JOURNEYS Mennonite Stories of Faith and Survival in Stalins Russia, John B. Toews, 1998

[the horses] moved the wagon and we were on our way. It was daylight before we arrived in Novo and stopped at the house the director promised us. It was a lonely village with few in¬ habitants. Many of the houses stood empty. In those days everyone was on the move.... I unhitched the horses while Mother took the little ones inside. I remained outside longer than I should have, unloaded the wagon and looked around. There was only the end¬ less, barren steppe with its snow patches here and there and as yet no patches of green. Then I saw smoke coming from the chimney — thats what we needed, warmth. The morning was cold and icy — like the world of that day. ... As we stood in that untidy home 162 JOURNEYS with its one room and earth floor everything seemed so unfamil¬ iar. Only after the room warmed and the furniture was set up, only after a steaming soup was placed on the table, only after we prayed and eagerly ate our food - only then did things seem nor¬ mal .... Continued residence in Kleefeld was out of the question. Large numbers of people were again being labelled as kulaks. The disen¬ franchised or other marked persons were being exiled. Here we still had our daily bread . . . and even our own house. A few days later some of the other drivers arrived here including our choir director Wiebe and Mr. Baergen, our church leader and elder. There were also several Russian brethren who worked with our group using their own horses. Ten days after we settled in our new home we were forced to move to a more central location in our sovkoz. Now we were close at hand and easily supervised .... We no longer possessed our own will and obediently went where they sent us. When we ar¬ rived in the new village we turned into the designated yard. The lady of the house greeted us courteously. There was hardly room for one family in the house let alone two. We stepped down and began to unload. Our room was in readiness. The lady even had a cage for the twenty-five chickens we brought with us, and re¬ quested that we simply cut their tails to distinguish them from hers. Just as cheerfully she shared her stove. The two women usually prepared their meals together and that amid incessant chat¬ ter. I unhitched the horses and prepared to bring them to the feed trough, but [her] two boys beat me to it. How carefully they cared for the horses. They usually watered the horses once too often than too little. From the first day onwards they were my best and most diligent helpers. Their father was nowhere to be seen. Next morning I took some wheat to the mill and asked our hostess whether I could take some grain along for them and bring back the flour. She gladly accepted. In those days it was impossible to grind wheat without a special permit. Citizens in both German and Russian villages made their own handmills — they were a ne¬ cessity — but took great care that no one found out. The next time I took some sunf