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

. I could not believe my eyes and read it over and over. We were still in doubt over her homecoming for many starved to death en route and did not reach their destination. Each day we prayed and waited. The children went and looked in the direction of Martuk every morning. They sat on the road and waited for their mother. Would she come today? I prayed for Netas journey, then lay down on my bed. I closed my eyes and wondered if she would come today. Suddenly I noticed a shadow in front of the entry to my hut. 1 opened my eyes and saw a bent figure peering into my hut. I got up and shouted, “Neta is it you?” I crawled to her on my knees and grabbed her feet. She leaned over and we hugged each other. She asked about the children. I told her they were sitting on the roadside waiting for her. Neta had not followed the road but walked cross-country and so came across the hut. We both walked to the children. When they saw us coming little Heini came running as fast as his legs would carry him. He threw him¬ self into Netas waiting arms. Marta came more slowly. She could not run so fast because of her heart condition. She began to cry for joy. Neta was very hungry and so we ran back to my hut. She took the bread which she had saved for the children. For them it tasted more delicious than the finest cookies. We were all very hungry and like gypsies gathered around the “roast” which I had prepared in a little pot hung over two clay bricks. Neta said: “My that smells wonderful!” The field mice did not exactly look appetizing, but at that time we found them deli¬ cious. We walked to our house in the village. “What do you live on?” Neta asked. I showed her a small bag which was given us every week. It consisted of rye mixed with other seed, which we ground on the stone mill described previously and sprinkled in the boiling water mixed with potato pieces. When the season for sorrel came, which was widespread in the region, we had a sour broth. This was our daily diet. I had already planted potatoes as well as onions and beans. Neta was so pleased with this, but it was only June and there were four mouths to feed. During harvest there were areas which the swather could not reach and where MEMOIRS OFJUSTINA MARTENS 85 full-eared grain remained standing. Neta asked the head of the village whether we could cut this grain. He allowed this because Neta had just returned from theTrud-Army (work army) and be¬ cause we had nothing to eat. Neta went to cut grain everyday. In the evening she threshed it and before long we had a sack full. In the fall Martas health became worse. A doctor who once came into the village said she should have good food, no excite¬ ment, and eat more sugar. It was simply not available. There was also no bread, no lard and no milk. [Fortunately] there was a Russian teacher who had two children of her own, who said that Marta could eat with them if she would stay with her children while