Chapter 5 – Anapa, Krasnodar

We bought a small old house with a block of land on which were 16 fruit trees and enough room for a vegetable garden, and soon settled there. Rather a long time there were no information about our house. My father wrote two letters to our former neighbour but no answer followed. The other neighbour with whom we were friendly, kept quiet too.
- “Go back to Maikop and see what’s going on there!” told me my father.

Soon I was there… straight on I went to our house and was surprised that the plate that was attached to the wall was not there. I have rushed to the door, got from my bag the key but push it through the clink I couldn’t. From the other side was another key…

I have heard dogs barking and heavy steps behind the door. In the door appeared a stubby, elderly woman. “What do you want here chappie?!” said she cold.

- “That is my house!” snapped I , “Who gave you permission to occupy it?”
- “You? Permission?! Ha ha ha! It is better for you to disappear from here! One of these days two guys from GPU were here and asked about you and your father…get out from here boy!” She shut the door in my face.
I rushed to the neighbour over the road, but his house was empty. One of the inhabitants of this area told me that the teacher and his family were recently arrested and in the Siberia – the wave of arrests is raging and advised me to disappear from here as soon as possible. So I returned to Anapa with bad news…
My father, as usually, with his optimism tried to make us easy. “Its not the first time they robbed us. It is their nature and we can’t change them!” Slowly we started to forget this blow and the life went its own way.
Anapa is a summer health resort which is famous with its “golden beach” which attracts in summer many holiday makers. From the other side of town is a steep shore. Every day in good weather I used to come here, down a steep is a footpath leading to the sea. I use to approach the shore covered with seaweeds.
Little fish about ten centimetres in length remaining you herring was usually entangled in the weeds. Every morning I collected these fish for the family. Once I brought two kilo of it… The local population call it “comsa”.
Once walking toward the harbour I was surprised with a big heap of small fish on the market place. The dish was still fresh but swarms of flies were sitting down on it. People were passing and casting angry looks at it.
At the harbour I met my friend Fedor who told me that last night was hear a fishing brigade from the district centre. The catch was very good but all their attempts to bring the fish to the district centre failed. There was something wrong with their truck and nobody could repair it. The district mechanic was hopelessly drunk. The horse transport was not available too, as early in the morning it was sent to the neighbouring village for the collective work on the road. That is why the fish was there. Fedor swung his hands hopelessly.
The next morning after breakfast I directed myself to the market place. The heap was still there untouched. Swarms of flies were swirling over the heap which was spreading unpleasant smell around. At last a cart with big rubbish box on and two workers with shovels appeared and started to throw the stanching fish mash into the box…
Fresh Pork
Lidia returned from the market and told me, “Today the butcher is going to sell pork. It is already a long queue there. Maybe you join it too?”
- “No worries!” exclaimed I, “everybody of us would gladly have dome fresh pork for dinner.”
I dressed myself and hurried up to the butcher. Really, the queue here was very long. I joined it and started to wait patiently. Soon a cart approached the butcher’s shop. A young chap in a white overall lifted up from the cart a heavy carcass of a pig and put it in front of the butcher. The people in the queue noticeably revelled… The butcher with saw and axe started to sell pork.
- “Only two kilo per head!” announced he.
Suddenly two policemen appeared. One of them, waving sharply with his hands, shouted at the top of his voice,
- “Eh! Stop it! No meat anymore! Go home!”
The policemen ordered the butcher to close the shop. He was arrested and escorted to the police station. I returned home infuriated. I couldn’t explain the unexpected attack of the police on the butcher.
- “Why to worry very much?! Take it easy!” my father tried to pacify my excitement, “tomorrow we’ll read about it in the paper.”
Early in the morning I hurried up to the kiosk to get the newspaper. I draw my attention that here was unusual movement. People, often getting the paper, started to read it with unusual excitement. It was a queue at the kiosk. At last I got the newspaper. From the first page of it the terrifying title was striking my eyes:

“Feeding Pigs with Human Corpses!”

At the whole page down was the article about a pig farmer who fattened his pigs with human corpses. Everyday the farmer and his assistant watched the cemetery. If anybody buried, at the night they digged out the corpse, cut from it meat and part of the intestines and the rest was buried back as primitive as it was before. The meat was boiled and fed to the pigs. After reading the article, I have rushed home.

- “Here are news beyond imagination!” pronounced I.

-“It is described here,” I continued to read the article; “one woman was buried together with her expensive broach on which were carved her initials. This broach has seen occasionally by her sister in the show window of a jewellery shop. She rushed to the police, but they didn’t want to even listen to her, at the beginning, but she insisted and finally it was decided to open the grave. No other broach was found… the cover of the coffin was not nailed as before. Several nails were not knocked in. There were no traces of meat on the corpse. Soon they met here the farm owner and his assistant cutting out meat from a corpse.

***

All our reserves of petrol were over and in the local cooperative shop all petrol was sold out and new supply was not yet organised. The truck which usually brought the goods, was used by the propaganda brigade in a new organised collective farm.
- “You have to walk to the centre,” said me my father, “there is no way out, both the lamps are empty.”
- “It means I have to walk about twelve kilometres up and down…”
My father just swung his hands. After breakfast I prepared two litre tins containers, took some sliced bread with butter and started my journey. On the way to the centre there were only two small settlements facing the road. When I reached the first one, I decided to relax. I took the seat on a bench which was close to a hut. Soon at the door appeared an elderly woman and looked at me, as it seemed to me, with some suspicion.
- “Is it far away to the centre?” asked I
- “About two hours walk.”
- “Too far away…” sighed I
- “Where are you from?”
- “From Anapa. We haven’t any supply of petrol for several days.”
She fixed her eyes on me an waved her head. “It is not wise to walk now at the road.”
- “Why ma’am?”
- “It is such a time now son, at every step are cannibals… They may catch you, make out of you pies or meatballs and sell anywhere around here. It is such a time now! Be careful son!”
On the road it was quiet, only a cart passed by… At last I reached the centre and bought some petrol. I noticed a bench under an oak tree. Soon a boy approached the bench and took a seat at the other end of it. Tor a short time we kept quiet.
- “It seems to me that you are not from around here?” asked the boy
- “No, I am from Anapa, and you?”
- “I live in one of the settlements on the road to Anapa… Let’s walk together...” he offered.
- “I don’t mind.
We started to walk on the road. He appeared to be not a talkative chap and soon our conversation flagged… Raindrops began to fall… I quickened my pace.
- “Why do you hurry up?” asked the boy.
- “It’ll rain soon. It is not far till the settlement.”
- “There is a footpath over the field, we could spare at least two kilometres.”
- “I’d better go by road.”
- “You’ll get wet.”
- “So what?!”
Unexpectedly, the boy looked over the road, put his fingers in the mouth an produced a shrill whistle. From the overgrowth of the field ravine appeared two figures which started to claim up the road.
Using all my strength, I knocked with the petrol container upon the head of the boy. He like a stone fell down. I dropped the container and started to run back to the centre. The two boys were chasing me… There was a small hill in front and the road turned around it.
Unexpectedly, in front of me appeared two horses heads harnessed in a droshky. On the droshky were sitting two policemen. I stopped straight on.
- “What the hell is happening here?!” exclaimed one of the policemen.
- “There! There behind the turn of the roads are cannibals. They were chasing me!”
- “Cannibals?! Sit down!” He made a place for me. The droshky rolled toward the turn of the road. For the cannibals, who were chasing me, the appearance of the police was a surprise. They jumped down the ravine of the road and disappeared in the high grass…
- “Escaped, buggers!” remarked the policeman.
The attention of the policemen was attracted by the boy lying on the road.
- “Is it your friend?” asked the policeman.
- “One of the cannibals…” answered I
We approached him. One of the policemen slightly kicked him with his foot.
- “He’s still alive,” pronounced he, “who has knocked him down?”
- “I did. He is a cannibal and called the two other ones to male pies of my body!”
All three of us put him on the droshky.
- “Fatty bugger…” remarked a policeman.
I picked up my container with petrol. Fortunately it was not leaking. The droshky started to move toward the town. Both policemen were very interested in what happened on the road and why I was there.
The contours of the town appeared… WE were met by the police chief and the corresponding act was prepared and signed by us. Then the policemen lifted up the arrested cannibal and with difficulty pushed him in front of a camera for further investigation.
After all formalities were completed, they let me go and I hurried up home. The petrol container was in my hand.

***