This Land is Your Land

 

Canada, 1979

Extracts from the travel journal

‘This land is your land’

The calmness of the ocean, the tranquil pace of the floating islands and the peaks of the pine trees shooting upwards into the Northern sky evoked a déjà vu feeling in me. I had seen it before, or at least experienced something similar. The northern light, the air, the colour of the sky reminded me of the North of Russia, not far from the Finnish border, where I had spent one summer with my exiled mother many years earlier. We sailed peacefully towards our destination, unperturbed and oblivious to any impending trouble ahead. However, the trouble caught up with us when the border guard in Victoria moved along the car queue checking passports. When our turn came, the man looked at Simon's passport first and handed it back to him. He then took mine and flicked through the pages. ‘Would you step out of the car, ma’m,’ he said. Simon opened his door ready to step out but the official ordered with authority: ‘Stay where you are, sir. We only need to speak to this person.’

I was taken to a broom cupboard of an office for questioning. In my country we learned to be obedient when answering to the authorities, I, therefore, decided as I was offered a stool to sit on, to answer the questions to the best of my judgement. There was no point objecting to being stopped at the border or to try to prove anything. I knew it was pointless. I was prepared to plead guilty and expected to be sent back. The questions that followed were intimidating and reminded me of my KGB interviews.

‘Could you please state your nationality,’ was the first question.

‘Soviet.’

‘Are you a communist?’

I was taken aback by that question but decided just to say ‘No.’

The next question shook me somewhat. The man asked, ‘Have you left Russia with the intention to spy on Canada?’

He must have noticed that my eyes nearly popped out. I objected.

‘What kind of a question is that?’

‘Just answer,’ he demanded in a deadpan tone.

‘Of course not!’ I spat out.

‘Why have you left Russia then?’

‘I married a British man who is waiting for me outside.’

‘Is he a communist?’

‘No!’ I screeched back at him.

‘I can of course report you to our national security,’ he pronounced with a menace in his voice.

By then I knew exactly where all this interrogation was coming from. With the day-in day-out tedium of his job the man had his chance to prove himself to his superiors. He had caught a spy, or even two.

I said, ‘Look, we just wanted to come for a day to Victoria. We heard so much about how beautiful the city is. I know I should have applied for a visa but since I have a US visa stamped in my passport, we thought that would be sufficient to cross the Canadian border for a day. But evidently this is not the case.’

The man was not interrupting. He sat there carefully studying my Soviet passport and shaking his head from time to time as if thinking she has a nerve… I made a final plea, ‘Please, just let us go back. You won’t see us again.’

The guard finally handed my passport back to me and declared as if reading a verdict in court, ‘No persons from unfriendly countries are welcome in Canada.’ And then he added, again with a menace in his voice, ‘Your partner can travel on but you have to go back.’

When I came out, I saw our van parked by the side of the road, Simon pacing nearby, worry on his face. He ran towards me when he saw me coming out asking about the interview. I just shrugged and told him we had to go back. We got on the same ferry we had arrived on and soon left the port. It was already late afternoon. Sitting in silence on the deck I was looking again at the islands we had passed on our way to Victoria. Then I looked at the calm sea thinking how black the water of the Pacific was. At one moment I realised that the water was just reflecting the black hole that was gaping in my chest and I had an urge to disappear in that darkness but how to achieve that I did not know. Simon sat next to me. He suddenly touched me and I startled. I looked at him and saw the same darkness in his eyes.