1918 Part II
After mother' death we always had a maid or someone to look after us, of one sort or another. The first one was Riikka, who was a young woman about 25 years of age.She had brown eyes and was cross-eye
d, and she really “looked after us” while Father was gone. I’ve previously related that we had to find our own food most of the time — that’s my recollection — I’m not quite certain about it. Veikko and I were inevitably shoved out into the street early each morning. One day for some reason we came back sooner than usual — I think it was bitterly cold outside and our malnourished little bodies just couldn’t stand up to the freezing weather. So we came back home to sit next to the warm stove. There was a feast going on: Riikka herself and Voitto were eating rice gruel boiled in milk! I guess Veikko and I remembered better days, and there wasn’t even a spoonful left over for us. That’s when I really lost my temper. So the next time Father came home from the frontlines, he took Riikka and me aside for a little talk. And this lad gave Father the unvarnished truth ab
out how Veikko and I had been treated. Riikka left the same day.
d, and she really “looked after us” while Father was gone. I’ve previously related that we had to find our own food most of the time — that’s my recollection — I’m not quite certain about it. Veikko and I were inevitably shoved out into the street early each morning. One day for some reason we came back sooner than usual — I think it was bitterly cold outside and our malnourished little bodies just couldn’t stand up to the freezing weather. So we came back home to sit next to the warm stove. There was a feast going on: Riikka herself and Voitto were eating rice gruel boiled in milk! I guess Veikko and I remembered better days, and there wasn’t even a spoonful left over for us. That’s when I really lost my temper. So the next time Father came home from the frontlines, he took Riikka and me aside for a little talk. And this lad gave Father the unvarnished truth ab
out how Veikko and I had been treated. Riikka left the same day.
Riikka was keeping company with some Red Guard soldier whose name I can’t recall right at the moment. He was one of those lucky ones who got to travel by ship to Estonia and apparently took Riikka with him. Mother’s sister by the name of Margareta, whom I remember as a real beauty, also left with someone for Russia where she apparently died of smallpox a few years later in 1922. The other sister, Tilda, was with us for a few weeks, but she too disappeared without a word — probably went back home. She wrote to us in later years from Pieksämäki. I’m making note of this, because I will have to return to that letter later on.
Our next caretaker was “Mummo” [Old Woman].” She was a bleary-eyed old crone with no nose, a crude mouth, and crude habits. But you can get used to anything. She had her own fantasies and entertainments. It was winter and the room was of course never warm enough. Veikko and I slept on the floor with no mattress underneath us. It took a lot of squirming around on the cold floor before we warmed up enough to go to sleep. And, just as animals do, in the same way children cling tightly to each other to keep warm — and so did we. I will never forget the night when Mummo stared crossly at us lying there on the floor, ripped off the blanket that covered us and wheezed: “Sleeping together just like a married couple.” I yelled at her to put the blanket back on. That’s the sort of caretakers we had! — Fortunately we didn’t have the f
oggiest understanding regarding the fantasies in her warped mind. We were just wretched little orphans, cold and hungry, who were seeking safety, warmth and love from each other. But the world would like to destroy innocence right from the start.
oggiest understanding regarding the fantasies in her warped mind. We were just wretched little orphans, cold and hungry, who were seeking safety, warmth and love from each other. But the world would like to destroy innocence right from the start.
It seems Mummo started taking care of us right after Father was taken prisoner. We weren’t fancy free ourselves for many days after Father’s arrest for the authorities came and took us to the Salvation Army children’s shelter on Pengerkatu in the suburb of Kallio. We were joined by a fourth boy whose name I can’t recall. The four of us were permanent residents. Well, at least we were fed — not enough of course as far as we were concerned— but regularly. Salted herring was served nearly every 
day, and it was food which we’d never had in our lives at home.
day, and it was food which we’d never had in our lives at home.
We were always hungry. A block away from the shelter, if you went along Kaikutie and then across on Hämeentie [in those days it was called Eastern Viertotie], was located the Haapaniemi playground where we were sent to play early each Sunday morning before breakfast. We played of course, but food was our main focus. That’s why one of us was always on guard duty — laying on the grass on one’s stomach watching the window of the children’s shelter from where one of the ladies would give us a signal to come to brea
kfast by waving her white apron. And we didn’t have to be called twice — our legs fairly flew up Kaikukuja, through the front door and to the second level. The ladies were often rather put out because we were always so hungry — our hunger didn’t seem to diminish in spite of their best efforts. In August when the new potatoes ripened we were each given 3-4 large potatoes which vanished in a flash. Our stomachs were like basketballs, our legs spindly and our arms like sticks. One sees pictures of children like this in countries where famine is a daily way of life.
kfast by waving her white apron. And we didn’t have to be called twice — our legs fairly flew up Kaikukuja, through the front door and to the second level. The ladies were often rather put out because we were always so hungry — our hunger didn’t seem to diminish in spite of their best efforts. In August when the new potatoes ripened we were each given 3-4 large potatoes which vanished in a flash. Our stomachs were like basketballs, our legs spindly and our arms like sticks. One sees pictures of children like this in countries where famine is a daily way of life.
I got a bit ahead of myself, because we had several experiences before we got to August. All four of us permanent shelter kids got impetigo in the spring — probably through contact with the kids who were there only during the day. But we were the ones who got it. White coverings out of linen were sewn for our hands and we had to keep these on all day. These kept us from scratching our sores until they bled, and I guess it was some kind of preventive measure as well to keep the other children from catching the condition. Finally we were smeared with coal tar from head to foot and it was left on our skin for a day or two, then following this treatment we were taken to the sauna. The sores came off in no time flat, but we bore scars from our experience for a long time afterward. And if the truth we told, I still have several scars from it around my nose very similar to those one would get from having small pox.
For the summer we were sent to a vacation home near Hämeenlinna. It’s true we received a lot of fresh air and sunshine
, but it was still pretty slim pickings in the food department which was the same everywhere. The main meals consisted of porridge and soup. The porridge had a lot of potatoes among the grain, but every other day the potatoes were just potato skins. This was true for the soup also, which was made from salted horse meat. The meat was so salty that we didn’t even try to eat it. So was the broth. The only thing that was edible was the potatoes. And every other day it was potato skins. It kept us alive — but you can be sure that our hunger never went away. When we got back to Pengerkatu it was new potato season, as I mentioned previously.
, but it was still pretty slim pickings in the food department which was the same everywhere. The main meals consisted of porridge and soup. The porridge had a lot of potatoes among the grain, but every other day the potatoes were just potato skins. This was true for the soup also, which was made from salted horse meat. The meat was so salty that we didn’t even try to eat it. So was the broth. The only thing that was edible was the potatoes. And every other day it was potato skins. It kept us alive — but you can be sure that our hunger never went away. When we got back to Pengerkatu it was new potato season, as I mentioned previously.
Then in the fall Father was released from prison, or rather from prison camp — he was as thin as a skeleton but otherwise healthy. He came to fetch us as soon as he was able and we went back to our former small room on Tokankatu. Our regular routine started again. The children went back to school — everyone was advanced a grade, and so I started in the First Level of the Upper Form (3rd Grade) at Tokankatu El
ementary School. Our teacher was Pekka Kalervo — a great man — a bachelor. I can’t recall receiving any kind of report card from elementary school, and if I did get one it was handed in as part of my registration at my new school. It would have been interesting - to see what my progress was in elementary school. I can’t recall if I ever studied at home, or if we had homework at all.
ementary School. Our teacher was Pekka Kalervo — a great man — a bachelor. I can’t recall receiving any kind of report card from elementary school, and if I did get one it was handed in as part of my registration at my new school. It would have been interesting - to see what my progress was in elementary school. I can’t recall if I ever studied at home, or if we had homework at all.
I was thin and small in stature — even after four years when I graduated from elementary school I was the third shortest in line. The shortest one was Kunnari — I can’t recall his first name, and the second shortest was Topi Piironen, who lived at the top of the hill on Pursimieskatu and was my good friend. Manne Seitola was placed in a different class but like me was also in the First Level. We didn’t get to see each other much at school, but we were inseparable after school.
We started receiving clothing through the school: a wool jacket and woolen knickers, a
nd also some wooden shoes. The wooden shoes had leather uppers just as in regular leather boots, but came with thick wooden soles. What a clatter there was in the halls at school since there were a lot us who were on government assistance. — The wooden shoes were warm in the winter, but one had to be careful when wearing them because they had no give to them at all. One day then I slipped on the stone stairs to the school’s bathroom and sprained my ankle very badly. But it wasn’t the only time because my ankles were very weak.
nd also some wooden shoes. The wooden shoes had leather uppers just as in regular leather boots, but came with thick wooden soles. What a clatter there was in the halls at school since there were a lot us who were on government assistance. — The wooden shoes were warm in the winter, but one had to be careful when wearing them because they had no give to them at all. One day then I slipped on the stone stairs to the school’s bathroom and sprained my ankle very badly. But it wasn’t the only time because my ankles were very weak.
I even received a pair of skates somewhere along the way, but nothing came of my attempts at skating because my ankles wouldn’t hold me up at all. I guess I would have eventually mastered the skill, but there didn’t seem to be that many opportun
ities for skating. While we lived on Tokankatu we used to go to the canal at Hietalahti Harbor which was a great place for skating during the time the first clear ice appeared. We had to go to the other side of the canal where the farmers’ market was located. On that side there were wooden stairs which went down to the water, and the islanders had an easy time docking up their boats and the public had free access. Here the dock wasn’t two meters above the water level as it was on our side. But this skating period didn’t come for several years.
ities for skating. While we lived on Tokankatu we used to go to the canal at Hietalahti Harbor which was a great place for skating during the time the first clear ice appeared. We had to go to the other side of the canal where the farmers’ market was located. On that side there were wooden stairs which went down to the water, and the islanders had an easy time docking up their boats and the public had free access. Here the dock wasn’t two meters above the water level as it was on our side. But this skating period didn’t come for several years.
So this was our winter clothing, but in the summer things were a little different. In those days we didn’t need any shoes in the summer, but later the fashion was running shoes with long black socks which were kept in place with elastic bands placed right above the knees. I think this style was picked up from the women’s fashions — it was bit hard on the circulation at times. The boys wore light trousers and shirts which were made out of a grey cotton material in the Russian peasant style.
I think it was already during the first grade when, in addition to my regular school, I was required to go to the Työtupa (Work Hous
e). As I recall it was located north of Factory Park on Laivurinkatu. Or it may have been just a bit west of this which would have placed it on Fredrikinkatu. The trolley went past it so it should be a sure landmark, or have the tracks been pulled up by now since there is no trace of them on the map? Well — be that as it may — I learned how to sew and how to fix the soles on shoes. I sewed myself a shirt — that I remember clearly. But whose boot soles did I fix? That I don’t recall. I was wearing running shoes in those days, so the soles that needed repair weren’t mine. Well, at least I learned something during my time at that place.
In the fall of 1918 I developed two boils which just would not heal. There were truly huge — where in the world would I have picked them up? It’s true that I had a weakened constitution, but on the other hand there were so many rotting animal carcasses around, and most of them were not buried very well, so these may have spread infections as well. Be that as it may, Father tried to open the boils up with his straight razor. It wasn’t successful of course beca
e). As I recall it was located north of Factory Park on Laivurinkatu. Or it may have been just a bit west of this which would have placed it on Fredrikinkatu. The trolley went past it so it should be a sure landmark, or have the tracks been pulled up by now since there is no trace of them on the map? Well — be that as it may — I learned how to sew and how to fix the soles on shoes. I sewed myself a shirt — that I remember clearly. But whose boot soles did I fix? That I don’t recall. I was wearing running shoes in those days, so the soles that needed repair weren’t mine. Well, at least I learned something during my time at that place.
use they were deeply imbedded, and Father just didn’t have the heart to cut into them very deeply. There was no other remedy but to go to the Surgery Clinic and the cysts were history. The doctor sliced twice into my right arm, and the puss just oozed out. — Now you have to remember that I was only nine years old at the time, and I was alone on this visit and had to explain my condition myself. No anaesthetic or numbing was used in those days — the doctor just sliced away with his scalpel. The blade was only about an inch long, but when a little lad like that is taking stock of the coming procedure he can get a bit apprehensive. The other boil was on the right side of my neck —of course I wasn’t able to see it for myself — but I was so terrified that I said to the surgeon, "Cut just once!" And he didn’t need to slice twice. I still bear the scars. But I got rid of the boils once and for all.
How to record this next item on paper so that it would be clear, and so that it would be possible to follow the line of reasoning which resulted in the next incident? During the year of the Rebellion I had become used to obtaining my own food and often this was accomplished by resorting to begging. This had schooled me to be a good actor, because one had to learn now to whine artfully enough to soften someone’s heart. I had of course become so good at it that it seemed a shame to waste such a talent. One thing led to another and I began begging quite regularly. I usually hung around the Kaivopuisto side of town because the belief was that it was inhabited by more affluent people. Rich people usually didn’t give anything, but the poor folks always seemed to have a bit of bread or something else to spare — sometimes even a copper penny which could be used for the movies. That woolen jacket came in really handy because, when the bottom of the breast pocket ripped out, lots of room was created between the flannel lining and the actual jacket in which to stuff all sorts of things.
The times were better but, as I said before, we were always hungry. The famine had left hollow spaces in the growing bodies of little boys which weren’t very easy to fill. On the other hand, begging had become a profession for me and I wasn’t old enough yet to really do anything else. I assume that some of my school friends, one and then another, spotted me on these excursions and for this reason I changed my route closer to the center of town. This didn’t prove very successful, but one had to give it a try. However, on my very first try I happened to ring the doorbell at the home of Ernst Lampen. He was a bachelor who taught Finnish grammar at the Normal School, but I didn’t know that at the time. I recited to him the usual litany which I had memorized, and he started to a
sk me all sorts of questions. The first one was how old I was, to which I gave the expected answer. Then he asked me where I went to school. Suddenly I had a mental block and couldn’t remember my name or the name of my teacher. I started getting really afraid that he would call the authorities and I would be sent to a reform school, or some other place on that order. I was, therefore, unable to come up with any intelligent answers. He got tired of asking me further questions, and finally gave me a three-penny coin as I was leaving. Whereupon this little boy scooted home as fast as his legs would carry him, and from then on I never again went out to harass people. When I think about this in retrospect, I’m sure that some older boy had coached Veikko and me, as well as other boys in our housing complex, to say the right things that would win people over. I guess you could call it the "Tokankatu acting school!"
sk me all sorts of questions. The first one was how old I was, to which I gave the expected answer. Then he asked me where I went to school. Suddenly I had a mental block and couldn’t remember my name or the name of my teacher. I started getting really afraid that he would call the authorities and I would be sent to a reform school, or some other place on that order. I was, therefore, unable to come up with any intelligent answers. He got tired of asking me further questions, and finally gave me a three-penny coin as I was leaving. Whereupon this little boy scooted home as fast as his legs would carry him, and from then on I never again went out to harass people. When I think about this in retrospect, I’m sure that some older boy had coached Veikko and me, as well as other boys in our housing complex, to say the right things that would win people over. I guess you could call it the "Tokankatu acting school!"
Translated from the original Finnish: Marja-Leena Tolvanen-Rogers
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