The Passport

GRASS SOUP

Windisch’s wife had been in Russia for five years. She had slept in a hut with iron beds. Lice cracked in the edges of the beds. She was shaved. Her face was grey. Her scalp was red-raw.

On top of the mountains there was yet another mountain range of clouds and drifting snow. Frost burned on the truck. Not everyone got off at the mine. Every morning some men and women remained sitting on the benches. They sat with open eyes. They let everyone go past. They were frozen. They were sitting on the other side.

The mine was black. The shovel was cold. The coal was heavy.

When the snow melted the first time, thin, pointed grass grew in the snow stone hollows. Katharine had sold her winter coat for ten slices of bread. Her stomach was a hedgehog. Every day Katharina picked a bunch of grass. The grass soup was warm and good. The hedgehog pulled in its spines for a few hours.

Then the second snow came. Katharina had a woollen blanket. During the day it was her coat. The hedgehog stabbed.

When it was dark, Katharina followed the light of the snow. She bent down. She crawled past the guard’s shadow. Katharina went into a man’s iron bed. He was a cook. He called her Käthe. He warmed her and gave her potatoes. They were hot and sweet. The hedgehog pulled in its spines for a few hours.

When the snow melted the second time, grass soup grew beneath their shoes. Katharina sold her woollen blanket for ten slices of bread. The hedgehog pulled in its spines for a few hours.

Then the third snow came. The sheepskin was Katharina’s coat.

When the cook died, the light of the snow shone in another hut. Katharina crawled past the shadow of another guard. She went into a man’s iron bed. He was a doctor. He called her Katyusha. He warmed her and gave her a white piece of paper. That was an illness. For three days Katharina did not need to go to the mine.

When the snow melted the third time, Katharina sold her sheepskin for a bowl of sugar. Katharina ate wet bread and sprinkled sugar on it. The hedgehog pulled in its spines for a few days.

Then the fourth snow came. The grey woollen socks were Katharina’s coat.

When the doctor died, the light of the snow shone over the storeyard. Katharina crawled past the sleeping dog. She went into a man’s iron bed. He was the grave digger. He buried the Russians in the village too. He called her Katja. He warmed her. He gave her meat from the funeral meals in the village.

When the snow melted the fourth time, Katharina sold her grey woollen socks for a bowl of maize flour. The maize porridge was hot. It swelled up. The hedgehog pulled in its spines for a few days.

Then the fifth snow came. Katharina’s brown cloth dress was her coat.

When the grave digger died, Katharina had put on his coat. She crawled through the fence along the snow. She went to an old Russian woman in the village. The grave digger had buried her husband. The old Russian woman recognized Katharina’s coat. It was her husband’s coat. Katharina warmed herself in her house. She milked the goats. The Russian woman called her Devochka. She gave her milk.

When the snow melted the fifth time, yellow clusters of flowers bloomed in the yard.

A yellow dust floated in the grass soup. It was sweet.

One afternoon green trucks drove into the storeyard. They crushed the grass. Katharina sat on a stone in front of the hut. She saw the dirty tracks of the tyres. She saw the strange guards.

The women climbed up onto the green trucks. The tyre tracks didn’t lead to the mine. The green trucks stopped in front of the little station.

Katharina climbed onto the train. She wept with happiness.

Katharina’s hands were sticky with grass soup, when she learned that the train was going home.