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

oon the northern temperatures changed the river into ice and this cheap form of transport was ice-locked for the next six or seven months .... By evening we too arrived at the loading dock. Several barges loaded simultaneously .... Our leg muscles had fortunately re¬ covered after the long train ride and so we successfully negotiated the narrow planks leading on to the barges, though a few fell into the water .... Amid such teeming masses the individual really didn't matter — only those with special guardian angels managed to survive. Our group was seated in the hold of the barge before darkness fell. Like obedient school children we sat on our luggage in long double rows — fathers, sons, brothers. We were controlled by an all pervading iron will. Woe to the person who dared to disturb the prevailing calm .... We followed the river downstream watch¬ ing its seemingly black waves. The sometimes steep and some¬ times flat riverbank passed before our haggard and at times de¬ spairing faces. On each side stood the tall, dark [green] forest so often celebrated in song and music. For us it would become a wretched and dreary home .... Sometimes there were birch trees, twenty-five to thirty meters in height, or spruce trees, with their pyramidal shapes and moss-covered trunks. For long stretches there were only birches mixed with other deciduous trees. All stood leafless, dressed in mourning clothes and awaiting the long harsh winter with its snow .... Amid this autumn landscape our heavily loaded barges glided along this tributary of the Dvina River like colossal coffins. Close together or sometimes far apart we travelled towards our unknown destination. Occasionally there were small settlements along the 184 JOURNEYS riverbank. The scattered houses were built of wood .... On the fourteenth day we finally saw a large brick chimney to our right in the middle of what appeared to be a large settlement. . . . We passed the village very slowly. Around twelve noon we tied up on the left side of the river. It was October 28th — my birthday. I was thirty-four years old. Before we tied up our guards, of whom there were a great many, left the barge. During our journey they occupied the front part of the barge and treated us quite decently. Since the guards were preoccupied with themselves we prisoners tried to attend to our own needs. Among the thousand people on our barge there were those who were inventive and specialized. We looked awful — thanks to our poor food, bodily weakness and inner bankruptcy. Now we tried to improve our appearances by washing and even shaving. It took considerable courage to allow one of these spe¬ cialists to shave ones beard with a sharpened spoon or even a piece of glass .... Once the soldiers and the prisoner administrators set them¬ selves up in orderly rows we were finally able to disembark. Singly we passed through this living corridor [of people]. Each of us, via our