My New Home Essay Contest Germans from Russia Heritage Society March 10, 2014

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1 Amanda Carter, age 16, was born in Rapid City, SD, where she is now a sophomore at Stevens High School. Amanda is in her second year of German class. She is currently working as a dietary aide at a local nursing home to raise money for an exchange trip to Germany with her school in the summer of She enjoys singing in choir at school and at her church. One of her hobbies is making clay charms in her spare time. Amanda has travelled all over America, flown over the North Pole, has been to Ethiopia, Canada, and the Caribbean. She has a younger sister (Gabrielle), a brother from Ethiopia (Yohannes), two dogs (Button and Patches), and a cat (Comet). Three of her great-grandparents on her mother s side are descendants from Germany: two from Hutterite colonies in Johannisruh and Huttertal, Russia, and one from Friedrichswald, Germany. My New Home 2014 Essay Contest Germans from Russia Heritage Society March 10, 2014 Myself, my family, and others like us, We are all known as sod busters; And on this 160 acres of prairie Granted to us through the Homestead Act, My family is home, I am home. But am I really? Our once friends and family Are in world we left behind. Their faces have faded

2 Into distant memories, As if they were not but a dream I know I dreamt But am unable to grasp. They are lost forever, Like our home in Johannisruh [1], Their company replaced With the infinite numbers of grasshoppers That plague this foreign land. Our only shelter now, A dugout which provides no welcoming, It is nothing more than a dark hole In the endless sea of tall, dry grass. This is home, But is it really? We rise with the sun, At the same moment as it first peaks over the flat horizon Streaming its timid light, Golden as melted butter, Over the land.

3 Though it is only Spring, We work hard. All the while the dark threat of Winter Lurks like a shadow In the recesses of our minds. We are all too aware That with every passing day, With every hour, With every second, Precious time slips through our fingers, And the clock of warning ticks on As endless days of preparation pass too quickly. I long for Mother s Kuchen. I am tormented by daydreams That call upon bittersweet memories Of my previous life in another world. Daydreams of her warm apple filling Wrapped so carefully in a crispy crust And lightly spread with sweet icing,

4 But as I gaze out On this desolate landscape of wheat and grass That seemingly stretches to the ends of the earth, There is not a single apple, fruit, or tree of any sorts in sight. So Kuchen must be replaced With the green shades of cabbage, peas, beans, The vibrant red of tomatoes, And the bitter taste of radishes From our kitchen garden [2]. But no matter how numerous The amounts of vegetables we grow, So many must be preserved That there are not enough to end my hunger, And my ravenous belly never ceases to growl. We have few tomatoes that were hardy enough To withstand the buzzing insects Who swarm in thousands around our heads, Snacking on our crops, And on us. I drape the scarce amount left in cheese cloth,

5 Where they will stay In the blistering heat of the sun To dry and shrivel, So they will last. For we know That in the Autumn months to come The first, harsh frost of Winter Will creep up on us, Silent and unexpected, As if he were thief come to steal away our crops In the dead of night and leave us with nothing Save for the preserved vegetables, fruits, and meats Which hang from the ceiling within our dugout home. I spend long days exploring As I search for corn cobs and buffalo droppings To feed to our hungry fire Who in turn helps ensure our safety Throughout the night. I must be certain that its glowing embers

6 Will not send off their last sparks And sputter into nothing Leaving us in a world void of light, For I fear the darkness That awaits me after sundown, Because with it come the wolves Who call out With long, lonely howls That chill my bones. Night is when the owl hunts, With ghostly cries, Stalking defenseless field mice, While gliding on silent wings. No matter how often I pray That the darkness will not come, All too soon, the day is gone and twilight falls. It comes silently and hushes the noise, Bringing with it a night that is different from any other. There s a mysterious sort of silence Hanging open, like a door

7 Daring me To step in. I open the door to a new world Only I am awake to see. The dirt outside is chilled, under my bare toes. My hand sewn nightgown whispers in the soft, spring breeze And as I listen I realize that the prairie is alive with music. The chorus of a thousand cricket voices Is exalted into the early summer air. Floating around me are the fireflies That gently flicker as they bob just out of my reach. High above me are thousands of diamonds Who twinkle and glow Far away, In a different place and time. Sewn into the midnight quilt Stretched across the sky Is the moon. It illuminates the earth Just enough to keep me from becoming lost

8 In the darkness I had so feared. It is the same moon I have gazed upon my whole life, The same moon our family and friends look upon Back in the Hutterite colony we left behind Which until this moment Felt as if it was in another world. For the first time since I parted with them, I am home. Works Cited Czajka, Christopher. "Frontier House: Frontier Life." PBS.org. PBS, n.d. Web. 03 Mar < "Germans from Russia Heritage Collection." Library.ndsu.edu. N.p., 25 Nov Web. 10 Mar < "Kuchen - South Dakota State Dessert." Kuchen - South Dakota State Dessert. N.p., n.d. Web. 03 Mar < "Our Story: American History Stories and Activities You Can Do Together." OurStory : Activities : Life in a Sod House : More Information. N.p., n.d. Web. 02 Mar <

9 [1] Johannisruh is the Hutterite colony in Southern Russia that I trace my German ancestry to. [2] In the spring settlers would plant a vegetable garden known as a kitchen garden.