Marusia was dumbfounded: the Superintendent of Education, a man of position, was speaking to her in, of all languages, Ukrainian, just like a moujik! How could this be? She was shocked to learn he was not a Russian as she had assumed, but a Ukrainian like herself. She couldn’t understand why a man who had managed to climb so high up the Party ladder would deliberately undermine himself like that. Was the Ukrainian so deeply ingrained in him that no matter how hard he tried, he just couldn’t quash it? Or maybe he wasn’t undermining himself at all, maybe he just wanted to make fun of her, to reduce her to the mere provincial she really was. She became increasingly uneasy. She had worked so hard and for so many hours to perfect her Russian, to sound authentic, and now it was all for nothing. But she refused to believe she had given herself away so easily. Confused and embarrassed, she spoke up. “Excuse me, comrade, I’m at a loss here. It seems strange that you just spoke to me in Ukrainian, which, from what I understand, is a Russian dialect. I was led to believe Russian was the official language now, to be used in all facets of life. Have I been mistaken?”
Yeliseyenko got up and, running his fingers through his hair, walked across the room to the window. Marusia was surprised to see how short he was, perhaps a head shorter than herself. He opened the window wide-the air was fresh and clean and the clatter of horses filled the room. After a few minutes, he turned and began what appeared to be a carefully crafted propaganda speech, in Russian.
“Well, Marusia, you don’t seem to understand the aim of the Soviet Union. First of all, Ukraine is a recognized republic and therefore, naturally, has its own language and culture, which must be maintained and preserved. Ukrainian is not a dialect of Russian as you seem to think, but a separate language. We also have other great nations in our midst such as Azerbaizan, Georgia, Chechnya, and so on. And all these nations have their unique cultures and languages that must first and foremost be protected. I might add, they have all, including Ukraine and Belorussia, happily and voluntarily joined together to form the USSR, the greatest democratic nation on earth. And of course, being a member of this great union bestows the highest of honors.”
He flipped through some files and handed her a folder. “If you have any hopes of working here, you must read this list of reference books. It’s compulsory reading for anyone seeking a teaching position. I have to add that before any decision is made you will be examined thoroughly on these texts.”
Marusia scanned the titles and quickly noted that all the required reading material was in Russian. If Belorussian was the official language as Yeliseyenko had just pointed out, why were the books in Russian only? This was cause for further confusion and she tried her best to make sense of it. Although she would have been the first to admit that she did not know much about the new regime, the one thing she did know was that in order to get anywhere she would have to learn about it and ultimately to contribute to it, to accept it with blind devotion. She was prepared to do that. But reading through all this material could take days, even weeks, and time was something she didn’t have. “Excuse me, comrade,” she said. “Allow me to be direct. About a teaching position … I am most eager to find work … You must understand, my father is old and feeble, and my mother is not well. We need to live somehow … I thought you might find me a job right away, maybe in a village somewhere….”
“A village? Hmm …” Yeliseyenko thought for a moment. Then he shrugged and shook his head. “Unfortunately, as I’ve already mentioned, without knowledge of Belorussian your prospects don’t look very …”
Just then a phone rang behind a closed door. The faint sound of a woman’s voice could be heard, then the opening and closing of drawers, and before long Yeliseyenko’s secretary, wearing a plain navy dress with white cuffs, and a string of fake pearls, came into the office. She put a stack of files on the corner of his desk, and whispered something in his ear.
Yeliseyenko rose, looking distracted, and said quickly, “If you’ll excuse me, something unexpected has just come up. I’ll be back in about fifteen minutes.” Grabbing a folder from his drawer, he hurried to the doorway, where just before he left, he called out to them, “Zena Maximovna, meet Maria Valentynovna. Maria Valentynovna is applying for a teaching position, in a village school, it appears. Please go ahead, ladies, get acquainted with each other.”
Zena turned to Marusia and extended her hand. Her voice was low and pleasant. “Good to meet you. We haven’t actually met, but I know your name is Maria Bohdanovich. I saw you at the teachers’ New Year’s Eve dance. You were there with Ivan Kulik and your cousin, Sergei, I believe.”
Although Zena welcomed Marusia affably, she was surprised to see her in the offices of the People’s Commissariat of Education. Like so many others in the city, she had heard about Marusia and Sobakin. She wondered how such a lovely girl could have gotten involved with someone like him. Sobakin was a known and feared NKVD man, with a face like a pumpkin, and he was married. “So you want to teach in a village? Do you like village life?”
“I don’t really know.” Marusia shifted uneasily. “I’ve always lived in Pinsk, but I thought I might like to try something different. Life in the country would certainly be slower and much more peaceful than in the city. This appeals to me. Sometimes it’s good to get a fresh start in life.”
Zena immediately concluded that what Marusia really wanted was to escape Sobakin. She wanted to warn her, to say, “Don’t make matters worse by going to a village somewhere. At least in the city there are places to hide: you can slip behind a building, call on friends, lose yourself in a crowd. But in the village you’d be like a sitting duck. Good God, think it over!” But she said, “A teaching post might be difficult to find, but Yeliseyenko has been promising me an assistant for some time now. If you’d consider office work, I’ll talk to him. Of course, I understand you have your mind set on teaching, but in the meantime …”
Color rushed to Marusia’s face. She had not expected anything like this. She was so thrilled she hardly knew what to say. “A job? Here? In the Oblispolkom? Why, that would be wonderful! Yes, yes, I’ll take it if the position is available.”
Suddenly the prospect of working in the city became more appealing to her than working in a village; it was almost as though she had read Zena’s thoughts. Indeed the city would be much better for her. Zena smiled. “I’ll see what I can do. If Yeliseyenko gives his approval, we’ll be contacting you. You should be hearing from us in a day or two. Goodbye for now.”
Marusia went down the stairs and into the courtyard in a dream. The possibility of working in the Oblispolkom overwhelmed her. A job there would transform everything. She couldn’t wait to tell her mother that she might soon be earning her living.
The next few days were spent in painful suspense. Marusia tried to keep busy with housework, and even took up needlework. When at last she turned her attention to the books assigned by Yeliseyenko, she managed to settle down. On the third day she opened the door to a messenger who handed her an envelope. She ripped it open and could not believe her eyes. Tomorrow at noon she was to come to the Oblispolkom offices, to the Department of Education and start her new job. Completely overwhelmed, she let out a cry of joy.