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

and Heine. We wrapped ourselves in a comforter. I told them as many Bible sto¬ ries as I knew and so we did not spend the time uselessly. In later years they probably remembered a few things. In order to trans¬ form our time of suffering into a time of blessing I tried, in all MEMOIRS OFJUSTINA MARTENS 75 simplicity, to point the children to the true way and to plant the good seeds [of Gods word] into the young hearts. It was a trag¬ edy that they had to experience such hardship when they were so young. Yet this was only the beginning of the period of suffering. It was good that we could not see into the future for then we would have simply said, “That is too difficult, we cannot endure it.” When I think back to that first year I really don’t know how we survived. The winter seemed incredibly long. When the days finally lengthened in March and the suns warmth increased, we had to shovel the snow away from the house because it began to melt from below. Since the houses were built on level ground and had no steps, the water ran directly into the room. We shovelled snow from morning until late. We were extremely tired and hungry for we only had a light soup without bread or fat twice a day. Our landlady also helped shovel the snow. One evening she came in and slammed the door as she cus¬ tomarily did. She never walked out again. At night we heard her moaning loudly. In the morning Nadja, her daughter, her face stained with tears, came and told us her mother was very sick. The doctor was called and diagnosed severe pneumonia. In the evening I said to Neta, “Shouldn’t we go in and check her?” “No,” replied Neta, “she will just chase us out.” I was never¬ theless uneasy and before we retired to bed I went in to see her. I stood at her bed but she no longer recognized me. She was breath¬ ing heavily. Nadja wept bitterly and I felt so sorry for her. I stayed until late. When I was ready to leave I looked into her face and saw that she had died .... She was buried and we remained with the two children Micha and Nadja. Micha was 18 years of age and worked on the farm. Nadja was afraid to sleep alone and so we all slept in one room. Micha slept in the kitchen where we used to live. Things were better for us now for we no longer feared the landlady. Once the snow had vanished we all had to go to work. There were no horses and wagons and so we had to bring in the hay on sleighs pulled by oxen or sometimes by milk cows. When the flies began to sting, the cows became restless and started running, caus¬ ing the sleigh to tip over and the hay to fly in all directions. It was not easy to recapture the wild cows. Because there were no wag¬ ons, we had to walk to the fields in the morning and, completely exhausted, drag ourselves home at night. In the darkness we cooked 76 JOURNEYS a thin soup. In the morning we went back to work and so the monotonous life of the collective continued. Each week the