In the Crosswind (Risttuules)

Heldur,

I received your letter.

I'm in our homeland.

As the summer began

it seemed like the best one ever.

Our wild apple tree that grew in the middle of the field

was covered with a white carpet,

as if to hide its few leaves with blossoms.

That ever so delicate smell of the blossoms

is in my nostrils to this day.

These delicious morning smells...

The voices of you and our little Eliide...

Those haven't changed.

I see in my mind's eye how you looked at me.

How you gently stroked my cheek with your hand

and tied a ribbon around my waist.

I can still hear your words,

that this will keep us together forever.

That you will keep us.

Under your protective wing.

That we are free.

But what is freedom worth, Heldur?

Heldur,

I hope my letter finds you.

Eliide is weak from the heat here

but otherwise we're doing well.

There are wives of other Defence League men here.

We're sticking together.

When we crossed Estonia's border, the Church bell rang,

did you hear it?

It was for a funeral.

I wondered if somebody really was on their last journey just then

or they rung those bells for us.

Then someone in the cattle car took up the song Estonia, Your Manly Courage.

Then everyone in the other cattle cars joined in.

Heldur, that was...

the most powerful chorus.

Straight from the heart...

In that dark cattle car, the women on the top bunks are our eyes.

Those narrow windows

are like a frame that transforms our homeland

receding into a painting that is beyond our reach.

Many of us think this is all one big mistake.

One woman, Hermiine,

overheard Russian guards saying that war had broken out.

If that's true, we'll be back home soon...

That same woman, Hermiine, shared her bread with us,

as ours remained in your luggage.

I can not comprehend,

what evil have we

simple people

done to enormous Russia?

One regime can't rob thousands

of all they believe in

and love.

Heldur,

I sent you a letter through the gap in the window of our cattle car.

And then we got word that the cattle cars were uncoupled...

That you went in another direction...

Surely, you are already trying to find your way to us.

Today is July 9th.

We were in the cattle cars for 26 days

and nobody could get undressed or wash themselves the whole time.

Those weeks on rails robbed Eliide of her health.

She came down with dysentery.

She's weak, keeps asking for you.

I traded your trousers for milk in a village.

We'll get you new ones when we get home.

We travelled by river for another 4 days and nights.

And then about another 60 km northwards by foot convoyed by armed guards.

With Hermiine,

we've been housed 3 km away from the village, in a solitary mud hut.

As punishment. That's what they said.

We intervened

when the chairman of the local kolkhoz beat a boy from Tartu.

We're in their bad books now.

In the evening, they held some sort of a meeting.

We were lectured on what we can and can't do.

Tomorrow we'll be assigned to work.

Whoever doesn't work won't be given any bread.

Of the 51 women and children in our cattle car,

42 made it here...

Last night,

one woman took her own life...

her own and her child's.

Is death really easier than what awaits us?

Heldur,

time has taken on another dimension.

The temporary has passed.

We measure time by the news that reaches us.

That way the days and weeks seem shorter.

Eliide is feeble.

She hasn't been able to get out of bed for over a month.

Her legs are swollen from starvation.

We get 200 g of bread, about a handful,

for doing lumberjack work.

That's our daily ration.

Sometimes they give us flour.

But only if we fulfil our work quota.

There's no bread for children.

Hermiine...

showed me where the bread is kept.

Heldur,

I asked Eliide a week ago

what she would want as a present for her birthday.

Eliide replied. A loaf of bread.

I asked her what she would want if she had enough to eat.

Heldur, she started crying and still said

a loaf of bread...

Constant hunger doesn't let her dream of anything other than food.

We have to register at the village militia station every two weeks.

So they check to see that we haven't run away.

Some people who don't have children have tried to escape.

They've all been brought back and punished.

We're prisoners of nature...

I wonder if there have ever been any prisoners

with so much space that you long for boundaries.

...breach of the military power of the USSR,

iys independence or terriyorial inyegriyy

by espionage beyraying, miliyary or state secreys .

Defecyion to yhe enemies side, escaping abroad.

Senyenced yo execuyion by shooying ,

yogeyher wiyh the confiscayion of yhe whole properyy

or yhe deprivation of liberty for 10 years

yogeyher wiyh the confiscayion of yhe whole properyy .

Please forgive me, Heldur.

The local chairman summoned me to the kolkhoz office on Sunday.

He put the slice of bread on his table.

The one I had stolen for Eliide.

And some vodka...

I had to choose...

whether...

to be taken further north

or...

to drink vodka with him, and...

Heldur, it's like we're living in darkness here.

And lots of things are done differently in the dark than in daylight.

Tell me, Heldur, is there a word...

A widow is a woman who loses her husband.

An orphan

is a child who loses its parents.

But who is a mother

who loses her child?

That feeling doesn't deserve a word.

The weather is so gloomy.

The clouds hide the sun...

And I long to go for a walk.

My steps always lead to where the locals peel birch bark.

So that the white trunks have become black.

How those sooty trees still grow...

In that rich fertilised soil.

Hermiine said I shouldn't go to the woods alone any more.

Where should one go

after being robbed

of everything they believe in and love?

I'm left with Hermiine,

and other Estonians.

I'm left with you, Heldur.

I often see you in my dreams.

Sometimes I catch a glimpse of you among the trees when I'm out logging.

Sometimes in the gaze of strangers,

in the darkness of the room.

This year when we secretly celebrated Christmas Eve behind covered windows,

an Estonian man arrived in our village.

That gave everyone new hope.

Me as well.

I promise, Heldur,

that when I'm released,

I will find you.

Wherever you may be.

Tell me, where are you?

Each evening turns everything around me

to a dim, dull, black and white picture.

The sky also exchanges blue for pitch black.

And I journey home

in my dreams.

I had a dream at night.

It was spring and we were in our orchard.

Pruning apple tree branches.

You were up in a tree and asked, this one,

and pointed at it with the saw.

But I pointed, no, that other one.

You sat on a three-pronged branch and laughed.

At yourself and me.

But then suddenly you were gone.

I ran under the tree, but you weren't there anymore.

I called out, and you called out in response.

But from up in another tree.

I ran to it but you weren't there.

And then suddenly it was already summer.

And I still ran and called out

but only the wind blew and the leaves rustled.

You weren't anywhere.

I was spent and started crying.

Your saw was on the ground.

I wanted to pick it up

but then you suddenly jumped out from behind a tree

and laughed, pushing me down.

And I shouted that you can't do that ever again,

you can't disappear.