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between Ukraine and Romania. It was a spring morn ing and he was enjoying the landscape when suddenly a storm broke. The first drops of rain forced him to look for shelter. It is then that he overheard the sounds of a Ukrainian song which in fact led him to cover. What was this? In this God forsaken corner of Bessarabia, he was hearing a song from his native land? Was it a mirage? Was he in a state o f confusion? But no, this was not an illusion. And as he listened more attentively he realized that the melody was com ing from the Moldavian kolyba, a sort of shelter made of reeds found throughout the local vineyards. [49] Kotsiubynskyi resolved to reach the shelter and wait there for the rain to stop. It was dark in the shelter ( the kolyba ), and when his eyes got used to the darkness, he found himself in the company of ten other people. They unanimously answered his greeting and made room for him on the log by the door. The song had stopped but after a while someone slowly began to sing the first words of the song again, and soon after, another voice joined the first, followed by the chorus of the rest of the group. The song they were singing was a chumak (salt wagoneer) song, which suddenly conquered time and space. Kotsiubynskyi was en chanted. The song, like a bird, had wings! But the melody which has overtaken the soul, having found a cradle there, does not die so fast...it bellows the lungs, wants to come forth, and gloriously clothed in its lyrics frees itself like a bird looking for open space...[49] And in the lyrics of the Salt Wagoneer’s song, words were creating in the author's mind landscapes of his native land. It was as if he himself was flying on the wings of this song way back into the past. He writes, "I was seeing, hearing and with fever feeling sadness as well as joy.” And describing his feelings, Kotsiubynskyi records the lyrics he has heard: Bright, oh! so bright is the sun at dawn, And overcast is the sky when it goes down... Sad, oh! so sad is our leader otaman As he walks through the encampment...[ 49] The author then imagines the infinitude of the steppe, feels the wind bending the high grass, and in the midst of blue fog, he distinguishes graves near dark osier willow. Between the sky and the earth there seems to be a mysterious dialogue. And down in the valley there is a fire, its white smoke snaking its way up from among a chumak camp. A caravan of ox-driven-carts blackens the horizon, creating a fantastic vision. The camp is asleep, but one person does not seem to be able to sleep. It is the leader otaman. What is on his mind? Is it the unknown country ahead? Is it the thought of his family so far away or the thought of his wife? Or is it the unexpected danger ahead on the steppe? But soon the day breaks and the camp comes alive4. Chumak mornings have charms of their own. The cook busies himself with the pots. The men turn their head to the East and recite their morning prayers. Then there is the joyous breakfast until they hear: “It’s time! Time to go!” The author records the singing dia logue as the chumaky take to the road. First the otaman gives the signal: Hej! Young men, brave young men, Get up and grease up the carts, Tie-up the carts, gather the yokes Harness the gray oxen ready. .. [50] And all at once the men answer in chorus: The young men are ready, they greased the carts They gathered the new yokes They harnessed the oxen. .. [50] The carts begin to move as the meh encourage their animals: Hej “sob ” my dear oxen, “sob ” my gray ones!.. And the “valka,” the forty ox-driven-cart caravan, silently moves through the steppe like a huge snake whose head has already disappeared and whose tail is yet to come out of the road side bushes. They walk the steppe these new carts creak The gray oxen chew the cud... The chumaky walk besides their oxen, whip- handle in hand. They are tall silhouettes with pitch-ore tarry shirts and pants and tall “bryla” hats. They walk, confident in their strength and carefree. They walk, intoxicated by the smell o f the steppe, by all the scents that that the steppe wind brings to them as it caresses their tanned faces. And silently, slowly, one foot ahead of the other, the valka seems to float on the beaten roads of an immense desert. [51 ] In this imaginary picture, Mykhajlo Kotsiu bynskyi, wrapped up in the vision he has created, con veys the chumak’s deep feelings about the steppe. There is a dialogue between man and the nature that surrounds him, a sort of enchantment that will make the chumak yearn for many more such journeys. But the lyrics of the song also carry him to another reality of the voyage as the otaman plays a sad tune on his flute {sopilka). Way ahead, the otaman Plays a tune on his flute What does he play, again and again? He relates of some trouble ahead... [52] What kind of troubles can be so terrible as to compel the valka to stop? There were many. The oxen would refuse to go on or they would get sick. Some times there was no fodder for the animals. To forget all his troubles, sometimes the chumak would get drunk. The picture of a drunken Ukrainian Salt Wagoneer is “Н А Ш Е Ж И Т Т Я ”, В Е Р Е С Е Н Ь 2003 15
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