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

n we had to board a freight train. We sat on our baggage, tightly pressed together. Finally we ar¬ rived in Novosibirsk Since it was not a passenger train, our train stopped far from the station. We had to cross a large bridge to get to the station. I took all my things and started to walk over but everyone passed me. Soon I was all alone and it was pitch black. There was no light in the station and I could see nothing. I tripped on a rock and hurt my knee. I couldn’t get up. I cried and prayed to the Lord .... He provided the necessary strength and I could get up. Finally I located a railway guard who showed me where the station was .. . When I got there it was crowded with people, but I found a place and fell asleep on my luggage. In the morning I stood in line to change my ticket only to Find out I had to go elsewhere .... The following morning I needed to get on the train and so hired a porter. He carried my luggage to a freight train. The chap on the train would not let me board and finally it left without me. I went back to the station and spent another night there. The next day, with great difficulty, the porter managed to get me on to another train. We were packed like sardines. I don’t recall how many days we travelled but on September 30 we reached Frunze. I changed to another train which took me within fifteen kilometers of my home. The station was empty. I walked to a nearby depot where sugar beets were being unloaded, but found no truck going to my home .... I spent the night in the station. I asked the Lord to guard my luggage. Calmly I slept through the night.... Early in the morning a truck came, unloaded the sugar beets, and then took me home .... The journey lasted almost a month. God led so wonderfully. I didn’t know Russian and really was unsure where to go but the Lord always helped. I was home and what joy it was to see the children! Yes, my mother was ill but no one had starved to death. I had been gone for four years. Alfred was already eight years old, but he was pale and thin as were all the children who had endured intense hunger. In summer, before the fresh vegetables were available, they had lived on weeds and as a consequence they were not well .... We did not know where we would live, because the house which had belonged to my parents was now occupied by a doctor 42 JOURNEYS and his family. I found my mother living in a farmers chicken coop. It had one small window, through which the sun did not shine. Its walls were damp and moldy. I felt so sorry for her. My children were living with another family who were also caring for an old mother. Repeatedly, I asked if my mother could move in, but the landlord said it was impossible to have two older women in the house. Winter came. The inside of the chicken coop became cold and moist. The situation was serious because Mother simply could not live under these conditions. The landlord finally gave in to my persiste