By Alexander Sten
1954
The facts described in this booklet, basically depict the period of time from the October Revolution (1917) up to 1933. Here are given some glimpses of the life in the Soviet Russia with its forced collectivization of farmers, economic disorders, famine, cannibalism, endless arrests, mass executions, concentration camps and rotten administration. My recollections fall of in 1933, when I was lucky to escape the Soviet hell, to the free world and avoid the ominous period of Eshov’s sadistic terror which destroyed millions of innocent people.
Chapter 1 – A Terek River Town
My children’s recollections are connected with a huge estate surrounded with a high fence. Inside of it there were two big buildings with glassed verandas in front of them.
In the cellars of these buildings were situated the biggest state stores of spirits. At the other end of the estate were pen-houses, stores and a small house in which the janitor and his family lived. The stores supplied, with alcohol, state shops all over the area. My father was the manager of the Stores.
My mother got this government estate as a sinecure from the General, Bezobrazov[1] who was in intimate relations with a ballerina[2] of the big theatre in Moscow. As result of these relations two daughters[3] were born – Barbara and Lydia. Barbara became my mother.
A part of he glazed veranda, which had plenty of sun and light was turned into a dining and sitting room. Here from time to time gathered friends, controllers, excise officials and others. It was always joyful here!
The guests enjoyed the traditional feeding of the geese, which the housekeeper let approach the balcony. He used to bring for them specially prepared bites. The guests have thrown form the balcony dainty bites and watched with excitement how the geese, outrunning each other, and frequently fighting, seized the dainties.
The other of my early recollections is the arrival of my father’s friend – the Lieutenant [Pyatidesyatnik (пятидеся́тник)] Frolov[4], who was on furlough. Once he, my mother and I were walking along the Kizlyar Boulevard[5], Frolov in all the splendour of his military uniform and my mother, wearing a white brimmed hat decorated with striking the eyes pins in it, brilliant earrings, umber beads around the neck, the dress with the multitude folds and Paris shoes on very high heels…
I followed them with the high-lifted head. I was dressed in the Circassian National Coat which was specially designed for me. The local Azerbaijani, who were sitting on the boulevard benches with their long daggers placed on their knees, were looking at us with curiosity…
And another detail rooted in my memory: once Lieutenant Frolov and I were sitting together and talking about the wars, I was interested in his sword and asked to unsheathe it. I tried its sharpness and what a horror! I cut one of my fingers. A stream of blood started to run over my palm…
My mother rushed to the next room and brought some iodine and a bandage and applied the iodine over the cut. I started to cry as a beast wounded by a shot…
And what the bright, what the joyous were the walks along the shore of the Terek River in the quiet moon-lit evenings! Not seldom visiting friends and my parents, embracing one another, moved along the river intoxicated with happiness of the life and the night quietness was sounding the song: “Fragrant clusters of white acacia.”
The storm of revolution burst out over the country. All traditions and established routine of society started to crumble away…
It was a sunny day. My parents were engrossed in a particular discussion. Fedor brought the newspaper. My father unfolded it. His face grew dull. For some minutes his eyes were closed.
- “What’s happened?” asked my mother disturbingly.
- “We were robbed. Up to the last penny[6] robbed” pronounced my father with a grief in his voice.
- “Who has robbed us?”
- “Comrades! They put their bloody hands on all what was in the banks and on our savings too.” The colour drained from my mother’s face. “There is no more provisional government. All the ministers were arrested!” Talked my father with indignation. “The civil war started and that is shocking! The comrades are not far away from us, and that means that we have to disappear from here as soon as possible to the area occupied by the White Army!
The next day was spent in restless talks. In my mother’s eyes frequently appeared tears. Next morning the parents got up very early and after the short breakfast started to discuss the situation. Soon Fedor and his wife Maria appeared and started to help the parents to pack in. All the evening was spent in a great bustle and packing small but precious objects. The parents unstitched folds in their dress and sewed into rings, brushes, golden coins etc.
Unusual bustle of the day made me tired and I fell asleep deeply. In the morning my mother tried to wake me up but I didn’t want to move. Deep in my child’s soul I felt something dull and bitter in our way.
Early in the morning Fedor reported that the two carts each harnessed with two horses appeared and our belongings were loaded on, and the carts moved towards the railway station. We were unloaded on the platform.
It was already dark when a goods train appeared occupied by a military unit of the White Army. Father hurried up to the chief of the echelon and after a short conversation we and our belongings appeared in an empty carriage on the train.
- “Leave us in Groznyy;” advised the chief, “I don’t think the Reds will appear there soon.”
__________
[1] BEZOBRAZOV, Nikolai Mikhaylovich [БЕЗОБРАЗОВ Николай Михайлович] (1848-1912, Monte Carlo), ballet critic. General, real state councilor. One of influential St Petersburg ballet lovers; its opinion about the artists was meant for the board imp. theaters. He was the zealous supporter of the traditions of classical ballet, was at the same time supported innovating M. M. Fokin, collaborated with the company the Russian ballet Of dyagileva. In 1890 - 1900- it regularly criticized the ballet plays Of mariinskogo temp. into the press. Articles in essence of descriptive nature, of well-aimed comparisons and observations, rich source for studying the creation of. G. Legate, M. F. Kshesinskoy, O. I. Preobrazhenskiy, A. Roslavlevoy, V. Geltser, A. Mountain, M. M. Fokin, P. Pavlovoy, and T. P. Karsavinoy. Source: http://culture.niv.ru/doc/ballet/encyclopedia/006.htm
[2] Possibly, Olga Iosifovna Preobrazhenskiy [Ольга Иосифовна Преображенская] (1871-1962) whom Bezobrazov sponsored… “In the first years of new century the General took under the patronage ballerina Preobrazhenskiy - chief competitor of Matilde Kseshinskoy.” Source: http://www.minute.zhg.ru/state.php?id=1040
[3] A sideline daughter (побочная дочь)
[4] Possibly a member of the 3rd Caucasian Cossack Division. [3-ya Kavkazskaya Kazach'ya Diviziya.] 3rd Caucasus Army Corps. 2nd Brigade (Headquarters, Groznyi): 1st General Yermolov's Kizlyar-Grebensk Regiment of the Terek Cossack Host, Daghestan Horse Regiment, based in Groznyi. [1-i Kizlyaro-Grebenskii Generala Yermolova polk.]
[5] The name of the town was never mentioned. Conjecture places us in the city of Kizlyar, Dagestan which was a centre for alcohol manufacture and site for the State Alcohol Stores.
[6] It is thought that they had the equivalent of 100,000 Gold Roubles deposited in the Central Moscow Bank. By today’s equivalent, this would amount to around US$1,000,000. [1 Rouble = 100 Kopeks. The value of 10 Kopeks, in 1904, is equivalent to the value of US$1.00 in 2000. Source: http://www.alexanderpalace.org/palace/travelinfo.html]
In the cellars of these buildings were situated the biggest state stores of spirits. At the other end of the estate were pen-houses, stores and a small house in which the janitor and his family lived. The stores supplied, with alcohol, state shops all over the area. My father was the manager of the Stores.
My mother got this government estate as a sinecure from the General, Bezobrazov[1] who was in intimate relations with a ballerina[2] of the big theatre in Moscow. As result of these relations two daughters[3] were born – Barbara and Lydia. Barbara became my mother.
A part of he glazed veranda, which had plenty of sun and light was turned into a dining and sitting room. Here from time to time gathered friends, controllers, excise officials and others. It was always joyful here!
The guests enjoyed the traditional feeding of the geese, which the housekeeper let approach the balcony. He used to bring for them specially prepared bites. The guests have thrown form the balcony dainty bites and watched with excitement how the geese, outrunning each other, and frequently fighting, seized the dainties.
The other of my early recollections is the arrival of my father’s friend – the Lieutenant [Pyatidesyatnik (пятидеся́тник)] Frolov[4], who was on furlough. Once he, my mother and I were walking along the Kizlyar Boulevard[5], Frolov in all the splendour of his military uniform and my mother, wearing a white brimmed hat decorated with striking the eyes pins in it, brilliant earrings, umber beads around the neck, the dress with the multitude folds and Paris shoes on very high heels…
I followed them with the high-lifted head. I was dressed in the Circassian National Coat which was specially designed for me. The local Azerbaijani, who were sitting on the boulevard benches with their long daggers placed on their knees, were looking at us with curiosity…And another detail rooted in my memory: once Lieutenant Frolov and I were sitting together and talking about the wars, I was interested in his sword and asked to unsheathe it. I tried its sharpness and what a horror! I cut one of my fingers. A stream of blood started to run over my palm…
My mother rushed to the next room and brought some iodine and a bandage and applied the iodine over the cut. I started to cry as a beast wounded by a shot…
And what the bright, what the joyous were the walks along the shore of the Terek River in the quiet moon-lit evenings! Not seldom visiting friends and my parents, embracing one another, moved along the river intoxicated with happiness of the life and the night quietness was sounding the song: “Fragrant clusters of white acacia.”The storm of revolution burst out over the country. All traditions and established routine of society started to crumble away…
It was a sunny day. My parents were engrossed in a particular discussion. Fedor brought the newspaper. My father unfolded it. His face grew dull. For some minutes his eyes were closed.
- “What’s happened?” asked my mother disturbingly.
- “We were robbed. Up to the last penny[6] robbed” pronounced my father with a grief in his voice.
- “Who has robbed us?”
- “Comrades! They put their bloody hands on all what was in the banks and on our savings too.” The colour drained from my mother’s face. “There is no more provisional government. All the ministers were arrested!” Talked my father with indignation. “The civil war started and that is shocking! The comrades are not far away from us, and that means that we have to disappear from here as soon as possible to the area occupied by the White Army!
The next day was spent in restless talks. In my mother’s eyes frequently appeared tears. Next morning the parents got up very early and after the short breakfast started to discuss the situation. Soon Fedor and his wife Maria appeared and started to help the parents to pack in. All the evening was spent in a great bustle and packing small but precious objects. The parents unstitched folds in their dress and sewed into rings, brushes, golden coins etc.
Unusual bustle of the day made me tired and I fell asleep deeply. In the morning my mother tried to wake me up but I didn’t want to move. Deep in my child’s soul I felt something dull and bitter in our way.
Early in the morning Fedor reported that the two carts each harnessed with two horses appeared and our belongings were loaded on, and the carts moved towards the railway station. We were unloaded on the platform.
It was already dark when a goods train appeared occupied by a military unit of the White Army. Father hurried up to the chief of the echelon and after a short conversation we and our belongings appeared in an empty carriage on the train.- “Leave us in Groznyy;” advised the chief, “I don’t think the Reds will appear there soon.”
__________
[1] BEZOBRAZOV, Nikolai Mikhaylovich [БЕЗОБРАЗОВ Николай Михайлович] (1848-1912, Monte Carlo), ballet critic. General, real state councilor. One of influential St Petersburg ballet lovers; its opinion about the artists was meant for the board imp. theaters. He was the zealous supporter of the traditions of classical ballet, was at the same time supported innovating M. M. Fokin, collaborated with the company the Russian ballet Of dyagileva. In 1890 - 1900- it regularly criticized the ballet plays Of mariinskogo temp. into the press. Articles in essence of descriptive nature, of well-aimed comparisons and observations, rich source for studying the creation of. G. Legate, M. F. Kshesinskoy, O. I. Preobrazhenskiy, A. Roslavlevoy, V. Geltser, A. Mountain, M. M. Fokin, P. Pavlovoy, and T. P. Karsavinoy. Source: http://culture.niv.ru/doc/ballet/encyclopedia/006.htm
[2] Possibly, Olga Iosifovna Preobrazhenskiy [Ольга Иосифовна Преображенская] (1871-1962) whom Bezobrazov sponsored… “In the first years of new century the General took under the patronage ballerina Preobrazhenskiy - chief competitor of Matilde Kseshinskoy.” Source: http://www.minute.zhg.ru/state.php?id=1040
[3] A sideline daughter (побочная дочь)
[4] Possibly a member of the 3rd Caucasian Cossack Division. [3-ya Kavkazskaya Kazach'ya Diviziya.] 3rd Caucasus Army Corps. 2nd Brigade (Headquarters, Groznyi): 1st General Yermolov's Kizlyar-Grebensk Regiment of the Terek Cossack Host, Daghestan Horse Regiment, based in Groznyi. [1-i Kizlyaro-Grebenskii Generala Yermolova polk.]
[5] The name of the town was never mentioned. Conjecture places us in the city of Kizlyar, Dagestan which was a centre for alcohol manufacture and site for the State Alcohol Stores.
[6] It is thought that they had the equivalent of 100,000 Gold Roubles deposited in the Central Moscow Bank. By today’s equivalent, this would amount to around US$1,000,000. [1 Rouble = 100 Kopeks. The value of 10 Kopeks, in 1904, is equivalent to the value of US$1.00 in 2000. Source: http://www.alexanderpalace.org/palace/travelinfo.html]
Chapter 2 – Groznyy, Chechnya
Next morning we were unloaded at Groznyy railway station. The chief of the echelon and my parents shook their hands. The chief wished us luck in the new town. One heard the whistle of the locomotive and the echelon moved slowly from the platform.
- You, Barbara, wait for me here and I go to see the head of the town about accommodation,” said my father. Soon he returned in a car. The driver helped my father load our belongings on. He brought us to a small empty house at the very edge of the town.
Toward the end of the day we have settled here and were very hungry. Fortunately, we still has some stumps of food and satisfied our hunger up to some degree. In front of the oven there were some splinters. My father brought some fresh water from the well and soon the tea was on.
There were no beds in the house and we slept on the floor. Next day my father have got from the town hall iron beds with old mattresses, some wood, an axe and a box of matches. So we settled here for a while… Soon my father started to work in the cooperative shop and my mother in a dining room for oil specialists. The problem of food was solved for the time being.
The dining room was situated in a small settlement only one kilometer from the centre and separated by a chasm crossed by a hanging bridge. The bridge was used by my mother to go to the work and back. My mother always took me with her. Hanging tight onto her dress, I followed her, avoiding looking down as I felt giddy.
Once after the heavy rain, going to the settlement, I slipped on the bridge and only quick action of my mother hold me safe. Both of my parents were shocked with this incident. Next day, mother did not take me with her. My mother found an elderly woman, “Glusha” who took care of me. She had a grey tom cat, “Vaska” and I liked to play with him.
In the district where we lived, the elderly children liked to play in “Whites and Reds” and, not seldom, were very cruel. Once “Reds” pushed me into a big wooden box where our neighbour used to keep his hens, and closed it.
It started to be dark. The hens which used to spend nights in the box took seats on the top of the box. I knocked with my heels and the box and shouted on the top of my voice for help. Nobody heard me… I frightened the hens for several times and they, in horror flew around.
It might be after all I would be suffocated here but the neighbour’s dog “Koshtanka” got me out of the scrape. She unexpectedly appeared from somewhere and approached the box, in which I was trapped, and at last she started to bark and howl.
I have heard the dissatisfied neighbour’s voice, “ Stop to snivel, for Heaven’s sake!” but Koshtanka continued baking and howling. I have heard the neighbours steps and the voice, “Ok! Ok! I see you are a thrifty doggy, Chooks can’t enter the box and what the devil closed it!?" I started to shout on the top of my voice.
- “Where are you?” one heard the astonished voice.
- “In the chook box, Uncle. Reds pushed me into and closed the door!”
The box shuddered, one heard the hens bubbling and flapping wings. The door flung open and the neighbour with great difficulties pulled me out of the chook pen. I scarcely could hold myself on the feet. I felt terrible noise in my head. A woman neighbour appeared in the door of the house.
- “Ah, my god! What is going on here?” exclaimed she…They brought me straight home. The parents were shocked when the neighbours told them about what had happened to me.
- ‘We thought the boy is at grandma” my mother exclaimed and embraced me, “come in, come in for a cup of tea” she invited the neighbours.
- “Thank you! Thank you! We just started our supper when we heard the dog barking. The supper is waiting for us.” They left in a hurry.
My father was infuriated. “What rascals are these Reds!?! They educate the children to hate each other!” he gnashed his teeth…
***
The front had been approaching Groznyy, and we started once more packing.
- “Where do we go now?” pronounced my mother dimly.
- “I do not know…” my father’s face was worried, “Yesterday when I was in the town hall, they advised me to stop in Sernovodsk, the hotel and mineral waters supply are neglected there…The former superintendent quarrelled with his wife on political grounds…and she killed him with an axe…Kazaks undressed her and whipped her with gun-sticks to death in the market place…”
My mother changed countenance.
- You, Barbara, wait for me here and I go to see the head of the town about accommodation,” said my father. Soon he returned in a car. The driver helped my father load our belongings on. He brought us to a small empty house at the very edge of the town.
Toward the end of the day we have settled here and were very hungry. Fortunately, we still has some stumps of food and satisfied our hunger up to some degree. In front of the oven there were some splinters. My father brought some fresh water from the well and soon the tea was on.
There were no beds in the house and we slept on the floor. Next day my father have got from the town hall iron beds with old mattresses, some wood, an axe and a box of matches. So we settled here for a while… Soon my father started to work in the cooperative shop and my mother in a dining room for oil specialists. The problem of food was solved for the time being.
The dining room was situated in a small settlement only one kilometer from the centre and separated by a chasm crossed by a hanging bridge. The bridge was used by my mother to go to the work and back. My mother always took me with her. Hanging tight onto her dress, I followed her, avoiding looking down as I felt giddy.Once after the heavy rain, going to the settlement, I slipped on the bridge and only quick action of my mother hold me safe. Both of my parents were shocked with this incident. Next day, mother did not take me with her. My mother found an elderly woman, “Glusha” who took care of me. She had a grey tom cat, “Vaska” and I liked to play with him.
In the district where we lived, the elderly children liked to play in “Whites and Reds” and, not seldom, were very cruel. Once “Reds” pushed me into a big wooden box where our neighbour used to keep his hens, and closed it.
It started to be dark. The hens which used to spend nights in the box took seats on the top of the box. I knocked with my heels and the box and shouted on the top of my voice for help. Nobody heard me… I frightened the hens for several times and they, in horror flew around.
It might be after all I would be suffocated here but the neighbour’s dog “Koshtanka” got me out of the scrape. She unexpectedly appeared from somewhere and approached the box, in which I was trapped, and at last she started to bark and howl.
I have heard the dissatisfied neighbour’s voice, “ Stop to snivel, for Heaven’s sake!” but Koshtanka continued baking and howling. I have heard the neighbours steps and the voice, “Ok! Ok! I see you are a thrifty doggy, Chooks can’t enter the box and what the devil closed it!?" I started to shout on the top of my voice.
- “Where are you?” one heard the astonished voice.
- “In the chook box, Uncle. Reds pushed me into and closed the door!”
The box shuddered, one heard the hens bubbling and flapping wings. The door flung open and the neighbour with great difficulties pulled me out of the chook pen. I scarcely could hold myself on the feet. I felt terrible noise in my head. A woman neighbour appeared in the door of the house.
- “Ah, my god! What is going on here?” exclaimed she…They brought me straight home. The parents were shocked when the neighbours told them about what had happened to me.
- ‘We thought the boy is at grandma” my mother exclaimed and embraced me, “come in, come in for a cup of tea” she invited the neighbours.
- “Thank you! Thank you! We just started our supper when we heard the dog barking. The supper is waiting for us.” They left in a hurry.
My father was infuriated. “What rascals are these Reds!?! They educate the children to hate each other!” he gnashed his teeth…
***
The front had been approaching Groznyy, and we started once more packing.
- “Where do we go now?” pronounced my mother dimly.
- “I do not know…” my father’s face was worried, “Yesterday when I was in the town hall, they advised me to stop in Sernovodsk, the hotel and mineral waters supply are neglected there…The former superintendent quarrelled with his wife on political grounds…and she killed him with an axe…Kazaks undressed her and whipped her with gun-sticks to death in the market place…”
My mother changed countenance.
Chapter 3 – Sernovodsk , Chechnya
Soon we were in Sernovodsk. The hotel there was completely plundered and the mineral waters were neglected. Straight on we started to feel the shortage of food.
- “I have to go to the Kazak settlement and try to barter my expensive necklace and earrings for something which could be eaten” suggested my mother.
- “Only not now,” contradicted my father, “keep them for a more serious situation. What about silk and velvet for dresses?”
- “Well,” agreed my mother,” no objections.
Next morning she prepared herself for going to the Kazak settlement. She put into a bag the silk and velvet fragments for dresses and went out. She returned at sunset, carrying her bag with difficulties. She entered the sitting room and took the seat on the chair.
- “I am tired,” said she, “tired as never before.”
- “Poor girl, a cup of tea, darling? I’ll make it for you straight on!”
- “It would be kind of you.”
- “Anything unusual in your bag?”
- “And what do you think? I was walking the whole day for nothing?” she cast a meaningful glance at him. “I’ve got some ham, some spare ribs, smoked sausage and a dozen bagels. What else do you want?”
- “You, Barby are a real angel!” exclaimed my father. He embraced her and kissed her. “For a while we’ll not have a food problem any more, for a short while.”
- “And what after that?” remarked my mother, “it is doubtful that we’ll get any suitable job from the town authorities, like in Groznyy. It seems that most of the positions there are occupied by Red sympathisers.”
My father shrugged his shoulders. For a while they kept quite…
- “Yesterday,” started my father, “I talked to a chap named Peter, who decided to join the army, and guess only where he was getting his income from?”
My mother lifted her brows interrogatively.
- “Danilo, another chap, who lived on charity, begging, pretending to be a cripple used to walk through the Kazak settlements on crutches. At the end of the day he would bring to Peter a solid bag of bread pieces and many other sweeties. The bread was dried, grained and minced up with some flower. Peter also got from the butcher meat wastes, grained them, added some spices and made pies which were immediately sold out. Peter wants to transfer this business to me and make me acquaintanced with Danilo, why not to go ahead with that?”
- “Disgusting!” remarked my mother, “ I would never turn to such a business!”
- “Neither would I, under normal conditions, but now everything is put on its head by the revolution and no sense to stick to the old principles. In our condition, I recon any legal business is good which keeps the wolf away.”
The production of pies started and I took an active part in it. An advertisement was placed at the most conspicuous place:
Here are sold appetiteful pies. Only three pies in a hand.
Preliminary orders are taken.
All three of us have been working very hard on making pies. The demand for them was colossal … but it didn’t continue for long. Suddenly Danilo disappeared without a trace. All our attempts to learn what happened to him failed. There were no more pies!
***
Once a captain of the White Army called in. My parents entertained him with alcohol, pork, sausage and pickled tomatoes and cucumbers. They were talking revivingly about politics. The captain was smoking without stoping and soon the room was full of dense biting smoke. I have got a head ache… My mother brought me to the sleeping room, put me I bed and tightly closed the door. I couldn’t fall asleep. All the night I was pursued by nightmare… grey warped faces all around!
At the breakfast table I was listening with great interest the parents conversation about the remarkable town Maykop about which the captain told so much. He left us late in the night.
- “So, then, Maykop and haste!” exclaimed my father, “we’ve got enough money to buy a house and furniture. We’ll get a couple of goats and chooks… If ever the Reds’ll come who’ll know who we are?”
- “It sounds promising!” exclaimed my mother, “Maykop and that’s all.”
- “I have to go to the Kazak settlement and try to barter my expensive necklace and earrings for something which could be eaten” suggested my mother.
- “Only not now,” contradicted my father, “keep them for a more serious situation. What about silk and velvet for dresses?”
- “Well,” agreed my mother,” no objections.
Next morning she prepared herself for going to the Kazak settlement. She put into a bag the silk and velvet fragments for dresses and went out. She returned at sunset, carrying her bag with difficulties. She entered the sitting room and took the seat on the chair.
- “I am tired,” said she, “tired as never before.”
- “Poor girl, a cup of tea, darling? I’ll make it for you straight on!”
- “It would be kind of you.”
- “Anything unusual in your bag?”
- “And what do you think? I was walking the whole day for nothing?” she cast a meaningful glance at him. “I’ve got some ham, some spare ribs, smoked sausage and a dozen bagels. What else do you want?”
- “You, Barby are a real angel!” exclaimed my father. He embraced her and kissed her. “For a while we’ll not have a food problem any more, for a short while.”
- “And what after that?” remarked my mother, “it is doubtful that we’ll get any suitable job from the town authorities, like in Groznyy. It seems that most of the positions there are occupied by Red sympathisers.”
My father shrugged his shoulders. For a while they kept quite…
- “Yesterday,” started my father, “I talked to a chap named Peter, who decided to join the army, and guess only where he was getting his income from?”
My mother lifted her brows interrogatively.
- “Danilo, another chap, who lived on charity, begging, pretending to be a cripple used to walk through the Kazak settlements on crutches. At the end of the day he would bring to Peter a solid bag of bread pieces and many other sweeties. The bread was dried, grained and minced up with some flower. Peter also got from the butcher meat wastes, grained them, added some spices and made pies which were immediately sold out. Peter wants to transfer this business to me and make me acquaintanced with Danilo, why not to go ahead with that?”
- “Disgusting!” remarked my mother, “ I would never turn to such a business!”
- “Neither would I, under normal conditions, but now everything is put on its head by the revolution and no sense to stick to the old principles. In our condition, I recon any legal business is good which keeps the wolf away.”
The production of pies started and I took an active part in it. An advertisement was placed at the most conspicuous place:
Here are sold appetiteful pies. Only three pies in a hand.
Preliminary orders are taken.
All three of us have been working very hard on making pies. The demand for them was colossal … but it didn’t continue for long. Suddenly Danilo disappeared without a trace. All our attempts to learn what happened to him failed. There were no more pies!
***
Once a captain of the White Army called in. My parents entertained him with alcohol, pork, sausage and pickled tomatoes and cucumbers. They were talking revivingly about politics. The captain was smoking without stoping and soon the room was full of dense biting smoke. I have got a head ache… My mother brought me to the sleeping room, put me I bed and tightly closed the door. I couldn’t fall asleep. All the night I was pursued by nightmare… grey warped faces all around!
At the breakfast table I was listening with great interest the parents conversation about the remarkable town Maykop about which the captain told so much. He left us late in the night.
- “So, then, Maykop and haste!” exclaimed my father, “we’ve got enough money to buy a house and furniture. We’ll get a couple of goats and chooks… If ever the Reds’ll come who’ll know who we are?”
- “It sounds promising!” exclaimed my mother, “Maykop and that’s all.”
Chapter 4 – Maykop, Adygea
In a couple of weeks we were already in Maykop and stopped in a hotel. Then we made us acquainted with suburban areas of this town. Soon we had chosen Troitsk outskirt. It was bordering with filed, covered with grass and used by residents as pasture for their cattle. At some distance was situated here a big place for burning rubbish.
At the very edge of this suburb we bought a house which was on a big block of land and had a large shed. Soon four goats, 20 hens and two roosters appeared in the yard. My duty was to take the goats to the pasture and help mother to milk them.
At the beginning I was scared of the goats; it seamed to me that they any moment can attack me, but soon they turned to be friendly. Specially one old goat amused me which got the habit to suck out milk from her own udder. I called her “Milk-Pail.” Soon, we sold her.
Opposite us, over the road, lived the teacher, “Sergey Petrovich.” He had a son, “Victor,” about the same age as I. hey kept three goats and Victor used to drive them for pasture. Soon we decided to take our goats to pasture together.
- “I’ll show you a new place for pasturing.” Informed Victor.
- “Where is it?” I asked.
- “Soon we’ll approach it.”
We brought the goats up to the end of the field. Behind it was a steep bluff after which extended a smooth place covered with reeds and sedge and joined to the mountain by the stream, Belaya. Behind the stream raised a hillock covered with the dense green of trees.
A good beaten footpath was running down and we directed our goats thee. Here were more variegated herbs, water and the shadow from the sun and rain. The goats soon took their fill, laid comfortably down and started their chewing (rumination).
- “Let’s go to the river,” suggested Victor, “can you swim?”
- “Never tried.”
- “Try! The river here is not very deep.”
We took our clothes off. Victor was the first to go into the water and started to swim… I didn’t take the risk to follow him and stumbled close to the shore.
- “What kind of chap are you, if you can’t swim?” remarked Victor, “Well, I’ll teach you!”
We came out of the water and laid down on the sand.
- “Well, well, can you read and write?” asked Victor.
- “And what do you think, of course I can.”
- “Who taught you?”
- “My father!”
- “But… he’s not a teacher...”
- “So what? He taught me and that is that!”
We dressed ourselves and Victor started to make me familiar with the details of this unusual place. Between steep and overgrowth was a well beaten path. On the vertical wall of the steep now here, now there were seen round openings. Suddenly over our heads rapidly passed by, as it seemed to me, swallows and in seconds disappeared in these openings.
- “Swallows?” exclaimed I.
- “They call them here, bullfinches.”
We continued to walk along the footpath. Victor pointed with his finger a dark opening in the cliff.
- “A huge cave! They say it was dug out during the conquering of the Caucuses by the Russians. We can use it for out goats when it is raining… and here,” continued Victor, “is a swamp, always covered with cassocks. There live some carp, but to catch them is almost impossible. They have around so many different foods and attract them with something else is not easy.”
The day was declining and the goats didn’t show any sign to go home.
- “Let’s move!” said Victor.
We directed our steps to the goats.
“Ei! Have a look!”
Victor pointed to a bird’s nest under a bush, which was, it seemed to me, full of spotted little eggs. I bowed down and stretched my hand to get one of the eggs. Suddenly, the eggs gave a start and threw themselves towards my hand!?!
IN the twinkling of an eye I have drawn back my hand and saw a snake’s head with widely opened jaws and infuriously moving tongue. I jumped away in horror. Victor, who had a stick in his hand, rushed to the snake but it in a trice disappeared into the dense overgrowth of weeds…
- “Well! Where did that come from,” wondering I, “the nest is empty now!”
- “ Illusion and nothing else! The snake simply coiled itself up in an empty nest and fell asleep and you have disturbed its dream.” remarked Victor.
- “I see!”
We started to drive our goats home. At home mother was terrified when she heard about the incident with the snake.
- “ No more there!” shouted she, “no! no!”
My father tried to quiet her. “ We have to get more information about this spot. Victor told me that he drove his goats there before and nothing happened!”
- “It does not mean that there are no snakes there!”
- “So what!? One should be careful!”
Soon an old peasant started to take the goats for pasturing. He accepted ours too. My father put me on the study. Every day I spent six hours studying under his supervision, Russian Language and Literature, History, Zoology, Math, English and German. Sergej Petrovich, the teacher, who lived over the road helped us with text books and examined me from time to time.
Soon after my father called to me and said, “A new job for you, son!”
- “ What is it dad?”
- “ First listen to me attendfully,” he gave me a wink.
“Yesterday, “ started he, “ I sat on a bench in the park. An elderly chap sat down beside me. Then he picked up from the ground a couple of cigarette butts, pinched out the tobacco, and using a piece of newspaper, made a cigarette.
- “Have you got any matches?” he asked.
- “Yes sure.” I pulled from my pocket the box of matches and lit his cigarette.
- “That may be a way to get some cigarettes from now. “ remarked I.
- “ Don’t see any other way at the present time. “ he agreed.
He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette and looked at me.
- “ Last year my neighbour,” said he, “got 50 boxes of cigarette cases from the factory, which was closed. He put them in the shed aiming to use them. He tried to grow tobacco in his garden but could not get any seeds of good tobacco. Then he tried to use mahorka[1] to stuff the cigarette cases, but the paper of the cases was too thin for the mahorka which tore the paper casings to tatters every time he tried to stuff them.” The old man finished his cigarette and threw away the butt with a flick. “It is really hard to get new tobacco and no one is interested in the cases and they occupy the whole corner of his shed. He told me he was going to burn them.”
- “Bring me to him,” ask my father, “where does he live?”
- “Not far away from here. If you like, let’s go now.”
Soon we approached a small wooden house and knocked on the door. The door opened and we were met by a bearded, middle-aged man who seemed glad to meet us.
- I am interested in your cigarette cases and want to buy half of the,” said my father, “how much would you charge?”
- “ Not very much,” he cast a look at the father, “but, if you would take all of them, they’ll cost you nothing. I just want to get rid of them!”
Next day I made several trips to bring the boxes home. I started to hunt for cigarette butts all around the town. Only a few days were not very successful, especially when it was raining. Usually at the end of the week I had about 50-60 cigarettes which I packed in colour paper, the top of each pack was decorated with some attractive illustration and unusual name, and they were sold like hotcakes. It was a very good income to cover my educational expenses.
Maykop was still in the hands of the Whites though the front was moving irresistibly to the town and it happened…
It was declining towards evening. One heard the speedy stamp of horses. We hurried to the window and saw riders with unsheathed sabres, who in sweeping gallop hurried away.
It was Budjony’s cavalry[2]. The town without resistance came to the hands of the Reds. Soon after that the door to our house opened widely and on the threshold appeared tow of Budjony’s men.
- “Come in.” invited them my mother.
One of them cast angry looks at my father, who was sitting at the table.- “You didn’t even move from your place to greet us!”
- “I am an invalid. I cannot walk.”
- “How did it happen?”
- “During the war. Germans crippled me.”
- “Sit down comrades!” invited them my mother, “I have got here a little bit of lard, bread, pickled tomatoes and cucumbers, and can make some fried eggs for you… that’s all I can offer you.” said my mother.
The lanky one smiled, “Don’t worry, we have got something too.” He pulled from his side bag a small bundle and unwrapped it. “Here are some slices of cooked pork and sausages and a bottle of moonshine.”
My mother put all these on a plate.
- “For us it will be quite enough to make a short snack,” said the lanky one, “don’t worry about the eggs!”
The second one, a long-necked with pocked-marked face, opened the bottle. My mother got from the cupboard two glasses.
- “And what about you?” he gazed t my parents.
- “We don’t drink,” said my mother, “we both have trouble with our liver.”
- “Why to draw attention to that?” The long-neck shook his head and filled the glasses. They started to drink and take the snack and recollecting some military episodes. Lanky’s gaze attracted a part of the floor close to the oven which was not completely dry.
- “And what from us have you hidden there?” asked Lanky.
- “Not from you,” replied my father, “you know yourself the front was moving up and down…”
- “Oh. Yes. Wis is there?”
- “A couple of golden things.”
Lanky approached the clay cover, unsheathed his sword and started with the tip of it to dig out the clay. Soon in his hands appeared a tin box. He opened it and poured out its contents on the table. Here were a golden watch with a chain, several brushes, rings and a dozen of silver spoons.
- “Well, well!” remarked Lanky, “we take with us the watch and two silver spoons, the rest is yours!”
My father just shrugged his shoulders.
- “Now, we go for a sleep,” said Lanky, “and early in the morning on the saddles again! Good night and all the best.”
They went out and directed their steps to the shed.
***
In my memory imposed the arrival of my father’s friend, Ivor and his wife Nura who were regularly terrorised by the Reds. They decided to live in Maykop and frequently visited us.
***
Once we heard a strange noise behind the windows. Looking through the windows we have seen an irritated crowd of people hurrying toward the rubbish dump.
- “What’s going on here?” I asked a chap.
- “Yesterday, in the night, they executed here a Kazak captain and a girl, “said the chap, “the relatives of the captain got the permission to dig him out and take his body away.”
- “And what about the girl?” I asked - They were in the same grave. He shrugged his shoulders.
Four men pulled out of the grave the weighty body of the captain. Two buckets of water appeared. The captain’s body was washed from the soil off and put on the droshky. A woman covered the body with a riding cloak.
Tears were running over her cheeks.
- “My dear brother…” whispered she.
Two men started throwing earth into the grave, not drawing any attention to the girl’s body. The droshky moved toward the town under escort of the agitated mob.
- “And what for the girl was shot!?” revolted a stubby chap.
- “Maybe because she didn’t want to go to bed with the commissar,” tried to explain another one.
- “God rest her soul.” Remarked a woman.
-“It is beyond the human understanding,” raised against and elderly man,” to shoot the people in the rubbish dump.
- “Maybe our turn will come soon and they’ll put us here too!” remarked a man in a cappy and spat angrily aside.
- “They hang every morning in front of the government building a lit of people whom they executed in the night.” Said a young chap. “This morning there were eight people on the list. One of them was my schoolmate.”
In the town the people started to go their own way. Soon disappeared the droshky, too.
***
Once at the tea time, Ivor asked my father, “Why don’t you try to get a pension?”
- “I thought about that,” answered my father, “but they only give the pensions to those who used to work at least 25 years long on the service of the other people, but I have worked all my life only for myself.”
- “Why to worry about that?” remarked Ivor, “I and Nura could officially state that you worked. Who at the time would check? Almost all the documents disappeared in the revolution.”
- “Good idea!” exclaimed my mother.
The next day Ivor and Nura went to the solicitor and made statement that they knew my father more than 25 years working for other people. After the copy of the statement was received, father applied for the pension. He has given me the copy of the statement together with the petition and I directed myself to the department of security.
The official read several times the copy of the statement and the petition, and folded his lips. Actually for him it was something new. “Come back in two weeks!” told he cold. In a fortnight I have seen him once more. It was clear to us that without bribery we cannot go far away. Next day early in the morning my father handed me a solid envelope with the Official’s name on it. “Go son and hand this envelope to the official personally,” said my father.
In a half of hour I was already at the Official’s residence. He lived in a wooden house with a high basement and wooden staircase led to his door. I knocked. The door opened. The official with astonishment looked at me. “Very important letter for you!” he took the letter and hold his tongue.
I turned around and started to walk down the staircase. In several days I was again with him, for this time he met me very kind. “Everything is in order” pronounced he in a friendly voice, “your father’ll get pension from beginning of this month. Here are some instructions which can be useful for you.” He gave me a small booklet.
The pension was very small an live on it was impossible but, in the instructive booklet was pointed out that, instead of pension, the pensioner can get a free licence for a small business and father straight away on applied for it. Again I was at the Official’s office and after some short formalities the licence was in my hand.
All of us started to fit one of the rooms for the shop and stock it with goods. Soon the shelves in our magazine were full of different kinds of foods. It was not the problem as NEP[3] just started. My father and I would use “Kosja” and droshky to go to the centre of the town to get goods for our shop.
In the shop were working my parents and Lidia by turns, our shop, only one side facing the street with a gate and a wicket. Once at dawn Lidia waked all of us up; “Get up! Quickly!” shouted she in a worried voice: “they have robbed us! The wall is broken through!”
We jumped from our beds, threw on our shoulders anything which came to hand and rushed to the shop. On the floor of the magazine were scattered in all directions food. One of the barrels with pickled herring was laying on a side and several herring were on the floor. Not far from it some sausage was crushed under the feet.
In the yard was a big hole. We picked our way through and saw the gate opened which was swinging by the wind. “I told many times,” remarked my mother, “we have to get a dog…that would not have happened if we had!” Almost a third of our goods were taken or destroyed.
We had been working day and night to bring the shop in order and get for its shelves new goods. It was a blow for all of us! Little by little everything came to normal and even a black dog with white rhomb on its forehead appeared in the yard. He was still young but barked loud. My mother called him, “Diamond.”
***
Once in the afternoon approached a velocipedist.[4] On him was a blue shirt and scarlet sleeveless sports garment. He entered the shop and called himself the local propagandist, “Ignat Hinara”.
- “How are you here?” asked he.
- “More or less… why?”
- “Nothing. Just seen your shop and seceded to come in and talk about international situation. Do you read newspapers?”
- “Sometimes…”
-“That’s good!”
A customer came in. “What can I do for you?” my father asked. “Some pork… How much for two dollars?” The customer paid for the pork and left the shop.
Ignat had taken a turn in the shop. His attention was drawn to the stand on which was some slice ham. He took a slice. In his hand appeared a bun. He gave a wink and his jaws started to move… He finished the ham and the bun and looked at my father.
- “…and now, I don’t mind some tea with sugar and lemon.”
- “I haven’t tea anymore.”
Ignat changed countenance, “Hmmm!” Without saying anything he left the shop. For several days he didn’t appear then unexpectedly was here again. My father covered with lids the ham and pork and put them away.
- “Well, all the tasty things are gone,” said Ignat displeasingly, “can you cut me a tasty slice?
- “For a dollar or two?” asked my father with irony.
- “on a fresh bun.” He gave my father a wink.
My father got out of temper: “Do you know chappie, here is not a Poor House! I am an invalid and have a family. The day in, the day out I am always here. And you! Healthy like a bull and don’t do anything. Shame on you!”
Ignat jumped up as if he was bitten by a snake. He face turned red. “You just wait! I’ll never forget this. I’ll show you who I am!” hissed he and slammed the door. After several days in the local newspaper appeared an article:
“Speculator is on the top of his activity!”
In his note, Ignat poured on the head of my father the whole slup-tub, representing him as a vampire who sucked out he blood from the working people. My father sent straight on the reputation to the paper stating the Ignat’s accusations are nothing else but insinuation and defamation.
Soon from the Department of Security appeared two officers for the investigation of Ignat’s accusations. My arents invited them to the dining room. On the table appeared a bottle of moonshine and tasty deserts. The security men did not find anything wrong in the activity of my father and left us with best wishes.
***
Two of my mates, John and Max told me that Ignat informed the security organs that Max’s father was dealing with golden and other precious objects on the black market and wrote about him in the newspaper. Max’s father was arrested.
- “We’re going to give him a rap on his snout!” said John. “Do you join us?”
I couldn’t refuse. We started to watch Ignat. He lived not far away from the centre in one of the side streets. There were neither shutter nor curtain on his street window and could clearly see the profile of his face when he under the light of a petrol lamp was sitting at the table.
- “I’m gonna give him a box in the ear with a rock.” Said Max
Next evening we went to Ignat’s lodging. It was light in his room, the window was open and he was sitting at the table and writing. Max took out of his bag a solid piece of rock and with all his strength has thrown it towards Ignat’s cheek. We quickly disappeared. Some time after I saw Ignat at the street, one of his cheeks was blue with noticeable traces of scratches.
- “You deserved that!” I thought.
***
The health of my mother started to worry us much. Emotional stress of the last years hurt seriously her. Unexpected epidemic of typhoid fever started to rage in the town and she became a victim of it. For all of us it was oppressing unforgettable nightmare…
We buried her at the local cemetery. In front of her tomb we planted her favourite tree – white acacia.
At the very edge of this suburb we bought a house which was on a big block of land and had a large shed. Soon four goats, 20 hens and two roosters appeared in the yard. My duty was to take the goats to the pasture and help mother to milk them.
At the beginning I was scared of the goats; it seamed to me that they any moment can attack me, but soon they turned to be friendly. Specially one old goat amused me which got the habit to suck out milk from her own udder. I called her “Milk-Pail.” Soon, we sold her.
Opposite us, over the road, lived the teacher, “Sergey Petrovich.” He had a son, “Victor,” about the same age as I. hey kept three goats and Victor used to drive them for pasture. Soon we decided to take our goats to pasture together.
- “I’ll show you a new place for pasturing.” Informed Victor.
- “Where is it?” I asked.
- “Soon we’ll approach it.”
We brought the goats up to the end of the field. Behind it was a steep bluff after which extended a smooth place covered with reeds and sedge and joined to the mountain by the stream, Belaya. Behind the stream raised a hillock covered with the dense green of trees.A good beaten footpath was running down and we directed our goats thee. Here were more variegated herbs, water and the shadow from the sun and rain. The goats soon took their fill, laid comfortably down and started their chewing (rumination).
- “Let’s go to the river,” suggested Victor, “can you swim?”
- “Never tried.”
- “Try! The river here is not very deep.”
We took our clothes off. Victor was the first to go into the water and started to swim… I didn’t take the risk to follow him and stumbled close to the shore.
- “What kind of chap are you, if you can’t swim?” remarked Victor, “Well, I’ll teach you!”
We came out of the water and laid down on the sand.
- “Well, well, can you read and write?” asked Victor.
- “And what do you think, of course I can.”
- “Who taught you?”
- “My father!”
- “But… he’s not a teacher...”
- “So what? He taught me and that is that!”
We dressed ourselves and Victor started to make me familiar with the details of this unusual place. Between steep and overgrowth was a well beaten path. On the vertical wall of the steep now here, now there were seen round openings. Suddenly over our heads rapidly passed by, as it seemed to me, swallows and in seconds disappeared in these openings.
- “Swallows?” exclaimed I.
- “They call them here, bullfinches.”
We continued to walk along the footpath. Victor pointed with his finger a dark opening in the cliff.
- “A huge cave! They say it was dug out during the conquering of the Caucuses by the Russians. We can use it for out goats when it is raining… and here,” continued Victor, “is a swamp, always covered with cassocks. There live some carp, but to catch them is almost impossible. They have around so many different foods and attract them with something else is not easy.”
The day was declining and the goats didn’t show any sign to go home.
- “Let’s move!” said Victor.
We directed our steps to the goats.
“Ei! Have a look!”
Victor pointed to a bird’s nest under a bush, which was, it seemed to me, full of spotted little eggs. I bowed down and stretched my hand to get one of the eggs. Suddenly, the eggs gave a start and threw themselves towards my hand!?!
IN the twinkling of an eye I have drawn back my hand and saw a snake’s head with widely opened jaws and infuriously moving tongue. I jumped away in horror. Victor, who had a stick in his hand, rushed to the snake but it in a trice disappeared into the dense overgrowth of weeds…
- “Well! Where did that come from,” wondering I, “the nest is empty now!”
- “ Illusion and nothing else! The snake simply coiled itself up in an empty nest and fell asleep and you have disturbed its dream.” remarked Victor.
- “I see!”
We started to drive our goats home. At home mother was terrified when she heard about the incident with the snake.
- “ No more there!” shouted she, “no! no!”
My father tried to quiet her. “ We have to get more information about this spot. Victor told me that he drove his goats there before and nothing happened!”
- “It does not mean that there are no snakes there!”
- “So what!? One should be careful!”
Soon an old peasant started to take the goats for pasturing. He accepted ours too. My father put me on the study. Every day I spent six hours studying under his supervision, Russian Language and Literature, History, Zoology, Math, English and German. Sergej Petrovich, the teacher, who lived over the road helped us with text books and examined me from time to time.
Soon after my father called to me and said, “A new job for you, son!”
- “ What is it dad?”
- “ First listen to me attendfully,” he gave me a wink.
“Yesterday, “ started he, “ I sat on a bench in the park. An elderly chap sat down beside me. Then he picked up from the ground a couple of cigarette butts, pinched out the tobacco, and using a piece of newspaper, made a cigarette.
- “Have you got any matches?” he asked.
- “Yes sure.” I pulled from my pocket the box of matches and lit his cigarette.
- “That may be a way to get some cigarettes from now. “ remarked I.
- “ Don’t see any other way at the present time. “ he agreed.
He inhaled the smoke of his cigarette and looked at me.
- “ Last year my neighbour,” said he, “got 50 boxes of cigarette cases from the factory, which was closed. He put them in the shed aiming to use them. He tried to grow tobacco in his garden but could not get any seeds of good tobacco. Then he tried to use mahorka[1] to stuff the cigarette cases, but the paper of the cases was too thin for the mahorka which tore the paper casings to tatters every time he tried to stuff them.” The old man finished his cigarette and threw away the butt with a flick. “It is really hard to get new tobacco and no one is interested in the cases and they occupy the whole corner of his shed. He told me he was going to burn them.”
- “Bring me to him,” ask my father, “where does he live?”
- “Not far away from here. If you like, let’s go now.”
Soon we approached a small wooden house and knocked on the door. The door opened and we were met by a bearded, middle-aged man who seemed glad to meet us.
- I am interested in your cigarette cases and want to buy half of the,” said my father, “how much would you charge?”
- “ Not very much,” he cast a look at the father, “but, if you would take all of them, they’ll cost you nothing. I just want to get rid of them!”
Next day I made several trips to bring the boxes home. I started to hunt for cigarette butts all around the town. Only a few days were not very successful, especially when it was raining. Usually at the end of the week I had about 50-60 cigarettes which I packed in colour paper, the top of each pack was decorated with some attractive illustration and unusual name, and they were sold like hotcakes. It was a very good income to cover my educational expenses.
Maykop was still in the hands of the Whites though the front was moving irresistibly to the town and it happened…
It was declining towards evening. One heard the speedy stamp of horses. We hurried to the window and saw riders with unsheathed sabres, who in sweeping gallop hurried away.
It was Budjony’s cavalry[2]. The town without resistance came to the hands of the Reds. Soon after that the door to our house opened widely and on the threshold appeared tow of Budjony’s men.- “Come in.” invited them my mother.
One of them cast angry looks at my father, who was sitting at the table.- “You didn’t even move from your place to greet us!”
- “I am an invalid. I cannot walk.”
- “How did it happen?”
- “During the war. Germans crippled me.”
- “Sit down comrades!” invited them my mother, “I have got here a little bit of lard, bread, pickled tomatoes and cucumbers, and can make some fried eggs for you… that’s all I can offer you.” said my mother.
The lanky one smiled, “Don’t worry, we have got something too.” He pulled from his side bag a small bundle and unwrapped it. “Here are some slices of cooked pork and sausages and a bottle of moonshine.”
My mother put all these on a plate.
- “For us it will be quite enough to make a short snack,” said the lanky one, “don’t worry about the eggs!”
The second one, a long-necked with pocked-marked face, opened the bottle. My mother got from the cupboard two glasses.
- “And what about you?” he gazed t my parents.
- “We don’t drink,” said my mother, “we both have trouble with our liver.”
- “Why to draw attention to that?” The long-neck shook his head and filled the glasses. They started to drink and take the snack and recollecting some military episodes. Lanky’s gaze attracted a part of the floor close to the oven which was not completely dry.
- “And what from us have you hidden there?” asked Lanky.
- “Not from you,” replied my father, “you know yourself the front was moving up and down…”
- “Oh. Yes. Wis is there?”
- “A couple of golden things.”
Lanky approached the clay cover, unsheathed his sword and started with the tip of it to dig out the clay. Soon in his hands appeared a tin box. He opened it and poured out its contents on the table. Here were a golden watch with a chain, several brushes, rings and a dozen of silver spoons.
- “Well, well!” remarked Lanky, “we take with us the watch and two silver spoons, the rest is yours!”
My father just shrugged his shoulders.
- “Now, we go for a sleep,” said Lanky, “and early in the morning on the saddles again! Good night and all the best.”
They went out and directed their steps to the shed.
***
In my memory imposed the arrival of my father’s friend, Ivor and his wife Nura who were regularly terrorised by the Reds. They decided to live in Maykop and frequently visited us.
***
Once we heard a strange noise behind the windows. Looking through the windows we have seen an irritated crowd of people hurrying toward the rubbish dump.
- “What’s going on here?” I asked a chap.
- “Yesterday, in the night, they executed here a Kazak captain and a girl, “said the chap, “the relatives of the captain got the permission to dig him out and take his body away.”
- “And what about the girl?” I asked - They were in the same grave. He shrugged his shoulders.
Four men pulled out of the grave the weighty body of the captain. Two buckets of water appeared. The captain’s body was washed from the soil off and put on the droshky. A woman covered the body with a riding cloak.Tears were running over her cheeks.
- “My dear brother…” whispered she.
Two men started throwing earth into the grave, not drawing any attention to the girl’s body. The droshky moved toward the town under escort of the agitated mob.
- “And what for the girl was shot!?” revolted a stubby chap.
- “Maybe because she didn’t want to go to bed with the commissar,” tried to explain another one.
- “God rest her soul.” Remarked a woman.
-“It is beyond the human understanding,” raised against and elderly man,” to shoot the people in the rubbish dump.
- “Maybe our turn will come soon and they’ll put us here too!” remarked a man in a cappy and spat angrily aside.
- “They hang every morning in front of the government building a lit of people whom they executed in the night.” Said a young chap. “This morning there were eight people on the list. One of them was my schoolmate.”
In the town the people started to go their own way. Soon disappeared the droshky, too.
***
Once at the tea time, Ivor asked my father, “Why don’t you try to get a pension?”
- “I thought about that,” answered my father, “but they only give the pensions to those who used to work at least 25 years long on the service of the other people, but I have worked all my life only for myself.”
- “Why to worry about that?” remarked Ivor, “I and Nura could officially state that you worked. Who at the time would check? Almost all the documents disappeared in the revolution.”
- “Good idea!” exclaimed my mother.
The next day Ivor and Nura went to the solicitor and made statement that they knew my father more than 25 years working for other people. After the copy of the statement was received, father applied for the pension. He has given me the copy of the statement together with the petition and I directed myself to the department of security.
The official read several times the copy of the statement and the petition, and folded his lips. Actually for him it was something new. “Come back in two weeks!” told he cold. In a fortnight I have seen him once more. It was clear to us that without bribery we cannot go far away. Next day early in the morning my father handed me a solid envelope with the Official’s name on it. “Go son and hand this envelope to the official personally,” said my father.
In a half of hour I was already at the Official’s residence. He lived in a wooden house with a high basement and wooden staircase led to his door. I knocked. The door opened. The official with astonishment looked at me. “Very important letter for you!” he took the letter and hold his tongue.
I turned around and started to walk down the staircase. In several days I was again with him, for this time he met me very kind. “Everything is in order” pronounced he in a friendly voice, “your father’ll get pension from beginning of this month. Here are some instructions which can be useful for you.” He gave me a small booklet.
The pension was very small an live on it was impossible but, in the instructive booklet was pointed out that, instead of pension, the pensioner can get a free licence for a small business and father straight away on applied for it. Again I was at the Official’s office and after some short formalities the licence was in my hand.
All of us started to fit one of the rooms for the shop and stock it with goods. Soon the shelves in our magazine were full of different kinds of foods. It was not the problem as NEP[3] just started. My father and I would use “Kosja” and droshky to go to the centre of the town to get goods for our shop.
In the shop were working my parents and Lidia by turns, our shop, only one side facing the street with a gate and a wicket. Once at dawn Lidia waked all of us up; “Get up! Quickly!” shouted she in a worried voice: “they have robbed us! The wall is broken through!”
We jumped from our beds, threw on our shoulders anything which came to hand and rushed to the shop. On the floor of the magazine were scattered in all directions food. One of the barrels with pickled herring was laying on a side and several herring were on the floor. Not far from it some sausage was crushed under the feet.
In the yard was a big hole. We picked our way through and saw the gate opened which was swinging by the wind. “I told many times,” remarked my mother, “we have to get a dog…that would not have happened if we had!” Almost a third of our goods were taken or destroyed.
We had been working day and night to bring the shop in order and get for its shelves new goods. It was a blow for all of us! Little by little everything came to normal and even a black dog with white rhomb on its forehead appeared in the yard. He was still young but barked loud. My mother called him, “Diamond.”
***
Once in the afternoon approached a velocipedist.[4] On him was a blue shirt and scarlet sleeveless sports garment. He entered the shop and called himself the local propagandist, “Ignat Hinara”.- “How are you here?” asked he.
- “More or less… why?”
- “Nothing. Just seen your shop and seceded to come in and talk about international situation. Do you read newspapers?”
- “Sometimes…”
-“That’s good!”
A customer came in. “What can I do for you?” my father asked. “Some pork… How much for two dollars?” The customer paid for the pork and left the shop.
Ignat had taken a turn in the shop. His attention was drawn to the stand on which was some slice ham. He took a slice. In his hand appeared a bun. He gave a wink and his jaws started to move… He finished the ham and the bun and looked at my father.
- “…and now, I don’t mind some tea with sugar and lemon.”
- “I haven’t tea anymore.”
Ignat changed countenance, “Hmmm!” Without saying anything he left the shop. For several days he didn’t appear then unexpectedly was here again. My father covered with lids the ham and pork and put them away.
- “Well, all the tasty things are gone,” said Ignat displeasingly, “can you cut me a tasty slice?
- “For a dollar or two?” asked my father with irony.
- “on a fresh bun.” He gave my father a wink.
My father got out of temper: “Do you know chappie, here is not a Poor House! I am an invalid and have a family. The day in, the day out I am always here. And you! Healthy like a bull and don’t do anything. Shame on you!”
Ignat jumped up as if he was bitten by a snake. He face turned red. “You just wait! I’ll never forget this. I’ll show you who I am!” hissed he and slammed the door. After several days in the local newspaper appeared an article:
“Speculator is on the top of his activity!”
In his note, Ignat poured on the head of my father the whole slup-tub, representing him as a vampire who sucked out he blood from the working people. My father sent straight on the reputation to the paper stating the Ignat’s accusations are nothing else but insinuation and defamation.
Soon from the Department of Security appeared two officers for the investigation of Ignat’s accusations. My arents invited them to the dining room. On the table appeared a bottle of moonshine and tasty deserts. The security men did not find anything wrong in the activity of my father and left us with best wishes.
***
Two of my mates, John and Max told me that Ignat informed the security organs that Max’s father was dealing with golden and other precious objects on the black market and wrote about him in the newspaper. Max’s father was arrested.
- “We’re going to give him a rap on his snout!” said John. “Do you join us?”
I couldn’t refuse. We started to watch Ignat. He lived not far away from the centre in one of the side streets. There were neither shutter nor curtain on his street window and could clearly see the profile of his face when he under the light of a petrol lamp was sitting at the table.
- “I’m gonna give him a box in the ear with a rock.” Said Max
Next evening we went to Ignat’s lodging. It was light in his room, the window was open and he was sitting at the table and writing. Max took out of his bag a solid piece of rock and with all his strength has thrown it towards Ignat’s cheek. We quickly disappeared. Some time after I saw Ignat at the street, one of his cheeks was blue with noticeable traces of scratches.
- “You deserved that!” I thought.
***
The health of my mother started to worry us much. Emotional stress of the last years hurt seriously her. Unexpected epidemic of typhoid fever started to rage in the town and she became a victim of it. For all of us it was oppressing unforgettable nightmare…
We buried her at the local cemetery. In front of her tomb we planted her favourite tree – white acacia.
Horrible, ominous days were approaching. NEP irresistibly was running down. Shops in the town became empty. We were forced to close our shop too…
Once, walking around the suburbs of the town I have approached a small settlement. I was thirsty and entered a house, which was close to the road to ask for a glass of water and knocked on the door. Nobody answered. Not far away from the house, in the neglected yard I have seen a small spring running down the slope of the yard. Using my palms I slaked my thirst.
- “It seems,” thought I, “the house is empty. Nobody lives there.” On the road home I faced a man who returned from the town. We started to talk…
- “Anybody live there, in the house on the corner?” asked I.
- “Better not to ask,” he hopelessly swung his hands, “… before, a couple with three children used to live there but one night they disappeared, God only knows where!” he swang his hands again. “From thirty farmers in our settlement,” went he on, “live now here only twelve. The rest were sent to Siberia!”
We wished each other all the best and continued on our way. Next day my father and I were at the abandoned house. The house was not locked and we easily entered it. Everywhere was chaos and disorder… evidently after the arrest of the inhabitants the house was plundered.
- “It is an excellent place for a poultry farm,” remarked my father, “but before start anything we have to consult with local authorities.”
The local bailiff used to work in the town and was here only during off days. “Why do you worry about,” remarked his wife, “no one devil cares about that. Occupy the house and that’s all!”
We started to examine the farm. “Event the shed here is good for poultry,” remarked my father, “but it needs repair.”
- “Its no problem, I can repair it!” said I.
Next day we saw the local bailiff.
- ´Come in and do anything you like there, providing your origin is proletariat,” he told, “nobody will be in your way.”
Next day I started to repair the shed making it adaptable to the poultry farm. Soon one could see in the yard hens and chickens. There were altogether sixty. My father bought ten bags of old wheat to feed the chickens and as reserve for the future.
I had in my disposal two goats and a dog, “Koshtanka.” Every day thirty eggs were collected and once a week fifteen dozens of them were sold to the town restaurant and hospital.
Once, late at night I have heard a strange noise at the shed. I rushed there. The moon was shining brightly…I have seen Koshtanka and a fox which were fighting. Soon the fox fell down on the back and Koshtanka made the end to it… grew in two fox’s throat.
Soon the order of the provincial government was issued about delivery to the state stores all surpluses of grain in private possession – voluntarily, otherwise will be confiscated. Soon the commission of five men appeared at my far. They discovered my reserves of wheat and ordered to deliver it immediately to the State fund.
I revolted…
- “…and what will I give my chooks?! I have to feed them before they lay eggs!”
- “Go to hell with your chooks!” hissed the Soviet Official, “you must be in a collective farm and not put sticks in our wheels!”
My wheat was confiscated without compensation, and my father decided to finish with the farm. He sold all the stock to the restaurant. In the evening appeared a man who started slaughtering the fowl once it went to roost.
Next morning around the chopping block was spread the congealed pool of blood and scattered feathers… that all what was left of my poultry farm… and the door for private initiative was closed[5]. My father sent a boy with droshky. We loaded on all my belongings and off he went to the town and I, Koshtanka and two goats followed him.
***
Once at the tea time my father told, “We have to go away from here.”
- “Where?” asked Lidia.
- “Anywhere. At least where the climate is mild and there is a chance to catch fish.”
- “Where is such a paradise?” wondered Lidia.
- “Black Sea… Anapa, for instance.”
- “Well, we have to sell first our house, and it is very bad time for that.”
- “Never mind. Let’s try!”
We made advertisement in the newspaper and on a plate that was nailed to the house. One month passed by – nobody inquired.
Lidia was in desperation, “We’ll never sell it!”
- “We still have some money,” appeased her my father.
We stared to prepare ourselves for moving. Our neighbour, the teacher, promised to inform us if any buyer appears. Soon we left for Anapa.
__________
[1] A kind of tobacco of inferior quality.
[2] C.M. (Semen) Budyonny: “Civil war broke out in 1918, and Budyonny organized the Red Cavalry force in the Don region, which eventually became the 1st Cavalry Army. This army played an important role in winning the civil war for the Bolsheviks, driving the White General Anton Deniken back from Moscow.” Source: http://www.blinkbits.com/en_wikifeeds/Semen_Budyonny
[3] NEP: New Economic Policy
[4] Cyclist. Velocipede was an early term for bicycle.
[5] This was the first time my grandfather lived on his own and ran his own operation. [Ed.]
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.
- “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.
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.
***
Chapter 6 – Teacher’s Institute
Since some time I started to worry about my formal education. Once looking through the newspaper, my attention was drawn to the advertisement of the provincial Teacher’s Institute about the availability of the correspondence tuition.
Straight on I wrote them and asked for the conditions of the admission. They informed me, ad afar as I can produce evidence about my previous study I can only be admitted to ten month preliminary course before I’ll be available for the Institute training.
I was not satisfied with the answer as I felt that I am prepared for the Institute study. During several years my father has given me a good educational training at home. In spite of that I filled in the form for the preliminary training and sent it to the institute.
So after that I got the letter from the Institute the fire broke out and all students’ files were burned without any traces. I was invited to the new office to give the information about myself and bring a photo suitable for the student’s document. In the new office I was met by the secretary, a young, interesting, talkative girl.
- “And were is now the secretary who was in the old office?” Inquired I.
- “Maria? Poor girl! She had a stroke after the fire broke out in the office and is now in hospital.”
- “I see… you say all my papers were destroyed by fire?”
- “All! You have to give us information about yourself once more!”
- “I don’t mind.”
She started to fill in the inquiry form.
- “Were you admitted to the preliminary training or straight on to the Institute course?”
- “The Institute course, of course!”
- “At what faculty you were admitted?”
- “Russian Language and Literature.”
In the questionnaire there were fifteen mire questions to be answered including 5 sub-questions about social origin.
- “Have you brought your photo for the student document?”
- “Yes, of course” I put it on the secretary’s desk.
She filled in a student card, glued on it my photo, put the institute seal on it and handed it to me.
- “It seems that’s all!” pronounced she.
- “One minute please! I should like to have a copy of the questionnaire officially affirmed by the institute as my original documents were destroyed here by fire.”
- “Oh, that is no problem!” exclaimed she, “I’ll type over the questionnaire straight on.” She finished typing, put the Institute seal on it and handed it to me. She smiled. “I wish you all the best!” pronounced she friendly.
I hurried up home. Here I have approached father who was sitting at the table and reading. “Here you are!” exclaimed I and put my student card and questionnaire in front of him.
- “Unbelievable!” exclaimed he, “you are now a student of the teacher’s institute! How have you succeeded that?” I told him how it happened. Lidia came in an after learning about my luck embraced me..
Soon the conference in connection with the beginning of the school year started. The Director of the Institute pronounced an agitating speech pointing out that only the soviet system can secure for our young people wide possibility to study by correspondence and continue their work.
Then appeared the Professor of the Historical and Dialectical Materialism, who pointed out that his subjects are leading and without fundamental knowledge of these subjects the education of young generation is absolutely impossible. The other lecturers were introduced to the students. Director wished us luck in our home study. In the office we got free railway cards an went home.
Considerable part of time I devoted to my Institute study. My father, as usually, helped me and all the required essays wee written, sent to the Institute an returned with good marks. The oral examinations were also successful
The second year was more difficult. It required more time and attention. Such subjects as Historical and Dialectical Materialism, Hegel’s and Kant’s Philosophy excited doubt and made us often pensive. In spite of difficulties all written essays were successful and oral examinations too.
At the end of the second year the Institute was informed by the Ministry of Education that due to the drastic shortage of teachers, the study course in the Institute shortened from three normal years to two only, and students who successfully completed two years study are entitled to the Diploma.
When I entered the office to get my Diploma, the secretary, as usually, courteously smiled…
- “The Party Organiser wants to talk to you,” she said.
Straight on I directed myself to the party organiser. He was sitting at the table looking at me gloomy.
- “Unfortunately, we cannot give you your diploma,” pronounced he.
- “”What do you mean?!” exclaimed I.
- “We have got information that your father was a Colonel in the White Army. Besides that, your face doesn’t look like the most proletarian ones…”
- “Colonel in the White Army!?!” exclaimed I, “What else?! My father is a pensioner and to your information, pensions are not issued to white colonels!” I looked in very face of his – “and as concerns my face, true enough it doesn’t look like yours. Is that my fault?! Besides that, I have got the questionnaire, officially affirmed by the Institute where clearly it is written that I am of proletarian origin!”
The Party Organiser started to drum with his fingers upon the desk.
- “I’ll check this business,” pronounced he gloomily, “and now go get your Diploma!” he lifted the receiver of his telephone.
- “Is it everything ok there? Asked the secretary when came into the office.
- “No worries at all!”
- “Here is your Diploma,” said she in a friendly voice. It was rolled and tied with a narrow red bend. “I wish you all the best!” she stretched me her hand.
My father and Lidia waited for me. The table was already set. On it was a fried hen in the appetising sauce, pies, toast, plenty of vegetables and a bottle of vodka. I unrolled my Diploma.
- “Oh! Oh!” exclaimed my father, “Our boy is now a teacher of secondary school!”
Lidia have looked through my Diploma with great interest and filled in the glasses with vodka. We lifted them up for my success…
The next day I had a serious talk to my father informing him about my conversation with the Party Organiser. We considered the situation from all possible points and came to the conclusion that for both of us it would be better ,if I start my work somewhere far away from her so that it would not be easy for party jackals to trace me.
- “Any other way out?” asked I
My father became thoughtful… then told, ”First of all you have not to worry about me and Lidia. We’ll survive as we have done it before, but you start your own life, son, and that’s the main thing!” my father cast his look at me, “I don’t think you’ll be happy in Russia.”
Lidia nodes her head.
- “What have I to do then?”
- “Escape somewhere from this diabolical country!”
- “I thought already about that… It seams to me that the Caspian Sea would be the answer. I could get work in a school, let us say in Baku and wait for a chance to escape to Persia…”
- “It’s a brilliant idea!”
- “If so, I’ll act in this direction!”
A new academic year was approaching and I started to pack in. Lidia with the tears in her eyes helped me t put into my valise the things of the first necessity which I have to take with me. Then she left for the neighbouring room. She returned holding on her hand a small attractive box.
- “Here,” she said, “there in this box are several items of jewellery which could help you in your plans.”
I opened it. There were a golden bracelet adorned with precious stones, several earrings and rings.“Take care of then them and use them in case of urgency. That is from your mother’s inheritance…” said Lidia.
Straight on I wrote them and asked for the conditions of the admission. They informed me, ad afar as I can produce evidence about my previous study I can only be admitted to ten month preliminary course before I’ll be available for the Institute training.
I was not satisfied with the answer as I felt that I am prepared for the Institute study. During several years my father has given me a good educational training at home. In spite of that I filled in the form for the preliminary training and sent it to the institute.
So after that I got the letter from the Institute the fire broke out and all students’ files were burned without any traces. I was invited to the new office to give the information about myself and bring a photo suitable for the student’s document. In the new office I was met by the secretary, a young, interesting, talkative girl.
- “And were is now the secretary who was in the old office?” Inquired I.
- “Maria? Poor girl! She had a stroke after the fire broke out in the office and is now in hospital.”
- “I see… you say all my papers were destroyed by fire?”
- “All! You have to give us information about yourself once more!”
- “I don’t mind.”
She started to fill in the inquiry form.
- “Were you admitted to the preliminary training or straight on to the Institute course?”
- “The Institute course, of course!”
- “At what faculty you were admitted?”
- “Russian Language and Literature.”
In the questionnaire there were fifteen mire questions to be answered including 5 sub-questions about social origin.
- “Have you brought your photo for the student document?”
- “Yes, of course” I put it on the secretary’s desk.
She filled in a student card, glued on it my photo, put the institute seal on it and handed it to me.
- “It seems that’s all!” pronounced she.
- “One minute please! I should like to have a copy of the questionnaire officially affirmed by the institute as my original documents were destroyed here by fire.”
- “Oh, that is no problem!” exclaimed she, “I’ll type over the questionnaire straight on.” She finished typing, put the Institute seal on it and handed it to me. She smiled. “I wish you all the best!” pronounced she friendly.
I hurried up home. Here I have approached father who was sitting at the table and reading. “Here you are!” exclaimed I and put my student card and questionnaire in front of him.
- “Unbelievable!” exclaimed he, “you are now a student of the teacher’s institute! How have you succeeded that?” I told him how it happened. Lidia came in an after learning about my luck embraced me..
Soon the conference in connection with the beginning of the school year started. The Director of the Institute pronounced an agitating speech pointing out that only the soviet system can secure for our young people wide possibility to study by correspondence and continue their work.
Then appeared the Professor of the Historical and Dialectical Materialism, who pointed out that his subjects are leading and without fundamental knowledge of these subjects the education of young generation is absolutely impossible. The other lecturers were introduced to the students. Director wished us luck in our home study. In the office we got free railway cards an went home.
Considerable part of time I devoted to my Institute study. My father, as usually, helped me and all the required essays wee written, sent to the Institute an returned with good marks. The oral examinations were also successful
The second year was more difficult. It required more time and attention. Such subjects as Historical and Dialectical Materialism, Hegel’s and Kant’s Philosophy excited doubt and made us often pensive. In spite of difficulties all written essays were successful and oral examinations too.
At the end of the second year the Institute was informed by the Ministry of Education that due to the drastic shortage of teachers, the study course in the Institute shortened from three normal years to two only, and students who successfully completed two years study are entitled to the Diploma.
When I entered the office to get my Diploma, the secretary, as usually, courteously smiled…
- “The Party Organiser wants to talk to you,” she said.
Straight on I directed myself to the party organiser. He was sitting at the table looking at me gloomy.
- “Unfortunately, we cannot give you your diploma,” pronounced he.
- “”What do you mean?!” exclaimed I.
- “We have got information that your father was a Colonel in the White Army. Besides that, your face doesn’t look like the most proletarian ones…”
- “Colonel in the White Army!?!” exclaimed I, “What else?! My father is a pensioner and to your information, pensions are not issued to white colonels!” I looked in very face of his – “and as concerns my face, true enough it doesn’t look like yours. Is that my fault?! Besides that, I have got the questionnaire, officially affirmed by the Institute where clearly it is written that I am of proletarian origin!”
The Party Organiser started to drum with his fingers upon the desk.
- “I’ll check this business,” pronounced he gloomily, “and now go get your Diploma!” he lifted the receiver of his telephone.
- “Is it everything ok there? Asked the secretary when came into the office.
- “No worries at all!”
- “Here is your Diploma,” said she in a friendly voice. It was rolled and tied with a narrow red bend. “I wish you all the best!” she stretched me her hand.
My father and Lidia waited for me. The table was already set. On it was a fried hen in the appetising sauce, pies, toast, plenty of vegetables and a bottle of vodka. I unrolled my Diploma.
- “Oh! Oh!” exclaimed my father, “Our boy is now a teacher of secondary school!”
Lidia have looked through my Diploma with great interest and filled in the glasses with vodka. We lifted them up for my success…
The next day I had a serious talk to my father informing him about my conversation with the Party Organiser. We considered the situation from all possible points and came to the conclusion that for both of us it would be better ,if I start my work somewhere far away from her so that it would not be easy for party jackals to trace me.
- “Any other way out?” asked I
My father became thoughtful… then told, ”First of all you have not to worry about me and Lidia. We’ll survive as we have done it before, but you start your own life, son, and that’s the main thing!” my father cast his look at me, “I don’t think you’ll be happy in Russia.”
Lidia nodes her head.
- “What have I to do then?”
- “Escape somewhere from this diabolical country!”
- “I thought already about that… It seams to me that the Caspian Sea would be the answer. I could get work in a school, let us say in Baku and wait for a chance to escape to Persia…”
- “It’s a brilliant idea!”
- “If so, I’ll act in this direction!”
A new academic year was approaching and I started to pack in. Lidia with the tears in her eyes helped me t put into my valise the things of the first necessity which I have to take with me. Then she left for the neighbouring room. She returned holding on her hand a small attractive box.
- “Here,” she said, “there in this box are several items of jewellery which could help you in your plans.”
I opened it. There were a golden bracelet adorned with precious stones, several earrings and rings.“Take care of then them and use them in case of urgency. That is from your mother’s inheritance…” said Lidia.
Chapter 7 – Baku, Azerbaijan
Soon I was in Baku and stopped in a hotel. Next morning I directed myself to the Education Department. After getting the number of the cabinet of the employment chief I knocked at the door.
- “Come in!” heard I in a loud voice.
At the table in the cabinet was sitting a middle-aged man. On his right cheek was a big, brown ward. He spoke Russian. After learning that I seek a position of a lecturer, he told with animation in his voice, “we urgently need lecturers in all subjects in our schools.”
I produced my diploma and questionnaire with the personal data. He looked through and nodded assent. “We can direct you to one of the secondary schools of our town,” pronounced he and pressed a button. In entered a woman with a typical Azerbaijani face. In her hand were a block-note and a pencil.
The boss handed her a sheet of paper on which he put the required information about me.
- “Type for the comrade,” he tipped a wink toward me, “the directions to the secondary school named after Rose Luxembourg, as a lecturer of Russian Language and Literature.”
The secretary nodded her head and left the cabinet. The boss of the personnel department was interested in my family and the reason why I left the beautiful sea resort Anapa, where I easily could get a position of the secondary school teacher, for Baku impregnated with naphta.
I explained it was my interest in the Azerbaijan people and the language. The secretary came in and put on the table my direction to the school. He signed it without reading and handed it to me together with my diploma and the questionnaire.
- “I wish you luck!” pronounced he and shook my hand. The secretary with sympathy, smiled.
In the school I was met by the Director, a bald-patched man in hid forties with glasses that didn’t harmonise with his wide-cheeked face. In his mouth was a smoking pipe. He was already informed about my arrival to the school.
- “So, you come to us for work?” asked he.
- “Yes, Comrade Director!”
He stretched me his hand, “I’m glad to meet you.” He pointed to a young man with Azerbaijani structure face.
- “Make acquaintance – ‘Ignat Glushak’ He is responsible for the academic part of our work. He is also the permanent correspondent of our town newspaper, ‘On Lenin’s Footsteps’.” We shook our hands.
The bell rung… The half hour break in lecturing began. In the office started to appear lecturers and the Director introduced them to me.
The door opened and in came a middle-aged woman with shortly cut ginger hair and smoking a cigarette between he fingers. “Zoja Potapovna – lecturer in Math and Physics. She is also the lecturer in Russian language and Literature,” introduced the Director. She smiled.
The Director lighted his pipe and drew my attention to a young man who was staying aside. His face was emotionless. In his mouth was a cigarette made of a piece of newspaper and mahorka. “That is our lecturer in political science and the district propagandist, Comrade Drach.” He gave me a wink.
In came a young woman.
-“…and that is Nina Lookjanovna, the lecturer of Azerbaijani Language and Literature!”
She provokingly shook her head and looked at me, “Oh, that you a new lecturer! I have already heard about you! Glad to meet you.” She smiled…
In the office appeared an elderly man. His face was densely covered with bristle and his unusually big and red nose catched the eyes…”
- “Djaba – the lecturer in Chemistry and Biology.”
- “At last I can quietly drink a cup of tea,” pronounced he, “This morning my students were very eager for knowledge.”
- “Why is that?
- “…and what for is this? Dozens of witty questions!” He shook up his hands.
- “But these questions have nothing to do with chemistry of biology!” remarked I
- “You recon! And what about the educational work? Our aim is to educate our young generation, to explain them what is around us!” He looked at me with reproach. I shrugged my shoulders…
- “Here, for instance,” continued he exciting. “This morning one of my students asked me, ‘how to replace sugar with something else which has sweet properties too?’ his grandfather, for instance, started to drink his tea in this way…on a string he fastened a piece of real sugar to the ceiling over the table and looked at it any time he swallowed a gulp of tea…”
- “That is an idea!” exclaimed the Director, “that is the way to avoid the shortage of sugar in or country!”
- “I’ll write to the Minister of Supply about that,” pronounced Drach, “this method is worth to consider.”
The ring informed about the en of the lunch break and the lecturers one after another left the office. Next morning I started my duties in the school. Comrade Glushak handed me the file with the names of the students and their characteristics.
The bell rung. The Director and I entered the class, where supposed to be the lecture on Russian poet Vladimir Majakovsky. He introduced the students to me and left the class.
Soon after starting the lecture, I noticed that some students looked at me with hostility… I picked up from the file on random a name of a student and asked, “what can you tell me about the poet Majakovsky?”- “He was a Russian poet,” said the student.
- “Declaim one of his poems !”
- “I can’t. Nobody taught us to recite poetry.”
I noticed two hands lifted up.
- “You!” pointed I at a girl in glasses.
- “May I declaim his ‘Passport’?” asked she.
- “Certainly, go ahead!”
She declaimed it quite satisfactorily.
- “Excellent!” exclaimed I, “and now I want that you all together would declaim it.”
My suggestion provoked the students. There rose a hubbub of voices… “We don’t know the words!”
- “Let’s learn them now!” said I, “open your writing books and take your pencils. Get ready for dictation! Pay attention to my recital.”
I pronounced the poem with maximum expression and appropriate gestures.
- “Now, read the poem quietly to yourself!”
I watched the students. They got more and more overtaken with the spirit of the poem.
- “Now let’s declaim the poem altogether!”
- “Majakovsky’s ‘Passport’! thundered through the class…
I noticed that the door of the class was slightly opened and in glanced the Director’s face for a short moment. The declamation was suddenly over and the students cast their looks t me.
- “That is the way how to study poetry f Russian poets!” pronounced I, “will we continue in the same way?”
- “Yes! Yes! That’s what we want!” thundered around…
The ring rung, the academic hour was over… The Director and Educational Administrator congratulated me on with the success in one of the most difficult classes and expressed their hope that in all other classes I’ll be also successful with my unusual method of teaching. So I started my lecturing at a school at the Caspian Sea.
Twice I have wrote to my parents but didn’t get any answer. Later on our former neighbour informed me that my father died and Lidia left to Moscow to live with Nura. Since some time I gave myself up to the pub which was close to my flat.
Soon my attention was drawn to a young man in my age with a serious but pleasant face who used to appear from time to time in the pub after his work. I decided to approach him. His name was Robert. I got into a conversation with him.
This year he completed his study in the Fishery Institute and was going to follow his father who was Inspector with the Fisheries and Wildlife Department. Robert avoided political topics but soon I realised that he doesn’t like his surroundings and was looking for a chance to escape it.
- “Do you know Alec,” told he once, “I have completed my study in the Institute. I am now an Engineer, but believe me, I have no wish to start the work in such a rotten atmosphere. Everywhere you look around is Hell and nothing else!”
- “And the worse is,” remarked I, “there is no way out of it.
He cast his look at me, “You think so? Since some time I started more and more to think how to get out of this atmosphere.”
- “You think, Robert, it is possible?”
- “Nothing is impossible in our life.”
We emptied our glasses and started new cigarettes.
- “It seems to me,” pronounced Robert, “that we have many ideas in common, and if that is so, let’s act together.”
I nodded assent. “Have you any plan to act?”
He looked at my very face… “I have relatives in Italy…”
- “And I in Germany!” exclaimed I. “Have you any plans?”
- “Not really, but I have something on my mind. My uncle is a fish inspector and most of his time he spends on the sea. He has friends among the border guards both Russians and Persians. Of course we need some money to support our plans…”
- “I haven’t got enough money, but I have jewellery,” said I
- “That is even better than money,” Robert said, “I’ll introduce you to my uncle and we altogether will discuss that. I’ll come to you tomorrow and we go to my uncle.”
We finished our beer, lighted new cigarettes and left the pub. At home I have unstitched one of my pockets in the trousers and took out some jewellery hidden there.
- “It’ll be enough,” thought I, “for the purpose.”
Next morning Robert and I went to his uncle who was waiting for us. On the uncle’s table was a bottle of vodka and a plate with black caviar, smoked salmon and several slices of bread.
The uncle was a man of middle age, strong construction and volitional structure of face.
- “Be acquainted,” pronounced Robert, “my Uncle John, and this is Alex, my friend.
- “Sit down!” invited us to the table, John, “and feel as if you are in an American Restaurant!”
John filled in the glasses. “First let’s drink!” pronounced he and lifted up his glass. We emptied them and started to snack with the smoked salmon and caviar.
- “I understand” said John, looking at me, “that you and Robert are going to escape from Russia to Persia. Is that true?”
I nodded assent.
- “It is not easy,” remarked he, “still, I could help you. I am in friendly relations with the Captain of the border guard cutter and when he is on duty, specially in rain and fog, it is not a problem to cross the border. But true enough, who’ll take the risk without proper remuneration?” he cast his look at me. “Robert told me that you have got some jewellery… what is that?”
I put on the table the bracelet, two brooches and three rings, all with precious stones in. John examined them and nodded his head.
- “You think it will be enough to please the captain?” asked I.
- “I think so! He’ll send his confidential man to bring both of you on a sail over the border. His name is Grieg. He is a real sea jackal and knows all the inns and outs. We have already brought over the border several men with his help. Tomorrow I’ll be on the border and discuss about everything with the captain…And I leave with me your jewellery.”
- “Naturally!” I remarked.
***
The town Baku was behind us. The night was dark. The sharp wind drove our sailboat to the Persian border. Waves raised high from the boat… But one can already notice the obscure outlines of the shore. The sailboat with irresistible speed rushed toward them… suddenly the front of the boat struck the sand of the shore. Grieg quickly put down the sail and in a hurry left the boat…- “Here we are now on the Persian soil!” exclaimed Greig, “and that is that! Can’t help you anymore. All the best boys! And I’ll have to disappear from here as soon as possible.”
Grieg shook our hands, rushed to the boat and pushed it from the shore toward the sea… soon, he disappeared in darkness.
- “Come in!” heard I in a loud voice.
At the table in the cabinet was sitting a middle-aged man. On his right cheek was a big, brown ward. He spoke Russian. After learning that I seek a position of a lecturer, he told with animation in his voice, “we urgently need lecturers in all subjects in our schools.”
I produced my diploma and questionnaire with the personal data. He looked through and nodded assent. “We can direct you to one of the secondary schools of our town,” pronounced he and pressed a button. In entered a woman with a typical Azerbaijani face. In her hand were a block-note and a pencil.
The boss handed her a sheet of paper on which he put the required information about me.
- “Type for the comrade,” he tipped a wink toward me, “the directions to the secondary school named after Rose Luxembourg, as a lecturer of Russian Language and Literature.”
The secretary nodded her head and left the cabinet. The boss of the personnel department was interested in my family and the reason why I left the beautiful sea resort Anapa, where I easily could get a position of the secondary school teacher, for Baku impregnated with naphta.
I explained it was my interest in the Azerbaijan people and the language. The secretary came in and put on the table my direction to the school. He signed it without reading and handed it to me together with my diploma and the questionnaire.
- “I wish you luck!” pronounced he and shook my hand. The secretary with sympathy, smiled.
In the school I was met by the Director, a bald-patched man in hid forties with glasses that didn’t harmonise with his wide-cheeked face. In his mouth was a smoking pipe. He was already informed about my arrival to the school.
- “So, you come to us for work?” asked he.
- “Yes, Comrade Director!”
He stretched me his hand, “I’m glad to meet you.” He pointed to a young man with Azerbaijani structure face.
- “Make acquaintance – ‘Ignat Glushak’ He is responsible for the academic part of our work. He is also the permanent correspondent of our town newspaper, ‘On Lenin’s Footsteps’.” We shook our hands.
The bell rung… The half hour break in lecturing began. In the office started to appear lecturers and the Director introduced them to me.
The door opened and in came a middle-aged woman with shortly cut ginger hair and smoking a cigarette between he fingers. “Zoja Potapovna – lecturer in Math and Physics. She is also the lecturer in Russian language and Literature,” introduced the Director. She smiled.
The Director lighted his pipe and drew my attention to a young man who was staying aside. His face was emotionless. In his mouth was a cigarette made of a piece of newspaper and mahorka. “That is our lecturer in political science and the district propagandist, Comrade Drach.” He gave me a wink.
In came a young woman.
-“…and that is Nina Lookjanovna, the lecturer of Azerbaijani Language and Literature!”
She provokingly shook her head and looked at me, “Oh, that you a new lecturer! I have already heard about you! Glad to meet you.” She smiled…
In the office appeared an elderly man. His face was densely covered with bristle and his unusually big and red nose catched the eyes…”
- “Djaba – the lecturer in Chemistry and Biology.”
- “At last I can quietly drink a cup of tea,” pronounced he, “This morning my students were very eager for knowledge.”
- “Why is that?
- “…and what for is this? Dozens of witty questions!” He shook up his hands.
- “But these questions have nothing to do with chemistry of biology!” remarked I
- “You recon! And what about the educational work? Our aim is to educate our young generation, to explain them what is around us!” He looked at me with reproach. I shrugged my shoulders…
- “Here, for instance,” continued he exciting. “This morning one of my students asked me, ‘how to replace sugar with something else which has sweet properties too?’ his grandfather, for instance, started to drink his tea in this way…on a string he fastened a piece of real sugar to the ceiling over the table and looked at it any time he swallowed a gulp of tea…”
- “That is an idea!” exclaimed the Director, “that is the way to avoid the shortage of sugar in or country!”
- “I’ll write to the Minister of Supply about that,” pronounced Drach, “this method is worth to consider.”
The ring informed about the en of the lunch break and the lecturers one after another left the office. Next morning I started my duties in the school. Comrade Glushak handed me the file with the names of the students and their characteristics.
The bell rung. The Director and I entered the class, where supposed to be the lecture on Russian poet Vladimir Majakovsky. He introduced the students to me and left the class.
Soon after starting the lecture, I noticed that some students looked at me with hostility… I picked up from the file on random a name of a student and asked, “what can you tell me about the poet Majakovsky?”- “He was a Russian poet,” said the student.
- “Declaim one of his poems !”
- “I can’t. Nobody taught us to recite poetry.”
I noticed two hands lifted up.
- “You!” pointed I at a girl in glasses.
- “May I declaim his ‘Passport’?” asked she.
- “Certainly, go ahead!”
She declaimed it quite satisfactorily.
- “Excellent!” exclaimed I, “and now I want that you all together would declaim it.”
My suggestion provoked the students. There rose a hubbub of voices… “We don’t know the words!”
- “Let’s learn them now!” said I, “open your writing books and take your pencils. Get ready for dictation! Pay attention to my recital.”
I pronounced the poem with maximum expression and appropriate gestures.
- “Now, read the poem quietly to yourself!”
I watched the students. They got more and more overtaken with the spirit of the poem.
- “Now let’s declaim the poem altogether!”
- “Majakovsky’s ‘Passport’! thundered through the class…
I noticed that the door of the class was slightly opened and in glanced the Director’s face for a short moment. The declamation was suddenly over and the students cast their looks t me.
- “That is the way how to study poetry f Russian poets!” pronounced I, “will we continue in the same way?”
- “Yes! Yes! That’s what we want!” thundered around…
The ring rung, the academic hour was over… The Director and Educational Administrator congratulated me on with the success in one of the most difficult classes and expressed their hope that in all other classes I’ll be also successful with my unusual method of teaching. So I started my lecturing at a school at the Caspian Sea.
Twice I have wrote to my parents but didn’t get any answer. Later on our former neighbour informed me that my father died and Lidia left to Moscow to live with Nura. Since some time I gave myself up to the pub which was close to my flat.
Soon my attention was drawn to a young man in my age with a serious but pleasant face who used to appear from time to time in the pub after his work. I decided to approach him. His name was Robert. I got into a conversation with him.
This year he completed his study in the Fishery Institute and was going to follow his father who was Inspector with the Fisheries and Wildlife Department. Robert avoided political topics but soon I realised that he doesn’t like his surroundings and was looking for a chance to escape it.- “Do you know Alec,” told he once, “I have completed my study in the Institute. I am now an Engineer, but believe me, I have no wish to start the work in such a rotten atmosphere. Everywhere you look around is Hell and nothing else!”
- “And the worse is,” remarked I, “there is no way out of it.
He cast his look at me, “You think so? Since some time I started more and more to think how to get out of this atmosphere.”
- “You think, Robert, it is possible?”
- “Nothing is impossible in our life.”
We emptied our glasses and started new cigarettes.
- “It seems to me,” pronounced Robert, “that we have many ideas in common, and if that is so, let’s act together.”
I nodded assent. “Have you any plan to act?”
He looked at my very face… “I have relatives in Italy…”
- “And I in Germany!” exclaimed I. “Have you any plans?”
- “Not really, but I have something on my mind. My uncle is a fish inspector and most of his time he spends on the sea. He has friends among the border guards both Russians and Persians. Of course we need some money to support our plans…”
- “I haven’t got enough money, but I have jewellery,” said I
- “That is even better than money,” Robert said, “I’ll introduce you to my uncle and we altogether will discuss that. I’ll come to you tomorrow and we go to my uncle.”
We finished our beer, lighted new cigarettes and left the pub. At home I have unstitched one of my pockets in the trousers and took out some jewellery hidden there.
- “It’ll be enough,” thought I, “for the purpose.”
Next morning Robert and I went to his uncle who was waiting for us. On the uncle’s table was a bottle of vodka and a plate with black caviar, smoked salmon and several slices of bread.
The uncle was a man of middle age, strong construction and volitional structure of face.
- “Be acquainted,” pronounced Robert, “my Uncle John, and this is Alex, my friend.
- “Sit down!” invited us to the table, John, “and feel as if you are in an American Restaurant!”
John filled in the glasses. “First let’s drink!” pronounced he and lifted up his glass. We emptied them and started to snack with the smoked salmon and caviar.
- “I understand” said John, looking at me, “that you and Robert are going to escape from Russia to Persia. Is that true?”
I nodded assent.
- “It is not easy,” remarked he, “still, I could help you. I am in friendly relations with the Captain of the border guard cutter and when he is on duty, specially in rain and fog, it is not a problem to cross the border. But true enough, who’ll take the risk without proper remuneration?” he cast his look at me. “Robert told me that you have got some jewellery… what is that?”
I put on the table the bracelet, two brooches and three rings, all with precious stones in. John examined them and nodded his head.
- “You think it will be enough to please the captain?” asked I.
- “I think so! He’ll send his confidential man to bring both of you on a sail over the border. His name is Grieg. He is a real sea jackal and knows all the inns and outs. We have already brought over the border several men with his help. Tomorrow I’ll be on the border and discuss about everything with the captain…And I leave with me your jewellery.”
- “Naturally!” I remarked.
***
The town Baku was behind us. The night was dark. The sharp wind drove our sailboat to the Persian border. Waves raised high from the boat… But one can already notice the obscure outlines of the shore. The sailboat with irresistible speed rushed toward them… suddenly the front of the boat struck the sand of the shore. Grieg quickly put down the sail and in a hurry left the boat…- “Here we are now on the Persian soil!” exclaimed Greig, “and that is that! Can’t help you anymore. All the best boys! And I’ll have to disappear from here as soon as possible.”
Grieg shook our hands, rushed to the boat and pushed it from the shore toward the sea… soon, he disappeared in darkness.
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