“No comments, please,” interrupts the judge.
“Did you follow the commandments?”
“It’s possible that I didn’t follow them in strict terms, but…”
“Comments are unnecessary,” the judge interrupts again.
“Did you follow the commandments as you were taught them?”
“It appears not.”
“Very well. According to paragraph eight you are slated for liquidation. Thank you for your replies.”
“Could you please tell me what it says in paragraph eight?”
“It’s a rather long paragraph. In short: anyone who failed to follow the commandments is liquidated. For example. The faithful – those for the faithful, atheists – those for atheists, liars – those for liars, murderers – those for murderers, cowards – those for cowards, moralisers – those for moralisers. And those who followed the commandments are transferred to Heaven.”
“I followed the commandments for seekers.”
Now the three judges laugh rhythmically. Like members of an opera chorus.
“There is no such category in the Valley of Josaphat.”
“Forgive me. One more question. Why was I brought here in a blue bus? That colour inspires hope.”
But the judges can’t answer in time. Antanas Garšva is already at the bottom, the door opens, and there is the starter.
“Listen, Tony,” he says sternly. “What did you do to the chinchillas?”
An elderly man and woman stand to the side. The cross-eyed old man holds a small wooden cage. One of the slats is broken, and a pointy-nosed chinchilla sticks its head out, greedily sniffing the old man’s fingers, while its mate sleeps rolled up in a little ball, perfectly calm. The old lady stares at Garšva as though he had tried to murder her grandchildren.
“They say that up on the eighteenth you slammed the door shut too quickly, shattered the cage, and almost killed the chinchillas!”
“That’s right, O’Casey, I damaged the cage, because this gentleman entered the elevator and then, inexplicably, turned around and tried to exit. At that moment the door closed and the cage suffered some damage. The chinchillas, I believe, are fine, though the fellow got a little spooked. But his beloved is sleeping quite peacefully. It seems that, like most men, he’s the more anxious one.”
The starter smiled faintly. “OK, Tony. Go around the corner, and come back after these people have cleared out.”
Walking away, Garšva hears the starter’s words:
“He’ll present himself to the manager and will be punished. What a criminal! The poor little creatures!”
Garšva comes back and the starter says:
“Bloody chinchillas! They belong in hell. Be careful, Tony.”
“Thanks, O’Casey. I will.”
The express from the tenth to the eighteenth. Your floor, here we are, please, thank you, button, hand to handle, going up. I’m not angry that the old people lodged a complaint. I was inattentive. Who told me to dream about the Valley of Josaphat? Poor, sweet old people. They’re probably childless and will raise those chinchillas like their dearest darlings. Maybe I should follow their example, maybe that would save me?
Elena and I – together. Domestic bliss. A little house somewhere in Jamaica. We have a whole floor to ourselves. We hang some reproductions. We arrange our books. The art books and poets look serious. A separate little shelf for our own people. In the evenings we listen to music, read, and argue mildly, savouring it. The lamp shines, and it has a green glass shade. We find Station C, it doesn’t have marble columns, but its vestibule offers peace. And on the coffee table – fresh flowers. And our faces always contain the possibility of smiles. And our dreams – a sense of awakening. And our embraces – the first trip to Jones Beach. And our emblem is the dead noblemen’s heads. We play at leisure. We stack blocks, build castles, dream about life and death. And the books offer us some help. Not only Homer or Dante. Our own authors too. We drink sparkling wine and a flamingo flares up on the expensive ebony table; we sail on Lake Lucerne, and, in that other land, a dead boy plays a tune on the guitar that has never been heard on this earth. And the rising sun once again awakens our world, and we live in the cool, endless North with field, path, meadow, cross. Palms, my beloved palms, sing slender in this windy oasis.
Zoori, zoori, magical word, magical key, magical desire, magical conventionality, magical nostalgia, nostalgia for an unbreakable cage.
And then one day, in our little cage, a child is born.
48 See note 5.
49 Serfdom was introduced in Lithuania in 1447 by Kazimieras Jogailaitis, Grand Duke of Lithuania and King of Poland. The oppression of the serfs became heavier in 1795, when Lithuania was annexed by Imperial Russia. Reforms abolishing serfdom were introduced in 1861 and intensified following the Uprising of 1863.
50 Perkūnas, Pykuolis, Patrimpas: the ancient Baltic gods of air/ lightning, the dead, and nature/fertility.
51 These refrains appear at various points in the novel. They evoke archaic Lithuanian polyphonic song, and have no literal meaning, except for the phrases, skambinoj kankleliai (the zithers rang) and augo (it grew).
52 See note 64 re. vėlės.
53 Reference to traditional Lithuanian wooden sculptures (dievukai) depicting a pensive Christ (Rūpintojėlis – “the Sorrowful One”) or other saints, often placed at roadsides.
54 Reference to the Lithuanian Riflemen’s League, a volunteer civic defense organisation founded in 1919.
55 Lithuanian poets, Antanas Strazdas (1760–1833) and Kristijonas Donelaitis (1714–1780).
56 Boris Babochkin (1904–1975), a Russian film actor and director. Best known for playing the lead character in the 1934 film Chapaev, about a Red Army commander during the Russian Civil War.
57 All Gaul is divided into three parts (Latin).
58 Aestus: the Aesti were an ancient Baltic people, first referred to in this way by the Roman historian Tacitus in his treasise Germania, ca. 98 CE.
59 “Išsisupus plačiai vakarų vilnimis,” from the poem “Nuo Birutės kalno” (“From Birutė’s Hill”, 1895) by the Lithuanian poet Maironis (1862–1932).
60 “Mano krutinę užliek savo šalta banga,” from Maironis’s poem.
61 Ženia is the Lithuanian spelling of Zhenia, the diminutive of the popular Russian name Evgenija.
62 Pensive Christ: refers to a Rūpintojėlis (Sorrowful One), a traditional Lithuanian wooden statue of a pensive Christ figure.
63 Following the first Soviet occupation of Lithuania (1940), many Lithuanians, still reeling from the mass deportations begun by the Soviets, hoped that the advance of the German army would lead to the restoration of Lithuania’s independence, or at least autonomy. These hopes were soon quashed when Nazi authorities established full administrative control of the country, using lower-level Lithuanian bureaucrats for rubber-stamping purposes. The German occupation lasted until the second Soviet occupation in Summer 1944.
64 Ich danke Ihnen recht schoen: Thank you very much (German).
Chapter 9
My earliest memories are not dramatic. But they are more vivid and indelible than others that came later and would normally be considered more important. My childhood memories are like those African masks: thick lips, holes for eyes, hypnotic facial relief.
It’s nonsense, of course, to think that my first memory is authentic. It was probably shaped by knowledge acquired later. But today I still believe that I suddenly sensed in the absolute darkness that I existed – without body, space or time. All I had was an abstract sense of myself. As though I were more primitive than an amoeba. As though I were God, hovering in black non-existence before the creation of the universe.