Ukraine in the days when it was an ethnically diverse 'Wild-West'
Bazaars and Fairs in the Black Sea Area
This is an essay by Alexander Dupper. He was a descendent of German settlers who had been invited to colonise underdeveloped areas in the Ukraine. He memorialises a story told by his grandfather about local and annual fairs in the mid 1800s. It draws a vivid picture of our ancestors joys as well as some of their tribulations.
BAZAARS AND FAIRS IN THE BLACK SEA AREA
Alexander Dupper
On of my fondest recollections is the weekly bazaar and annual Panayr fair in Katarzhino during the NEP time ( 1921-1928 ) in the Soviet Union.
The right to hold weekly bazaars and annual fairs was one of the many privileges granted to the German and other foreign colonists by Catherine the Great in the momentous Manifesto of July 22, 1763.
In Paragraph VI, Section 11, we read the following: … ‘that all foreigners who have settled in colonies or country-town settlements be given the right of holding markets and establishing annual fairs according to their discretion, without paying taxes or the least amount of duty or tribute to our treasury’.
That was sweet music to the ears of the German colonists. As a little boy I visited the bazaar and fair in Katarzhino when I could still go to Neu-Berlin, and spend my summer vacation from the German school in Odessa there. However, the following is an account of a day at the fair as it was told me by my grandfather Matthias H. and my mother, when they were talking about the "good old days."
"Chai goryachii, bublik svezhii!" (Hot tea, fresh bagels). That was the cry one heard from one end of the bazaar (marketplace) to the other. Vendors pushed their two-wheeled carts all over the place, advertising their kvass (sourish drink made from black bread and malt) and hot tea with fresh bagels. Yes, the bazaar in southern Russia was a lively and colourful event. The weekly market played an important part in the economic, social, and cultural life of the German farmer-colonists (settlers) in Russia.
One did not come to the bazaar just to sell, buy, or trade. One came to the bazaar with open eyes, ears, and nostrils to see, hear, and smell everything in the ever-changing scene of the marketplace. The bazaar was also a kind of entertainment event and a place to practice one's knowledge of the Russian language.
The bazaars were held alternately on different weekdays in the larger villages of the surrounding area. In the vicinity of Neu-Berlin there were three such bazaars within easy reach by horse and buggy. The bazaar in Hoffnungstal (TsebrikoJvo), some 12 kilometres west of parts, stood out among the villages of other ethnic groups and could easily be recognised. Houses were built like the Russian and Ukrainian ones but were painted in bright, colourful designs as were the fences. The Bulgarians liked bright cheerful colours which they prepared themselves from clay, lime, ashes and plant extracts. Large sunflowers, big as wagon wheels, red roses, or blue tulips with green leaves often decorated the outer walls of their buildings.
Sometimes one could see rather primitive fantastic or abstract scenes but always in bright, even garish, colours. Painting the walls and fences was the work of women each one doing her best to show off her art. Admiring the freshly painted buildings during Pentecost week was a real joy. Each Bulgarian house was graced by well tended flower beds.
Special mention should be made of the Bulgarians' knack of growing a great variety of vegetables quite successfully. They were good sheep breeders and herders, and did their own wool spinning and weaving. The Bulgarian women wore brightly coloured woollen skirts most of the time, even in summer. The men wore their characteristic colourful shirts with a red sash around the waist.
Katarzhino presented an especially picturesque view in the autumn when lines hung with garlic and onions. Paprika were strung along the buildings, and on the roofs large pumpkins and melons were stored for ripening. Located at the conjunction of the Little and Middle Kuyalnik valleys, Katarzhino was the biggest village in the county (volost) of Tsebrikovo (Hoffnungstal). It was a clustered village with many streets (actually a little town).
There were two Orthodox churches, one with the usual onion-shaped domes and the other with a tapering steeple. One church was for the Bulgarian congregation, the other one for the mixed Russian-Ukrainian and Moldavian population. The village also had a big school, a post office with telegraph, a country doctor, several midwives, a flour mill, a couple of country stores and a kabak (tavern).
The bazaar in Katarzhino unfurled itself every Wednesday in the square near the two churches. Sometimes the place was so crowded, especially in the autumn, that the market spread into the side streets. A weekly bazaar in Russia looked much like a flea market in America today. Farmers sold their wares and products directly from their wagons (carts). The wagons were parked on the street side by side, with the fronts to the curb along both sides of the thoroughfare leaving just enough space for people to walk through.
Horses were unhitched and turned around to enable them to get their fodder from the wagons' front, where they could also rest their lazy bones without being in the way. Other farmers laid their stuff out on the ground, so that everybody could see what they had for sale. In the marketplace there were also tents and wooden booths belonging to professional merchants.
As mentioned before, the bazaar was more than just a place to sell and buy. People came to see each other and to show off themselves. Old friends from neighbouring villages greeted each other impetuously, and if by chance one should meet his kum (godfather) they immediately went to the kabak (tavern) for a charka (glass) of vodka. It was also the place to exchange the latest news - from village gossip to political rumours, everything was discussed and disseminated.
The German farmers brought mostly grain, flour, butter and eggs for sale. The Bulgarians offered their sheep, wool, brynza (feta or sheep's milk cheese) and the whole range of vegetables, especially big bell peppers, eggplants, paprika and of course watermelons in the summer. The most delicious fruits such as cherries, apricots, plums and apples were offered for sale by the Moldavians who brought them from their orchards and gardens in the Oniester and Kuchurgan valleys.
Wandering Gypsies were always present at every bazaar. They were considered the best horse traders (malicious people said that they were also the best horse thieves) and, of course, fortune-tellers. The Gypsies really knew how to sell a horse. There was a fad among young men who enjoyed showing off their horses especially horses with a white star on the forehead. Well, the Gypsies knew just how to bleach or paint a white star on every creature even more perfect than Mother Nature.
Some farmers who thought they had bought a beautiful racehorse from a Gypsy often discovered next morning at home that it was just an old nag, hardly able to stand on its feet. But one could not complain about unfair business practices at the bazaar - a deal was a deal! Buyers beware! A handshake concluded every deal, and a mogorych (drink) sealed the deal forever.
The professional merchants at the bazaar were mostly Jews. They knew the trade; they knew how to buy and sell; they set the price and, controlled the market. For them the bazaar was serious business. The Jews played an important part in the development of the German colonies in the Black Sea Area. Those who tried their hand at farming usually failed, but as merchants they were among the most successful. Many Jews spoke the Swabian dialect, and some Germans could understand the Yiddish small talk.
Jewish merchants were always very polite. Bowing deeply, they would address older Germans with "Grossviiterchen " (Dear Grandfather) or "Grossmutterchen " (Dear Grandmother), and the younger adults with "Vetter" (uncle, cousin) and "B'ilsel" (aunt, female cousin). Sometimes a German would wonder in what way he came to be related to that merchant. However, the German farmers highly respected their commercial proficiency. Also highly regarded was the political knowledge of the Jews. At the bazaar one could hear the latest news.
Whatever happened in St. Petersburg or Moscow was immediately known by Jews in the Black Sea Area. The terrible pogroms forced them to keep their ears close to the ground. Relations between the German farmers and the Jewish merchants were usually cordial, even friendly. It was often in the German villages that the Jews found refuge during pogroms in rural Russia.
The Russians and Ukrainians brought to the bazaar whatever they had for sale. The Ukrainian artisans offered a lot of woodwork - wooden spoons, wooden buckets, wooden forks and shovels - a diversity of woven baskets and all kinds of brooms. There was, of course, no strict ethnic limitation of products that people brought to the bazaar for sale. The bazaar was also a good place to hire help for fieldwork and especially for the harvest.
It is surprising that with all the ethnic conglomeration the bazaars in Katarzhino and the neighbouring villages always turned out peacefully. It is a marvel how well people understood each other, considering the degree of ethnic diversity. The bazaar buzzed with business all day long; folk traded, swapped, and haggled, and cheated one another as best they could. Bargaining was done with lots of swearing, cursing, begging, and even praying. Only when it was time to pay money some people tried hard not to understand, and the whole bargaining process started all over again. But eventually, when all was said and done, almost everyone went home from a bazaar well-satisfied and happy.
Once a year, usually in late August after the grain harvest, the annual fair called Panayr was celebrated in Katarzhino. In contrast to the weekly bazaar, which took place every Wednesday, the Panayr was on a Sunday. It was a combination of a fair and harvest festival. The people from the surrounding villages came en masse to Katarzhino on that day. The German farmers, especially the youth, took part in the Panayr with great joy.
The morning of that Sunday went as usual in Neu-Berlin. The ringing of the bells called the people of the parish to the prayer house, and they came from all directions. They sang inspiring hymns and listened to the sexton's reading of the sermon. Some older farmers took a nap, as usual, during the sermon, waking up when the church bell rang out the Lord's Prayer. Meanwhile the younger lads scanned the pews with the pretty girls, day dreaming about the Sunday afternoon dance.
Back home a tasty lunch was waiting for every family. However, already during lunch a certain excitement started to grow - people ate faster than usual. The dishes were washed in haste, and in no time the lads had hitched their well-groomed horses to the wagons. Some fellows even attached red ribbons to the horses, as is done on a wedding day, just to attract attention. And off they went to the Panayr in Katarzhino.
Every wagon was loaded with eager, happily chattering people. Somewhere between the legs of the grown-ups the children were hiding and hoping they would not be thrown off the wagon at the last minute. Everybody, of course, wanted to go to the Panayr. Halfway to Katarzhino one could already hear the heavy drumbeat, and the horses responded to the roar with an increased gallop.
In Katarzhino, too, this Sunday started as a peaceful, festive day. First there was a morning mass in both Orthodox churches, which were filled to capacity by the local Bulgarians and visiting Russians, Ukrainians, and Moldavians. After the mass the priests, with their entourage, went to the square to bless the abundant fruits of the good earth and hard work on exhibit there.
It seemed almost like every bazaar day, except that everything appeared to be more colourful, bigger, and more beautiful on that day. All the vegetables, fruits, and livestock seemed to have a big inviting smile for all the people. The sweet smell of incense was wafted by the priests in all directions. The faithful in the crowd made the sign of the cross and lamented their "Gospodi pomilui" (Lord have mercy) while following the priests around the square. After the blessing, the native Bulgarians rushed home for a quick lunch, while visitors headed for the kabak (tavern) or pulled out their Brotsack (brown bag) to strengthen themselves for the celebration.
A kabak in Russia resembled a saloon of the Old West to a certain degree. One could order beer, wine, and a charka (glass) of vodka; a lot of vodka! There were zakuski (hors d'oeuvres or appetisers) and simple meals, consisting mostly of salted herrings with pickles and onions. Sometimes there was also caviar. All that made a thirsty man more thirsty, and so more drinks poured down his throat. Finally, a dish of good borscht restored the strength of every man.
Regardless of their ethnic origin, all the people - Germans, Jews, Bulgarians, Russians, Ukrainians, Moldavians, and Gypsies-liked to eat well and to enjoy a hearty drink. As the Germans said, "Essen und trinken halten Leib und Seele zusammen. " (Eating and drinking keep body and soul together). In those days no one worried about calories or cholesterol.
The owner of the tavern in Katarzhino was Yoska, a Jew. No one ever remembered his last name. He was a good businessman. You could see him at the door, with a friendly smile inviting people to come in, or you could see him walking between the tables of his establishment, encouraging customers to eat and drink. When business was going well, one could also see him rubbing his hands with glee, and mentally already counting his profits for that day. Yes, the Panayr was a profitable occasion.
Meanwhile, the people from Neu-Berlin had arrived. The noise got louder, and everybody was in a hurry to get into the action. With drums beating and trumpets blaring, all were soon caught up in the general gaiety. The children ran directly to the merry-go-round, mounted the wooden horses, and took off. The ever-present boom-boom of the big drums from the dance floors threatened to burst the listeners' eardrums.
There were at least three to four open-air dance floors, each one staffed with a little two to six man band, consisting mostly of a harmoshka (accordion), balalaika, guitar, fiddle, clarinet, trumpet, tuba, and, of course, the drum. If perhaps they did not always play perfectly in tune, they certainly played loudly. And the young people danced happily, mingling together without any ethnic barriers. Germans, Bulgarians, Jews, Russians, Ukrainians, Moldavians, and Gypsies all whirled around in big, well-mixed circles.
Each of the show-off lads wanted, of course, to dance also with the black-eyed Gypsy girls wearing the big earrings. Now that often was risky because after the dance not only did the Gypsy girl disappear, but sometimes the lad's wallet with his last kopek as well. Yelling and screaming did not help - the Gypsies were masters of disguise and the big crowd soon swallowed everybody without a trace. The older farmers, watching the youth dance happily, would only remark, "They are shaking the fleas out of the girls' skirts!"
For the children, the bear leader with his three or four bears was the biggest attraction. A Gypsy held the bears on a chain and encouraged them with a long stick to walk around in a circle on their hind legs. The bears "danced" to the beat of a tambourine played by a striking, colourfully dressed Gypsy girl with big shining copper earrings and bracelets. The Gypsy gracefully danced with her tambourine around the bears; every so often she pushed it under the spectators' noses, begging for a few coins, "Be generous, the bears are hungry and would like to eat a good meal. " With a swift motion the girl emptied the tambourine in a big pocket under her skirt, and the dance of the bears continued.
The bear leader addressed his beasts in a singsong voice in the traditional Russian form. There was a Maria Petrovna, an Anna Pavlova, and of course, an Ivan Ivanovich. With the help of the long stick, the bears demonstrated their art. The children surrounded the dance floor of the beasts in a wide circle, and every time a bear would roar, they scrambled for their lives behind the parked wagons and yard fences. But the reassuring beat of the tambourine soon lured them back to the spectacle.
The children, who rarely received more than 5 or 10 kopeks spending money from their parents, had to think carefully how to get the most out of it. There were sweetmeats, candy, cookies, and the big Brezeln (cracknels), and the ever-cool delicious glass of kvass. But a ride on the merry-go-round with its monotonous music was also very tempting. The little boys, especially, were fond of mounting the wooden horses and galloping into their dreamland. Yes, it was a problem for children with little money to make the right choice. Whatever the decision, no child ever brought any money home from the Panayr.
Meanwhile, spirits in the tavern were rising higher and higher. The empty bottles disappeared from the tables and full ones took their places. Experienced customers did not bother with a corkscrew to open a bottle. The sealing wax was chipped off by knocking it at the edge of the table, then the bottle was grabbed by its neck with the left hand and a blow of the right hand sent the cork (stopper) into orbit with a bang like a shotgun. With a "Nazdorovye (to your health} !" the bottle was often passed around the table so that everyone could immediately have a good swig. No time was wasted pouring into glasses and using napkins. Often there were none. One just wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
The strong vodka sometimes drove tears out of the revellers' eyes. As the saying went - one glass of vodka was followed by a second glass when one began to see things; after the third glass one saw double, after the fourth glass the tongue began to stumble, after the fifth glass the drinkers started to fall under the table and after that no one was able to continue the count anyway.
At the plaza in front of the tavern more and more people were gathering. One of the main attractions during the Panayr was the wrestling match between the teams of Katarzhino and Kubanka. Katarzhino was famous for its wrestlers, reputed to be the best in all Tsebrikovo County. Each of the two villages mustered a ten-man team for that event. The wrestlers took off their shirts and exposed the upper part of the body. An attempt was made to pair the wrestlers by size and age. There was no weigh-in or any other restrictive rules, nor was there an official or a referee.
The crowd participated actively by cheering or booing, and so helped decide who was the winner. Once a wrestler was flat on the ground, he had lost. The village with the most victories was declared the winner. There was also private betting, and the winner of a bet immediately went to Yoska's tavern to celebrate the victory.
After the so-called official wrestling match, many Bulgarians challenged the surrounding spectators of Germans, Ukrainians, Russians, and Moldavians to a friendly wrestling match, offering 25 to 50 kopeks to the winner. The Germans of Neu-Berlin had a lot of respect for the wrestlers of Katarzhino, for whom wrestling was a kind of national sport and hesitated at first to take on a Bulgarian. However, with some persuasion, pushing, and shoving from the surrounding spectators, the first German from Neu-Berlin soon was in the wrestling ring.
The Germans were generally bigger and built stronger than the shorter Bulgarians, but the Bulgarians were usually more agile and experienced. The wrestlers grabbed each other around the waist, and each tried to throw his opponent to the ground. The mob enjoyed this, gave a lot of free advice, and urged on their favourites. "Throw the son of a gun into the dust! Show him what you can do!
The guy is just a noodle" Some yelled until they got hoarse. Time and again the quick Bulgarians got out of the trap and their opponents landed on the ground. As soon as one hit the dust off the street the crowd paid homage to the victor with a deafening roar and loud applause. Every time a heavy German hit the ground, one could feel a slight tremor across the plaza.
The wrestling skill of the Bulgarians was apparent - they threw most of the Germans, Russians, Ukrainians, and Moldavians in the dust. That led to complaints and arguments. The Germans, especially, got hot under the collar, accusing the Bulgarians of cheating and using inadmissible tricks.
Later on, no one could remember who first used a fist in the argument. But suddenly a free-for-all fight was on. The Germans clobbered the Bulgarians, who gamely fought back. This created sudden confusion among the other ethnic groups. First the Ukrainian farmhands were at a loss, but when they saw that their German khozyain (landlord) was in trouble they rushed to his side to help him with their fists.
The Moldavians were no less confused, they had friends on both sides. So they fought on both sides, helping the Germans and the Bulgarians, and one could often see one Moldavian beating the hell out of another Moldavian. The Jews did not want to have any part of the beef and disappeared quickly from the battlefield; it reminded them too much of the pogroms. The Gypsies were all smiles - what a golden opportunity to clean out the pockets of the brawlers and the surrounding spectators - and they worked feverishly.
The people from Neu-Berlin now came running from all sides to help their brethren. When the Schultze, who was sitting at the big table in the tavern with a glass in his hand and listening to the ribald jokes of his companions, heard of the fight, he jumped to his feet, turned the table upside down, and yelled, "Wir mussem unseren helfen!" (we have to help our boys), and out he went.
The others followed him, kicking the chairs and tables into the corners. Yoska screamed, "Bozhe moil (My God), the Goyim (gentiles) have gone meshuge (crazy) in their heads! Oy gevalt! It is worse than a pogrom!" And quickly, with the help of his hired hands, he pushed his customers out. Then he hurried to board up the windows of his tavern, but he was too late to save one window through which a big rock had already sailed with a loud crash.
The Schultze, a giant of a man, stormed out roaring like a bear. He grabbed the first Bulgarian he met and, with the help of a friend, threw him on the roof of the porch in front of the tavern. Yoska could only shake his head in disbelief. In no time the Schultze was in the middle of the brawl, and propelled his punches in all directions, each one accompanied by a salty oath.
The Germans had developed heavy fists from the hard fieldwork, and each punch was like being hit by a sledgehammer. Many Bulgarians rolled into the street dust and saw the sparkling stars in the sky in broad daylight. The Germans got the upper hand in the fist fight with the help of their hired hands.
There were, of course, no set rules in this brawl; however, it was considered that if one did bite the dust and was about ready for his last confession, to leave him in peace. But then again everybody had his own idea of fairness, and some thought a last kick in the guy's butt would be appropriate. After all, this was a once-a-year opportunity and the man might remember him until the next Panayr.
The Bulgarians got more and more in trouble and started to yell for help. When the boys from Katarzhino, who were sitting around on the fences, saw their compatriots' need for help, they took off along the streets yelling, "Help! The German Busunnans (non-Orthodox) are killing our people! Help!" And the natives responded quickly. Armed with sticks, shovels, pitchforks, and even wagon shafts, they rushed from all directions toward the plaza.
When the Schultze saw that he was about to be rammed by a wagon shaft, he yelled, "Anyone who wants to stay alive run for our wagons!" The words of the Schultze were an order. The Germans dropped the fight and their men, women, boys, and girls, as well as their Ukrainian hired hands, ran for the wagons. The girls ran from the dance floors holding their long skirts high above the waist, and it was a shame that the young men had no time to admire the lasses' shapely white legs. The horses were hitched in no time, and the wagons, fully loaded, took off with lightning speed at the crack of the whip.
The Bulgarians accompanied the Germans' hasty departure with all kinds of insults, cursing, and mockery. A popular proverb was:
Nemets perets kolbasa
A German pepper sausage
kupil konya bez khvosta
bought a tailless horse
Khvost oborva Lrya
The horse had lost its tail
I nemets obosra Lrya.
And the German soiled his pants.
The Germans acknowledged those compliments with their own Donnerwetters and a lot more. The people from Neu-Berlin would not admit that they had to run away from the Panayr. On the contrary, the spirited ones would insist that the drive home was a wagon race. Indeed, it was a race.
The dirt road was hardly wide enough for one wagon; now suddenly there were four or more wagons abreast fighting for the best spot, running helter-skelter for home. With the cracking of the whip and a lot of yelling, the wagons, it seemed, were flying with their wheels hardly touching the ground. Sometimes a wagon would sideswipe another, a wheel would take off on a tangent into outer space, and the wagon would land in the drainage ditch along the road.
There were also broken wagon shafts. The damaged wagons were, of course, out of the race and had to be towed slowly to the village, to the great disappointment of their driver and passengers.
When the racing wagons had gone about halfway, the people in Neu-Berlin could see the big dust cloud, like a hurricane, and hear the yelling and roaring coming from the south. Somebody hollered, "Sakes alive! Get off the street! The crazy ones are coming from the Panayr”. It needed no repetition. All rushed into their yards behind protective fences, trees, or summer kitchen windows to watch.
Even the lazy dogs, who spent the afternoon napping in the hot street dust got up, pulled their tails between their hind legs, and ran to a safe place in the yard. Chickens scratching for grains in the street got the message too, and fluttering their wings awkwardly and cackling loudly ran for the safety of their coops.
The street was cleared, and none too soon, because the first wagon of the racers already rattled into the south end of the village. The driver did not go straight to his house, but raced through the whole village to make sure everyone saw who the winner was. The other wagons drove immediately into their yards; no one wanted to be a loser in a wagon race.
That night the people of Neu Berlin talked a long time about their adventures at the Panayr. Well, some boasted of having single-handedly beaten up scores of Bulgarians. One was not exactly modest in telling tales of his exploits. It was the same in Katarzhino. "Men, the Germans ran like jackrabbits when we kicked them out!"
Well, it is sometimes not so good to listen to both sides of the story. The Ukrainians slept well that night after all the excitement and the great amount of vodka they had consumed that day. The Moldavians were wondering through the whole night how in the world they had gotten into that brawl. After all, they had good friends on both sides. The Gypsies were happily satisfied at the campfire under the full harvest moon that night when they counted the money lifted from pockets of fighters, brawlers, and spectators alike. The Panayr had been a profitable day for them.
The Jews were convinced that the gentiles had gone crazy that day, but otherwise they enjoyed the celebration very much. Even Yoska had a big smile on his face when he felt with his head the big money bag under his pillow. Gevalt had been a good day for business, if one didn't count the broken window and the broken chairs in the kabak.
It seems that everyone was well satisfied, happy, and content the night after the Panayr. It had been an eventful day, a day to remember for all.
The next morning was a different story. Just getting out of bed was already an ordeal for most of the fairgoers. One suddenly felt pain in muscles and bones that he never would have guessed existed in his body. Then that first walk to the outhouse - it seemed to be a mile away. Some lads did not make it on the first attempt, because their stomachs worked in both directions that day: up and down, but mostly up. And the call for breakfast started it all over again.
Then came the Russian and Ukrainian hired hands with tremendous hangovers, begging their German khozyain (landlord) for a drink so they could sober up. "Pan, they would whine. "The head, the head, she is ringing like a church bell - boom, oi! How it hurts, boom… please give us a shot of vodka to sober up or we will die!"
The farmer would first try scolding them, "Why, you good-for-nothings, why did you not think about dying yesterday when you poured the vodka into your bottomless pit?" But when he looked into those blank faces with glassy eyes, he just shook his head. There was nothing else he could do but run to the kitchen and pull a bottle of vodka out from a hidden corner in the cabinet. Then he let everybody have a sip so they could face the world again without dying. In Russia, vodka was the panacea for all internal, external, and emotional illnesses.
There was not much fieldwork done on that Monday. Almost everyone was recovering from the Panayr. Even the Schultze (mayor), who went to the Kanzlei (village office) every morning to check if the scribe had overslept, was not in the mood to demonstrate his authority that day. Instead, he hitched up his horses and drove to the field for some fresh air and to avoid any curious villagers. Viewing the landscape of the steppe, with the green grass and golden wheat waving like an endless sea from horizon to horizon, always brought peace and tranquility to the troubled mind of the Schultze.
But time moves on and heals everything. Next Wednesday the bazaar in Katarzhino was going on again, as always. They were all here again - the Germans with their grain, butter, and eggs; the Bulgarians with their sheep, wool, and vegetables; the Moldavians with their fruits; the Gypsies with their horses and fortune-tellers; the Russians and Ukrainians with their brooms and wooden spoons; and the Jews with their tents loaded with fabrics and household wares.
At the door to the kabak was the ever-present Yoska inviting people to have a good mogorych (drink). Everybody saw the new window in the tavern, of course. But Yoska only smiled; the main thing was that his customers had not forgotten him and came again en masse.
Sometimes the two antagonists from the Panayr ran into each other at that Wednesday bazaar. Well, the best thing was to ignore the incident, look the other direction, and act as if one had never seen the person before. But it was always a pleasure to notice that the other guy had a black eye too.