Platonic Love
I loved and I was loved, but it seems that all this love, which I never felt to be eternal, made me realize that all I want from life is peace. But peace in these difficult times was a luxury that the Finnish people could not have, nor could the other states involved in the great conflagration. It had already been three months since the Great War had once again engulfed Europe; the pressspoke only of the horrors of the front, and people’s despair was at its highest, because it was hard to believe that so little time had passed since the Great War of 1914.
Although Finland was once part of the Swedish Kingdom, it was eventually conquered by the predecessor of the Soviet Union, the Russian Empire, in 1808. We were turned into a buffer state meant to protect the capital, Leningrad, but in December 1917 Finland managed to become independent. As a result, there were always misunderstandings between these two states, the Soviet Union and Finland.
From these misunderstandings, the so-called Winter War was born. Finland, being a small and unprepared state in the face of such a large aggression from the Soviet Union, saw its population become indescribably panicked, believing that such a colossus would crush us to pieces. The panic affected me as well, making me lament the fact that I didn’t have a shelter to hide in. Although I considered myself a brave person, I realized that such a war could place us under the total control of the Soviets, which brought me to the brink of despair. In everyone’s eyes, what was happening was simply a nightmare. While the wealthy population of Finland managed to escape this ordeal—leaving and securing reinforced shelters to hide in—my family, who couldn’t afford much, had to remain in a house where, war or no war, the roof might have collapsed anyway.
Even if we had had the chance to leave, I wouldn’t have been able to get far because of my mother’s illness, which had plagued her for six months and would continue to do so for a long time, as cancer treatment is expensive and we couldn’t afford the necessary care. The Hakala family has always been as I know it now—a poor one. We didn’t have much to offer, but we received a lot. Kind-hearted people helped us greatly, with food and clothes, and that is how we managed to get by, relying on their mercy. But my mother also helped the people in the village a great deal. She didn’t work in the medical field, but she had read many medical volumes, and that was enough for her to be called the village veterinarian. My father was a shoemaker in a friend’s workshop, but how much can a shoemaker earn? Certainly not enough to support a family. And I, with the little money I managed to save by helping the elderly with their household chores, managed to enroll in a nursing school.
Besides the fears related to the war, I also carried constant worries about my mother, and they pushed me toward certain decisions made out of necessity. The Kivela family was the wealthiest in the village; they owned many hectares of land, and their farm was full of animals, from whichthey made a steady income by selling milk, eggs, meat—everything one might need. But besides that, they were also dangerous, yet influential. They caused many problems in the village, resorting to threats when they didn’t receive their money on time, so everyone who bought from them felt as though they were making a deal with the devil. But out of need, you do anything.
Anton Kivela was the son of this family. He was twenty-eight years old, and even though he was their only child, he was considered the family’s burden because he had not yet married anyone by that age. These things were said by my father, because the idea of forming a family with this man had been in his plans for a long time, but a marriage of convenience was not for me. Yet in this moment of despair, it seemed like the last option, so I agreed to meet him, for our families to become acquainted and for us to marry as soon as possible.
Of course, the Kivela family took a step back when they saw our modest circumstances, but it was in vain, because their only son fell in love with Esa Hakala—with me—on the spot. In his eyes, I was perfect. He admitted that he had noticed me some time ago but had never had the courage to speak to me, because I always wore a cold, dismissive expression.
The wedding was small and quick, because it was hardly a festive time. I moved into their house and asked for their help. I explained my mother’s situation, how serious everything was, and they understood and offered me five hundred Finnish marks—which was only enough for the moment.
The war had intensified rapidly, even though only a few days had passed. Hospital places were filling up quickly, and the chances of my mother getting a bed were decreasing. She was starting to feel worse and worse, and the entire situation was beyond my abilities. I was helpless; I couldn’t do anything because no one paid attention to me. No one would prioritize ordinary people over influential ones. And although I had married into such a family, I was told that their help was limited to money and nothing more.
On December 3, some officers came to the village, knocking door to door and asking for help, trying to recruit able-bodied people to join the war effort—not only as volunteers, but also as personnel enlisted with a signature and consent. Among those they were looking for were medical assistants, and that made me ask them as many questions as possible about the provisions. The truth is that there were quite a few: a salary, clothing, rations, and best of all, medical care coverage. This coverage I convinced them to place in my mother’s name, even though it was against the regulations. Such was the depth of my desperation. It was my mother’s ticket to a hospital bed, and I was not going to lose it.
“You can’t be serious, right?”
“I’m very serious, Anton. My mother needs this.”
“We can give you money; we’ve already done so.”“In this way I’ll put you in danger too. The costs are too high, and enlisting for the front isn’t that bad.”
“Not that bad? You don’t even know if you’ll come back, and I already love you.”
But he didn’t know what love was, and neither did I. I only knew platonic love, and for this kind of love, I chose to leave for Suomussalmi.
