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Gulag Teenager (4)

    The milk heaven lasted only a few weeks because the sun dried out the grass so that it turned the same colour as jeremshyk.

    The Polish families lived in harmony. Nobody was jealous of anything as everyone vegetated in the same way. Each family was a mother with children. There were also two grandmothers. Because of the drought the cows would give little milk so everyone was equally hungry.

    By the end of June we were announced that Germany invaded the Soviet Union. Many men went to the front. Life went on as usual. There was much joy because of the rain fall. Understandably - the cows gave much more milk.

    My mum was now a milkmaid. I wished so much to learn how to milk the cows and so help mum. At first the milk would run down my arms all the way to my elbows, but slowly I learned. I was so eager to help. Mum had eighteen cows to milk. The Kazakhs would say that I was too young to milk the cows, that my fingers would twist, which actually happen.

    For me to milk the cows was great fun. With time I would take over from mum completely. I would milk the cows so quickly that I would finish first. Mum in the meantime would go to the farm to deal with all kinds of business and collect the kiziaks for winter.

    I would often replace my sister in pasturing the calves. There was trouble with a blind four month old bull which would often fall into an old well and then it was difficult to take it out. When one would call it by its name: "Blind, Blind, Blind" it would run back to the person like a dog. It was blind because the larvae ate out its eyes.

    The fly would lie eggs in ears, eyes and the smallest scratches in the calves´ skin. The larvae were taken out with special tweezers. It was my sister´s job, whereas I would take care of the ill calves. I would pasture them alone in the empty steppe. My feet were cut by the dry grass. I would look at my dress. It was very short, which meant that I grew. It was dirty, despite me washing it very often. One can imagine washing without soap and in salty water. It was because behind our house there was a salty lake. I can´t remember ever using soap whilst there. Bodily dirt one would wash with water and instead of sponge there was a wet rug. Worms were a terrible nuisance - louse, flea, bedbugs, ticks, fly and mosquitoes. There wasn´t a way to fight them off.

    Mice were also annoying. They would get into every corner of the house. Our cat would catch many of these animals every day. It used to store a few dozen of them in one place, in the middle of the house. We had to take them out every day.

    The worst were the wolves. The calves had to be protected from them. One day I wasn´t paying attention, instead I stared at the wavy river - a mirage. I started day dreaming that I could cool myself down in its waters, although I knew that it was an illusion. I was looking as if mesmerised and the sun was burning down...

    When I looked at the calves I froze with fear. Three big wolves were approaching them and were very near. I was so scared I started to scream or more precisely to howl. The wolves stopped, looked at the calves and at me and run away into the steppe. Kazakhs taught us how to scream. Howling is the language of the wolves - a warning of a coming danger.

    Because of the war nobody got any news from Poland. We were informed that the Germans were entering the Soviet Union. All men were called to the army. Even the older were mobilised. Only the very old and disabled stayed.

    August was approaching so we had to camp in another place, twenty kilometres away. Here the grass was completely eaten out. Hunger was difficult for both humans and animals. Water dried out in the wells. There was hardly any delivery of bread or flour. The only happy thing was that grandma was healthy. She would get herself warm in the sun and say the rosary. She was a very pious person.

    The time to camp came and mum and grandma went on the first day. Zosia and I stayed. We were to go the next day. Early morning we were given a cart harnessed with one cow. We packed our things onto the cart and set off. Zosia drove a few dozen cows by the cart. I sat on the cart and hurried a cow with a whip made of an old rug. The cow moved for about two kilometres and then stopped suddenly. I had an old tin pot so I milked the cow. I drank the milk together with Zosia.

    Then I unharnessed the cow to pasture it. When I harnessed it again it still didn´t want to move. Then I tied a string to its horns and walked in front of it pulling it. Zosia drove on the cow and the calves. The animals were ill. The blind bull walked with Zosia. It was strong and happy. The cow would stop now and again. Every stop I had to milk it. It was our only food. We arrived about midnight. Here the houses also had only holes instead of windows and doors and so they looked like skulls.

    The drought was getting more and more difficult and we had to look for food. People said that the field rats - the dormice, were good. These were called suslicks. I would look for their burrows. I noticed how a dormice entered its hole. Quickly, I was bringing water and pouring it into the hole. The dormice showed its head, but wouldn´t came out. I caught it by its head and pulled it out. I was caring my trophy home. The blood from my finger was running down the fur and the tail. These are terrible things - it was a fight to survive. The dormice was very fat. We would eat the meat and pick the ribs, but all this with a feeling of disgust.

    The situation got better - the long awaited rain came and the steppe turned green. Soon it bloomed with the colours of a rainbow. The cows gave more milk.

    It was after the harvest. I would go for a number of kilometres to collect the wheat ears. These were not much good, but it was always something and sometimes I would even collect a whole sack. I would walk on the stubble barefoot. Once when I was carrying the wheat home in a sack, a cowherd, an older Kazakh, allowed me to travel on the cow. But he didn´t allow me this luxury again, he would even shout, that it wasn´t allowed to collect the wheat ears because it is theft. I couldn´t understand why he changed like this. I also had to go another way so that no one saw me.

    When I had a free moment I would go into the well holes and play there. For me each hole was a separate calf house. In one there was the hospital with calves of different colour. I made these from clay. There, among the ill calves, was the blind bull. I loved it the most. I would stroke its back and say "My Blind, Blind." This was its name and all the clay animals had Polish names - I would do like my mum with a new recruitment.

    One day there was a real feast on the grazing. A cow died. The meat was divided justly among all the workers. Everyone celebrated. Each person had meat and broth to the full.

    In autumn we returned to the Farm No.3. We now lived by the offices with Mrs Lempicka and her daughter Maryla. They were landladies back in Poland. For the whole autumn I collected kiziaks and caught the rolling bent grass bushes. Even though the temperature would go below zero I would still go barefoot.

    When the cold and snowy winter came, like always I would take the hay and kamysh out of the heap on the sledge. I was happy because mum got some shoes for me - boots made of thick felt without the rubber overshoe. These were too big so I would put hay inside. My gloves and coat were like rugs. I was also happy that mum was once again the milkmaid and was given a new recruitment. I would still help mum and think up names for the calves.

    Everyday mum would bring a little milk for grandma and the piglet. Tatiana would give it to us in exchange for the net curtain. The piglet was cold in the hall. It would squeal and try to go into the house. It would walk after me like a dog and constantly try to get food of me.

    Once when mum was walking home with milk the kolhoz manager stopped in front of her with his hands stretched out. He was a disabled war veteran. He poured the milk out, swore at mum, calling her a thief and said that mum would be judged and convicted for theft. If vain mum was trying to explain that the milk was not of standard value. The milk for grandma mum was hiding under her coat and was scared that during the struggle it would fall out. But this didn´t happen.

    An assembly was called and publicly everyone was told of the crime mum committed. It was decided that mum was to be disciplinarily sacked and the matter was to be taken to the court. Thanks to Tatiana, who pleaded for mum at the authorities, mum escaped the punishment. Tatiana was graciously rewarded for this. The decision was suspended with the condition that if such a situation happen again, mum would go straight to prison without a trial.

    Terrible days came after this. I was thinking that not only mum would be taken to prison. I too was a thief for I would take hay and kamysh out of the heap on the sledge.

    I would go to the calf house to help mum and to drink some milk. Zosia was still looking after the ill calves. From time to time a calf would die. Instead of giving it to the wolves the meat would be sheared with other Polish families and eaten.

    Grandma was quite well this winter. She would cook the soup and say "A housekeeper is wise when she has flour in her case." It was difficult to get this flour. By this time the bread vouchers would expire on most days. Less and less was also given in exchange for the goods.

    The war was still on. The second Christmas in exile was approaching. In the hall, among the kiziaks I was hiding a bent grass bush. It was to be my Christmas tree. I was making trinkets out of newspapers which Tatiana gave me. These were dolls, baskets, mushrooms, chains etc.

    Christmas celebrations were very humble. The food was like everyday and the same with work. There was nothing to decorate the house with as all the decorative things were traded. There was only my Christmas tree and a beautiful white table cloth (there was a table made of wooden boards) which reminded Mrs Lempicka that it was Christmas. I was wishing for Santa to come with presents for me. When I asked mum if he will come she said "Santa only visits children in Poland, Siberia is too far for him."

    It is now 1942. How difficult and hard to survive is the Siberian winter. It is true hell. The snow was constantly burying the windows and doors of the mud hut. The temperatures were more than minus forty degrees. There wasn´t enough fuel for the fire. Despite fear I had to go and wait for the sledge with the hay and kamysh.

    One day grandma went to search for fire fuel too. She didn´t tell anyone. Nearby the offices, and so our house, there were two big heaps of neatly arranged kiziaks which belonged to the kolhoz. Grandma went there with a sack. She filled it completely and couldn´t throw it onto her back. Then the kolhoz manager came. He swore and threatened grandma that she will be thrown into prison. He told her to put the kiziaks back in their place and wanted to lock her in the office.

    Grandma walked back with an empty sack, crying loudly. Her hands were frost bitten. All the housework was now my duty. I also had to go to work at the snow, together with other Polish children. In winter it was the only contact with others of my age. In the fields where grain was sown the snow had to be held, so that in spring there would be more water. Snow cubes were cut with an iron spade and snow walls were made. The pay was almost nothing. One had to be very careful not to get the face frost bitten. If someone´s face was getting white it had to be rubbed with snow.

    One evening my dream came true. For dinner we had bread. Mum divided it equally into four parts and made tea, or more accurately heated the water as there wasn´t enough fuel to boil it. She said that the bread had to be eaten slowly to feel the flavour whereas the tea, or rather the water, could be drunk quickly. There wasn´t much bread whereas there was no lack of water. But being so happy and amazed I understood it the other way around. Then grandma gave me a bite of her own portion of bread.

    When once I was helping mum to throw away the cow dung I asked if it was true that all women had periods. "It is true" mum said, "but here in Siberia all young women and those a little older didn´t get periods. It was because of poor nutrition."

    Mrs Lempicka and her daughter were getting ready to go away. Mrs Lempicka´s son, Adam, an Anders´ Army officer in Iraq sent them an invitation. Everything was ready. They were to leave in February. A dressmaker was coming to make new dresses for the ladies, or rather to make something new from the old ones. I remember that the dresses had galloons. People from other farms also came to see them and say goodbye. One of them was an opera singer, she was called Mrs Ciapara. She sung beautifully for the whole evening. A lady from Farm No. 4 brought a poem written in Siberia. I don´t know who wrote. The title was "Halina".

    Tell me, dear mother, what is this place?
    Is it our hut covered with moss?
    Who is it, mother, playing so sweetly,
    Maybe its daddy playing his fiddle?

    Lay down, sleep sweetly, my dearest Halinka,
    Daddy is nowhere near you dear daughter,
    Daddy is far, kept in a prison,
    And we are in a Siberian grave.

    Who is it mother, singing so sweetly?
    Is it the nightingale´s melody?
    Listen dear mother, how the trees´ soughing,
    How the mist touches them and lays down softly.

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