(the homework essay of sweat, blood and tears 'about one important canuck')
Laughter Through Pain
May I write about my good friend? Why not? He is famous. He is Canadian. Even if he has been Canadian only since he was 22 years old.
His name is Kastuś Akula. He is from the small country Balarus.
He is famous. Don’t worry. He is famous as an “agent” of the KGB, FBI and CIA (and British and others agencies)…
But really, he is known by Toronto’s Police Force as a breaker of political peace. When he was young, he participated in street disorders. Once (maybe, not once), he even was attacked by a policeman on his horse. …”But do you know, – he told me, -- how a horse attacks?” – “Sure, I do. It attacks with its ass”. – “Oh, you know! But you know, one can’t deal with a horse’s ass!”…
He is known by the head of the Soviet delegation at the EXPO-67 Exhibition in Montreal, who, at the open ceremony, was poured with a rain of leaflets accompanied with the thunder-loud Kastus’s voice: “Death to Kremlin murderers!”.
He is known by the members of the Soviet Red Army Song and Dance Group, who were surprised with such a greeting from a strange Canadian in pure Russian language (with a familiar soft accent, though): “We are greeting you on this fine free Canadian land and we hate the Communist regime, as you do!” …While on the way to the court after that, he had time to explain to his convoy policeman that his (policeman’s) indefinite name “Kosell” was clear old simple Belarusan name “Kaziol” (‘mail goat’).
But of course, as a matter of fact, he is famous, not for his political ‘hooliganism’, but for his books. He is a writer. His novel “The Fighting Roads” got the National Prize in Belarus in 1995.
Now, he is 77. He is wise, but not old yet. He is calmer now, but still witty and sarcastic.
…He was forced to leave his native land in 1944 in order to avoid the Soviet repression. By that time, he became a soldier of a newly created Army that was fighting for the independence of his country. The Soviet Power didn’t forgive such exploits. He joined later the British Army and got into a Polish division of it. Because of the same reason – his relatives, who remained home, could be repressed – he changed his name. He took the name of the national hero rebel Kastus and the last name Akula – ‘shark’. So his Polish commander told his Polish fellows: ”Don’t touch Akula. He bites”, because this 2-metre-tall guy could defend his national pride not only with his huge fists, but with “sharp tongue” also.
Going to Canada wasn’t his particular choice (as it is less or more for us), and so was it with thousands more of his country people at that time. Here, he was one of the initiators of the creation of the BCA (Belarusan Canadian Alliance) and of the revival of the Belarusan Autocephalous Church in exile. Canada gave them everything, most importantly the possibility to keep their national freedom. I am proud of that every service in our church begins with a grateful prayer for Canada and for peace and after that for Belarus. Our ‘old emigration’ (and my friend with them) did so much for recognizing us as an identity nation in the world and as enslaved nation especially.
K.Akula not only troubled the police. He collaborated with Canadian and Toronto newspapers. The members of government still remember him: “Is Akula still alive there? How is he doing?”
I am amazed and full of admiration and can’t understand how he could contrive to find the time for working at the factory, bearing the positions of the Chairman and the editor, supporting his family and writing the books! He didn’t have an easy destiny: his wife was sick, and so were their four children. One of them died at 20.
He published his books with his own money. And hasn’t ever had any profit from them. (The “angry tongues” say that Akula writes books himself, publishes them himself and reads them himself.)
Now, he tries to help other people. He sends his money to Belarus to support young (and not only young) writers and any others ideas. Our greatest oldest writer Vasil Bykau (he is a candidate for the Nobel Prize) calls us (from Germany, by the way): “Does Akula have something to eat at his home? He hands out all his money!”
His books finally came to his country through the years.
If I had read them in 70-s, I would have treated him, indeed, as an agent of the CIA. If I had read them in the middle of 80-s, it would have been a revelation for me. …But I’m reading them only now. …Now, it is wisdom. And an example.
I try to learn how to keep our Belief from him in front of today’s losing of our independence, as he did during years and years. (We aren’t asked again…)
He teaches me: “Detach your mind from your heart”.
“All people’s troubles come from fear and panic appearing in their hearts. I know it’s difficult. I have learned how to do it for whole my life”.
“I know your heart is full of grief. It can’t be any other way. But your mind and your heart are worth it. Do it. You have to.”
I have never told him my story…
He says: “Creativity is born from pain”. I agree. It is in such a way for us now. I hope, it will be different in the future.
…”But do you know what helps us to hold onto ourselves in this world and to be so stubbornly surviving?”
“Yes, I do!”
“You know. Yes, it’s humor!”
That’s true.
I feel the pain from every page of his novels, because every one of them makes me laugh.
______________________
I did my best with all my strength
to renovate the disgraced shrine.
I called for help on foreign lands,
established paths and posts on them.
So blessed God remembers us,
endows us with belief and strength –
here on the earth, our people aren’t needless.
And we will live until the world exists.
K. Akula
Toronto, 2002