Wave of Terror (22 page)

As this continued, Kulik completely lost track of what Cornelius was saying. He saw Cornelius’ thick, cracked lips moving soundlessly under his moustache. But the words
fish tank
and
two thousand rubles
caught his attention. He was curious to learn why the new regime had so generously parted with such a substantial sum of money. He said, “You mean to say the new school instruments were purchased by the government and sent here to our school?”

“Yes, that’s right.” Cornelius opened his eyes wide and blinked. “Our government is committed to providing the best education for all children of the Soviet Union, whether they live in urban centers or in backward, isolated villages. We’re all treated equally.
The instruments were brought from Pinsk by car, and I myself unloaded the boxes and helped carry them into the school. The villagers were thrilled to see their children with such modern tools.”

Talking louder and louder and faster and faster and becoming more impassioned, as the words flew out of his mouth, it was not long before he let the truth slip.

“Yes, it was a great job to raise that money and everyone participated. The people worked hard to enable the new regime to buy the instruments for the school. It was our regime’s idea, and if not for our regime, we would have nothing. A meager amount was requested from every household, and naturally the people complied. And why did they comply? Because the people
are
the government—it’s all one and the same. The government is run by the people, the money is collected from the people, given out by the people, for the people.”

Kulik listened with mounting anger and contempt. He now understood everything. He said bitterly and sarcastically, “So it is
we the people
, or rather,
we
the government, who, according to you are one and the same, who are giving us our fish tanks whether they have the money or not? People like Paraska, for instance? Is she part of the government?”

Cornelius’ small black eyes flickered, filled with rage. He said sharply and disdainfully, “How dare you challenge the government. You are a subversive, and I can see by the light in your eye that you’re not one of us.” Then a warning, “The frozen wastelands of Arkhangelsk are not far off, in fact they’re beckoning you as we speak. And in case you didn’t know, the NKVD is already hot on your trail.”

Kulik’s heart thudded, “Why, that’s ridiculous. I’m a simple, humble teacher and I have had no political affiliation whatsoever other than with the Communist Party.”

Cornelius laughed ironically. “You don’t fool me for one minute. Even Kokoshin and Leyzarov are on to you.”

“Did they send you here? Is that why you’re here?”

“No one sent me here. You think I’m stupid, don’t you? I came here because I know what’s going on. I’ll have you know I have a good nose; I can smell a traitor when I see one. I didn’t make my way up the Party ladder because I’m thick in the head; no, I made it because I get the job done. I can see where your sympathies lie as clearly as I can see the light of day. You claim to be of peasant stock, which may be true, but in spirit you’re a bourgeois. We know about your past. In Vilno you obtained a bourgeois education and associated with subversives. And subversives are the great enemies of Communism and must be dealt with immediately. We live in the most democratic country in the world, where the masses rule. The workers have finally overthrown the ruling classes, and we must fight to preserve this wonderful new life of ours, no matter what the cost.”

Kulik lost all self-control, and flew at Cornelius. “You’re nothing more than a buffoon! I’ve heard enough. Get out of here before I throw you out!”

Cornelius’s face lit up with a sardonic smile. “Hah! I see I’ve touched a nerve. The aloof and self-important headmaster has lost his temper. Just like a balloon he went ‘pop!’” Then with a snarl, “We’ll get you, you wait and see. Already you’re being watched. It won’t take long now. And a word of advice, if you ever dare utter another word against Jews, it’ll be off to NKVD headquarters with you!”

“Get out of here! Now!” Kulik almost choked with rage. Lunging forward, with all his strength he grabbed Cornelius by the collar, and punched him in the face, knocking him down.

“Help! Murder! Help!” Cornelius cried. He managed to scramble to his feet and make a run for the door. But he was no match for the stronger and younger Kulik, who quickly tripped him up, dragged him across the floor, and hurled him out the front door into the yard. As he landed in the snow, Cornelius cursed and howled at the top of his lungs, “Damn you, bourgeois! Your head will roll for this!”

Kulik slammed the door and bolted it shut.

T
o everyone’s surprise, pinned to the wall outside the grade one classroom was a long sheet of paper with an elaborate, detailed cartoon drawn by a steady and capable hand. It was a caricature of a young boy with tousled hair and an upturned nose, who clutched a ruler in his left hand, aiming it like a spear at a woman. The boy wore a fierce, nasty expression and bore a strong resemblance to Ohrimko Suchok. The woman, skinny with frizzy hair, looking very much like Haya Fifkina, was scrambling through a window trying to escape from him. Several children were penciled in at the bottom, crouched on all fours, peering fearfully from under their benches. Under the drawing was written:

It is not a
ruler
but a spear

Haya Fifkina, beware
!

At recess, almost all the children gathered around the drawing, laughing and talking at the top of their voices. A few older boys elbowed their way to the front to get a better look, while several girls stood on tiptoe, shouting and pointing excitedly. One little girl in a blue frock and gray knitted stockings, standing near the drawing, twirling her braids, took it upon herself and for the benefit of all to read the words aloud, “It’s not a ruler, but a spear …” As she read, the children fell into an uproar. Enjoying the attention, just as she was about to start on the next line, suddenly Ohrimko appeared and charged toward her. He was red in the face and fuming with rage.

“Why don’t you just shut up!” he shouted at her. “You’re just a dumb old girl. It’s not funny!” Raising his arms, with all the force he could muster, he pushed her to the ground and kicked her in the head. When her nose started to bleed, horrified at the sight of blood, she picked herself up, and made for the door as fast as her little feet could carry her, down the corridor, straight to the headmaster’s office. Standing in the doorway, panting and gasping, wiping her tears with the cuffs of her blouse, she smeared blood all over her face.

Kulik saw her and leapt up in horror. “Good God,” he cried, “what on earth happened to you?” Before she could answer, he pulled her into the kitchen, filled the basin with warm water, and washed her hands and face. Later he applied poultices to her cuts. “Who’s responsible for this?”

The girl cried out, “Ohrimko Suchok!”

Kulik was shaken. Ohrimko Suchok was an incorrigible boy, hopeless; he was at a loss with what to do with him. He wanted to call the boy to his office at once, but he wasn’t sure how to handle him. Ohrimko had just been disciplined for attacking Haya Fifkina, and with no noticeable results. Finally, Kulik decided to wait until the end of the day, until classes ended, to allow himself time to think of a plan. He considered suspending him and sending him home, keeping him after school, giving him a good thrashing…. When the bell rang, he had come up with the perfect solution, one that had just popped into his head. It was rather unconventional, but he was confident it would have a positive effect. He sat at his desk, patiently waiting for Ohrimko to knock on the door.

“Come in, young man.” Kulik rose to his feet. His tone was calm and composed and there was even a smile on his face, which he didn’t attempt to hide.

The boy stared. He didn’t know what to make of this. He expected the headmaster to be enraged, fuming, but he certainly did not expect him to be smiling. He anticipated the worst and was very frightened. Any moment now, any second, he would get
a flogging a thousand times worse than he had ever had before. Drawing a deep breath and standing without moving a muscle, he closed his eyes tight and waited for the onslaught to begin. But there came no sound of a switch, no pain to his palms, no heavy breathing of the headmaster over his head. There was only silence. Slowly opening his eyes, to his surprise he saw the headmaster sitting quietly at his desk with his hands folded, still with that same strange smile on his face. Ohrimko watched him closely, convinced he would spring on him at any moment.

Kulik motioned to him. “Come here, young man.” That his tone continued to be soft, even kindly, further confounded the boy.

Creeping timidly toward the desk, Ohrimko wanted only one thing: for the punishment to be over and done with. He suspected the headmaster was up to something and whatever plan he had for him he was certain would be brutal.

Kulik watched the boy but didn’t speak. He was thinking. As he was about to say something, before any words came out, to his great surprise, the boy burst into tears; his entire body trembled. He couldn’t stop crying.

“Ohrimko, what’s wrong?” Kulik was amazed to see the school bully in such a state of distress. He had expected defiance and anger from him, but not tears.

The boy continued to whimper. “It’s my legs. They’re sore. My father beat me last night, he beat me with a nettle switch and now I can barely move.” Rolling up his pants, he showed Kulik the cuts and bruises on his legs.

Kulik was deeply disturbed by what he saw. Even though Ohrimko was the biggest bully in the school and made life miserable for everyone, there was a kind of helpless sadness in his eye that had to arouse sympathy. For the first time he saw the boy not as a little monster out to create pain and misery for others, but as a lost, confused, lonely child trying to get attention.

The boy stood hesitating, rooted to the spot. The thought of getting another beating all but paralyzed him. Suddenly he saw the headmaster rise to his feet and come toward him. Any second
now and everything would be over. He would grab him, strike him, finish him off right then and there. But instead Kulik took hold of his left ear. Pain shot through the boy and he let out a cry. He was guilty and now he was about to pay. He had beaten up a defenseless little girl and he deserved what was coming to him, and probably more. He waited for the flogging to begin. But instead of a flogging something completely unexpected happened. The headmaster made a very peculiar sound and his mouth twisted with disgust:

“Ugh! Ohrimko, this is completely unacceptable. We simply cannot allow this sort of thing to go on. Your ears are filthy!”

The boy stood dumbstruck. He turned red with shame and embarrassment. It was true he did not take kindly to soap and water and very rarely washed his face, let alone his ears. But why was the headmaster making a point of it now? Wasn’t he there to be punished? When the headmaster opened the top drawer of his desk, Ohrimko was sure he was going to take out a switch or something equally unforgiving. But instead he brought out a small parcel wrapped in newspaper and tied with brown string.

“Here, Ohrimko,” he said, “this is for you. I bought it in Pinsk. Something tells me that at heart you ‘re a good boy.”

For the longest time Ohrimko stood looking dazed, his eyes round with wonder. Edging toward the desk carefully, he leaned forward and grabbed the parcel. Peering inside, to his great astonishment he found half a dozen candies in thin paper wrappers, everyone a different color. He could hardly believe his eyes. No one had ever given him such a treat before, and straight from a candy store in Pinsk!

The headmaster urged him on. “Go ahead and take one.”

Ohrimko hesitated a moment and then popped an orange candy into his mouth, all the while keeping an eye on the headmaster. He was certain something big and painful was about to happen to him, and soon. No one received candy for punishment; that just did not happen. The headmaster was merely toying with him before moving in for the kill.

And sure enough, barely a minute had passed when, pacing the room, the headmaster all at once turned on him with a scowl. His tone was stern and abrupt.

“Ohrimko, do you enjoy being a bully? Do you enjoy teasing others and cracking their knuckles? Do you? Why don’t you answer me? Very well then, I’ll answer for you. I believe you do not. That’s why I want to discuss something with you today. I want to give you a job—a very important job. I realize everyone says you’re a troublemaker, but I disagree, I feel deep down you’re capable of better things, much better. And I’m willing to give you a chance. But first I must have your full cooperation. What I propose to do is make you chief of your class. Your job will be to make sure none of your classmates get out of hand, and if they do, you must report to me immediately. I want you to take this assignment very seriously. Do you think you can handle it?”

The boy’s mouth dropped open. He had expected a lot of things, a thrashing, expulsion, but class chief? Drawing a long, deep breath, he scrambled to respond. Things couldn’t have turned out better. Of course he would be class chief, and of course he would make a good one, probably the best. Why, he already had a considerable following among both boys and girls, and to keep them all in line would not only be easy, but great fun. Hah, if someone dared not to listen to him, he’d show them! And suddenly he began to think of himself as rather important. There was no one who even came close to rivaling his qualities in strength and leadership. He thought, The headmaster sees I’m strong and I have the power to make everyone afraid of me. I already have the class under my thumb, so I’m the natural choice for class chief.

“Well, Ohrimko.” The headmaster looked at him from under his brows. “What will it be?”

“Yes, I can do it,” he shouted.

Kulik smiled slightly at the boy, pleased his plan was starting to take effect. “I knew you would agree to my proposition, young man. Keep in mind, being chief is no easy matter. You must set a good example to the rest of the class at all times. You must be the
paramount influence. For example, you can’t get into any more fights, or beat up girls, or cause trouble for the teacher. It’s important for you to listen and show respect to Haya Sruleyevna. You are not to threaten her in any way. Don’t hang your head, young man, we all learn from our mistakes. And one last thing: you are behind in your lessons. You must work hard to catch up to the rest of the children. Why, little Tolik already knows the entire alphabet, and by heart. If you apply yourself you can overtake him easily. Chief of the class must surpass everyone in all respects.”