, so Anya and Stefan’s family shared a flat for six months. Slava moved in with them. During this time, Anya and Stefan’s friendship deepened, although Stefan would get moody at times — brooding about his internment memories. Anya did her best to cheer him, and she mostly succeeded. When the families could finally afford to rent their own flats, it was a bittersweet time for Anya, for she realized just how precious Stefan had become to her. But they still saw each other daily. Slava continued to live with Anya’s family — in everything but name, she was the younger Soloniuk daughter.
Anya and Mary were enthusiastically received back at the garment factory. Anya was worried that they would be treated with hostility, but the supervisor could get so few Canadian-born workers that he even raised their pay. When Anya suggested he hire Slava, he didn’t hesitate.
Anya was now back at the buttonhole machine — a job she was good at but hated. One day she got up her nerve and asked the supervisor for a different job. At first reluctant, he eventually said, “I am going to take a chance with you,” and promoted Anya to “trainer.” Instead of making buttonholes, she showed new girls how to make them. And then she trained girls how to put in zippers. This job was much kinder on Anya’s hands and it paid better too.
As the years progressed, Anya received more promotions, but even with more responsibility and less grinding routine, she did not enjoy the work. She yearned to go back to school, but could not afford to quit working.
In 1919 Anya made a big decision. She would continue to work, but she enrolled in night school, intending to get her high school diploma. Her favourite class was English literature, but she surprised herself by getting top marks in French and Latin. While she loved this opportunity to learn, it did mean that she had less time to see Stefan.
Stefan had less time to see her during these early years too. His first job after being released from the internment camp was in the factory with his father and Anya’s father. He hated the job and quit after a week. At first he started selling newspapers again, then umbrellas and hand fans and other items. After a year or two he was so successful he was able to hire others to sell for him while he concentrated on sourcing the next popular item.
Baba lived to a healthy old age, although her leg continued to bother her. When the Soloniuks got their own flat, they made sure to get one on the ground floor so that Baba didn’t have to climb the stairs. To supplement the family’s income, Baba took in laundry. She also did all of the cooking and cleaning for the family. The one problem with Baba staying at home and looking after the housekeeping was that she never learned to speak English or French. The only places she ever went were church or the Ukrainian hall or the market. To her dying day, she only knew scattered words and phrases in English and French.