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Uncle Ivan Remembered
by
Charlie Chernoff
The following is an excerpt from the recently
printed family history book compiled and edited by Charlie Chernoff. The book, entitled
“Chernoff Family History - Evstafy Branch”, is a collection of memoirs, family stories and genealogical
information about his Chernoff Doukhobor ancestors. Mr. Chernoff
writes about his recollection and perception of memorable incidents,
relationships and personalities while growing up in the Village of Veregin,
Saskatchewan in the Thirties and Forties. Here, Mr. Chernoff recalls
"Uncle Ivan", a larger-than-life individual whose personality,
accomplishments, appearance and actions left a lasting impression on one
young Doukhobor boy.
Uncle Ivan was not a bloodline uncle,
in fact he was not a bloodline relative at all. His wife Dunya was a distant
relative to my mother but distance mattered little in Doukhobor family
relationships. It seems that distant relatives were as warmly received as
close relatives. And so it was then that I was introduced to Dunya as Kuzka
(diminutive of Kuzma, my Russian name) and she was introduced to me as
"auntie". Her husband Ivan then became "uncle" Ivan and from that first
meeting on I was expected to address him as uncle and if referring to him in
family conversation refer to him as uncle Ivan.
Author's mother in
Veregin, Saskatchewan, 1918.
This was one of the wonderful
traditions of the Doukhobor way of life; distant relatives were auntie and
uncle to children. Since nearly every family in a village was related in
some way or another to every other family in the same and nearby villages,
children had dozens and dozens of aunts and uncles. I remember my children
visiting a distant, distant relative who by tradition was aunt Mary and by
tradition she received our children as warmly as if they were her own
grandchildren. Whenever we visited her home she would greet the children
with the warmest glee imaginable then scurry off to some hiding place to
bring out some candy treats. What a wonderful tradition! The children in the
community were looked after by all adults (since, it seemed, they were in
some distant way related) which led to warmness, harmony and safety.
Now uncle Ivan was no ordinary individual. As a young Doukhobor he was home
schooled to read and write formal Russian besides speaking "Doukhobor"
Russian. I better explain that there was a peculiar tradition invoked when
one conversed locally because one spoke Doukhobor Russian which had its own
idioms, its own inflections and its own cadence. It was not heavy with the
hard "G" and harsh "R". Many words carried the soft
"H" and softer "R" that
is common in the Ukrainian spoken tongue. Doukhobor Russian was accompanied
by obvious gesticulations and body language which often conveyed an
important message while words spoken were few. A good example is the phrase
"von mahnul i pashol". This meant that the individual waved his arm
downwards from the elbow to the palm and left, meaning he disagreed and was
not going to indulge in further conversation and went his way.
Uncle Ivan was a voracious reader, so his Russian vocabulary was much richer
than the regular Doukhobor. He also wrote fluent formal Russian. It is
peculiar again, that although Doukhobors conversed in Doukhobor Russian they
wrote in proper and fluent Russian even though their vocabulary might be
limited. I remember how impressed many of the community people were because
Uncle Ivan was one of the few persons they ever met who had read and studied
the New Testament. My mother had a book of the New Testament in Russian but
she read only parts of it and did not study it but simply enjoyed the
metaphors.
Uncle Ivan enjoyed addressing sobranias, which were meetings or prayer
assemblies. Since he had an extended vocabulary he was able to wow the
crowd. He was not shy so he got a lot of practice at public speaking and
since his speeches were non-controversial nor demeaning the crowd enjoyed
his deliveries. Dad says that one day uncle Ivan was particularly wound up
and reached for many uncommon, extraordinary Russian words and phrases to
make his point. The crowd was entranced and gave him a standing ovation.
Later Dad was talking to Victor, a Russian gentleman with a formal Russian
education who had chosen to live near the Doukhobors. Victor remarked that
uncle Ivan had delivered a rousing speech but that many of the bigger,
flowery words were definitely the wrong words to use. No matter the crowd
loved it.
Uncle Ivan was also an accomplished artisan. When the combined communal
prayer home and Peter V. Verigin residence was being constructed in Veregin
he was the individual who designed and fabricated the ornamental sheet metal
scroll work that adorns the upper part of the balconies. A masterful job.
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| The Dom at
Veregin, Saskatchewan, 1935. |
Uncle Ivan was a mainstay in the CCUB (the early communal organization of
the Canadian Doukhobors) during its formative years. He served this
organization in several capacities but over time his confidence in the
continued ability of the communal enterprise to survive as a productive,
vibrant, commercially successful co-operative waned so when the Communal
Doukhobors and Peter V. Verigin moved to BC uncle Ivan chose to become an
Independent Doukhobor and stay behind as a farmer near Veregin.
Uncle Ivan had many great qualities but he had one weakness. He enjoyed too
much the "bottled devil" and visited him too often. But even when he had too
much of the wrong kind of spirit in him he remained calm and demure and
loving. He would always refer to his wife as his Kosha, meaning "kitten".
To this day I vividly remember one afternoon, in late fall after the harvest
was in, when uncle Ivan came ambling towards our store, a bit awkwardly,
from the direction of the beer parlor. He had enjoyed an afternoon of
visiting the bottled devil and had taken leave not because his thirst was
quenched but because he had run out of money. He turned into our store and
since it was late and everyone else had left he begged my father to fill the
grocery order that his Kosha had sent with him. To fill it now but to delay
payment until some time when he came into some money. Since my Dad had
suffered the self same affliction years earlier he recognized that a fellow
squanderer needed to be assisted without argument. As Dad began to pack the
few essentials into a bag he asked me to lock the store and pull the shades.
Author as a
child in Veregin, 1937.
Having done this my chores at the
store were completed for the day so I retreated to our living quarters that
adjoined the store. I went to my room upstairs to work on my homework. It
was a couple of hours later that I came downstairs to see if Mom had supper
ready. She informed me that supper was indeed ready for the table and I was
to see what was delaying Dad in the store. I opened the door from the living
quarters into the store only to find both my Dad and uncle Ivan bawling
their eyes out. My dad had spent those couple of hours convincing uncle Ivan
that his drinking was only lowering his stature amongst the community
residents, distancing his sons from him and that it was a totally selfish
behavior and unfair to his Kosha. I cleared my throat and spoke up
announcing supper. This gave both of them the opportunity to dry their eyes
and exchange hugs and then I let uncle Ivan out the store door with his
groceries.
Uncle Ivan never drank again.
In fact one day Uncle Ivan whilst in one of his expansive moods declared "Ehhh!
Nikolai if I had an enemy and he were antagonizing me I would be moved to
place a curse on his soul and the nature of the curse would be that he
become an alcoholic". Dad agreed this would work, then added that if he had
an enemy and was being antagonized he would wish the proprietorship of a
small general store upon him.
At another time I asked Dad how long it took uncle Ivan to complete work on
the forty ornamental sheet metal panels. Dad replied that he had no idea but
that it must have been a long time since all the ornamental perforations
were cut out with a hammer and cold chisel. After some cogitation I
continued with the comment that it must have been awful boring. Dad replied
that he did not think so because uncle Ivan kept his companion nearby.
When I inquired as to what he meant about his companion. Dad painted this
scenario - uncle Ivan would carry his tools to the shade of some trees
bordering the property then drag the sheet metal under a tree settle down
comfortably and commence to chisel out the perforations. Periodically he
would check the landscape to make sure that no women were about then reach
for his companion and take a good long pull from the jar of homebrew.
Apparently this kept him going all day long with nary a complaint.
Another day after uncle Ivan had visited with us at the store and left I
remarked to Dad what a decent and friendly and wise individual he was. Dad
said that uncle Ivan took great pride in being known as a caring, loving
individual of unquestioned integrity. Then he commenced to tell me that
there were widespread rumors amongst the Independent Doukhobors that some
community fund raised monies had been siphoned off never to surface again.
It seems that because of uncle Ivan's undisputed integrity and power of
persuasion he was often sent alone to collect money for some project or
other. There were no receipts issued nor any lists made of the exact sum
given by each individual so it would have been easy to "skim" the pot. Uncle
Ivan had heard stories of collected funds being skimmed more then once so,
as a counterclaim, he had proudly announced to Dad that he never stole a
cent. Well, he took some for a jar of homebrew now and then but that he
regarded to be an "operating expense".
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| Railway station and
elevators at Veregin, Saskatchewan, 1935. |
I learned one of life's grandest lessons from uncle Ivan. One cold day he
was warming himself near the store stove when a young, recently married man
came in for groceries. Spotting Ivan the "Elder Doukhobor" sitting near the
stove he sauntered over and confided that he had a family problem and maybe
Ivan would hear him out and give him some advice. Uncle Ivan was not in a
habit of turning anybody down so he replied that he had time to hear him out
to see if he could help. The young man told a story of a running conflict
with his new in-laws, that they were meddling in his and his new wife's
affairs. He said that he did not want to distance himself from them nor
offend his new wife but that he needed more breathing room. Uncle Ivan
waited until the young man had calmed down some then he commenced to ask
questions. I was listening in without appearing to be listening in. Uncle
Ivan's question's seemed to have little to no thread to them. They were sort
of a shotgun approach to the specific problem. The young man would answer
every question with considerable elucidation. After quite a number of these,
pointless to my mind, questions the young man suddenly cried out, "That is
it! That is what I must do!", and he began pumping uncle Ivan's hand and
thanking him for the great advice he had given him. Of course, uncle Ivan
had not given any advice at all, he had only asked questions to help define
the problem. Once the problem was well defined, the young man immediately
saw how it ought to be solved. Uncle Ivan's contribution had nothing to do
with offering a solution but had everything to do with defining the problem.
I guess it is a technique that was often used by the elders of the Doukhobor
community.
Many years later after I had worked in industry for a number of years and
had been appointed supervisor of a software programming group I would often
be sought out by an employee who wanted advice on how to handle a personal
problem. I would recall the serious interest uncle Ivan would show in a
fellow's problem so I would try to emulate the same serious interest and
then begin to define the problem by asking the employee questions. Once the
problem was well defined every employee I counseled suddenly said thank you
for the advice that will certainly work. No specific advice was ever given!
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The Chernoff family home near Veregin, Saskatchewan as it appears today. |
Aunt Dunya, Ivan's Kosha, was also a community activist. Dunya was a
practicing mid-wife who participated in the delivery of many babies for
Doukhobor families who asked for her services. The Doukhobor tradition was
to have mid-wives trained in the art and science of delivering newborns
because they were not comfortable with outside interference even doctors.
Now this was not academic training but apprenticeship type training where
ladies who showed interest in providing the service worked as assistants
with experienced mid-wives. Through observation and discussion and hands on
practice the helpers moved on to become trusted mid-wives. We have already
alluded to community specialists such as artisans but in addition there were
architects, carpenters, harness makers, dental technicians, bone setters and
so on. But none was as important as a mid-wife. After all, mid-wives dealt
with situations which could easily escalate into life and death situations.
It was an awesome responsibility for a lady to take on a mid-wife role
because she knew that the "expecting" family realized that they were
entrusting the mother-to-be and the child-to-be into her hands. Any
miscalculation or lapse of concentration could result in the death of mother
or child or both. It took an individual of uncommon resolve and self
confidence with nerves of steel yet displaying outward tenderness to
successfully fulfill the mid-wife role. Dunya helped deliver babies into the
1940's. My cousin Timofey was delivered by Dunya in the early '40's in the
family bedroom with nothing more then helpers, hot water from the kitchen,
plenty of clean towels and a boundless supply of tenderness and comfort.
Uncle Ivan and his beloved Kosha are gone now. I can only regret that I did
not take the time to interview him about the early days of the CCUB. Why
didn't I plumb the depths of his philosophy of life or his understanding of
the Doukhobor way of life? I am certain he would have had wise contributions
to make on these and other subjects because he thought deep, he thought
clearly and he thought often. Also I can imagine what interesting
experiences I could have recorded that Dunya had encountered in her role as
a community benefactor.
As my Dad would say. I would like to kick my own behind if only I could
reach.
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