Baba Yaga’s Garden

Marie and I were standing in front of the House of Bones last night.

She looked over at me and shook her head, ” this is no good for you Anita ” she warned me ” there’s much danger here for you. “

I nodded and reached out for the door handle and she snatched at my wrist ” Ask who’s house this is before you go in, bring her a gift and don’t eat anything she offers you. “

” I’ll remember. ” I said.

” Anita, don’t fall asleep in this place either. Go in awake or go in asleep. But don’t do both. Otherwise you’ll get lost. “

I woke up and found that it was just after three in the morning I spent some time wondering about Marie’s warnings. Funny, she should be warning me about a writing project…a blogg.

Funny.

Almost as funny as the little doll I found on the pillow next to me when the sun came up. Even funnier was the message carved into the wall above my bed.

Beware the House of Baba Yaga…
Marie L.
© anita marie moscoso 2005-text

The Enchantress gives me a doll.
A doll…
After all these years.

The day I put my dolls away
High in my closet
I cried.
My step-daddy insisted
I didn’t have to put them away.
But I knew it was time
To put them
Away
For good…

I examine this doll.
She is completely handmade,
Not plastic.
Even her eyes
Are made of something real
Like ebony.

She says her name is Nauscka.
She wears sweet little clothes
Like a child.
Blue sweater, skirt, socks,
Little Mary Jane shoes
With a button to hold them on.

I hold back,
Not wanting to believe.

I suddenly realize
All the travelers are gone.
Nauscka tells me to follow
The crow.

I am silent
And so is she.

My skirt has large pockets
And she fits inside
Where she hides.

She begins to bounce
Up and down.
I look around
Someone is coming.
I hide.
Dreadful hooded bandits
Pass on the dusty road.

How did she know?
She says nothing.

She only tells me where to turn
Soon we are at a dreadful house
Near a lake.

The gate of bones moan
When we approach.

I look down at Nauscka,
She nods

I timidly knock.
The door is flung open
Looking into the eyes of death himself.
But the ragged thing standing
Is somewhat womanly.
She spits her words at me,
“What do YOU want?”

“I need directions to the
Camp of the Amazons.”
My eyes wide with fear.
She sees my fear,
And smirks with satisfaction.
“Please come in, dear
And we will see what we can do.”

Inside is so dark,
I bump into stacks of things.
She sits down
lights her pipe,
And blows smoke in my face.
“I will tell you the way,
but you must do something for me
in return.”

I knew this was coming.

“Like, what?” I ask.
“Don’t be so smug,” she puffs.
“Me?” Oh, yeah, yes me…

I feel Nauscka press me
In warning.
I change my tone.
Careful.
“What would you like me to do?”

She rolls her eyes around
And squints.
“I’ll think of it tomorrow,
Tonight you can stay out back.”

We stay in a tiny shed
And sleep on straw.
In the night
Nauscka bumps me
To notice things
In the dark.
I see Baba’s silhouette.
She blows at the clouds
They move quickly away.
Leaving the night clear
And full of stars.

Suddenly
The house rumbles to life.
Huge chicken legs appear
To lift the house
And walk away.
All I can do is gasp
Surprised!

Just before dawn
A burst of red light
Runs across the field.
The chicken house runs after it
And catches it.
A cackle echoes.

Nauscka whispers to me
“Pretend you are asleep”
And I do.

I can feel Baba peering at me.
She shakes me roughly.
“Girl, time for work.”
The sky is still dark.
I blink slowly and yawn.

She puts me in her kitchen
The house is a mess.
Piles of stuff in disarray.
And then I remember the chase,
Well, of course
everything inside fell over too.

But I don’t ask or comment.
And Nauscka gently pats me.

Baba leaves me to work
Nauscka amazingly
Does most of the work
She cleans, organizes, polishes.
Somehow in a very short time,
The task is done.

Baba Yaga comes in
Squints at me.
Looks around
Shakes her head.

“Huh,” she says
with her hands on her hips.
She gives me directions to the camp.

I am almost out the door.
Baba clears her throat.
I stop.
“Is there anything you would like
to ask me?”
I hesitate…
“What was the red light this morning?
“Ahh,” she says,
“it was dawn coming too early.
So I had to hold it back.”
She smiles her toothless smile
and nods.

“And you, girl, how did you
clean my house so quickly?”

Pressure from my pocket.

I smile,
“With kindness
And sweetness.”

“Bah,” She waves me away,
“Get out of here,
Be on your way!”

I start to run
Out the door.
As far away as I can.
When I am truly far away.
I take Nauscka out of my pocket.
I hug her and rock her.
And she hugs me back
With her little hands.

So long ago,
Putting my dolls away
broke my heart.
And now Nauscka
Looks up at me
As if she knows.

Baba Yaga has led me on a very interesting journey over the last day or so. In reading her story and struggling to write about my visit to see her, I decided to make my special doll. What a surprise this turned out to be!

To understand my surprise, one would have to know that I love colour and things more on the ‘pretty’ side. My doll has a very earthy feel, is rather shapeless and has a lovely big double chin. So I dialogued with her, telling her that I was surprised at the way she looked and wondered how she could help me. She replied that she would know what I had to do, so that all I had to do was to ask her in trust.

I was then led in a very mysterious way to read some words of wisdom in my book, ‘Women Who Run With The Wolves’. These are the words that struck a chord with me:
“……A wise woman keeps her psyche environ uncluttered. She accomplishes such by keeping a clear head, keeping a clear space for her work, working at completing her ideas and projects…….because it is Baba Yaga’s hut that Vasalisa sweeps, because it Baba Yaga’s yard, we are also speaking of keeping unusual ideas clear and ordered. These ideas include those which are uncommon, soulful and uncanny.
……to cook for the Yaga one lays a fire – a woman must be willing to burn hot, burn with passion, burn with words, with ideas, with desire for whatever it really is that she loves. It is actually this passion which causes the cooking, and a woman’s ideas of substance are what is cooked. To cook for the Yaga, one will arrange that one’s creative life has a consistent fire under it. Most of us would do better if we became more adept at watching the fire under our work………the fire bears watching, for it is easy to let it go out. The Yaga must be fed. There’s hell to pay if she goes hungry. So it is the cooking up of new things, of new directions, of commitments to one’s art and work that continuously nourishes the wild soul.
…..Women’s cycles according to Vasalisa’s tasks are these: To cleanse one’s thinking, renewing one’s values, on a regular basis. To clear one’s psyche of trivia, sweep one’s self, clean up one’s thinking and feeling states on a regular basis and especially to cook up a lot, to feed the relationship between oneself and the wildish nature.”

My doll is now called Clarissa and she has pride of place on my table where I do my work.
posted by Leonie Bryant