We had little money, and that was all we could afford
On the second of May, Ilona and I travelled to Taevaskoda. We had little money, and that was all we could afford. I had passed through Taevaskoda as a child and no longer remembered on which side of the railway the river lay. Ilona had never been to South Estonia. She mentioned something about the Ahja River and its reed beds. We followed some anglers and ended up at a shop. We bought a bottle of Asunik white vodka, half a loaf of bread, and two hundred grams of tea sausage—supplementing the pastries and Kelluke lemonade we had brought from the city.
The shopkeeper told us the river was on the other side of the railway, so we headed in the direction he indicated. As we walked through the small town, Ilona clung to me affectionately, hanging around my neck and half-trying to kiss me. I kissed her a couple of times in the woods before we turned toward the river. We descended into the valley and found ourselves at Small Taevaskoda.[1]
Then something strange happened to Ilona, at least from my perspective. She removed her headscarf, threw off her nylon coat, and started skipping ahead of me. I picked up her scarf and coat, stuffed them into my bag, and trailed behind her, looking for a good spot to sit and eat.
We encountered a group of schoolchildren bustling around tiny creatures that had washed up on the sandy riverbank. I wanted to take a closer look at the little fish, but Ilona didn’t let me, pulling me away by the hand. She said I would disturb the children.
Half-walking, half-running, we reached Large Taevaskoda.
I had not even set my bag on the grass when Ilona said:
“Oh, I’d love to be alone!”
I had expected this, though not expressed quite like that.
“Go,” I told her.
But I decided to wait and see what would happen.
And Ilona ran into the woods.
“Don’t come back!” I shouted after her. She disappeared silently into the trees.
I spread out her coat and unpacked our supplies onto the grass. I drank a sip of lemonade, followed by a big swig of vodka. Then I bit into the sausage and repeated the cycle two or three times. I started to feel relaxed and lay back on the grass like an old tarboosh basking in the sun.
Ilona was gone for a long time. I even thought about throwing a tantrum and leaving, abandoning her coat and a rouble. But I decided to wait and see what would happen. She returned laughing loudly. She must have had something funny to tell me.
I stood up and, without saying a word, knocked her down.
I stood up and, without saying a word, knocked her down. Then I knelt and slapped her face with my open hand. Ilona didn’t say a word. It all happened so unexpectedly. She only groaned in anger and tried to get up.
I grew tired of the struggle, and she managed to rise and run a little distance away. I rushed after her and knocked her down again, this time violently. She cursed and struggled to her feet, then lunged at me. She had long arms, and one of her punches landed on my stomach. My vision went dark for a moment, and I doubled over. At that moment, another punch struck my face.
Ilona was speechless with rage; she just growled. I let out a pathetic cry and collapsed onto her. I pressed my hand to her throat. She bit my hand, and taking advantage of my shock, she started running.
“I’m leaving for good! Keep the coat and the chunk of ham as a souvenir!”
I chased her, pinning her body against the ground
I chased her, pinning her body against the ground, holding both her hands with my left. With my right, I stuffed her mouth with reed grass and dried moss. Ilona sputtered but didn’t cry.
I left her standing. She stayed put, head lowered. After a while, I cleaned the dirt off her back and smoothed her hair.
“I love you,” I told her, and gently laid her on my coat. “Why don’t you cry?” I asked.
“There are no tears. I haven’t had any for a long time. Give me something to eat.”
We ate the sausage and ham and drank the vodka. After resting for fifteen minutes, we headed to the railway station. The train arrived shortly after, and we returned to Tartu.
[1] The two Taevaskoda sandstone outcrops (Small and Large) lie on the banks of the Ahja River in Southern Estonia. The site is rich in legends, and ‘Taevaskoda’ translates as the Chamber of Heaven.
Translated by Kristjan Haljak and Slade Carter
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Vaino Vahing (1940–2008) was an Estonian prose writer, playwright and psychiatrist, renowned for his psychologically intense and autobiographical work. A central figure of the Sixties generation, he was closely associated with writer and director Mati Unt and deeply influenced by the darkly lyrical prose of Jaan Oks. Vahing’s Nõva Street salon in Tartu became a hub of avant-garde culture, where intellectuals gathered for philosophical roleplay and theatrical games. He explored psychoanalysis in both life and literature, often refusing to separate the two. His notable works include Machiavelli’s Letters to His Daughter, the short story Étude, and the novel Endspiel. Descent into the Valley (with Madis Kõiv). He was also a pioneering force in Estonian independent theatre publishing through the Thespis almanac.
Étude was first published in the November 1968 issue of the magazine Looming. The story portrays Spiel as a psychological game enacted in private situations, where mental and physical violence were, at least ostensibly, placed in the service of metaphysical aspirations. While considered transgressive in its time, the piece’s strange and striking allure continues to captivate even half a century later.