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“НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, ЛИСТОПАД 2011 21 "I CAN STILL REMEMBER THE DISGUSTING AFTERTASTE OF FOX MEAT IN MY MOUTH . I T WAS AN UNTHINKABLE LIFE !" years after Ukraine became independent. Why is the truth being concealed even now?! Here is an interesting detail from my grandfather’s file: the description of his property mentions only one horse, not two. So the chairman did appropriate the second animal after all. I also remember a story Grandpa told me. At work in the forest, doing the heaviest labor that constantly killed people, there was a quiet man. One time at dinner he said: “Everything here is very good, except there is too little bread to eat.” The next day the man did not come to work and no one knew where he was. Some “kind neighbor” must have reported his words to the authorities. S ince that terrible fall of 1930, when the family was deported, Aunt Olia hadn’t visited her native village of Lekhnivka for sixty - six years. Although upon her return from exile, she could freely visit there, she had no desire to see anyone in the village — s o traumatized was she by the events associated with the deportation, especially by the fact that the closest neighbors and even relatives happily appropriated their meager possessions, taking even the winter coat off of three - year - old Halia’s back. The pai n and bitterness experienced at eleven years of age remained with her for the rest of her life. When in September of 1993 I filed a petition for rehabilitation and obtained the right to receive a compensation for the ruined lives, the death of Halia, and the loss of property amassed by several generations, it turned out that the state was willing to pay as much as... 70,000 roubles (15,000 for the property and 55,000 for the farm), which was then the equivalent of four or five US dollars... At the time, with t hat amount one could buy two kilograms of salo (pork lard) at the market. Aunt Olia burst into tears and said that she would not give them the pleasure to mock her and would not accept that so - called compensation. Later, as a result of many months of my petitioning, she received an added 10 hryvnias (less than 2 US dollars) to her monthly pension, but in 2004 it was taken away — under the pretext that the repressions did not target her personally (although she was deported) but rather her parents. Does this mean that the same people who had deported my family in 1930 still continue to hold power? Finally, let me say a few words about our life in the North, at the collective farm that bred fur - bearing animals. This was a God - forsaken little village in a dens e forest where we bred blackish - brown and arctic foxes. In the winter, the snow reached up to your neck while the summers were extremely hot, but you could not go outside without clothes made of tightly - woven fabric and a kerchief on your head — because of g nats. It felt like a real prison from which escape was hardly possible. In the center of the village, there was a metal loudspeaker mounted on a post; it awakened us at 6 am and wouldn’t let us fall asleep until midnight, ceaselessly spewing out Communist slogans. The village was permeated with the stench of seal meat, which was fed to the foxes, and the piles were surrounded with thousands of rats and flocks of crows eating away at the meat. The inhabitants of the village were forced to live on fox meat, a nd the fur was given to the state. I can still remember the disgusting aftertaste of fox meat in my mouth. It was an unthinkable life! The inhuman conditions and the constant fear not only impact a person’s physical state, but also change one’s psychology , turning it into that of a slave. Already after Stalin’s death, one could hear some locals complain that there was no order and that Mykyta Khrushchev was a bad leader because he did not have anyone shot or imprisoned. It wasn’t like when Stalin was alive — that was real order... Apparently, they were impatient to see more people shot... This is the degree to which human morality and worldview became deformed. This was “the great contribution” of the Stalinist regime! I could write an entire book about life at the fox - breeding collective farm, based on my childhood memories. Yet it is doubtful that many today would believe in the reality of this story. In 1957 we were returning to Ukraine. Our transport was once again a freight train, and our traveling compani on a cow, but we were happy. We survived and were on our way HOME!
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