A Grain of Hope

By Melissa Cole

In the heart of Ukraine's fertile lands, thirteen-year-old Oksana Kovalenko leads a simple life with her family. The rolling fields and rustic charm of her small farming village are all that she knows. That is, until the Soviet Union takes power, and her world is turned upside down.

 

As increasing authoritarianism and threats of land and food confiscation loom, Oksana fights to protect her loved ones from hunger and the loss of everything they hold dear. Her strength and resilience are tested as she is forced to navigate through the chaos, witnessing immense suffering as famine erupts due to the regime's grain requisition. Threatened with being labeled an Enemy of the State, her family and friends endure persecution. She watches in horror as her village is reduced to starvation and despair. Forming unexpected alliances, she finds courage in friendship as she joins an underground movement that plans covert operations to feed starving villagers.

 

Throughout this ordeal, Oksana grows from a hopeful schoolgirl into someone determined to protect her heritage at all costs. The premise revolves around themes of survival against tyranny, familial bonds in times of crisis, loss of innocence amidst political upheaval, and the resilience required to withstand historical tragedies such as famine and purges that characterized Stalin's rule over Ukraine.

 

A Grain of Hope reminds us of the human toll of war and oppression and pays tribute to the strength of the human spirit. Oksana's story will stay with you long after you've turned the last page.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Melissa Cole
• Release date: Apr 10, 2024
• ISBN: 9798989997619

Book preview

CHAPTER ONE

The golden fields stretched as far as Oksana Kovalenko’s eyes could see, swaying in the gentle breeze like a sea of amber waves. She breathed in the earthy scent of wheat as she walked the familiar dirt path to school, the morning sun on her face. As she skipped along the same dirt road she had walked for so many years, she felt a sense of belonging within her. Her mother said she looked like a porcelain doll that morning when she saw Oksana wearing her favorite white dress embroidered with delicate flowers, a fresh bloom from their garden adorning her braided chestnut-colored hair. She was now thirteen years old and was ready to take on the world.

It was a new school year, and Oksana was excited to see her old friends that morning. She was curious about who her teacher would be. She hoped it was Mrs. Melnyk, her Sunday school teacher.

Oksana lived in the Cherkasy region, near the banks of the Dnieper River. She lived with her mother, Nadya, her father, Mikhail, and older brother, Peter. They were a simple farming family who made their living tilling their land. In their spare time, they enjoyed village life with their neighbors, shopping at the marketplace, and attending church every week. She loved spending time in the kitchen with her mother and helping her father do farm chores. Her older brother, Peter, had finished school the year before. Now, he spent his days helping their father on the farm.

The Dnieper River, the region’s lifeline, flowed gracefully through the land. Its vast waters reflected the changing hues of the sky. The riverbank was a beautiful sight with its dense clusters of trees, which were a haven for wildlife. Oksana loved spending time there with her family when they weren’t busy with their farm chores. She couldn’t wait to chase minnows on the river’s edge every summer with her brother Peter.

The classroom was bustling with activity when Oksana stepped inside. She loved how the sun shone brightly through the intricately carved windows, revealing tiny cracks in the paint on the walls. Her friends were chatting and wasting time before the day’s lesson began. She slid into a desk near the front of the room, tucking a stray hair behind her ears. Her best friend, Anya, slipped into the spot right next to her. The two of them giggled when they saw each other. Anya had been her best friend since they were babies. And Oksana couldn’t wait to catch up on the latest gossip and chat about how handsome Yuri looked that morning. She had the biggest crush on him.

The Soviets are coming to take our homes, whispered her annoying classmate, Stepan, behind her.

Shhh, Stepan, I’m not interested in rumors this morning, she hissed, unsure if he was telling the truth.

Haven’t you heard what is happening in the next village? Danylo asked. They’re sending the Twenty Five Thousanders to take people’s farms.

And labeling people kulaks, or enemies of the state, if they resist, Stepan added.

Enemies of the state? Oksana quipped, nervousness seeping into her voice.

A knot twisted in Oksana’s stomach. The rumors couldn’t be true, could they? She turned to look around the small classroom to see if anyone else was talking about it. Some talked excitedly. Others were lost in their thoughts, sitting silently and scribbling on their papers. It was hard to know if the rumors were true. But, ever since her father came home with a worried look in his eyes, speaking about commissars and collectivization, she was constantly on edge. Nestled among the rolling hills, their family farm was all she had ever known.

She began daydreaming about the rich, dark soil between her toes as she ran through the wheat fields. Memories of her father’s tired face and her mother’s gentle humming of Ukrainian folk songs while making vareniki flooded her thoughts. She pictured her father gazing at the fields he had farmed all his life and his strong hands calloused from years of hard labor. Would soldiers force them from their land? It was hard to imagine they would do that. However, she knew things could change suddenly since Joseph Stalin’s rise to power.

Oksana fought back tears as her hands gripped the weathered wooden desk. Her family had survived famine, war, and numerous invaders. And she remained hopeful they would survive this as well. Her mother always told her not to worry about gossip, but how could she not? The thought of soldiers barging into their homes and tearing their families apart was too much to bear. Suddenly, Mrs. Melnyk entered the classroom, and a hush fell over the room. As soon as her teacher arrived, the urge to cry subsided. But she couldn’t stop thinking about what Stepan said about the Soviets. She loved Mrs. Melnyk, so there was at least one good thing about her first day of school.

Once school was done for the day, Oksana made her way down the familiar path to their wooden farmhouse. Her family had owned it for what seemed like two hundred years. A gentle rhythm unfolded as rolling hills spread across the horizon. Surrounded by the landscape, she zigzagged through her village. She walked slowly to enjoy the view. Nothing made her happier than seeing the worn wooden slats of her family’s cottage and the tiny garden of flowers as they came into sight. It reminded her of the love that had carried her family through many generations. The aroma of beet soup and fresh bread greeted her as she pushed open the wooden door. She heard her mother’s soft humming from the kitchen. It was the melody of a Ukrainian lullaby that Oksana knew by heart.

Oh, the cuckoo was foraging and forgot me

And the night took my love and passed…

I’m home, she said, setting her schoolbooks on the dining table.

Her mother appeared from the kitchen, wiping her hands on her apron. Just in time for a snack, she said, kissing Oksana’s forehead before returning to stir the soup. Sitting in his usual spot, her father was enjoying his smoking pipe. He smiled through his bushy beard as Oksana pulled out the chair beside him.

How was your first day of school, Oksana? her father asked.

She hesitated before answering. Should she mention the rumors from school? No, she decided, they had enough to worry about with the farm. Besides, maybe they were already aware of what was happening.

It was good, Papa! Mrs. Melnyk is my teacher this year! Oksana replied.

Oh, that’s nice, dear. I know you wanted her to be your teacher. Did you enjoy your classes? her mother asked.

Yes, Mama. We learned a lot of new things today. Plus, Anya wore her matching dress! Oksana said.

That’s wonderful. We’re proud of you, sweetheart. her father replied.

A few minutes later, her older brother, Peter, lumbered in, ruffling her hair as he sat down. She swatted his hand away, scowling. Stop, Peter. How many times do I have to tell you that I can’t stand when you do that?

Pfft, that’s what older brothers are for, Oksana. Peter quipped. He looked like he had been working hard outside in the fields, and his boots were packed with dirt. You were supposed to shake the dirt off your boots and leave your boots by the front door before coming inside, her father scolded him. Oksana smirked at him and stuck out her tongue. It didn’t matter how often he was told. Peter always came into the house with dirty shoes.

Her mother began ladling soup into bowls as Peter and her father rushed to the kitchen table to take their seats. Oksana settled into her place, glancing around the table at her family. Her parents’ faces looked more tired than usual. Peter, of course, teased her with a mischievous grin. She kicked his shin under the table. This was her world, and she adored it. Surely no one could take this away? She wondered.

However, her mind was still occupied with the kids’ whispers at school. She wasn’t sure if she should say anything about what she heard. The last thing she wanted to do was ruin the joy of her family meal.

What’s on your mind? her mother asked, handing Oksana her bowl.

Some kids at school were talking about the Soviets arriving at the next village over. They said it was the Twenty Five Thousanders that were sent to take people’s farms, she blurted out.

Oksana caught a glance between her parents. With concern in his eyes, her father placed his spoon down. It’s probably just gossip, he said. But she noticed a weariness in his eyes as if he knew something he didn’t want her to know. Or, maybe he was just surprised that she brought it up.

I don’t know, Mikhail. I’m also worried about what I’ve been hearing at the marketplace. Word is getting around that Stalin is demanding we give them our land and join the new collective farms. said her mother, sounding worried.

What’s a collective farm, Mama? Oksana asked.

It’s when we work on a government farm, and they give us a measly slice of bread for our labor, Peter said, grabbing a fresh dinner roll from the basket.

It’s nonsense, her father said. We’ve worked so hard to build our farm. But I’m most concerned about the rumors I’ve been hearing about people being arrested if they don’t comply. I don’t want us to lose everything, but I refuse to give them what’s ours and join their collective farms. Surely, others in the village feel the same.

If we give them our farm, what will happen to Lilly and Alina? Oksana asked. She couldn’t imagine her life without her daily ritual of saying good morning to her favorite farm animals.

Her mother’s frustration and worry was evident. They want us to give them our farm, animals, and land. It’s been in our family for generations. But if we don’t, they’ll probably take it anyway. I hope not.

Oksana thought of her childhood and all the years that she spent on the farm. It was more than just land—it was their way of life. She listened, taking comfort in her father’s determination to resist. She vowed not to let fear overwhelm her. She realized her parents would do all they could to protect her.

CHAPTER TWO

A blend of excitement and nervous anticipation filled the air throughout the school week. Yet, Oksana remained consistently on edge. At any given moment, she expected Soviet soldiers to invade her classroom. Mrs. Melnyk was her usual cheerful self. But the signs of worry were obvious beneath the surface, subtly coloring her usual cheerfulness with a tinge of unease. The other kids in the class were discussing the Komsomol, Stalin’s Young Communist League. Hearing them talking about that sent chills down her spine. A few of her classmates said they considered attending informational meetings. Oksana didn’t see anything positive in it, and, besides, she heard they had to call Stalin Father. Ugh. Referring to him in that way left a bitter taste in her mouth.

Later that day, she watched some students secretly pass a pamphlet from the Komsomol. However, Oksana wanted nothing to do with it. They claimed that Stalin was creating a utopia, but from what she saw and heard, that was untrue. She wondered if their fascination with Stalin’s youth organization was simply fear of the future.

Comrades! Our great communist leaders’ dream to create a proletariat society is coming true! The great wisdom of collectivization is the engine that moves that dream…

Oksana was usually sad when the first week of school ended, but this year was different. There was an ominous tension in the air, and she didn’t know if it was safe to trust anyone other than her best friend, Anya. She appeared to be the only one grounded in reality. The relentless pressure to join the Komsomol made her nauseous. Why would anyone trust the Soviets after all they had done? The hateful things they said about the Ukrainians? No thanks.

Saturday morning arrived. She stirred from her slumber early, capturing the radiant hues of sunrise. It cascaded like liquid gold over the sprawling countryside. The brisk morning air tingled on her skin as she ventured outside and breathed in the familiar scent of soil and wheat. She found her mother in the garden, tending rows of beets, cabbage, and potatoes. As she worked, her mother sang an old Ukrainian folk song, filling the air with a nostalgic melody.

Beautiful morning, isn’t it, Mama? Oksana asked as she joined her mother in the garden.

The vegetables are coming in so beautifully this year, her mother said as Oksana ran her fingers over the plump leaves.

I wish it could stay like this forever. Oksana proclaimed.

Her mother smiled. You never know where a blessing may come from. Then, lost in thought, she continued tending to the garden, brushing the dirt from her hands. I remember the midsummer festivals here when I was a girl. The bonfires, the music, and the dancing. The memories are special.

Oksana thought of the rumors again, but she deliberately pushed them aside. She was careful not to express her worries to her mother. So she guarded her concerns like delicate treasures tucked away in the recesses of her mind. But she couldn’t remove them altogether. Every time she would push them aside, they’d reappear.

It’s important that we carry on our traditions, her mother said, interrupting Oksana’s thoughts. Never forget how deeply you are rooted in this place, my sweet daughter. You’ll carry on our legacy one day. I know you’ll continue to make us proud. She nodded at her mother, tears gathering, an emotional tide rising within her. Remember, Oksana, the soil carries traces of past generations. Their hard work is a part of the land, and their traditions linger through time like whispers from the distant past.

Our family belongs on the land, and it isn’t fair that Stalin wants to take that away, Oksana blurted, betraying her promise not to reveal her worries. With that, her mother silently nodded, not wanting to discuss it further.

Throughout the morning, Oksana and her mother collected vegetables from the garden. The sun bathed them in warmth, glowing gently on their backs as they worked side-by-side, exchanging tales of village gossip.

Yuri is quite handsome now, Mama. Oksana giggled, her face already tinted red with beads of sweat on her forehead.

Is that so?

They both smiled, and her mother grabbed her hand and gave it a little squeeze.

Come on, let’s see what your father is up to in the house.

As they left the garden, Oksana’s mother gently held her hand, leading the way to their cozy home. The air carried the scent of fertile soil and blooming flowers from the farm. Surrounding them, fields of swaying crops provided a tranquil scene, accompanied by the calming sounds of birds and rustling leaves. The faint aroma of homecooked food filled the air when they walked through the front door.

Good afternoon, my sweethearts, her father said as Oksana and her mother entered the house. Leaning down, she gently kissed his cheek while he reclined in his favorite chair at the kitchen table. Sitting opposite him, she watched the furrowed lines etched on his forehead become more apparent as he read. He was reading Pravda, the official newspaper of the Soviets. Oksana glanced at the headline as he quickly turned the page:

SOVIETS EXPAND COLLECTIVIZATION

Just then, her mother swept in from the kitchen, carrying a basket of warm rolls. Eat up, she said, placing one on Oksana’s plate. Oksana smiled, breaking off a piece and quickly gobbling it down. The taste of her mother’s fresh bread burst in her mouth. It reminded her of all the times growing up when their kitchen was filled with the smells of her mother’s cooking. Over the years, their kitchen table was their happy place. But now her parents’ faces looked anything but that.

Out of nowhere, a sharp knock echoed through the door, jolting Oksana to the point where she nearly lost her balance on the chair. She wondered who it could be. Her heart leaped into her throat. It was unusual for them to have visitors this time of day.

I’ll see who it is, her father said.

Everyone froze.

But it was just their neighbor, Borys. Her father walked outside to talk to him. He instructed Oksana to stay inside, but she couldn't help but eavesdrop.

Mikhail, did you hear what they’re doing in Smila? Collectivization is tearing through like wildfire! They’re seizing everything, forcing people into collective farms. It’s an outrage! Borys said, with fear in his voice.

Borys, calm down. We must be careful with our words. I haven’t heard about Smila, but there are rumors around the village about them arriving here any day,