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

y future was unthinkable and problematic. Sub¬ merged in gloomy thoughts, we finally reached our regional capi- MEMOIRS OF ARON WARKENTIN 177 tal of Alexandrovsk by 3 P.M. Here, together with many other prisoners, we were locked into a large room, perhaps a one-time granary. Anything which might threaten the life of the prisoners, including nails and hooks on the walls were removed. Even the suspenders of the prisoners were collected at the entrance. The floor was covered with straw on which the prisoners collapsed like crushed meadow flowers. The mood was a depressing one. For many the sense of isolation was a first. Both old and young were well- represented. All stared at the ironclad door and the high barred win¬ dows. Several heavily armed men stood guard outside the door .... On the second day of our stay we were given some clothing and food, but saw no friendly faces. Nothing changed for a week. One day we were packed like sardines on to five trucks and trans¬ ferred to Sulimovsk. Here thousands suffered amid impossible circumstances. All the cells were overfilled. The air thick enough to be cut. The prisoners removed their undershirts gasping for air amid the oppressing heat. The situation only improved when the shutters were opened towards morning .... Rifles and machine guns were always trained on us. Across, where the Kuban River circled our prison, stood a series of guns. There were even some on the rooftops. One day when we were exercising on the second floor of the prison I chanced to meet my father. He was unrecognizable after a month and a half of imprisonment. His grey hair had turned completely white. His shirt was burnt and torn and his clothes hung like a spiders web around his emaciated body. We hugged and kissed each other in spite of regulations to the contrary. Fa¬ ther said he always took comfort in the fact that I was still free — after all it was not so bad for him to perish because he was old. He asked how the family fared after his arrest on August 5, 1931. I tried to explain everything as well as I could amid the crowding of prisoners and soldiers .... We said goodbye, never to see each other again here on earth .... We never learned where and when he died. In fact there was never a sign of life or even a death certificate of anyone arrested on August 5, 1931. They simply vanished, as if they were buried alive. In early October we were ordered out of our cells and on to the prison yard. We sat in large zigzag rows with our family name prominently displayed. Many packages had arrived and if our name was on one we could pick it up. I too found a package from my dear ones which provided me with both physical sustenance 178 JOURNEYS and moral encouragement. On the same day our sentences were read out. We were all sentenced to ten years! I was so shocked that I lost my speech. Separated from home for a decade — from my dear wife, the little ones, from friends an