09 Proud of You
Back and the railway station, we went directly to the platform and waited for whatever train was coming next. Turned out it was a train to the city of Rivne, and it stopped in an adjacent track to where we were, so as soon as the train stopped, we all ran across a set of tracks, gravel and dirt, to get to it.
The train opened all its doors, but because the platform was on the opposite side, they were really high. Rita climbed first with Kobe, I gave her the carry-on bag, and before I could climb, an old woman made her way next to me, she said she couldn’t reach the steps to climb, so me and two other men lifted her, while two people on the train pulled her up. I climbed after her, carrying Pusha and my backpack. I found Rita just as I entered the car, she had two seats for us. I left Pusha and went back to the door to help people boarding.
The first thing I saw standing at the door was a man with two large suitcases, I motioned him with my hand and yelled davai! which is a word I love for its versatility; I grabbed one suitcase with my left hand, while I was holding to the door with my right hand, and I pulled up the bag, probably about 25kg. The second bag was even heavier. After the second bag, they lifted up an old man, who raised both hands towards me, I held one hand, another man came to the door and held the other hand, and we brought in the old man too. Me and other man pulled up small bags, backpacks, children, women and men, until there was no one else waiting.
I finally went to Rita and sat next to her. “I’m proud of you” she said. Only then I remembered that I had hurt my left shoulder in the gym about 2 weeks before that. I’m not sure which muscle I strained but I couldn’t raise my arm more than chest level. This is the arm that I was using to lift bags and children. I realized that the pain was completely gone.
We happened to be seating across a man probably in his 50s, he looked disheveled, his eyes were staring at nothing for the first few minutes, he was a bit drunk and he seemed to be traveling alone. For a second I felt bad for him, I didn’t know this man’s story, but if I was him, I’m sure I’d be drunk too. Rita interrupted my thoughts when she pulled some food for us, and offered half a sandwich, or whatever we ate, to the man; he smiled and said he was good.
My feelings of empathy, and thoughts of sadness about all the people on board the train, some standing, some seating on their bags, went on for hours.