Memoirs of Babay

In Slavic folklore, the description of Grandfather Babay is quite brief and vague—an old man who snatches disobedient children into his sack. The pragmatic‑pedagogical bearers of this ethnic tradition place their emphasis on the child’s imagination, which themselves paint Babay’s most undesirable traits, personalized to fit each child’s own nightmares. My character is a composite figure and incorporates psychological traits from various human archetypes, but my main source of inspiration was a real-life Babay from Lviv whom I’ve known for over thirty years — a truly nontrivial creature, as unconventional as the degree through which he views the world. Besides, he wrote a book titled *Babai’s Notes*, which will likely see the light of day someday. Back in childhood I too became a victim of the epic‑disciplinary therapy imposed by the kindergarten administration. Yet, being something of a wunderkind, I grasped the true motives behind the teachers’ superstition, and so could coolly reflect upon Babayka during the hours of compulsory rest. My imagination then pictured him as a stocky, shaggy fellow about a meter tall, with a barrel for a torso. Only twenty‑five years later did I learn that there once existed a practice of punishing drunkards by forcing them to wear a heavy barrel with holes for their limbs. I even tried such a barrel myself in a museum — decidedly uncomfortable. Thus emerges the Galician Grandfather Babay, a worthy continuation of the folklore brood of uncanny beings.