When my grandmother lost her husband in the war, she was already a strong and capable woman & did not feel she needed to marry again. But, her friends worried about her and were constantly pestering her about getting remarried.
'Think, Sveta, think how lonely you will get!' They cried in unison.
'How can I get lonely when you are all constantly at my side?' Replied my grandmother with a grin, 'Seems the best way to get company is to remain unmarried!'
'But we will not always be here!' cried one.
'We have families of our own, husbands to cook for, children to care for!' added another.
'We cannot always be with you,' clarified one with a 'harrumph'.
But my grandmother merely smiled to herself, shrugged her shoulders and began to hum a merry tuse as she carried the tea things away.
Many months later, her friends were still seated at her table, drinking her tea and moaning about how lonely she would evenutally become.
'Let us find you a husband,' begged one.
'We know just what you like! added another.
'Fine!' cried my grandmother, impatiently, 'If it will make you leave my house and return our conversations to something other than men, then, yes! You may find me a husband! Please, do so at once!' And she shooed them out the door.
My grandmother wasn't worried. As she cleared the many plates and tea things, she hummed the merry tunr again, thinking that she would refuse every man her friends found, and they would soon tire of the game. She would have her home back AND her freedom.
Sure enough, when her friends cam back with eligible bachelors, who they were at pains to tell my grandmother, were perfectly suited to her, my grandmother found faults with them all.
'The one is a lawyer!' cried one friend, 'He is skilled in the art of debate, and will keep your keen mind interested for many years!'
'Too hard-working!' said my grandmother, with a wave of her hand, 'I should never see him out of the office!'
'This one is an artist!' cried another friend, 'He will decorate your home with beautiful paintings and you will forever be surrounded by the most delicate, intriguing and astounding objects!'
'Too idealistic!' pooh-poohed my grandmother, 'How could I shake him out of his dreams to get him to cut the firewood or feed the pigs?'
'This one is an athlete!' cried yet another friend, 'He will be able to help with all the tasks around the house that are too difficult for you and your children will be fit & healthy!'
'Too handsome!' criticised my grandmother, 'T would need to wear make-up to bed and always have my hair in curlers to feel I could be seen by my own husband! No, no!' she said, as her friends began to protest, 'You must keep looking - off you go!' And she threw them out again.
This continued for many months and the suitable bachelors began to descrease in number, until one afternoon tea-time, the women had no men to suggest at all.
'What is this?' laughed my grandmother, 'Have you given up? Am I that difficult to find a husband for? I must change my name to 'Shrew'!' She joked happily.
Then the oldest of the group of friends (who also considered herself the wisest) fixed my grandmother with a steady look.
'Well, Sveta, there is one other. But...well, no. I had best not continue.'
This intrigued my grandmother, 'Why should you not continue?' she demanded.
'Well, we know very little about him,' replied the woman, 'He does not even seem to have a name. The people who know him refer to him as 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best.' But you are not for him.'
This annoyed my grandmother, 'Why is he not for me?' Am I not a fine woman? Accomplished, intelligent, capable? Still attractive? Why would this man not consent to be my husband?'
'Sveta, dear, he loves his country best. He does not seek, or want, a wife.'
'Well, I do not seek or want a husband!' snapped my grandmotehr, 'And yet, I have sat here, day after day, listening to your descriptions of these men, seeing their photographs, humouring you! Why should this man not at least agree to meet me? I love my country also!'
'He lives far away, Sveta,' replied her friend, 'Beyond the mountains, over the great river and the plains in a town that few know the location of. He will be almost impossible to find.'
'Impossible!' Scoffed my grandmother, 'I will show you! I will find this man, I will meet him, I will determine why HE is not for ME and then we will be able to put this whole nonsense about a second husband behind us. Agreed?'
And she and her friend shook hands amongst the excited twittering of the other women.
My grandmother packed her bags that very night and set out the next morning. Outside her house, she met a farmer, with his donkey.
'Farmer!' she cried, as he hurried past, 'Do you know the way to the village where lives the man who is called 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best'?' The farmer stopped and put his hand to his chin.
'Hmm....' he said, 'I know this village. But it is far away, over the mountain pass. But, your weak legs will not take you so far, you must allow me to accompany you. You may sit on my donkey's back.' And he moved to put his hands arond her waist and move her on to the donkey's back.
But my grandmother was a proud woman, and would not take the donkey.
'My legs are stronger than they look,' she said with a sniff and moving away from the farmer, 'They will carry me over the mountain pass.'
The farmer was right, the mountain pass was most treacherous, full of terrifying animals, crumbling paths and thick woods. But my grandmother would not give up. Many weeks later, she stumbled out at the bottom of the mountains, covered in scratches in dirt, to find herself on the shores of a deep, wide lake. The water was black & the the opposite shore was hard to see. But the water, a fisherman was drawikng in his nets and my grandmother called to him.
'Fisherman! Do you know the way to the village where lives the man who is called, 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best'?'
The fisherman stopped pulling in his nets and put his hands on his hips. 'Hmm...' he said, 'It is on the other side of this lake, but the water is icy cold & it is too far to walk around. Let me take you in my boat.'
But my grandmother shook her head stubbornly. 'I had climbed the mountain pass alone and I will get across the lake on, my own, or not at all.' So, she tied some planks of wood togehter with rope, piled her belongings on top and began to paddle to the further shore.
It took her a night and a day, until her arms had nearly dropped off, but my grandmother merely gritted her teeth and thought, 'Well at least I shall be clean when I arrive,' as she watched the mountain dirt, swirl off her arms and legs and into the lake.
On the other side of the lake, my grandmother fell onto the rocky shore and lay with her eyes closed for many hours. Finally, a travelling merchant saw her stretched out and came to make sure she was alright.
'Merchant,' my grandmother gasped, 'Do you know the way to the village where lives the man who is called, 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best'?' The salesman touched his brow delicately with his handkerchief and replied, 'Hmm. It is far from here over the desert. It is much too treacherous for a lone woman to travel on her own. Here, my dear, let me help you up, and you may travel with me in my covered caravan so your pretty skin will not be damaged by the harsh sun.'
But, my grandmother batted his hand away with an impatient 'harrumph'.
'I have scaled the mountains on my own, rowed myself across the river on my own raft. I do not need the assistance of anyone, least of all you, sir.'
And she picked herself up, tied a shawl over her head to protect her face & eyes, filled her bottle with icy cold water headed out into the desert.
This was the hardest part of the journey, and my grandmother almost gave up many times. She encountered snakes and poisonous lizards, her water ran out and she began to fear she would never find her way out.
Weeks passed and my grandmother learnt to find water in the cactus, edible grasses that did not hurt the stomach, and how best to keep warm in the cold desert night.
She came to love the varying yellows of the sand, the pinks, roses and reds of the dying sun and the clean white pin-pricks of the starry nights.
When she finally found her way out and walked across the wide, grassy plain to the village where, 'He-Who-Loved-His-Country-Best' lived, she was almost disappointed. In the village, she stopped an old lafy bent over, carrying firewood.
'Sister, can I help you?' asked my grandmother and took the woman's sticks from her. She then asked the location of the home of 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best.'
'He lives on the edge of the village,' the Old Lady said, 'Just past my house.'
'I will walk with you, then,' said my grandmother. When they got to the house of 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best,' the Old Woman told my grandmother to wait and she would speak to the man first on my grandmother's behalf.
'What is it that you have come for?' asked the Old Woman.
'I have come to decide whether or not I would like to marry him,' replied my grandmother. The Old Woman's face darkened and she shook her head. 'Oh, I do hope you have not come far,' she tutted. 'I am certain he will not see you,' she said and shuffled into the house.
After only a few minutes, in which my grandmother attempted to order her hair and readjust her clothes, to make them a little presentable, the Old Woman returned, shaking her head.
'He will not see you. He asks you to please go away.'
This irritated my grandmother. 'Sister, I do not wish to be rude,' she said, through gritted teeth, 'But this man does not know what I have been through to arrive here. He will see me. At the very least, he will see me and if he then does not wish to know anything more about me, I will leave at once.' And with that she stormed past the Old woman and into the home of 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best.'
When my grandfather first laid eyes on my grandmother, he saw a brown-faced, crazy haired woman, standing with a fire in her eyes and a scowl on her lips. 'Excuse me,' my grandfather attempted to say, but my grandmother cut in.
'No, I will not. I have travelled through the mountains on foot, paddled over the lake, and survived the desert alone, I have learnt which berries are the sweetest and the calls of the wild cats. I can follow the birds to their water holes and recognise the coming of a storm. I have travelled for months to be here. And you do not get to dismiss me without even taking one look at me. Now,' said my grandmother, with a flick of her head, and shoving her hands on her hips, 'What have you got to say for yourself?'
My grandfather could not speak. He stared and stared at her, at her wild appearance, definat glance and angry eyes.
'You're a crazy woman,' he said at last.
My grandmother threw her head back defiantly. 'That may be so. But I have seen more of this country than you, oh, 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best.' I have achieved things you have only dreamed about. If you do not wish to marry me, that is no skin off my nose, bust let me assure you, that you have suffered a great loss.' And with that, she turned on her heel and returned over the desert, the lake & the mountains.
This might have been the end of the whole affair, had my grandmother's words not shook my grandfather to the core. He could not get the crazy woman or her fiery words out of his head. A few months later he set out himself over the desert, the lake & the mountains, asking for, 'She-Who-Travels-Alone.'
When he finally arrived on her doorstep, my grandmother was again surrounded by twittering women, drinking tea and moaning about my grandmother's single state. When my grandfather walked into the room, there was a general hush. The woman started at him and at each other and my grandmother. My grandmother pursed her lips and whispered to the woman next to her. This was the same older woman who had first spoke of 'He-Who-Loves-His-Country-Best,' to my grandmother .
The woman turned to my grandfather and looked him up an down. 'She-Who-Travels-Alone, does not wish to speak with you,' she said simply.
My grandfather smiled slightly and turned to look at my grandmother.
'I suppose I should have expected such a reception,' he said pleasantly, 'But please understand that I have come to make you my wife. I have drunk water from the cactus, caught fish from the deepest lake and learnt which are the sweetest berries. You cannot turn me away, because I am the same as you. We have shared experiences no others have had, you are me and I am you. Neither of us can hide from the other and none can keep us apart. You can fight it if you wish, but know that the outcome will be the same.'
He stood looking at her quietly, whilst the women whispered together, waiting for my grandmother's response.
Slowly, she stood up, walked to my grandfather & slapped his cheek. 'That is for keeping me waiting,' she said. 'And this,' she continued,' is for coming back.' And she kissed him full on the mouth, to the sound of excited and scandaised twittering.
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