Skip to content
Call Us Today! 212-533-4646 | MON-FRI 12PM - 4PM (EST)
DONATE
SUBSCRIBE
Search for:
About Us
Publications
FAQ
Annual Report 2023
Annual Report 2022
Annual Report 2021
Initiatives
Advocate
Educate
Cultivate
Care
News
Newsletters
Sign Up For Our Newsletter
Join UNWLA
Become a Member
Volunteer With Us
Donate to UNWLA
Members Portal
Calendar
Shop to Support Ukraine
Search for:
Print
Print Page
Download
Download Page
Download Right Page
Open
1
2-3
4-5
6-7
8-9
10-11
12-13
14-15
16-17
18-19
20-21
22-23
24-25
26-27
28-29
30-31
32-33
34-35
36-37
38-39
40
OUR LIFE M O N TH LY, published by Ukrainian National W omens League of America Vol XXXV OCTOBER 1978 No.9 STARVING CHILDREN OF 1933 (a reminiscence) In May of 1933, at the time of the great famine in Ukraine, I was a student at the Kharkov Teachers Institute. Poor peasants, swollen with hunger, wandered through the streets of Kharkov, sometimes they had their whole families with them. They gathered in crowds near the stores where townspeople received bread for ration cards. I still remember one, a tall pale peasant, outstretching his hands and pleading: ’’give me some bread, even for just one bite” Emaciated peasants lay on the sidewalks, some even dying there. The dead and dying were piled on trucks by the militia and dumped somewhere out of town. We, the students, were afraid to even mention the word famine. During compulsory indoctrinary political sessions our instructors discussed Communist Party politics in agriculture and the liquidation of wealthy farmers. One day we were suddenly informed that our whole class would be mobilized. We weren’t told where we would be sent, just that there would be no classes for a few days. The next morning, about forty of us met at the institute and were ordered to take the streetcar to the railroad station. Then we were led far to the side, over to the freight station. Many freight cars stood on the side tracks and the locomotives were moving around. As we walked I heard a strange indescribable sound; first low, then louder. It was a combination of howling, groaning, and weeping. We stopped at a train which stood on a side track and consisted of several passenger cars. Then I realized that this strange noise was coming from the train windows. Children were crying! Several men in army uniforms stood beside the train. One of them came up to us and stated shortly that the children lived temporarily in these cars, while waiting to be sent to orphanages. We were to be their counselors, two of us to each car. We had to work in two shifts. Some of us were sent home and told to return for the night. I was one of those who began immediately. Upon entering the car, I was shocked to see the children that huddled on the benches. They were aged about three to fourteen. All were terribly pale; some were very thin,others were all swollen.They did not have any belongings with them and were lying on bare benches or on dirty rags. Many of them were crying, some sleeping. Some looked very ill; the skin on their faces was pulled taut, showing their bones. Some were huddled together, evidently from the same family. In one end of the car the benches held several very thin babies, cared for by two women dressed in white. In time food arrived for the children: several buckets of a thick grainy gruel. We dipped it into bowls and gave it outtothe children, who sadly ate these small portions. We were ordered not to give out any second helpings, so that they wouldn’t get sick after starving for so long. Later, we found out that this was all they got three times a day. The babies were fed milk from bottles. We worked there for about three weeks. Soon we learned that children either came alone to various railroad stations or were abandoned there by their parents. They were picked up, brought to Kharkov and left in our train. Their transportation was supervised by NKVD. Several teenage inmates of an orphanage run by NKVD were assigned to our train. These well dressed and well-fed former urchins were very tough with the children. One of our duties was taking the newcomers to the near-by bathhouse, where we helped them to bathe,while their clothing was being desinfected. Now, forty-five years later, I still remember with horror, seeing these naked children, their bodies all swollen from hunger. It was in this train that I first encountered death closely. Some children died sitting there, just dropping their heads, and that was it. Others went through convulsions and spasms first. The babies died silently one after another. Since all of us had certain cars assigned to us, it was sad to come on duty and find that one of our children had died. One little girl went insane. She cried: ’’Don’t kill me, don’t kill me!” The child was taken from the car. Evidently she had visual hallucinations: pointing with her finger to the distance she cried: "There is my aunt there weeding beets.” We watched the children night and day. We thought up games for those who felt better, took them outside, talked with them, and told them stories. Occassionally we asked the children about themselves. They only told us about how they were brought to the trains by their parents or came along, but never in detail. The poor souls asked for their parents and wondered what would become of themselves. Once I brought paper and crayons so that the children could draw. The irony of fate! Some wrote "Long live Stalin” inside a wreath of flowers. Видання C оюзу Українок A мерики - перевидано в електронному форматі в 2012 році . A рхів C У A - Ню Йорк , Н . Й . C Ш A.
Page load link
Go to Top