Lublin by Manya Wilkinson

Author:Manya Wilkinson
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Literary fiction;Historical fiction;adventure;comedy;coming-of-age;friendship;Poland;Judaism;literary fiction;Lublin;pre-WWI history;1907;Tsarist Russia;journey;Holocaust;anti-Semitism
Publisher: And Other Stories
Published: 2023-12-22T14:02:05+00:00

The lads run with their packs on their backs, bedrolls and brush case bobbing, putting as much distance as they can between themselves and Russian Town. Normally Kiva is not allowed to run. Running could bring on a fit. But running is required sometimes, no?

‘Where’s your pocket watch?’ Elya pants, when they finally stop to rest, still trembling like little birds.

‘Well hidden,’ Kiva coughs and splutters, removing it from his underwear.

‘They took your coat!’ Elya is outraged.

‘He gave it to them!’ Ziv is also outraged.

It wasn’t a coat. It was only the appearance of a coat, as Ziv has already explained. No coat was taken, as no coat existed. So, why’s Ziv outraged? He’s outraged by the manner in which it was given away. Despite his injuries, a thick lip and a bloody nose, he is not angry at the Russians; he’s angry at his so-called friends.

‘I lost my head,’ Elya admits, ‘but Kiva was brave.’

‘He was stupid. You panicked, Kiva,’ says Ziv. ‘You and Elya. They were nothing but fakers. I don’t even think they were Russians. Border guards? My eye. Everything was phoney. The uniforms were phoney, the hut was phoney.’

‘The interrogation room?’

‘The so-called interrogation room. That painting on the wall? That wasn’t even the Tsar. He doesn’t have a pug nose.’

‘He does.’

‘They had no right to hold us. There were three of us and only two of them.’

‘Did you see the size of them?’

‘Let’s go back and sort them out. Who’s with me?’

Elya and Kiva look at him like he’s crazy.

‘I hate the Tsar,’ Ziv mutters. ‘You kissed him. Traitor.’

‘What about his reforms?’ Elya knows a thing or two about Russian politics.

‘What, are you an Octobrist? The October Manifesto was rubbish. Promising political reform, elections, civil liberties. All lies.’

‘He created a parliament.’

‘Then he dissolved it. Twice!’ Ziv catches Elya in a headlock and wrestles him to the ground. ‘You’re a Tsarist.’

‘I’m not.’

How can a Jew be a Tsarist? And before he can stop himself, Elya is telling a vitz. One of his best.

‘Two Jews decide to kill the Tsar. They sneak into the Alexandra Palace and hide behind the door to his bedroom. Hour after hour they wait with beating hearts. But he doesn’t arrive. Finally one turns to the other. “I hope nothing’s happened to him, God forbid.”’

Not even a smile from his blank-faced, stony-faced, wooden-faced friends.

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Kiva is puzzled.

‘It means he’s a Tsarist,’ says Ziv.

‘It’s a joke,’ says Elya.

‘Huh?’

Ziv laughs at danger, speeding carriages, shlongs, putzes, shmucks, drek and anything that reeks of drek, fat people, frightened people, people falling or pushed down stairs, into holes, trenches, ravines, gullies. The only thing Ziv doesn’t laugh at is Elya’s jokes. Except once. Once he laughed. Maybe twice. It’s not Ziv’s fault. It’s a cruel, indifferent time and suffering is often considered funny. In Coney Island, America, Topsy the elephant is electrocuted in 1903 for amusement in front of a small crowd of invited guests. Filmed, to be viewed in coin-operated kinetoscopes across America, the footage still exists and can be watched electronically today.

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