DECISION TO EMIGRATE

It was early in the spring of 1979, and I wrote to Eva on the same day.

Sure, we kept our mouths shut. Sima was in her last year of college, we both were working and if we told any one about our plans, everything would have changed.

Our invitation had to come from Israel because Jews were only permitted to go there, even though everybody knew that most of them changed their directions and went West instead. That was why it took many months to get the invitations. They arrived in autumn, and it was a bombshell to the city. Most people had known us since we had lived there twenty-two years, and the reaction was ninety nine percent negative. "Traitors!" Because we needed to collect so many documents to apply, it no longer was a secret.

Aron got his papers from work, but on condition that he quit work immediately. One of the required papers had to state the reason they were needed. "To emigrate to Israel." It was on this point my employer refused to give me approval; I had worked there for fifteen years, he was a military major, and he wouldn't sign the documents!

Israel was an ally to the U.S.A., and an enemy to the U.S.S.R. and the propaganda against Zionism was on the side of the "oppressed" Arabs, and against the aggressors - Israel.

It seemed like such a little thing to give an old employee confirmation when she had worked so long for the organization. My picture that was on the honour wall was ripped off the same day. Legally, they couldn't refuse me the document, so they did it illegally - they hid from me. Whenever I came, the boss was "not in" and the secretary was "out". After a couple of weeks of hide and seek, I reached the military procurer. A law is a law, although I didn't get any sympathy from him. He phoned my boss and ordered him to give the papers.

So, we lost a few weeks, and when we finally got all the papers, it was late autumn and this was a big misfortune for us. Sima had even more trouble in her college. The administration was outraged; everybody was against her, even her best of friends. She had a very hard time.

The Latvian director called a meeting of all the teachers and students to condemn "the traitor" in their ranks. He made a patriotic speech, and then pointed at Sima and said, "Here we have a student with two faces - one looked to the East, the other to the West!" They took measures; excluded her from the youth organization and took away her stipend, which had been given to her because of her good marks, not for political reasons.

When she came home very upset, we advised her to quit as we were leaving anyway. "What if we are refused?" she asked. "I only have a month to get my music teacher's diploma; I can't risk it!" And, she went back. The teachers and students boycotted her, and the teachers stopped marking her. Some hooligans called her names and mocked her, "You Israeli, what will you do there, be a cleaning woman?"

Aron went to the city, to the Department of Education, and they ordered the teachers to mark her answers. Sure, they argued and downsized her, they didn't dare give her a high mark like they had before. A couple of Latvian teachers showed her sympathy and gave her high marks like they used to.

At the end of 1979, we finally went to the police with a bunch of documents. A female major dealt with our case and asked us sharply, even though she didn't have the authority to ask, why we wanted to leave? It was clearly written "reunion with a sister after thirty-seven years". To make us feel worse, she told us that nobody got permission to emigrate as long as she was working there. A bitch of a woman.

Then we had to wait, and make a living. Aron got a job in a plant for a low salary. My job was to stay in lines to put food on the table. This was a full-time job, sometimes I left the house early to be among the first in line.

It was our bad luck that soon the Afghanistan war started and as always, Jews were the victims The whole world blamed the U.S.S.R. for aggression and anti-democracy. The only revenge they had was to stop the emigration of Jews. So, many refusniks had to stay in a country that was forcing them to stay and at the same time blocking all possibilities of making a living.

REFUSNIKS

We got our refusal in March. The reason was because I had worked in a Navy library so I knew military secrets? We were allowed to reapply in six months.

It was so ridiculous, such as stupid reason that if it had not been so sad, we could only laugh. Unfortunately, we couldn't laugh.

Our situation was not funny. I was out of work, Aron was downsized into a third class factory with a small salary, Sima's stipend was taken away unfairly (she was still an excellent student with good marks) and the whole city was enjoying our misfortune (except a few Jewish families who were afraid to show their sympathy).

To apply again in half a year (which we were determined to do) we had to collect all the same documents and make rounds again to get them. Cruel bureaucracy.

My relatives in Canada wrote letters to officials there begging them to help us to get out but nobody could interfere in another country's police. My sister sent me the letters of sympathy from them, but it was not helping me in my goal - to get out of this prison.

My daughter did the right thing, graduated from college and got her diploma. They were trying to give her the most difficult questions on the exams, but she was prepared and passed with flying colours. She wanted to work but there was no hope of working in Liepaja as a music teacher so I went to the main Latvian library in town and asked the director, who was a wonderful person, for temporary work for Sima. The director's name was Janushka, and she was a clever woman. She didn't ask any questions, just simply hired Sima to work in the reading hall. So, Sima went to work and helped the family with her salary.

I went to Riga, to the OVIR office, which dealt with emigration and asked why I was refused. A colonel told me that first of all my closest relative lived in Canada, and asked me why I applied to go to Israel. The hypocrites only allowed Israeli visas. And second, that the military blocked my way out as a result of working at the library.

While Sima was working at the library, she decided to prepare to write the entrance exams at the Riga University in the English department. Meanwhile, she had vacation time after graduating from college and as a gift we decided to spend a few weeks in Odessa.

We applied again. The policewoman, who took our documents to proceed further with them, only smiled maliciously. Aron stayed in Liepaja, in case there was a quick reply (I only wished) and we boarded the train. It took two days to reach Odessa, but we enjoyed looking out the window at the changing country. We had enough food to last the trip, and the train compartment, made for four people, was mostly to our disposal.

I prepared food for the two day trip so we didn't have to spend money in the restaurant and now we enjoyed the view; the passing woods, rivers, farms ....

We wanted to believe that this time we would get permission to emigrate and I tried to imagine how I would meet Eva after 37 years of separation. We were teenagers when we last saw each other. Now we are older women.

We lived in different countries, different regimes, different languages, different life styles. How could we bridge this gap? There was a lot I feared - everything so uncertain. Would I ever have a place where I could feel at home? It is very strange that I always feel like I'm sitting in a railway station waiting for a train to come. All 37 years - I never felt stability.

Odessa ... I loved this controversial city. There were many negative things like dirt, overcrowding and rudeness in the stores, cafeterias and public places. On the other hand, there was the southern climate, the blue sea, the noisy but colourful bazaars, the famous Odessa humour and some friends that had not left. Most of our friends were gone; Katia had already been living in San Francisco for five years. She wrote me letters about the wonders of the West.

We stayed with Sarah again because she had two rooms. She was mourning the death of the husband whom she exploited for so many years, but now she felt a loss. Fira, who lived in the same yard, lost her husband at the same time. So, now they were widows. Often, they were quarrelling widows. Lina was still looking for a second husband and worked as a lawyer. Sasha was thirteen years old, and if he was a jackal at five, he turned into a big jackal.

Sara had to go to the hospital for some health reason and Lima had to work so we were left with Sasha. He knew that we didn't like him very much and he tried to find out what we were talking about when we were alone. He invented eavesdropping devices and even drilled a hole in the brick wall between our rooms. He was so nasty and bothersome that we ended up going to Carolino-Bugaz for a rest and for some quiet.

But, Sarah, being shrewd, rented the front room to a bunch of noisy Bessarabian Jews. I don't know how many boys and girls there were, but we spent the rest of the time on the beach to avoid them. We went back only to sleep in the back room and were greatly relieved when they left after a week. We were left alone in the dilapidated shack, around us sand and water.

Without Aron we didn't feel safe in this place, especially at night with the cacophony going on in the next room. But we had to be grateful for their letting us have part of the shack and to spend time on the hot beach. Sima learned to swim, and I watched her (like I could rescue her in case of an emergency - I still couldn't swim but at least I could make a racket to get help)

As before We went to the beach with a bucket for fresh water, which we would get on the way back from the pump. Every other day we walked 3 km to Zatoka where we would buy food at the market and carry our bags back in the hot sun.

In some way, we felt lost, like Robinson Crusoe and his Friday. Nobody knew us. We knew nobody - lost in a crowd. The weather was beautiful, hot and sunny, the sea blue. The one thing we couldn't avoid were mosquitoes but these were everywhere.

We were happy to be away from Sasha. This was the best thing.

Carolino was very different from the years before. They made it a state resort and there were too many people on the beach. The outdoor lavatories were dirty and stinky.

Everything was changing, but not always for the best. We went back to Odessa and Sasha's tricks. One evening we got so outraged that we went to Fira's to spend the night. She only had one room and a tiny kitchen where she made a makeshift bed for us. Happy to be out of Sasha's clutches, we fell asleep, but not for long.

There was a strange noise and a feeling of something crawling on us that woke us up. We turned on the light and watched in horror an army of brown cockroaches crawling by the thousands. We ran back to Sara's.

Aron's nephew, Peter, who is Fira's youngest son, had divorced his first wife and was a bachelor again, dealing on the black market, which meant he was doing well but feared arrest. He owned a car and he gave us a few jolly rides and told funny jokes that made Sima hysterical.

We also liked to go to the big market "Privoz" and buy fruit, which didn't grow in the North. We left our purchases at home while we went to the beach by tram. When we later went back, everything was gone - Sasha took care of it.

Once, when Peter was in a hurry, he left a jar of caviar in the fridge. We didn't like caviar so he said that he would pick it up later. But, he got an empty jar - Sasha. We were happy to leave Odessa (for good) and returned to Liepaja where our second refusal was waiting for us for the same reason as the first.

Sima was a realist. She wanted to enter the university to study but she chose a very competitive faculty, as there were many applications. Only one in ten were chosen. It was a very bold. undertaking, first because she was Jewish so she had to have better marks than everybody to be accepted, and second because she would have to find lodgings in Riga. During the last weeks of summer, she studied for the exams. Sometimes, her father would help her by asking questions, especially in history.

We applied for approval to go to Canada again, without much hope. The policewoman simply giggled, and told me that she had never in all her years of working there seen such bold applicants. Nobody got permission to emigrate to Canada. We were outcasts in the city. Nobody visited us, the phone was quiet and people avoided saying "hello" on the street. Once, I met an older woman who was a reader I knew well. We were talking when another woman took her aside and reprimanded her. She said, "How can you talk with a traitor?"

My daughter went to Riga to write the entrance exams. All applicants got to stay in the dormitory at the university. In the meantime, we were asking our friends in Riga if they knew of somebody who was renting a room. If she passed the exams, we would have to move from Liepaja to Riga. This was difficult to achieve because not many people wanted to move out of the Capital.

The results of Sima's exams were striking. She got one hundred percent and was far ahead of everybody. She was the first to be accepted. When she was studying in the library for her exams, she met a boy and they went to the movies. The girls she lived with in the dormitory were outraged. "Look at her, she gets all 'fives' on her exams and even has time for a boyfriend." Many of them had failed.

Just in time, we found a "corner" for her with an old Jewish lady, Berta, on the outskirts of Riga. She went to Riga for good.

And, we applied again. The house felt empty after her departure, but I hoped for an exchange with Riga, and began renovating our apartment myself. I painted everything, cleaned and did repairs. Our flat looked fresh and attractive, but still no suitable offer was made.

Sima is a realist. Or rather a pessimist. She didn't believe in miracles and we needed a miracle to be liberated from this prison.

ME AND STATE SECRETS?

Katia Waizer who landed eight years before in San Francisco wrote to me and praised the American freedom and paradise. I only cried in frustration. We had the right to apply every six months. So we did so, again and again, we had to collect the same documents and present them to the police officer who got a kick out of seeing me again?!?

One day, as I was walking down the steps, I met Sima walking up. What happened? She told me that she was in pain all night with her left side and she came by bus from Riga. She stood the entire five hours as there were no available seats. We had to do something. We went straight to the emergency room at the hospital, and a few hours later, she had her appendix operated on. It was already evening and I was sitting alone in the dim light of the waiting room with my legs up because big rats were running around. Finally, they pushed the stretcher out of the operating room but they didn't allow me to follow because the next day was visiting day. It was late, and the tram had stopped running. I walked through the dark streets back home where Aron was waiting, worrying.

In the morning, I came back and she was recovering slowly in a room with other patients. After a week, she came home to recuperate and a week later, she went back to Riga.

Meanwhile, I talked to Aron about our situation and the refusals and he had an idea. He suggested I go to the headquarters of the political department of the Navy and ask them why they won't let me out and what kind of secrets they thought I knew from the library. I made an appointment on the phone, and the next week I boarded a night bus that went to Königsberg, where they were located. It was a long night; after an eight hour drive I arrived in Königsberg, a nice, clean German style city. My appointment was at four o'clock in the afternoon so I had some time to sightsee. Finally, I was standing before a group of high Navy officers who looked at me with cold curiosity. I explained my cause, and asked the questions that Aron told me to write down.

The Admiral told me, point blank, that the Navy had nothing to do with the matter and they didn't have the right to permit or forbid me to emigrate; it was an OVIR function. I asked if I could get his answer in writing and he said that he would send it to me in the mail.

With that, I went back to Liepaja. Again, I got refused and I went to the OVIR in Riga. The Colonel knew me well by that point and when he again told me about the military, I showed him the paper I got from the Admiral (after a few phone calls) and how the military had nothing to do with it. Boy, he got mad! He showed his true KGB colours and shouted that nobody can tell them what to do, even the military and to take my stupid paper back.

I felt so beaten, so helpless that the only thing I could do was cry. I sat at the rail station and waited for the train as tears poured down my face that I didn't even bother to wipe away. People stared at the lonely figure that couldn't stop crying. So, I cried all night on the train that was going home.

The one dream I had left was the renovating business. We had to move so we could support our daughter and find a place to live and for her to study. Sima was doing very well. She found a job in a library, attended an evening class and had a friend named Bella. When she had a free weekend, she took the bus home. And, what surprised me and warmed my heart was she often stood in long lines for food and brought it home as she was aware of the shortage of food in Liepaja.

We applied again. The policewoman who took my documents commented that I was a very stubborn woman, as if I had a choice.

My sister and her husband wrote letters on our behalf to many Canadian dignitaries, and the responses were positive, but they couldn't interfere in the policy of a foreign country. The emigration stopped. The war in Afghanistan was going on, and the whole world blamed Russia for their involvement. Sacharov was exiled, Sharansky was in prison and dissidents were prosecuted.

I had been out of work for three years and there was no prospect for the future.

I knitted a mohair sweater for Sima's birthday in March. She liked it much and she came home to "celebrate." There was only the three of us.

Her room at Berta's was cold, she was studying in the library with Bella and she was full of plans. Like the song goes "Youth has its own rules."

After a couple of months, I went to Riga again; first, to visit my daughter, and second to visit the OVIR. I spent all night on the train and at six o'clock in the morning I boarded the bus to the other side of Riga where Berta lived. At seven o'clock I approached the little house, knocked on the window of Sima's room and she let me in. We ate breakfast together, then we took the tram downtown where Sima worked and I had time to walk to the OVIR, which opened at ten o'clock. It was early spring of 1982 and I wanted to postpone the bad news that I knew was going to upset me, so I walked the streets of the city and enjoyed myself.

Riga is a unique city. Old and modern, beautiful and serene. It is a vibrant city of a little Republic with a population of a little over two million Latvian and the rest others.

The Jews in Riga were the first to move to the West and the wanderlust stayed with the rest.

When Sima moved to old Berta's place, she often heard her grown children and grandchildren discuss the possibilities of emigration. One of the young men made a bet - could the family survive five minutes without mentioning this subject? No - impossible. Sima, as a tenant, didn't participate in their family discussion even though she knew from her own experience the options.

We didn't tell strangers about our problems. We didn't have friends now. So our motto was "Don't open your mouth or you could be sorry." Now, on an early spring day in Riga, I was thinking about these last three years of struggle and failures. Was there some hope for us? Can we be lucky and get out from here? Forever!?

Finally, I entered the colonel's office. He looked at me with dismay., "Oh," he said. "Rotbart again. Let me check my register!" He didn't offer me a chair and I stood, not breathing.

1982 - PERMISSION

Finally, he said very casually that we had their permission to emigrate! What?!! I sat down. "Is this true?" Yes, he informed me that we would get the confirmation by mail in a couple of weeks.

I don't remember leaving, but I remember sitting on the bus, not noticing it was going in the opposite direction, and thinking of how my daughter was going to take the news. It took a long time to catch the right bus and reach the library.

I asked the doorman to call Sima and to let her know her mother was waiting for her. She came out, looked at me and breathed, "Yes, permitted?" I told her, yes. She asked for the rest of the day off and we went out to the streets, to the sun, to the lights, and to the future. We went to the railroad station and phoned Aron where he worked. When he answered, I told him to go home and that I would phone him in an hour, but Sima couldn't contain her excitement and shouted over my shoulder "Papa, buy champagne and he understood.

We spend the hour at a market that was nearby. It was lunch time and I wanted to buy something good to celebrate. I asked Sima what she wanted. She wanted dried apricots. We went to a pump to wash them and she ate them on the street. After talking to Aron, we went back to the streets to enjoy our news. My daughter, who doubts everything, asked me one hundred times how the guy at OVIR told me, that may be I misunderstood him? She had to quit university and her job in Riga after we got the written permission.

I went back to Liepaja alone, but not crying this time. I expected happiness and joy, but I was scared about what the future that we had waited so long for held for us~ And, now I was afraid.

We kept our mouths shut. Maybe it wasn't true. Sima did the same thing in Riga although Berta asked her why she was so cheerful lately.

And, we got the confirmation two weeks later and a list of what we were able to take, and what we couldn't. We were given two months to prepare, but we were in a hurry and wished it was sooner, just in case they changed their minds. We had a little money to buy the permitted items to take with us, and we borrowed from Peter, Aron's nephew, on condition that we would send him parcels back. We were busy getting rid of furniture; some we sold, and some we gave away. We left the piano with a neighbour to sell. We bought a couple of gold rings, earrings and a chain, things that were listed. But, the main thing was we bought gifts for our relatives in Canada - amber jewellery.

Interestingly, the news that we were finally permitted to leave for Canada spread over the city like wildfire, and someone had invented the story that we were going abroad to get an inheritance of a small fortune; four million English pounds. (Why pounds?) I wished it were true. Now, many people had all the reason to be envious, such luck. One day I met the police major on the street and she stopped me and with a sour face asked if I was really leaving. I told her, yes, but we didn't need two months, that one was enough. We bought tickets for May 17, 1982 - to Montreal, Canada.

From Montreal, we would fly to Winnipeg. I still couldn't believe that it was happening. My family acted much more relaxed but I was so tense with worry and fear that something would happen.

I got a bad cold which ended in bronchitis, coughing, fever. This was not the time to be sick! Then, my gall bladder was infected and I was in constant pain. Why, why did I have to be sick when I needed so much physical and emotional strength in these last days before departing? But this was my bad luck.

I was worried about being sick because when we got the invitation papers from Canada there was a long questionnaire about our health, for which we had to get a physical in our clinic which different specialist doctors had to sign. We were even amazed with such detailed questions. The condition of your right leg, left leg, hands, and all your internal organs, teeth, everything!

What if they didn't let me in? Now? From my experience in Russia, the officials acted mostly negative. "Niet" that was the attitude, and you could see that they had sadistic pleasure in that.

We were in such a hurry, afraid that somebody would change his or her mind, that somebody could hurt us. We were famous, notoriously famous. First, there was our application to emigrate to Israel because the policy forced us to apply to go there. But, Israel was not a favourite country for the Soviets. Then, the refusal and we changed directions and wanted to leave for Canada, another capitalistic country. The many refusals, our status as refusniks, people who didn't want to stay in Russia. Enemies. Traitors. Then, suddenly, we got permission and on top of that, millions of dollars were waiting for us!!

When we were ready, we left in the night like thieves, nobody came to say "goodbye" and we spent the night on the train. In the morning, we were in Riga. Aron's sister Fira came from Odessa and we planned to go together to Moscow. We still had five days until our departure. We spent one night at Berta's and told her about our destination. Her whole family was considering leaving, but almost everybody was being refused. The old woman was amused and said that somebody had been working hard for our liberation and turned to Sima and said, "And you, girl, can keep secrets for sure."

We bought amber in Riga with the rest of our rubles.

We said goodbye to a couple of friends in Riga, some came to the train, which we boarded the next day for Moscow. The next day, in the morning, we arrived in the Capital - Moscow, which after Riga, looked grey and shabby, old and somehow, sad. We stayed in Hotel "Wostock", which was assigned to people like us that were leaving the country. I think because it was easier to spy on everybody in one place. We noticed that people tried not to talk to strangers and kept to themselves. I was sure that all the staff were KGB agents.

We felt like conspirators. We had to keep to ourselves, not trust anybody. The few days we spent in Moscow I remember in a blur. We used the subway for transportation and I didn't like it because I still have a fear of being underground, even in a cellar.

Like the last kick in the ass Russia gave me, there was an accident with a taxi. Sima and I were in a hurry and decided to take a cab. There was a line, so we stayed in the line. When my turn came, in jumped a Russian slob who wanted to take my taxi, not waiting in line. I protested and the taxi driver supported me. So this hooligan turned on me "You Yids are always trouble" Me?? It was so insulting. That anti-Semitic remark stung a long time - a nice memory of Moscow.

And nobody in the line stood up to this hooligan even though everybody saw I was right. Silence.

The Hotel Wostock was really like a nest for spies. Every second man was for sure a secret agent and you had to keep your mouth shut in this place.

That night, Sima and I slept in a room with a woman who was going to Greece. I kept the bag of my treasures under my pillow. The first thing we wanted to do at the Canadian Embassy was apply for visas. We were so excited! The Russian policeman checked our papers before he allowed us to enter the embassy. Inside, a smiling gentleman greeted us. We thought he was the ambassador, but he was really the doorman.

In the office, smiling clerks greeted us and again we were surprised, as we were not used to a smiling service. They asked us to sit down and went to work with our papers. I decided to visit the washroom and I was impressed with the cleanliness and the cosiness. I thought it was such a wonderful rest room that I ran back to send my family to see this wonder. Sima went to the ladies' and Aron to the men's and they came back very impressed. We soon got our visas and we left feeling that Canadians were warm and friendly people.

Aron phoned Grisha Gidal (Bronia's son), who, after divorcing his third wife, lived alone, and was recovering from a massive heart attack. He came to see us and looked so bad that we got very upset. He was not yet fifty years old and he looked so sick. He died a few months later, alone.

Aron's sisters, Sara and Fira, and his nephew, Peter came to Moscow to say goodbye. They stayed with a friend who was a woman doctor and her son who was also a doctor. They arranged a nice supper, the "last supper" and we had a nice time. The "mother doctor" had a beautiful voice and the "son doctor" (Alexander) played the guitar and sang, too. He had his eye on Sima and in the end, asked her not to go. She said, "Too late." So, we said goodbye to everyone and took the subway to spend our last night in the hotel "Wostock".

Having received the Canadian visas we felt more safe, but still we were in Moscow, and nobody could predict what could happen.

Looking in the mirror, I was not pleased with my grey hair. I looked so old and worn out. That is what the 37 years in Russia did to me. I decided for the first time in my life to colour my hair at a hairdresser. We went to a salon and I went for this procedure. The result was I was a brunette woman and looked very strange.

I think only people who have been in prison or Gulag would know this feeling - fear that something could go wrong and we would be stopped. Almost 20 years later, I still have dreams about being kept in Russia and dreaming to get out.... These dreams came so often and in so many different variations that I wake up in a cold sweat. Thank God I am here in Canada! What a bad dream!

We still had almost two days until our departure, but we were told to present our luggage and ourselves to the customs officials. The next morning we arrived at the Sheremietiero International Airport. It was interesting to watch so many foreigners coming and going in the beginning. But, after a day of waiting, we got very tired without sleep, sitting on our suitcases. After thirty-six hours of waiting (was it the policy to torture the people who were leaving?) we were called for a custom check.

The women custom workers took Sima and me to a cubicle and we had to strip our clothing as they checked for hidden treasures. They even checked our hair and shoes, then our belongings. Every item was looked through, shaken, but nothing was found. The chance was when they came across our amber gifts. We knew, from letters, that these were not restricted, but the guy put them aside and said we couldn't take them. I got very upset, although I knew I shouldn't argue at the gates of heaven, but when he turned around for a second, I grabbed a few pieces and dropped them onto the "checked" pile and Sima did the same. He didn't notice. It was a small fraction of what we had, but still ....

Later, when we were on the plane, we told Aron of our daring rescue and he went bananas. He called us stupid heads and asked how we could risk everything for a few trinkets. After this control, we had to go to another checkpoint at the gate where a guard with a gun checked our documents. Finally, we saw the plane. We ran like our lives depended on it and climbed to our seats, and anxiously awaited take off.

Finally, we were in the air. We looked at each other: "We made it!" But, Aron said that we were still in a Russian plane, in Russian territory and that he would only feel safe on Canadian soil. So, we calmed down.

In this Russian plane TU-104 with a lot a seats empty, we huddled together and looked out the window at the white clouds under us. Are we still above Russia? No, soon I see, between the clouds, down there, water - it's the Atlantic ocean. Good - what a fantastic view - from so high you can see the ocean? We are still afraid to talk - to exchange views even though we are bursting with excitement.

I think, being refusniks for a few years made us fear our own shadows. We acted so reserved, so quiet, when everything inside us wants to scream "People we are going to Canada. We are going to reunite with our relatives! Finally!"

Our long Russian chapter is closing. A new chapter begins. Canada! But we didn't know anything about the country except that my relatives lived there and are happy. The plane was the last piece of territory belonging to Russia and we wanted to depart from it.

Flying above the Atlantic Ocean, I began to worry. What if the plane crashed, right in the ocean? Then, all our suffering would have been for nothing? Would I ever see my sister again? I was in a panic. I didn't believe in God, but I was silently pleading for a safe landing. I even went as far as hoping that if fate made the plane crash, then let it crash over Canada .... as though it made a difference where I died.

CANADA

After twelve hours, we landed in Canada. We were excited, dazed, and shaky, and walked in the middle of an almost empty airport when suddenly we saw two female strangers with a poster in Russian that said, "Aron, Nelli, Sima - welcome to Canada!" We couldn't believe our eyes. Who were they?

Soon we found out that they were my cousins, Bea and her daughter Judy who were from New York and came to meet us. They knew from Eva or Marysia that we were arriving, and travelled the distance from New York by car to Montreal.

I didn't know English, although Aron and Sima managed, but Bea spoke to me in Yiddish, something I hadn't heard in more than forty years, but I understood. Anyway, this wonderful woman spent a few hours with us then left for home, the U.S.A. We had our last flight to Winnipeg in the evening.

We boarded a Canadian plane. The tickets that Eva bought were waiting for us in Montreal, and because we were utterly exhausted, we tried to have a little rest. Sima slept on my shoulder, Aron tried some Canadian wine and I couldn't rest. Three nights without sleep, and I was in such a state I felt like I was falling apart.

We landed in Winnipeg, our destination, and had to stay and wait for our luggage, which seemed long.

I knew that my relatives are somewhere here waiting and I felt so excited, on the edge. I was so tired after several nights of not sleeping..... All of this together made me feel like I was living in an unreal world, dazed.

Finally.... I am in Canada, Winnipeg. 37 years too late. I am going to change my life. I am excited but scared. We are a bit too old for that.

And I am not willing to be a burden on my sister and brother-in-law, Paul. I knew they are not rich, they didn't make a fortune here. They have a simple, decent life, for which they worked hard many years.

The Soviet Union didn't give pensions to Jews leaving the country, even though we both worked over 35 years to earn old age pensions. They gave us permission to leave. That was the big favour. We didn't dream to ask for pensions.

So we arrived penniless in Canada, but with hope to find a job and make a living.

Winnipeg! After thirty-seven years, I was seeing my sister, my aunt and their families from far away. They were waving to us, and I knew some of them only by the pictures Eva sent me, but I knew who was who.

There were Paul and Eva, their grown children Yvette, Sharon and Lyndsey. Also there was Marysia (this old woman?), with her husband Alex, and their grown children, Jerry and Annette.

For a second I could see myself in their eyes: An old, small, plump woman in a red coat, checkered socks and platform shoes that were out of style. So Russian that I was ashamed, but what could I have done?

We met them, and while I hugged Eva, I expected that we would both be crying, but no, the old pattern. No tears, especially in public, so I forced myself not to get sentimental and we all climbed into the waiting cars. We were in Winnipeg, Canada!

We arrived at Eva's house in Seven Oaks, and the living room was full of my relatives. All my life I longed for them, now we were together. It was a miracle! But, I was so tired that I almost fell out of the chair I was sitting on while listening to people talking in English all around me that I couldn't understand.

The guests went home and we were left with Eva and Paul and they sent us to bed. Now we could sleep. Downstairs I recognized a familiar smell, "the smell of Canada" we would always say when we opened a parcel from Eva. We slept very well the first night in Canada.

In the morning, my first thought was, "I am in Canada! We made it! Finally!" Eva served us breakfast and everything tasted so good in her spotless kitchen, which was full of light and good smells. After that, she loaded us into her red car and we went to register as landed immigrants in order to get our identification and health cards.

Everything made us wonder. The polite clerks; in Russia, they barked at you. Eva drives a car? My sister can drive? I couldn't believe it; to me, driving took such skill that it was something that most men did. We had to buy some groceries and she took us to a Dominion Store where we had the shock of our lives. We had never seen so much different food in one place. Such abundance, such choice, colours, kinds .... unbelievable! We ran around like savages - "Did you see that? And that? And no lines?" Did the people know they lived in a paradise?

Eva had to use force to drag us out from this wonder store. I think she was embarrassed by our behaviour, but we couldn't help it. Yes, we needed to work, to earn money to be able to buy this produce.

Paul and Eva were so wonderful to us. They did everything to help, to show us the new ways of life, life in a democratic, rich country after all those years of our turbulent life in a socialistic "paradise." We couldn't believe that something like this existed.

A few days later, we were invited to a concert of the Jewish ensemble "Chai." That was the other shock of our lives, young Jewish people singing in Yiddish, Hebrew songs and dancing with such joy. We sat in the darkness of the theatre and cried, we cried for our wasted life in a country where we tried to hide our "Jewishness", afraid to be Jewish, ashamed to be Jewish.

This was real freedom! We were shaken to the core. The first time we had a taste of Jewish heritage, traditions and culture.

We cried with joy, that we were alive and able to enjoy and appreciate our new life, after so many lost years.

Yes, it was very late for us, but not for our child to adjust and begin a new life in a free country. Isn't it wonderful that we are so lucky?

We wanted to work, to earn our right to be a member of this society, to be able to say, "I am Canadian!"

We wanted to belong.

EPILOGUE

Life is not simple. There are many twists and turns, but one thing is common for everybody - finally it comes to an end.

I immensely enjoy life in Canada. Canada is the first of many countries in which I have lived that has true democracy, equality for all citizens, the right of free speech and protection for all.

But not everything has been perfect in the years since arriving. There were many good things and some bad.

One of the bad things is my separation from my husband of over 30 years. I now live alone in a small bachelor apartment, close to my daughter and her family.

One of the good things which happened 15 years ago was Sima's marriage to her "Mr. Right," Stephen. He is a wonderful person whom I love very much. He became my son (which I never had before) from the first day and with passing years I love him even more.

Another good thing is how well Sima has adapted to Canada. She has become a woman that any mother would be proud of. She has a happy marriage, a wonderful family and is now pursuing her degree in education to allow her to teach music in schools. It is unbelievable to me, based on my experiences, that a person could be accepted into university without consideration for their heritage or religion. All that counted was Sima's ability and desire.

The best thing that has happened has been the birth of my grandchildren, Jessica and Daniel. They are wonderful and gifted children and their existence has brightened my life.

One of the bad things is the aging and failing health of the survivors, including myself, Eva and Paul. Aunt Miriam lost her battle last year after many years of suffering.

If somebody was to ask me what is my last wish, I would have to confess to having a dream which, today, is not realistic. I always wanted to live near the ocean or sea, but for the last 18 years I have lived far away from either

My dream is that when my life ends it will be with me having a view of the ocean. I don’t know why but this huge mass of water gives me some peace of mind. It has a calming effect which makes me think that this human struggle is nothing compared to the eternal life of a silent ocean.

This is a sacred dream about a perfect end to a not so perfect life.