Travel Reference
In-Depth Information
'Yeah, I guess so.'
After knocking failed to rouse Babushka, we lobbed a few rocks onto the roof.
Soon we were greeted with a toothless smile and an enormous platter of pancakes,
potatoes and cottage cheese.
At six the next morning, I woke up as Babushka screamed obscenities at her
cow. It lived in a room attached to the house, and from my bed I could just see it
being wrestled for the morning's milk. Babushka laughed as she kicked the cow in
the behind. 'Good girl, good girl,' she said, in a caressing voice. Then, suddenly,
the animal flinched and the bucket tipped over. 'Stop it! Be still you brat! Just wait,
I will get you for this!'
My knee was the next task of the day. After flicking through a couple of thick
herbal-remedy topics, she took Chris out into the front yard where they dug some
mud and clay. Soon I was presented with a plate of steaming mudpie. Babushka
swung a nut on a string over the mud, watching it with a keen eye. She called it
a
gaika
. If the nut swung towards me, it meant that the clay held positive healing
powers. If it swung in the other direction, it meant that it was bad.
In her shaky grasp, the nut began to swing towards me.
'See, you see, this clay is for you!' she cried.
She lowered the plate to my knee. As she prepared to mould the mud onto my
leg, I noticed something strange: the clay appeared to be moving.
'Chris, this stuff is full of ants!' I shouted.
Babushka looked closer and quickly reversed the swing of the
gaika
. There were
no excuses next time round, however, as a lump of clay was padded to my knee
and wrapped in tea towels.
Breakfast put a halt to further activity for the day. Three enormous bowls of
porridge with four jugs of fresh milk were followed by copious amounts of pan-
cakes, tea, bread and potatoes. As the patient, my role was to lie still and cope with
a bloated belly. Meanwhile, Chris helped chop the wood and drag extra water from
the well. The yard was a ghastly sight. The temperature had risen above freezing
and turned everything into deep sticky mud. A few narrow planks laid down on
blocks of wood formed a raised path above the slush.
Around midday a middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion came, pleading
for a bottle of vodka. 'I need a bottle … please, just one!' he begged.
'Oh, goodness me, you should be out cutting your wood and working your pota-
toes! Go home and do something!' Babushka replied, refusing to be persuaded.
