It was minus 50 C grades cold day in Tomsk imprisonment camp.
Ten women workers were present in the hut. It was “Sunday’s–Postcards Distribution”:
The camp “Inspector” called by names three women, who were present: Anna, Liuba and Natalya. They were rising – while all the rest were waiting, sitting on the grass and straw mattresses of their wooden beds. They were still in tension, as nobody new if that had been the end of mail receivers list for that week.
The three women approached their camp commander, an obese short cut hairs woman of forty, wearing brushed black boots, that her prisoners could only dream of.
“scarce letters we have,” she told them all, “I was asked by our command in Moscow- to tell you as follows: Please write a lot to your relatives, and beg them answer very soon. They are welcome to send you a lot of letters. We are staying here for re-education purpose, and it does not mean a discontact from our loved ones.”
Each of the women began reading her mail- just on her the way back to her bed. Natalya held her postcard and read it with her lips. Her neighbor friend, Sophie, came to sit on the bed next to her. She was curiously asking:
“a regular message - or something to cheer up with?”
“Sophia, the writer is still a riddle for me.”
“Who is that writer? A man?”
“The Rabbi, that I’ve told you about.”
“You were really in love with him. Weren’t you?”
“He had attracted me, but did not touch me! Now he is not here, and I can’t see his face. He writes too shortly. So - how can I know exactly what are his feelings?”
They giggled.
“I see it on your face,” said Sophie,”You like him in a... special manner.”
Natalya re-read a sentence for herself, then loudly.
“He knows how strong I am. He says: ‘I pray for you, Natalya. And I must tell you- that recently ... ”
“Interesting, continue,” said Sophie.
“I’ve begun to change, so I feel. Maybe under the impression of a Jewish Hossidim book, that I’ve read, saying: “Enjoy your life, reject sadness. The painter Mendelevich – in the Gallery –had handed that book to me. He told me: ‘You are a bereaved person, and you should not forget your late wife. But you should find another woman. Tomorrow is Esther’s sixth memorial date.’
‘My soul wanders’- I’ve told him.
‘Stop feeling guilty about her death.’ He told me, ‘Become a Hossid Jew. I’m not from them, but they enjoy themselves in memorial days: drinking a lot of vodka, singing and dancing. God loves naughty people’ – my friend the artist ended his harangue. What do you say about that, Natalya?”
Natalya kissed the letter, and her eyes became wet.
“Excuse me,” she told her friend, Sophia, “I feel that it’s the Rabbi’s way to tell me about his sudden joy. He doesn’t dare to tell it directly.”
“I wonder,” said Sophia, “why can’t he just express his love to you? He doesn’t commit himself by that!”
“Had you known his integrity- and piety. . .His joy comes out from a thorough knowledge of my character and behavior.”
“And of your beauty,” said Sophie, “So- I see that the man is full of religious faith. But you? – you are a fervent Trotskist.”
“I have finished with communism of all kinds.”
“Oh, Siberia has changed your mind… quite quickly?”
“I’ve made some bad choices in my life.” said Natalya, “From now on – I decided that I must avoid mistakes...”
The bell’s Gong was calling the women to lunch.
“Tomsk, Siberia- 15 April 1928
To the man I love, Reb Aaron Hittin,
As Jonas could not escape from God, you’ll not be able to run out from me.
You certainly remember that I was used to visitt your home, at least once a month. I was like witched from your sight. I would have long left the follow up of your child’s development, and given it to another representative of the welfare Office - had not I been fascinated by you, dear Aaron. I just wanted to gaze at your nice face and hear your sweet voice and listen to your talks, that are so interesting and full of belief and unrelenting. All my visits in those days were controlled by God. They had begun my approach toward Him, toward the knowledge that no belief in any secular ideal could be truthfull and based, and my spirit ‘need my religiousity’. Your Meteoric appearance in my dark skies- had been a revelation to me. Dear Aaron, I know you still hesitate. . .You tell yourself that you still don’t know who I am and to what direction our relationship will turn. I have doubts myself, but each of us should find all his or her strength. Then we’ll become closer to each other. I have just learned about the Prophets of Israel, I had some talks with an ex-teacher in a Jewish school, her name is Miriam… I am sure that when I return, you’ll be my best teacher for becoming a true Jewish woman. I will love you as Graff Tolstoy has described ardent love. Excuse me that I bring an example of love described by a non Jewish author. I am sure you have heard about him, and I have read some of his books. I heard that Lunacharsky, the first Minister of Culture in Russia, asked Lenin to approve Tosltoy’s writings in the libraries and print new editions Stalin also has approved that now, as in ‘Yasnaya Polnaya’ –Tolstoy’s estate, was the root of the Socialistic tree. Nowadays- we also must find that feeling of justice and social responsibility and love of truth, as in this great author’s writings, who loved the Bible. I hope that the censor won’t cut or scribble my last sentences, and remain your adoring – Natalya.”
Rabbi Aaron was reading this quite odd letter, that had been put first time in an envelope; (the censor marvelously did not tear or burn it). His face became pale. ‘She is too audacious in her metaphors regarding my personality,’ he thought, ‘and even worse –she isn’t afraid to express her fervent love and tremendous desire to me. That should not be acceptable for a Rabbi like myself. She should have had a minimal modesty, purity of soul, and humility toward Heaven- in her writing. She should have hided something deep in her heart. Restrain herself from making her feelings so much known to me. However, that in itself is not a sin, taking into account that she is imprisoned in the edge of Siberia… The only possible freedom that she has- is her imagination. To her merit I can say, that she was brave enough in trying to write all that, knowing that the Soviet Censor may smear black ink on many words, and no sentence will remain as is... Really - her last sentence, which is the most critical one was sneaked under the censor’s eye. Maybe it means that somebody there - also opposes the whole system. One poor censor has risked himself, permitting those words against the regime to remain. So there is still hope. We should not be discouraged. Someone, someday - will make this cruel murderous regime fall. . .Or perhaps this Regime will at last ‘humanize itself’, like some communists are used to tell each other in secret. They read their Tosltoy, and by him theoretically recognize the ideals of righteousness and freedom of thought and beauty, and so on. . . No, in a second thought it’s an illusion. The Russian people are born slaves, and for thousand years they will remain so. Only the Jews have left Egypt, native land of slavery. The Russians need an Exodus…They simply cannot free themselves. Against Pharaoe you need a Moses, who was a prophet and a leader together. Lenin wanted to be shown like this, but he made Russia become maddened. . . .So, as for myself - I have to continuously aspire to leave this cursed State of slavery, atheism, injustice, intolerance –but it will be as hard as the Devil . . .Natalya does not know much about that desire, though in her first conversation with me I’ve told her. . .She thinks that because my daily behavior had been seemed to her like anybody else’s – I would ‘surrender to the force of reality’. Yes, when she will be releasd – and strongly become to affect my life, I may have a problem. . . Together with her sweet kisses of love, her presence would be a yoke on my neck. She may try to prevent my plan to get out of here. But I should rely on God
. He’ll show me the way. Oh, what a mighty devil you have created, God . . .
CHAPTER 23