- “Come in!” heard I in a loud voice.
At the table in the cabinet was sitting a middle-aged man. On his right cheek was a big, brown ward. He spoke Russian. After learning that I seek a position of a lecturer, he told with animation in his voice, “we urgently need lecturers in all subjects in our schools.”
I produced my diploma and questionnaire with the personal data. He looked through and nodded assent. “We can direct you to one of the secondary schools of our town,” pronounced he and pressed a button. In entered a woman with a typical Azerbaijani face. In her hand were a block-note and a pencil.
The boss handed her a sheet of paper on which he put the required information about me.
- “Type for the comrade,” he tipped a wink toward me, “the directions to the secondary school named after Rose Luxembourg, as a lecturer of Russian Language and Literature.”
The secretary nodded her head and left the cabinet. The boss of the personnel department was interested in my family and the reason why I left the beautiful sea resort Anapa, where I easily could get a position of the secondary school teacher, for Baku impregnated with naphta.
I explained it was my interest in the Azerbaijan people and the language. The secretary came in and put on the table my direction to the school. He signed it without reading and handed it to me together with my diploma and the questionnaire.
- “I wish you luck!” pronounced he and shook my hand. The secretary with sympathy, smiled.
In the school I was met by the Director, a bald-patched man in hid forties with glasses that didn’t harmonise with his wide-cheeked face. In his mouth was a smoking pipe. He was already informed about my arrival to the school.
- “So, you come to us for work?” asked he.
- “Yes, Comrade Director!”
He stretched me his hand, “I’m glad to meet you.” He pointed to a young man with Azerbaijani structure face.
- “Make acquaintance – ‘Ignat Glushak’ He is responsible for the academic part of our work. He is also the permanent correspondent of our town newspaper, ‘On Lenin’s Footsteps’.” We shook our hands.
The bell rung… The half hour break in lecturing began. In the office started to appear lecturers and the Director introduced them to me.
The door opened and in came a middle-aged woman with shortly cut ginger hair and smoking a cigarette between he fingers. “Zoja Potapovna – lecturer in Math and Physics. She is also the lecturer in Russian language and Literature,” introduced the Director. She smiled.
The Director lighted his pipe and drew my attention to a young man who was staying aside. His face was emotionless. In his mouth was a cigarette made of a piece of newspaper and mahorka. “That is our lecturer in political science and the district propagandist, Comrade Drach.” He gave me a wink.
In came a young woman.
-“…and that is Nina Lookjanovna, the lecturer of Azerbaijani Language and Literature!”
She provokingly shook her head and looked at me, “Oh, that you a new lecturer! I have already heard about you! Glad to meet you.” She smiled…
In the office appeared an elderly man. His face was densely covered with bristle and his unusually big and red nose catched the eyes…”
- “Djaba – the lecturer in Chemistry and Biology.”
- “At last I can quietly drink a cup of tea,” pronounced he, “This morning my students were very eager for knowledge.”
- “Why is that?
- “…and what for is this? Dozens of witty questions!” He shook up his hands.
- “But these questions have nothing to do with chemistry of biology!” remarked I
- “You recon! And what about the educational work? Our aim is to educate our young generation, to explain them what is around us!” He looked at me with reproach. I shrugged my shoulders…
- “Here, for instance,” continued he exciting. “This morning one of my students asked me, ‘how to replace sugar with something else which has sweet properties too?’ his grandfather, for instance, started to drink his tea in this way…on a string he fastened a piece of real sugar to the ceiling over the table and looked at it any time he swallowed a gulp of tea…”
- “That is an idea!” exclaimed the Director, “that is the way to avoid the shortage of sugar in or country!”
- “I’ll write to the Minister of Supply about that,” pronounced Drach, “this method is worth to consider.”
The ring informed about the en of the lunch break and the lecturers one after another left the office. Next morning I started my duties in the school. Comrade Glushak handed me the file with the names of the students and their characteristics.
The bell rung. The Director and I entered the class, where supposed to be the lecture on Russian poet Vladimir Majakovsky. He introduced the students to me and left the class.
Soon after starting the lecture, I noticed that some students looked at me with hostility… I picked up from the file on random a name of a student and asked, “what can you tell me about the poet Majakovsky?”- “He was a Russian poet,” said the student.
- “Declaim one of his poems !”
- “I can’t. Nobody taught us to recite poetry.”
I noticed two hands lifted up.
- “You!” pointed I at a girl in glasses.
- “May I declaim his ‘Passport’?” asked she.
- “Certainly, go ahead!”
She declaimed it quite satisfactorily.
- “Excellent!” exclaimed I, “and now I want that you all together would declaim it.”
My suggestion provoked the students. There rose a hubbub of voices… “We don’t know the words!”
- “Let’s learn them now!” said I, “open your writing books and take your pencils. Get ready for dictation! Pay attention to my recital.”
I pronounced the poem with maximum expression and appropriate gestures.
- “Now, read the poem quietly to yourself!”
I watched the students. They got more and more overtaken with the spirit of the poem.
- “Now let’s declaim the poem altogether!”
- “Majakovsky’s ‘Passport’! thundered through the class…
I noticed that the door of the class was slightly opened and in glanced the Director’s face for a short moment. The declamation was suddenly over and the students cast their looks t me.
- “That is the way how to study poetry f Russian poets!” pronounced I, “will we continue in the same way?”
- “Yes! Yes! That’s what we want!” thundered around…
The ring rung, the academic hour was over… The Director and Educational Administrator congratulated me on with the success in one of the most difficult classes and expressed their hope that in all other classes I’ll be also successful with my unusual method of teaching. So I started my lecturing at a school at the Caspian Sea.
Twice I have wrote to my parents but didn’t get any answer. Later on our former neighbour informed me that my father died and Lidia left to Moscow to live with Nura. Since some time I gave myself up to the pub which was close to my flat.
Soon my attention was drawn to a young man in my age with a serious but pleasant face who used to appear from time to time in the pub after his work. I decided to approach him. His name was Robert. I got into a conversation with him.
This year he completed his study in the Fishery Institute and was going to follow his father who was Inspector with the Fisheries and Wildlife Department. Robert avoided political topics but soon I realised that he doesn’t like his surroundings and was looking for a chance to escape it.- “Do you know Alec,” told he once, “I have completed my study in the Institute. I am now an Engineer, but believe me, I have no wish to start the work in such a rotten atmosphere. Everywhere you look around is Hell and nothing else!”
- “And the worse is,” remarked I, “there is no way out of it.
He cast his look at me, “You think so? Since some time I started more and more to think how to get out of this atmosphere.”
- “You think, Robert, it is possible?”
- “Nothing is impossible in our life.”
We emptied our glasses and started new cigarettes.
- “It seems to me,” pronounced Robert, “that we have many ideas in common, and if that is so, let’s act together.”
I nodded assent. “Have you any plan to act?”
He looked at my very face… “I have relatives in Italy…”
- “And I in Germany!” exclaimed I. “Have you any plans?”
- “Not really, but I have something on my mind. My uncle is a fish inspector and most of his time he spends on the sea. He has friends among the border guards both Russians and Persians. Of course we need some money to support our plans…”
- “I haven’t got enough money, but I have jewellery,” said I
- “That is even better than money,” Robert said, “I’ll introduce you to my uncle and we altogether will discuss that. I’ll come to you tomorrow and we go to my uncle.”
We finished our beer, lighted new cigarettes and left the pub. At home I have unstitched one of my pockets in the trousers and took out some jewellery hidden there.
- “It’ll be enough,” thought I, “for the purpose.”
Next morning Robert and I went to his uncle who was waiting for us. On the uncle’s table was a bottle of vodka and a plate with black caviar, smoked salmon and several slices of bread.
The uncle was a man of middle age, strong construction and volitional structure of face.
- “Be acquainted,” pronounced Robert, “my Uncle John, and this is Alex, my friend.
- “Sit down!” invited us to the table, John, “and feel as if you are in an American Restaurant!”
John filled in the glasses. “First let’s drink!” pronounced he and lifted up his glass. We emptied them and started to snack with the smoked salmon and caviar.
- “I understand” said John, looking at me, “that you and Robert are going to escape from Russia to Persia. Is that true?”
I nodded assent.
- “It is not easy,” remarked he, “still, I could help you. I am in friendly relations with the Captain of the border guard cutter and when he is on duty, specially in rain and fog, it is not a problem to cross the border. But true enough, who’ll take the risk without proper remuneration?” he cast his look at me. “Robert told me that you have got some jewellery… what is that?”
I put on the table the bracelet, two brooches and three rings, all with precious stones in. John examined them and nodded his head.
- “You think it will be enough to please the captain?” asked I.
- “I think so! He’ll send his confidential man to bring both of you on a sail over the border. His name is Grieg. He is a real sea jackal and knows all the inns and outs. We have already brought over the border several men with his help. Tomorrow I’ll be on the border and discuss about everything with the captain…And I leave with me your jewellery.”
- “Naturally!” I remarked.
***
The town Baku was behind us. The night was dark. The sharp wind drove our sailboat to the Persian border. Waves raised high from the boat… But one can already notice the obscure outlines of the shore. The sailboat with irresistible speed rushed toward them… suddenly the front of the boat struck the sand of the shore. Grieg quickly put down the sail and in a hurry left the boat…- “Here we are now on the Persian soil!” exclaimed Greig, “and that is that! Can’t help you anymore. All the best boys! And I’ll have to disappear from here as soon as possible.”
Grieg shook our hands, rushed to the boat and pushed it from the shore toward the sea… soon, he disappeared in darkness.
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