Memoirs of Galina
Memoirs of Galina
The story of a Russian Australian from China
GALINA KUCHINA
Translated by Marina Tolmachev
|
|
Published by Brolga Publishing Pty Ltd ABN 46 063 962 443 PO Box 12544 A’Beckett St Melbourne, VIC, 8006 Australia |
email: [email protected]
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system or transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise without prior permission from the publisher.
Copyright © 2016 Galina Kuchina
National Library of Australia
Cataloguing-in-Publication data
Kuchina, Galina, author.
Memoirs of Galina : Chinese by birth, Russian by tradition,
Australian by adoption
ISBN: 9781925367225 (paperback)
ISBN: 9781925367621 (ebook)
Subjects: Russians--Biography. China--Biography. Australia--Biography.
305.89171094
Cover design by Wanissa Somsuphangsri
Typesetting by Tara Wyllie
“Oh memory of the heart, you are stronger than the sorrowful memory of the mind…”
- P.A. Vyazemsky
Author’s note
The reader can be forgiven for smiling sceptically when I say that I remember myself as a babe in arms. Are these real memories?
I remember my grandmother’s dining room, her enormous table and myself being held by my mother. She is standing near the heater, which warmed two rooms. From this vantage point I can observe my family sitting at the table. They appear to be discussing something very important.
This event could be the result of my imagination based on collective family memories, but I definitely and clearly remember myself in my crib, which stood in the room of my aunt Liza. The sun is streaming into the room and I stand in my crib and sway.
My daughter, Marina, used the same crib 20 years later. Judging by the furnishings of the room, I must have been very young, according to photographs – under a year.
Early Life
I was born in the Manchurian province of northeast China in the house of my grandmother, Varvara Mihailovna Antonov.
My father, Ignatii Kallinikovich Volegov, was an officer of the White Army, which fought against the Bolsheviks. After the overturn and disbanding of the Czar’s Army, my father managed to reach Siberia where he organised Cossack regiments to continue the fight against the Bolsheviks. He survived the ledanoi pohod (the Ice March) and found himself outside his native land with the departing, but heroic, White Army. This tragic retreat of the army, together with other peaceful citizens, was accompanied by exhaustion, cold and sickness
Many years later I would find out that my father had been married before and, during this retreat, lost his wife and two daughters to illness. I also found out that he came from a family of Old Believers.
Manchuria, the town, was small and clean with a large and beautiful train station. The station had a detailed map of the railway network painted on the top section of the wall in the main hall. To me, as a small girl, it appeared quite grand and rather fascinating.
Galina and parents
Another favourite landmark of mine was the beautiful St. Innokenty Cathedral. Within its grounds was a children’s orphanage, a home for the elderly, and accommodation for priests, the choir master, members of the church choir and for other people who had some connection with the church.
Bishop Jonah, who has recently been raised to sainthood, was buried in its grounds. The bishop maintained a good relationship with the Soviet Consulate and through this ensured that the children and old people were given coal for the winter months.
One family, who lived on the church grounds, had a son who had never walked before. After the unexpected death of Bishop Ionah, the boy dreamt that the bishop came to him saying, ‘Take my legs, I don’t need them anymore. Arise!’. Next morning, the boy walked. This dream was officially registered as a miracle.
I remember a very large and beautiful department store; Dun Chan. Was it really that big and beautiful? It seemed so to me at the time. The Nikitinsky compound had a gorgeous entrance with polished brass handrails in front of the enormous mirror windows. There was a photo studio in the corner part of the foyer and a hotel was located above the store on the second floor. The Vorobiev Gastronom left an indelible impression on me.
Galina with friend, Galia Vorobieva
The aroma of delicious delicacies always aroused the appetite - the hope of getting something tasty from Mama or Babushka always excited me. I remember our visits to the market. I loved to run to the meat stall owned by my uncles. I could have reached them more quickly by circumventing the market but it was much more fun to run through and see all the Chinese stallholders.
In Zarechka, there was a cemetery where my grandfather, Feodor Maximovich Antonov, was buried. I don’t know why this area was called Zarechka (za meaning ‘over’ and rechka meaning ‘river’) because there was never a river there, nor any evidence of a river. The leather factory, where my father worked, was also in Zarechka. After their wedding, my parents lived in a flat on the factory site, however, they spent most of their time at my grandmother’s.
In Manchuria, there was a city park where we often walked in the evenings. Music always played there - it was a place for assignations and promenade. I can’t be sure if the town of Manchuria was indeed as I describe it, but this is how it appeared to me through all the periods of my life. My parents left for Hailar when I was three years old but would return to Manchuria a few times a year and stay at my grandmother’s. My mother would sew, dress me up like a doll and send me there during Advent or Lent. I often travelled the route to my grandmother’s alone.
An acquaintance of ours, Tolia Popkov, worked as a conductor
