remembrance

Pskov Region

We're particularly interested in the 1930s and 1940s

Well – what did we have at that time... there was the Soviet government... we were OK ('zhili')

Did the political situation have any impact on your life?

On my personal life?

(Someone in the background says 'well go on – tell them about the 1930s. Tell them how you worked on the kolkhoz, then you left, why you left)

I was here till 1933, then I left, because there was no-one to do the work. There was grandfather, we didn't have a father, there were 3 of us and we lived here – grandfather, grandmother... up until 1930, even up till 1933. Then Sasha's son, his brother left, the land was no good, and they didn't have enough for a loaf of bread. We weren't too worried about loaves of bread, we lived a very modest life. So anyway, Vika's father left, then my brother left, then I left in 1933. I went off to the town, but you couldn't get registered anywhere, and I didn't really have any official documents from here.

Well I worked as a maid, I worked... I was already 18, had my passport by then and I worked as a housemaid. I had to feed the child, wash nappies – I was 18 years old.

So that's how I managed, then in the summer I arrived here, and the kolkhozes had already been set up. There were 2 kolkhozes and we used to go to the other one, because we'd given up our horse to the kolkhoz and they were making money on our horse, and we had nothing. Grandfather was old, so was grandmother, mama too, and I worked all summer and so did my friends. So we used to go off there. We earned enough over the summer, they still didn't really give us any documents, so we left for the town... Well I worked in the college, a friend fixed that up for me. So I worked from 1934 – 1939, then I got married to one of the students. It was a military college. Then the war... the war. And in 1939 we went to Poland, just when we got married, in 1939 in Poland, my husband was called up. He was an officer. We didn't live in occupied Russia – we were evacuated. My husband was sent from one place to another – he was a soldier, you see. Then I came back home – no, not home, I forgot. I came back to where we'd lived the first time, to the Kirov region. Then I had a son, and we were evacuated with my son, then he died. And my husband came back from the hospital, and we had to get ready to go again. Yes, I mean my son had died, we had to work. All young people worked then, all of them, and no-one – no, everyone worked, and I had to. And I had just... well I finished my course and worked. I worked for 3 years, it was all like that... and then life...

Did you know anything about the repression?

What?

Did you know about repression?

Me – no, nothing.

It didn't affect you?

Not us, no. We weren't aware of that, of repression. But we were, as people say, we were a hard working family, we were, like they say, a peasant family. I grew up in a peasant family... I lived here, on this plot of land, like they say, we had a house. The Germans were here, but we weren't aware of repression, not in any way.

What happened with religion at that time?

Religion was our life then, up intil 1930. And the school was very good, and the teachers... All young people went to evening service in the church, particularly on the big festivals. Then we sang in the choir, there were nuns there. They sang, and we did, the young people. We had robes and white shawls. Then they destroyed the monastery, I don't know who did it, how it was done. But some of the nuns stayed, those who were locals... there was even... my grandmother's sister, Tatiana, then there was Danilova – you know, the locals. And the nuns taught us, we used to get together. There weren't any clubs, we used to get together .. one day in our house, next day in the neighbour's, and we learnt from them. They didn't teach us anything bad – they taught us how to sow, needlework.

So the girls and I, we were taught how to iron, to sow ???????, to knit – that was all the nuns, they were good with their hands. And there was a little house, it's not there now, and we used to go over there. That's what they did, so it was fine, we didn't see anything we shouldn't. True – we didn't get a pension, because new people came into power... Mama didn't get one, although there were 3 of us. My brother was 4, second brother was 2, then I was born. Papa was at the front. So I grew up with grandmother, grandmother, and Mama, and we worked at home. We had our own bit of land, and we worked right from when we were tiny. Whatever we could do.

So you did what you could. That was what it was like, like that. Then later on a completely different life began.

And what do you think has changed for the better, or for the worse?

I don't know – it didn't really concern me. It doesn't concern me... we live, how we live, and I'm old enough now for nothing really to matter. But you know, we didn't used to drive around in cars, now people go everywhere in cars. I think that's bad – we went everywhere by foot, we walked everywhere. Someone came to see me and he starts saying ooh Aunt Katya! You walked to school! And I say, yes, I walked to school, we all used to walk, everything by foot. Babushka lived near the Serebryanka, Mama used to walk 20 kilometres to see her. Without any difficulty we used to walk, we didn't even feel it. Maybe we were stronger then, people now are much weaker, not so tough.

(laughing) Yes. And can you tell us about an important event in your life?

Well .. what was important for me. An important event happened during the war. My husband was an officer and I used to travel with him. But then I had a child and he was sent off to the front, to Poland. Then the war started, and I didn't hear anything from him at all, not for 3 years. He didn't know where I was and I didn't know where he was. Then in 1943, my little boy had already died, and I'd finished studying, because I had to work of course. I'd been evacuated, I had nothing for my feet, no shoes – well, boots I had, and a coat. I was an evacuee with my child and we had one suitcase, nothing at all apart from that. And then suddenly they called me from the hospital, I was the caretaker, I remember that day – it was Red Army Day. And they called me, and I left the house, where we lived in a flat. And I asked 'what's happened... what's happened to my husband?' I didn't know anything, you see. And she said 'It's not about your husband – it's your husband!' And I burst into tears. That was a big event.

And I ran, I said 'Aleksandr – Sasha!' because we hadn't know anything about each other, not for 3 years. It had been such a terrible war – and then this... this happened. I'm feeling all nervous from this ... everyone asked me what's happened? What happened? Has there been a death? No, no – not a death... my husband, they say. So what are you crying for! What am I crying for? It's all so unexpected. I hadn't even imagined it.

So there you are. There's an event. We met, and we lived together for 63 years.

What helped you to get through the difficult patches? How did you manage?

What helped me – that we need to live, need to live, need to work. That's how I managed. We didn't chase after new clothes. We wore what there was.

Thank you very much

Velikie Luki

4 January, 2007

Interviewed by: Maria Lazareva, Iulia Gorbunova, Varvara Sergeeva

We are interviewing Luisa Gorchakova, 4th January, 2007. Could you tell us who your parents and grandparents were, please?

My grandmother was a cook... My grandmother had 13 children.

A large family!

13 children, yes. And my mother was a teacher of Russian language and literature, and my father was a construction engineer.

And their names?

Anna Ivanovna and Vladimir Vladimirovich. They were born there, in Siberia. Mama studied Russian at the.... My brother was born in 1935, my second brother in 1937 and I was born in 1938. That's it, there were three of us.

...
My grandparents studied at the same institute. Mama said that Papa courted her for a long time... look, you have lots of questions, I tell you what – Mama had no time to talk to us because she had to earn enough and bring up the 3 of us, and there was a 4th as well, a niece Rimma Antonovna. She was also a teacher of Russian and her father died in the war, then her mother died, so she lived with us. So there were 4 of us, and Mama had to bring us all up. She only had time for work, that's all she ever did, but she lived for a long time.

Did your grandmother talk to you about her life?

You know what – she didn't because she had 13 children and every day she had to go 30 kilometres, there and back.

To work?

She worked as a cook for a local landlord... She had lots of work, the only thing I remember is that she got my mother a job. She went to see them and managed to fix herself up as a servant – they had lots of children. So she washed the floor, she's washing and they throw some coins at her. She picked one up, but the other disappeared somewhere. And she goes on washing, clearing up, and she finds the second coin, picks it up and puts it on the table. And then later on he comes up to my grandmother and says 'Ooh, how honest your Niura is! I deliberately threw down some coins to see if she would take them or not'. And it was very difficult...

What was particularly difficult?

Difficult because there were lots of children and they all had to be given food and drink. Then when my grandmother had 10 children, her husband died, and she married my grandfather. Then my mother... he married my grandmother and then Mama and Uncle Lesha arrived, and then one more from him, from my grandfather.

And what do you remember from your own childhood? What did you do?

We played lapta [?????? ? ?????, ? ????????]... we particularly loved playing Cossack-bandits. Then we did skipping, we had dolls, but Babushka made them. You know, she drew the eyes on, made them out of fabric.

Did you have any animals?

When I lived in Yakutsk, yes. My grandfather had a horse – but you know, winter was only 2 months long. It was very hot there but the good thing was that there were lots of fruits, berries – lots and lots. Sorrel, onion, cranberry, red bilberry. Mama used to go out and then she taught all of us. And my grandmother made butter and baked pies, we made our own pelmeni. There was lots of storage space and we all used to make pelmeni, the older ones and the little ones – and then they were put in there. I remember that from when I was young. Then we had a cow, horse – it looks like we weren't really poor, since I don't say much about that. That's what they say – it looks like we were rich. But I say no, we lived like that, through our own hard work, we never had any potatoes. Only dry potato. I could never get used to potatoes – you ask my husband. I say to him 'heat up some kasha, and something else' and he asks 'what no potatoes?' But we never had any. Then my grandfather looked, looked... then the war, and we went off to the Ukraine. And we had a cow and he used to make hay. My grandfather slept there, and he caught cold and died, and then we sold the house and went off to Yakutsk. We went by ship to start with, then we climbed onto a military train and travelled the rest of the way. And in the morning I wake up and Mama's not there, she's gone to work. When she gets back in the evening I'm already asleep. So what can Mama have told me?

What can you tell us about life in Siberia and Ukraine?

Well what can I say... when we arrived I was 8 or 9. I only know that when we travelled about after the war, everywhere was chaos, destroyed. My grandmother married my grandfather – he was... he was exiled. To start with he went to prison, had to serve his term.

Do you know why he was exiled?

Well someone... and then we didn't bother to try to find out why. I asked what it was for and they told me that a bad person did it. So that's how he was exiled to Siberia.

Tell me which holidays you used to celebrate

Lots... New Year... we used to wait for our presents, everyone gave presents, and my grandmother and grandfather were there, Mama was there too. And we'd get dressed up, we did all that. We had a big Christmas tree, right up to the ceiling, and we sang songs 'In the forest a pine tree grew', I still remember it today.

And when Mama was a teacher, you know, I had 2 brothers ... and I would write and have no mistakes at all and they – well they loved mathematics. I couldn't do maths at all, but for Russian I always got a 4 or 5. I remember we would do dictation and Mama always gave me 5 and she would give them 2. 'You should be ashamed... two older brothers and look at your dictation. Take an example from your sister!' And I didn't even know the text, hadn't done that at school, but see how well I knew Russian language. But then I have one engineer, he lives in Moscow now, and the second is an artistic director, he lives and works in Kiev. I got married at 21 to a metal worker () from Pskov.

Did you meet him in Ukraine?

Yes, he was in the army there. He's not a pilot but – how is it... he served in the airforce in Kiev and they sent him to Grebenka, and that's where I lived. That's how we met – my friend introduced him to me, she worked as a telephonist and she introduced me to Vladimir, and he took me off to Novosokolniki. In 1968 I got married, we had an expensive wedding. He was 24.

Did you used to celebrate religious holidays?

You know... I'm soon going to be 69, but Mama wouldn't allow me to.

Was your mother not baptised?

No, she wasn't, she didn't allow it because Mama didn't want it. Mama never went into a church. Babushka always celebrated religious festivals and she went to church. She was a very good cook, a really wonderful cook – she would make varenniki with honey, that sort of thing. But Mama didn't go, because that was not allowed. Grandmother went to church though. I've got 2 sons, the oldest one is baptised and the second one also.

Was there a church in your neighbourhood?

I don't remember that – I was only 8 or 9 years old. No – maybe I did go. But in Irkutsk, there there was a church and my grandmother used to go there. She had all 13 of her children baptised and my mother was baptised as well. You see I don't understand, ??look I'll put my glasses on... see there were holidays, people went to the cemetery.

What about collectivisation and de-kulakisation – did that affect you?

I don't think so.

//But you said your grandmother had worked as a cook for some landowner. All the landowners were de-kulakised, sent off to the kolkhozes.

That was before the war, and there was nothing there. I used to walk 30 kilometres there and 30 kilometres back. She died when she was 83, she had a heart made out of stone, my mother died at 69 – that's her daughter for you. And babushka died at 83, she lived even longer. She had a tumour. But she always said that she worked for a landowner, but she wanted to work closer to home – but he wouldn't let her. And then of course it worried ?????????? her that she had lots of children. The only thing he did, he checked out my mother to see if she was honest or not. He didn't even know that he'd dropped that coin, but she found it and put it on the table. And he didn't expect that. Because she was from a simple family, with lots of children, so she should have taken the money for herself – but she would never, never take touch it, never take it.

So – I finished at teacher training college and worked in a nursery school in Novosokolniki for 37 years. They did modelling, sculpture there, drawing, story time. You see I ended up in a very good nursery school – one of the best – and we used to do modelling out of snow. See, it's New Year soon... it's terrible what a winter this is...

But in those days – a snowy winter! Next to us there was a railway line, and just imagine – the children would take their skates, collect lots of snow, and we would make sculptures of Father Christmas and Snow White. Then the 3 bears and Snow White, 3 bears and a hare, an elephant, fox – we sculpted all of that out of snow. I did so much sculpting! I learned how to sculpt. And I taught my children everything – drawing, sculpting. I was a railway worker, but I worked 37 years in a nursery school, sculpting, and I loved to draw.

See – and I've got 3 grandaughters and a grandson. One of them, she's already 24, she's married, the second grand-daughter is studying at the railway institute, the third... and the fourth, my little grandson Sergunchik.

You know – it was very difficult then, very very difficult.

Did you enjoy your school, learning in school?

I did. I particularly like geography Russian language, but I didn't like maths. I liked physics, didn't like algebra.

Did you enjoy history?

Not particularly.

How did they teach it?

We had a very good teacher, Valentina Ivanovna. We learnt about all the party congresses – and that was important then.

Were you a Pioneer?

I was, yes, and I was in the Komsomol.

Were you a member of the Party?

No I wasn't.

Why not?

You know – I just wasn't. I think I wasn't really good enough, I don't know why... but I was asked to be in it. I wasn't good enough. Mama really wanted me to join – I went to see her in the holidays and she said that's wonderful – you're going to be in the Party! But I didn't really want to. There were all those Party meetings and so on.

What did you think when the Soviet Union fell apart?

Well how can I say this... of course, very sorry. You know, in Brezhnev's time we lived very well, whatever he was like. I couldn't believe it... I'd worked in a nursery school and I had a tiny pension – I earned just 2300, and I'd worked for 43 years. 37 of those I'd been in charge of children – and then I didn't have enough. You know what – I asked them why I had such a tiny pension and they said, you know what they said? They said you didn't work 40 years. I said ok, fine, and I went and worked as a cleaner in a shop nearby, and I worked for 7 years there as a cleaner. I can't just sit still. I think we lived much better in Brezhnev's time. We had some sort of hope, we had dreams. And even when we got our salary – oh girls, if I had 5 rubles left over, that was a lot then! I was rich: 5 rubles I had!

You say it was good in Brezhnev's time – do you remember anything about the Stalin years?

I don't particularly remember anything. I just remember when he died, I remember that they left us all and we sat in the classroom, and then they asked us to stand up and we all went off and we cried, we mourned, because Stalin had died.

What did your parents tell you about it? Did they talk about it?

You know, I can't really say anything about that. Of course, Mam? ?????? ... everyone wondered how we would manage now without him.

Did you know anything about the repression?

No – you know, only what I've seen in films.

Did your mother say nothing about that?

My mother-in-law was not very well educated, no-one said anything to me. Maybe they told me something, but I don't remember now. They even brought me a book 'Kremlin Wives' about Molotov... Mama was always bringing it to me and saying 'read that, girlie'. You start reading it and ...wow! Could it be true? I read it all in one go. Very interesting it was, very.

Do you think that it was true, what was in those books?

I think it was partly true. You know, when we watch a film part of it's true, and part of it is exaggerated, isn't it.

And when you watch films about those times, what do you think? Why did it all happen?

You know, what can I say... part of it's true and part of it's a load of rubbish. I think they exaggerate. Maybe they wanted to show us that this is how it was – there were very few films before, you know. We loved to read. We believed all of it, and maybe that was right. Oh how I loved Korchagin! But I don't like all this – I don't like it that they show films where there's one murder after another, blood all over the place, all of that. And even the repression... I've got lots of books now, lots and lots. If I watched a film, I would buy a book afterwards – but you know, we were very poor then. It was fun, believe me, Mama made dresses for me... I loved the colour lilac and she made me a lilac dress. Oh girls, I was so pleased with that dress ??????????? Everyone used to say – look how fashionable Luisa is! Mama took a piece out of her dress, a small piece that had been torn off and she made it up into a dress for me. And it was so stylish, with pockets.. pockets everywhere, and everyone was so happy. We were fashionable!

What can you say about whether things have got better or worse? Was it more interesting then, or more difficult for you?

Oh no – our time was still better, everyone enjoyed themselves, sang songs. No no-one sings. We danced, walzes, tango... Our time – for me, it was very good. For you, of course it's the past. But you know what my grandsons said 'Granny – we love you, you're our special Granny – but we like the way we live'. I loved my time, but my grandsons, they like theirs.

Novosokolniki

21 March, 2007

Interviewed by: Nina Vasilevna and Olga Kapralova

...

Can you tell us who your parents were?

...
My parents were teachers in a primary school in the village.

Do you have any old photos of the years before the war...?

We have no photos because in 1955, the school where they were all kept burnt down. Everything my parents had – and my mother and father both had medals which they had received in the Great Fatherland War, and photographs – and everything else, it was all destroyed. And my grandmother, who might have had some photographs, she also lived through the occupation. Then my other grandparents, my mother's parents, they lived in the Rostov region of Ugodichi village, in Yaroslav oblast.

...
I lived in the village... and there was no church in the village because Old Believers lived there, but they used to get together for the big religious festivals, I remember that, in two houses, and they would take the service. They weren't priests really... they just managed to read the holy books which they had managed to keep, so that was the sort of religious service we used to have. And they conducted funerals and baptised children – that was what they used to do.

We are particularly interested in the 1930s and 1940s – what do you know about what happened in those years?

The thing is that my father told me what had happened to his family just before his death, about 2 years, or rather 8 years ago. He told me what had happened to his family in the 1930s, and my mother had told me before that. But to me, for example, it wasn't really clear... and only now, I understand what happened then, when history is being rewritten, in a completely different way. And we know that history was very much altered, embellished, particularly in the 1930s. My father told me that his parents – his father worked on the railways – the family was large, but when the revolution happened and they started giving away land, then he and my grandmother immediately went off to that region, that was in ..., that's where the land was. The land was very good and their children had already grown up, so the family was strong, hard-working, and they had a house by the side of a lake – a hutor, they called it. And since they worked so hard, they didn't need extra hands, and my grandmother said that lots of different things grew in the first year, and then in the second year. In other words, they had very good harvests and my grandfather, as he was allowed to at that time, was able to sell it. They already had 3 horses, a reaper, their own seeder, and lots of other things. And the father, or rather my grandfather, was already starting to think about how they could open a small tea-house at the crossroads, on the road between Leningrad and Kiev, with the money they had managed to save.

But then the 1930s arrived and my grandfather was called up before the village soviet, and there they asked him – as my father told me later – why he hadn't joined the kolkhoz. My father told me that his father was called up and they put a revolver on the table and said: 'you'd better be in the kolkhoz tomorrow, with all your animals and your whole family'. My grandfather went home. He was a sensible man and he got home, told his wife, and my grandmother was – well, she was very hard-working and she really minded, she'd put a lot of energy into that land. So of course she said that she didn't want to join the kolkhoz, and she set up a scene. Then grandfather said – go and get your things, we're going to load them up, and tomorrow we're going with our things and with the children. Grandmother started crying and went off to collect her things, everything she was going to hand over to the kolkhoz. Next day they took everything off, everything they had, and their horses and other things to the kolkhoz. But my grandfather, as he was really very clever, he said that they would join the kolkhoz, but his children wouldn't. So he sent off all his children – and he had 5 of them – he sent them off to study further. He could do that.

Uncle Petya was an excellent tractor mechanic and worked at MTS He sent my father off to study at the teacher training college, Aunt Nastya he sent off to medical school and only little Vera was left, and she lived through the occupation together with my grandmother. She was still very small... So that's it, that's what it was like. After the war, of course there was no-one left in the kolkhoz. Babushka was delighted, because all her children came home alive after the war – and little Vera was alive too. Well, but Uncle Petya did die about 5 or 6 years after the war ended. He had so many wounds.

How old were you at that time?

When?

At that time... you weren't born by then?

No – I was born in 1948. But my father told us all that just before he died. I was surprised that he had said nothing for so long, particularly as I thought of him as a very brave person, not afraid of anything. But it so happened that he only told us all that just before he died, just a few years ago. Just 2 years before his death he told us all that. And I learnt all that, and he said it was because... I can even say this, really ... perestroika had just started and he was already on a pension, he was very old already. And what happened was that there were only pensioners and old people left in the village and he went off to the village soviet, to the boss, and he asked if asked if they could sell them a horse, for the village, so that the old people could plough their gardens, fetch the hay, logs, go to the shop... him and another guy... and he couldn't manage to raise the cash on his own... and he told me all that...

Can you tell me what you know about collectivisation and de-kulakisation?

Well, collectivisation went like that – that's what my father told me about his experience. And my mother, her father used to sell horses, but he was a clever man and he used to go to Moscow frequently... he managed somehow to sort things out, and as a result, he sold all his property and bought different valuables which, as far as I understand, he gave away to his children who were grown up by that time. When they came to take away his property, it turned out that he'd got nothing left – so he avoided it like that.

But my mother had to carry the can: she grew up and studied at the teacher training institute, and then she was sent off to the front in 1942. I said to Mama – 'But you wanted to go to the front, didn't you?', I was proud of that, but she said no, that she of course hadn't wanted to go, that it was very, very frightening... and she said that when the aeroplanes flew over, everyone rushed for the bomb shelter, everyone hid somewhere. And we had to shoot.

Were people able to change their place of residence at that time?

No... it was very difficult. I even remember in 1955, I knew everything by then.. well in the 1930s it was pretty much impossible, and even in 1955, in the villages, in the kolkhoz... we were teachers, so it didn't really concern me, but with the children I taught, when they finished school in the 8th class, they were 15, and their parents used to try to send them off somewhere, so that they could get a qualification from the town and somehow manage to stay there. But just in order to send them off to the town, even to study at the technical college, they couldn't leave because their parents had to get an official document a 'Departure' document which said they had permission to go and study in college.

And what about changing place of work, or was that forbidden?

Well for that you needed both time and the possibility to make the change... I don't remember how long the working day was but Mama told me how she was sent off for work experience while she was still at college and it was about 15 kilometres from the village. There was another girl there who worked with her, but she was a teacher, and they used to go home on days off... Mama came back, and so did that girl from another village... they were dropped back, or something. Anyway, she was late by 7 minutes for work, and after that she had to work 3 or 4 days for no pay. How she was supposed to live, no-one knows.

Do you know whether certain literature was forbidden at that time?

I do... I'll tell you. I've forgotten the writer but he wrote about Babi Yar [she says 'yad' – ie hell] and suddenly – off he went abroad, became a dissident. The book was excellent – patriotic, told about the Great Fatherland War – and suddenly they banned it. Then there was Solzhenitzyn's 'Last (sic) Day of Ivan Denisovich', I did manage to read that. A teacher of history had got hold of it and I wanted to read it, to find out why it had been banned. But I couldn't find it anywhere. Then she lent it to me.

Can you tell us about food products – were there things you couldn't get hold of?

Well first of all, people didn't have as much money as they do now. Maybe if you wanted to, even if there were deficits, you could get hold of things – but people didn't have the money or the possibility. But after the 1970s, things just got worse and worse.

Which period do you think was the most difficult?

I think that the period before the war was the most difficult for people, because they really didn't know what was coming, and I think that the repression – they could end up there at any moment, for whatever reason. Then by the end of the war, people had learnt to hold their tongues. In any case, they had been through such a terrible war that people felt completely different.

Did you know anything about the repression, and did it affect you or anyone you know?

Well, I told you – both my grandfathers were clever, and they didn't try to stand up to the authorities. I mean they couldn't go anywhere, but they realised that it was pointless to try to resist – so that's why it didn't affect us.

Do you think that the repression was justified?

I think that no-one has the right to take away a person's freedom, and what he earns for himself, he should be allowed to decide how to spend. And in general, people shouldn't have to be afraid, they should be free, be able to feel freedom.

And who do you think was guilty for what happened, in the war, for the destruction?

You know, I read a lot of literature and if I draw conclusions, it is that I think the war happened in order to get rid of a lot of people. When there was the famine, nothing was done to save them. Then collectivisation started... those people who were capable of working, they had large families – they went off quite calmly somewhere or other: right? And then they calmly disappeared. A huge number of good and healthy people were just destroyed. And my grandmother was terrified because she was in occupied territory, she was a prisoner near the town of Orlom. And she was delighted that all her children returned from the war alive.

What do you think about Stalin himself?

I can't think well of him: through his personal ambition, he destroyed a huge number of people.

What do you think if you compare life today, and life at that time?

It's always hard work, everywhere. Of course I don't like what's happening today – but even so.

Tell me, did you used to celebrate festivals, holidays?

First of all, the villages were very large – for example, there's a little book 'The Countryman's Calendar' which has all the different countryside festivals. Every village in turn would organise a fair, and young people would meet there to sing and dance. They would sell things, depending on the season. I even remember what it was like in our village – on the 21st September there would be a squeeze-box playing, of course no-one went to work on that day, even if it was Thursday or Wednesday, we still didn't work. We always celebrated the Trinity – everyone went to the cemetery, and that was always a day off.

Now tell us about love... how you got married, and everything

My grandmother married her husband and she always used to say that she didn't love him. And we were all amazed – how could grandmother say that! I didn't ask my grandfather – he died in 1941. But grandmother said she didn't love him. I asked – well why... of course, everyone asked her that question. And she said he stole me. She was 13 years old and very hard-working – everything she did with her hands was a triumph and the main thing was that you could count on one hand the number of things she couldn't do. And what she could do – well she really was an extraordinary woman. And they had a fine horse and I [sic] was walking along the road and there was some sort of celebration going on, and they caught her and off they went. But she tore herself free and ran away, but the snow was very deep and the horse was really fine, and they put her in the sledge and took her away. And in the village it was like this, that if you didn't spend the night at home, but spent it in some young man's company, then you had to marry him. Because it was a scandal, it was shaming for your parents and they would worry, and would anyway force you to get married. And they forced him to marry her, but he wanted to marry her – it was she that didn't want to. So that's how she came to live with him, for a long time, and they had lots of children – she gave birth to 8 children, of which 3 died in infancy and 5 were left.

Tell me – were you baptised?

Yes, I was baptised in Rostov, in Yaroslav oblast.

Can you tell us what you think about young people today?

I wouldn't say that young people are worse than they used to be. I worked in a school, I saw them, and I can't say they are any worse. The only thing that I don't like is that they seem to do everything very superficially. They don't try to go deeper. There is no self-education, no self-discipline – that doesn't seem to to be there in them.

When you went to school, was it far from home? What was it like?

The school I was in until the 4th class was a wonderful school. My parents worked there... Mama didn't work there because she was already on an invalid's allowance, but there was another teacher and my father worked in the school. The school was wonderful because my father was a really good teacher – he remembered everything, always asked about my health. Secondly, it was nice in school because it was a small one – about 30 in each class. When it was break time, we could play chase, hide-and-seek, and sometimes the break went on for a whole hour. It wasn't difficult, and he was a very inquisitive person himself – for example we could build a dam in the stream which was near the school. Everything was very peaceful, there didn't seem to be any aggressive children. There was no television, not everyone even had a radio at home. And then I went on to a 8-year school which was 4 kilometres away from the village and we had to walk there every day. By half past eight we had to be in school... we got up at half past seven, at eight we left the village and walked fairly quickly. And we walked through the forest, a group of us with the little ones behind and us in front. They didn't clean the roads so we had to do that ourselves – walking was hard work and there were wolves in the forest, so it was a bit scary as well.

Did your parents have passports?

My parents – grandmother was already quite old, she wasn't working any more and she lived in the village. But then she went to town and there they gave everyone passports.

Thank you so much for your time... there will be a book about the things you have told us, and an exhibition in the local museum. We will certainly invite you!

'Roma, commonly but inaccurately called Gypsies, were the only other population besides the Jews who were targeted for extermination on racial grounds in the Final Solution.'

Ian Hancock, Genocide of the Roma in the Holocaust

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How many people today are aware that the Roma as a group was as much a victim - if not more so, proportionately - of the Nazi experiment as were the Jews? And how many people today would put their hands on their hearts and say that we should remember this for ever?

The shocking tragedy for those Roma who died as well as for those who miraculously survived, is that their suffering has not just been forgotten by humanity, it has been deliberately forgotten. We have not recognised their victimhood, we have hardly even acknowledged it, and we have done almost nothing to try to compensate - if that were ever possible. Worst of all, we have done nothing to prevent them from becoming victims all over again of exactly the same hatred and blind prejudice that drove the Nazi killers.

Nuggets to try to jog our non-existent memories...

See them all together here