Life in the ruby. Katra is a Belarusian town in Lithuania

He went to heaven

Juzek, who lived at the end of each, left for Anapilin some time ago. All that was left was an empty purchase from him. I remember that meeting a few years ago. The host jokingly said he would have three names: Lithuanian Juozas, Russian Josif, and Belarusian Juzek. I called it the last one. Out of respect for his choice, because he considered himself Belarusian. Although he lived in Lithuania most of his life.

Juzek rarely left the house, but he shaved thoroughly every morning. He was shaving with tools that were now unknown to the townspeople: soap, a brush, and a metal knife. In the slag, the water dissolved the grated soap shavings and mixed to a foam. Then he rubbed this liquid over his neck with his chin and shaved. Juzek rinses off the foam residue with cold water and dries it dry. He did not need modern means. This is how his grandfather and father shaved. This is how he shaved.

Juzeko is gone. And I realize it won’t be like it used to be. Even me. I can no longer ignore the deaths of heroes in my report. I get sad. I understand that everything is temporary. I also. Only the departure of those rural elders to the “heaven of heavens” becomes, as it were, a farewell to the old generation, which did not fit into the modern world of the city and technology.

Belarusian village surrounded by wetlands

Even then, a few years ago, while visiting Katra, I realized that this town is exceptional. Unlike the hundreds of others visited so far. A town located in Lithuania, but living in Belarus with all its being. Their language is Belarusian (not Russian!), They watch TV and listen to radio in Belarusian, their religion is Belarusian and they even decorate their houses according to Belarusian customs and colors. Only the passports are Lithuanian.

As I drive through town, I see a rural woman sitting on a bench a little further away. I stop slowly. I step slowly and silently over my shoulder and walk the rest a few dozen yards. There is no need to rush into towns. Oh, and there is nothing. No one is in a hurry here.

On the bench, leaning against the clown’s wall, three women follow me with curious looks. In this town, sparrows are very rare. On the Lithuanian side, Katra is surrounded by a huge Čepkeliai swamp. On the other, just a couple of hundred meters away, is the Katra stream, which runs through the external border of the European Union. Now there is only one road to town. And it is the end of the road. In other words, there are no passersby here. That is why every invisible car arouses the interest of Katra residents. Who and why came to this land forgotten by God and by all of us?

The bank was made by half the town.

Let’s get acquainted. Three women on a bench. All with brightly colored scarves on their heads. Once married women hid their hair with straps a few meters long. Later they were replaced by scarves. The inhabitants of each, like many other ancient towns, still maintain this custom somewhere. However, this seems to be the last generation of this tradition.

The place we are talking about is the shopping center of the neighbors gathered here. To make everyone go the same. And he co-produced the bank himself. Who brought the bowls, who found the table, and who held it. Now everyone gathers here every day.

The open spaces around shoppers are already starting to turn yellow. There is no time for animals and no one has grown too big. And in the past, the herb was highly prized. It was even transported from the logs themselves, just to feed the animals.

Although farm work is no longer available, the Will still gets up at 5pm in the morning. He prepares to eat, tidies up the house. Then go to one or the other neighbor. Later, everyone gathers at this bench. And chatting. Communication is one of the most important things in town. Especially when there is nothing near you. Neighbors only.

So the days go by.

“We were bitten from Belarus as a mouthful”

Listening to the inhabitants of Katra, it is hard to believe how the people remained in Belarus as it is, despite the fact that they were on the territory of Lithuania for so many years.

“75 years ago, after the war, we were separated from our relatives. As a bite it bounced off and separated from Belarus. We asked everyone to return it immediately, but they received nothing ”, the women on the bench tell the story of the town and at the same time.

In Soviet times, there was no particular problem with such a separation. Villagers were able to move freely with relatives to Belarus. Not just with relatives. All life was connected with the settlements there. There he studied, worked, went to pray, study and even buried his loved ones.

Everything changed after Lithuania regained its independence and began to protect its borders little by little. More and more restrictions have emerged. They had been visiting their old acquaintances illegally for some time, but after a while it became impossible.

Although the border has been closed for several decades, the villagers still consider themselves Belarusians. Speaking of the recently transferred neighbors, they point out that “they come from Lithuania.” In other words, from another state.

Nabašnyka was secretly taken to the cemetery over the wall

Each does not have its own cemetery. Maybe because around – swamps. Or maybe they never needed them before, because they were buried in a Belarusian cemetery. Now we have to bury here in Lithuania. The closest towns are Catholic. Therefore, you should not drink coffee to your neighbors and loved ones. The inhabitants of each say that in these villages – a Polish cemetery. After all, the Polish land was here for some time and their faith was different.

Now, after the death of a villager, he is buried in a cemetery in another village a couple of dozen kilometers away. He, like Katra, is Belarusian. There are three of them here on the border.

The inhabitants of each probably remember the last of those cases, when they just guessed. Border guards dismantled the bridge over the river that separates the village from Belarus. Exactly the day the funeral took place. “We carried the navel bridge over the dismantled bridge, but then we did not go there,” the women say calmly and without any anger. Life has just changed. And they are used to adversity.

Now pop comes to Katra only twice a year. During Christmas and Easter. And it is not easy to go to church yourself, it is not around. It is true that the bus went to Katra once a week. It takes you to Varena. But there are no more churches there either. Some disappear unless you buy food. Buy some bags and come back. This is not necessary, because twice a week a car shop visited the remote village. But it’s more fun to go out yourself. You can still see something new.

The border guards protect us, just don’t shoot

Here’s a slow-moving frontier SUV. The language stops involuntarily and we all follow the car with our eyes. It’s only been a couple of hours here, but instinctively I take over their ways. A car in town becomes the news of the day.

The rural population only has a positive opinion about the border guards. “We respect the border guards. They protect us. They are like soldiers. We love them. It’s more fun for us, whatever happens. If something isn’t clear, we ask. Sometimes it helps to pick up the phone and insert the card.” says Valia.

However, the large non-breeding puppy that runs next to the officers’ van does not fascinate them at all. Soon I also learned his story. “It just came to our notice then. The border guards fed him a couple of times and hooked him up.” Now they follow them around or sleep on the post.

A pet doesn’t even have a name. Some officials call him Rice and others call him Snow.

He wouldn’t bother the villagers, but he became a guardian living in freedom. “It just came to our notice then. He immediately grunts and attacks. You won’t defend yourself against this with a stick. The owners are just border guards,” says former Eigul Kuzma, who joined us a little later. He is 83 years old, but rarely, maybe because he spent his whole life in the forest.

Brightly colored Katra farms

It is difficult to find houses as bright as in Dzūkija. And in Katra, they are even brighter. Let’s go Valius to the farm. Outdoor kitchen – bright blue, the house itself – three colors. Green background, sunlit red wall and blue porch. The will was painted by himself.

When I went into shopping, I thought Valia was a pedant. Everything has its place everywhere. All posters have been removed. The pillows are removed and the clothes are folded and carefully placed on the chairs. Carpets on the walls.

Each room has a corner with paintings of saints. There is only one such angle in Lithuanians at home: in the main room. And in the village of Katra, in every room. Even in the outdoor kitchen. Their faith is different. Not Lithuanian.

In Kuzma, the farm is simpler for men, but no less orderly. This feature is appreciated by the villagers. Horns and rugs hanging on the walls of the old house. They are not only for decorative but also practical. Carpeted walls are better at keeping the builder’s warmth.

There are beds in Kuzma’s house that I don’t count on the fingers of one hand. It just shows the life that was once here. Now he was alone. He could sleep in his prime as a gentleman. But his favorite is a narrow and simple bearing near the shoulder. On the other hand, the other beds are covered with hand-woven blankets and decorated with antique pillows.