Back Life Stories
Chapters (14)
  1. ESSENTIAL TRANSLATIONS SERIES 11
  2. Contents
  3. The Orange
  4. Still Life with Death
  5. Amaryllii
  6. The Son
  7. Naģe
  8. The Shame of Gaveiki
  9. Elza Kuga’s Old Age Dementia
  10. The White Handkerchief
  11. Notes
  12. About The Author
  13. About The Translator
  14. About Nora Ikstena’s Writing

She was guided by some invisible power. She waited until the two young girls had snagged their clients, then she stood up, shook out her clothes, went a good distance away from the place she had been sitting to position herself at the roadside, stretched out her arm to one side thumb out, exactly like the girls. She did not have to wait long, when an old car stopped beside her. A middle-aged man was sitting inside. From his appearance, he looked like a farmer. In his car could be seen old potato sacks and some sort of boxes. On seeing Nadezhda, he hesitated for a moment, then gestured to her to get in. She said that she needed to take along the mushrooms. He did not object. For a while they drove in silence. He told her that he had not noticed her there before, observed that she was no longer a spring chicken, and could she not find something else to do. To her own surprise, she said she would do anything he wanted. They drove into the woods. She did what she had seen in the movies. Allowed him to have his way with her, even though her moments of enjoyment alternated with great pain. After he had finished, he said that he could not afford to pay her more than five lati, because he had not sold much that day. She had got what she had dreamed about all her life and she still had five lati to show for it! She was so touched that she gave him all the mushrooms to take home to his wife and children. He was happily surprised and asked her if she needed to be driven anywhere. She laughingly asked to be taken to where he had picked her up. On the way back he told her about his life, about his ailing sister and his farm, where there was so much work. When she got out of the car, he asked her if she would be there more often.

“Yes,” she responded. “Whenever, I can.” “What’s your name?” he asked. “Nadezhda, Nadya,” she replied.

“No,” he said, laughing. “Naģe, you’re a Naģe.” And he drove off waving in farewell.

Naģe is used the Kurzeme region of Latvia to mean “frog.” But Nadezhda did not know that and she liked the nickname. That day by evening she had earned twenty-five lati and her life began to change beyond belief.