One fear, however, has been with me continually since March 10, 1945, when I first heard the sound of the Russian language. The city of Danzig in which we had been stranded during our flight to the west was invaded by the Russian army, and I do not intend ever to elaborate on the scenes which followed. It is natural to associate a language with the experience in which it was first heard, and that is an experience which I cannot remember without paralyzing fear.Living in a multilingual society in Canada, I hear many languages daily. It took me years to dissociate the sound of the Ukrainian language from that of the Russian. My father was born in what is now Ukraine, and I count Ukrainian-Canadians among my best friends. I just had to get used to the sound of their language.
But Russian? In vain have I tried to be friends with Russian people. The sound of their language has always caused me agony. I associate it with indiscriminate shootings, with rape, and with drunken rage. How could I ever get over the memories of the Russian invasion?
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