UKRAINIAN HALLOWEEN
The most essential holidays that Ukrainians observe are considered to be New Year's, Christmas, Easter and everyone's birthday. One can add to this list of the most important events of the year the day of remembrance of the deceased relatives, or as the people call it - All Saints Day or simply Ukrainian Halloween.
A great majority of the young people try to move to town from the village in search of a better life: they leave it to make money in the city, get married, enter educational institutions… After that, they try to hook at least at something in the city to make it their home. Having served in the army, some of the young men stay on for an extra term there, signing a contract. A person, who has seen other, more civilized living conditions, is no longer in a hurry to return to his father's household.
Usually on All Saints Day most of the people, who had left the village and live in different parts of Ukraine and even abroad, come to the place where their loved ones are buried in order to honor their memory if they have a chance. This is the day when you can meet your former classmates and acquaintances, who left the village many years ago.
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Of course, it is not every year that they can afford such a trip. Many of them live hundreds and even thousands kilometers away, and such a long journey takes precious time and requires travel expenses. But one day there comes a moment in life when an irresistible desire to see the native land, meet friends and former classmates, talk with them about their fate, achievements, forces them to see their hometown. They are ready to spend time and money just to feel emotional enjoyment of the warm memories from the past.
A certain man, who has not visited his native land for decades, is looking at the familiar houses, trees, people; the same road, the same forest, the same Cardan is passing by. Oh, goodness, what an interesting man he is. How would the local people amuse themselves if not for his tricks? Very few people take offense at him. He is a nice guy, just a joke of a man. It is even hard to imagine how much variety he has introduced into boring rural life! There were moments when people in the village laughed for months, talking about his tricks.
There is the house in which the man grew up, a bench in front of the fence, his former neighbors ... It seems to a person that he is really in the past. The most pleasant moments spent in these streets come to the mind and warm his heart and soul.
On All Saints Day weather is usually warm and sunny, adding to the nostalgic reverie bright and warm touch. From all ends of the village people flock to the local cemetery. This is the only day of the year when you can see so many familiar faces. It is quite difficult to recognize some people who have not visited their village for a long time: they have grown up, changed, acquired a certain importance...
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Some of them have arrived with their children. But the facial features that they inherited by the genes from the father and mother give out their roots. A local elderly resident will take a look at a running boy and recognize in him the features of his father and grandfather.
The cemetery is being gradually filled with people. They gather around the graves of their deceased relatives. They bring up alcohol, sweets, cookies... First of all, they fill a glass with alcohol and put it on the grave, gently pressing the bottom of the glass into the soil for a firmer hold. They put sweets next to it and also decorate the cross with them. "His soul is now with us. We do not see him but he watches us and takes part in our conversation. It's a sin not to treat him to some alcohol too."
They cross themselves and have a drink; their heads start spinning, the tongues loosen. They recount incidents from the lives of their late relatives, talk about their deeds, achievements, interesting moments of their lives. Everyone knows that one must talk only about good things connected with the deceased or to remain silent. "Well, fill one more glass with alcohol - we must have three drinks today. You cannot have more than three shots, fewer than three too - it is a big sin. There's already a priest coming up; you must give something away: money or some sweets," remarks a kind man. The priest serves the service and walks toward another group of people. The people are tipsy, inspired by the recollections, which seems to have no end and no limit.
Cardan has also come to honor to his late relatives.
"Cardan, come over here," one friend of his calls him up. "Here`s a glass of vodka, drink and honor my father and mother."
"Let them rest in peace," he says sympathetically, crosses his chest and drinks.
Then the man fills one more glass with vodka for Cardan again.
"Well, well, well, one drink is a sin. You must have three shots," the man reminds him. So, one down, two more to go.
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Cardan crosses himself. "Let earth be down to them," and has the second shot, then the third one. You cannot have more than three shots - it`s a sin. What type of figure will you cut if you get drunk on such an honorable day; you ought to have respect for people. Otherwise, tomorrow they will condemn you. There will be rumors around the village that you got drunk even on All Saints Day - it is a horrible shame. Cardan chats with the man, then with a couple of other villagers and goes home. In the evening all the people go out of the cemetery, leaving some sweets and filled with alcohol glasses on the graves.
Cardan, like no one else in the village, was glad that night was approaching. "It's time," he thought and strode toward the deserted cemetery. In the gathering twilight he saw the graves decorated with flowers and sweets. The goal was quite clear: he would go to the cemetery, pay honor to the deceased and leave this dreadful place before the total darkness comes around. The plan was impeccable: nothing was left to chance. "And what is there to be afraid of? Has anyone ever arisen from the dead?" Cardan had not believed in fairy tales since he had been a child. A brutal reality had taught him to perceive life as it is.
He approached the first grave, gently lifted the glass of vodka that was pressed into the ground, crossed his chest, “Let earth be down to them,” and drank it. "There is nothing frightful here,” he reassured himself. “Dead people can't hurt you, it is the living you should be frighten of. No one who died has ever returned from the other world." The surrounding graves triggered his imagination, but he shook his head to dispel the gloomy pictures from his head. Then he picked up a few cookies from the cross and had a bite to appease the alcohol reaction in his stomach and continued to conjure up soothing thoughts. After that, he walked to the second grave and went over the same ritual. Then to the third, fourth - it began to spin in his head, the afterlife thoughts moved into the background.
Cardan was so absorbed in his ceremony that did not even notice how quickly he got drunk. He continued to search for glasses of vodka like a mushroom hunter foraging for mushrooms in a dim dense forest.
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Here`s another one, here`s one more, here`s again, and then he lost count of the drinks he had had. His consciousness failed him and he passed out.
Sad but true, it turned out that Cardan was not the smartest guy in the village. Gray was not a simple guy either. Like two ships coming towards each other, they gradually shortened the distance between them for an imminent encounter; one of the ships cast the anchor and drifted halfway - Cardan fell asleep near a grave and was in a sepulchral slumber. He simply got excited and lost count of the shots, succumbing to the temptation of an easy binge. He was dressed in black and looked no different from the nearby abandoned graves. Cardan, hearing someone's steps, began flailing his arms, trying to get to his feet to see who was there and grabbed Gray`s ankle, who was wandering among the tombs. Even before he had time to understand what had happened, frightened Gray started out of the cemetery. His head was throbbing wildly, his heart was thumping with terror, his legs could not handle his fast flight. A huge tree, that stood in the way of his movement, stopped his rapid progress. Suddenly, he was thrown back by a dreadful blow of the encounter with the tree. Falling on a grave, he, like a gymnast, in an instant, found himself on his feet again and rushed off. He did not see double now as a result of intoxicating alcohol effect but three times double because of fear. The barrier made up of the tomb crosses encumbered his fast movement. Once more he bumped into something, fell, jumped to his feet and continued the race. Again and again trees, crosses, grave fences hampered his way out. It seemed to him that he did not run out of the cemetery but the graves surrounded him and wanted to catch him in their embraces. At last he managed to escape the graveyard. Running a hundred meters beyond it, Gray stopped and squatted. He was stiff scared of what he had experienced and trembled as if from freezing cold. "And why did I run away?" he thought in absolute puzzlement. "After so many years of wondering and hoping that it might be possible to contact someone who died long ago. No! What am I driving at? That simply couldn't be. That's only in the films. Now, slow down and get back to earth.
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Chances are that it was a human being. I was planning on having a good feast but someone beat me to it. Some drunkard must have been sleeping among the graves when I stumbled on him. It all happened so spontaneously, so quickly that I did not even have time to realize what it was. Should I go back and get to the bottom of this? No, I think I'd better go home. It's enough for today."
Slowly, taking a breath, Gray headed for the village. It was growing darker and he couldn't see a thing around, but he was not afraid of anything anymore. Indeed, he panicked inadvertently: everything happened so unexpectedly. He acquired the former composure, although he was flustered and upset, and thought demurely, "There`s a lot of vodka on the graves left untouched. What a pity that so much alcohol is going to be wasted!"
Speaking of Cardan, he did not even intend to flee anywhere. He continued to sleep quietly near the graves and in the morning, waking up, he drank "to peace of soul" of one of the deceased, then of another one and walked over to Gray, who was still sleeping. He waked up his friend, who was lying in bed in a sweet morning slumber. Both of them, trying not to give out their yesterday's adventure, spoke on abstract topics and glanced at each other time and again! Both of them guessed who was at night at the cemetery but none of them wanted to confess first. Finally, their oblique glances cut into a straight line and Gray, whose curiosity got the better of him, asked with a wry smile, “I assume there's no question that you were at the cemetery last night.”
Cardan smiled back. “Would you be surprised if I weren't?”
"Great minds think alike, don't they?"
Suddenly they both burst into a loud, uncontrolled laughter ...
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On the following day the rumor mill buzzed full-bore that Cardan had been seen walking out of the cemetery early in the morning. Several women gathered in front of the local shop and started gossiping about Cardan's latest adventure. They were chit-chatting and laughing when one of the women, who had been among the victims of his previous tricks, turned red with anger and cried out, "I understand that there's nothing criminal, but what a sinner he is!" Which brought the conversation to a moment's silence.