Chernobyl. Ilinda Markova
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of that other previous home which was only for motherless children. Here, at the Home for Chernobyls, as that same arsehole of a mayor Damien referred to them, it was different.
Strange, scary, different.
The boy Sassi was born only with legs. That’s what the Chernobyl nuclear explosion had decided for him. His arms the size of his feet were growing nowhere. Sassi was seven years old. Rob didn’t know that his mother had been in the third month of pregnancy when the Chernobyl nuclear reactor had blown up and the cloud had let its deadly shower over her and the April green salads which she hungrily ate to provide her unborn with vitamins. There was also a boy of the same age who was born with arms but with only one leg. They had made him an artificial leg, but the boy had outgrown it and now he limped.
Artificial limbs didn’t grow.
The artificial limbs of the other children weren’t growing either, some refused to leave the building. They stayed in day and night. They would fill their potties and once a day one of the older girls would take them out to empty them. That was usually Lala’s job. In fact they all used potties in the winter. For there was no toilet in the Home and the path to the one outside would be so icy that Aunty Dobreva wouldn’t let them go out telling them frightening stories about a girl found torn in pieces by hungry wild animals.
Listening to this talk Sali would get particularly nervous and look at Lala.
“Please don’t go out no matter how desperately you want to pee, hold it in; only don’t go out at night. Or if you’re so desperate, you wake me up, promise?”
The beauty Lala would leave Sali’s pleas unanswered, but in return she smiled. The smile revealed a cave like an abyss. Lala had no teeth as she had no gums either. Her long eyelashes would flutter and cast long shadows on her blushed cheeks.
Summertime those of the children who refused to go out cried ceaselessly. They scratched their faces or beat themselves with sticks and ladles. Aunty Dobreva asked Lala to watch over them but Lala would fall asleep and the children also scratched her face. Lala continued to sleep blissfully, as if someone caressed her. Maybe it was the only touch of human hand she knew, this and the one of Sali’s hands, who was trying to feel the juiciness of her chest.
Tettie was the smallest. She was six but she looked barely three. Aunty Dobreva was very happy with her.
“Tettie,” she would say, “If everyone was like you, it would be much easier for me. You don’t eat much, you wear small clothes, not much water is wasted on your washing.”
“But Aunty, what’s so nice about her, she can’t even chew on a bone.” Fatzy Dembo was aware of the superiority of his massive frame.
The bones, the bones. The feast. Uncle Mito would bring them in a big sack balancing over the saddle of his donkey. He bought them from the butcher in the town, telling him that they were for his dogs. Do you have a whole pack of them; the butcher asked and put some off cuts of meat with the bones. Before taking the bones to the Home, Uncle Mito carefully picked out the off cuts for himself.
As soon as he arrived the children surrounded him but Aunty Dobreva would come out with the ladle and chase them off like a swarm of flies. Uncle Mito then would take the sack off the little donkey and carry it to the chopping block where he cut the bones into smaller pieces. Byron followed by other dogs would come from all over and sit waiting, tongues hanging out, slobber dripping.
The children also hung around, but warily, as they were afraid of Aunty Dobreva. In fact the dogs were afraid too, but not that afraid.
The dramatic moment came when a stubborn bone would fly away from Uncle Mito’s sharp axe and all dogs held their breath following its trajectory. The bone soon would reach its peak and start to descent in a cloud of splinters as children and dogs would throw themselves at the spot of its landing. The skirmish was short and usually the winner would be one of the bigger children who would take away the bone together with some deep bites from the dogs or the other children; who, unlike the dogs, wouldn’t give up easily but would follow him for a long time in the surrounding forest. It wasn’t unusual for the strayed bone to change hands several times. The dogs watched apathetically hoping for a new chance, while the children fought to the end. Those with artificial limbs would lag behind in the chase but when it came to a hand to hand battle they brandished the hard wood of their artificial limbs and that could swing the balance, even against Fatzy Dembo.
Chapter 6
SALI WAS THE ONLY one who didn’t run or fight. He preferred to stay hungry than to make any avoidable effort in life. In fact there were two of them, Sali and Gosho the Poet, but no one was surprised about the Poet.
Once Fatzy Dembo said:
“I feel like eating something sweet.”
“What’s sweet?” Tettie asked.
“Sweet is sugar,” Vasso said importantly.
“That white stuff Uncle Mito brought once?” Tettie remembered.
“No, that was flour,” Lala explained.
“Now I will tell you what sweet is, there are trees in the forest whose noses run and that which runs from them sticks to their bark, you know that, don’t you?” Fatzy Dembo announced.
“No, that’s chewing gum.” said Sassy.
“Creeps!” Sali called. “I’ve had sweets.”
“Sweets?” Tettie squinted.
“Once my dad pinched a purse full of sweets instead of money. He was so angry, he made me eat them all in one go.”
“Aha.”
And that “aha” was like a collective sigh.
“Then what?” asked Tettie.
“I asked him why he didn’t ever buy me any and he said they were not healthy because they damage teeth.”
“So it means Lala has eaten a lot of sweets.” whispered Tettie.
All remained silent.
Chapter 7
ON THAT THURSDAY AFTERNOON the rocky shore, broken by man-created sand dunes, was crowded with fussy teachers grounding their hysterics by crying out collective warnings of the deep. The school children enjoying their gym day: splashed and swam playing with inflated balls, jumping at each other in a mocking aggression. A 4WD was positioned with its tail door up revealing trays of pies and sandwiches and a crate with cold drinks. Anticipating the savoury snacks the children were heading for the shore shaking the water off their quirky, quickly growing bodies the way dogs do.
A noisy, yet peaceful day, the sun was sending out a warm reassurance of protection which made people mellow, friendly and gullible. Their complacency rendered them unprepared.
His freckled face twisted in an ugly grimace, his body language that of a self-made warrior challenging the world, Rob emerged out of the blue. Boys and girls flew in all directions, a flock of sparrows under the piercing eye of a hawk materialising out like a rock falling from the sky. Screaming, panic stricken, trying desperately to run away and find refuge in their teachers’ arms, the children bounced into each other, hardly advancing anywhere. The water was boiling with commotion when Rob cut it with sharp deliberate strokes as he aimed indiscriminately at a child frightened out of her mind disobeying the parents’ advice never to pee in the town’s iconic lake. The small group of angry teachers gathered closely forming an inflammable compound entering a chain chemical reaction. Each standing firm like a mythological protective figure. The confusion reached its peak with Rob grabbing two of the boys by their legs and pulling them down into the deep. Both kicked and struggled with little success to keep their noses above water.
“You shitty suckers! You make me sick!”
One of the teachers waddled through the water offering help. The bullied boys, hearing her reassuring voices, gained courage and fought back but got punished. They sank out of sight