The Last Man in Russia: The Struggle to Save a Dying Nation Read Online Free Page A

peasants were
    still not free to move. They had to
    pay off the debt incurred by buying
    their freedom, and were collectively
    liable as villages for the sum. Few
    wanted to leave anyway. The
    communal pull was so strong that
    successive well-wishers from both
    ends of the political spectrum
    retreated
    before
    their
    stubborn
    attachment to their old ways of life,
    the yearly division of land, the
    Church,folkmedicine.
    Death
    rates
    remained
    high.
    Motherssmotheredunwantedbabies
    inbed.Babieswereleftinthecareof
    theirsiblings,whooftenrockedtheir
    cradles so hard they fell out and
    died. Diarrhoea was treated by
    hanging children up by their legs
    and shaking them violently. ‘Outie’
    belly buttons were spread with
    dough so mice could nibble them
    off. In most homes, more than half
    the children died. The poorer
    families,
    according
    to
    one
    eyewitness account of life in a
    Russianvillageinthelatenineteenth
    century, often welcomed the deaths
    of infants with the words: ‘Thank
    goodness,theLordthoughtbetterof
    it.’
    It was a life of superstition.Any
    outsiders
    were
    distrusted
    and
    opposed. Local officials could flog
    adults on their bare bottoms for the
    most minor of offences. The
    eyewitness, an aristocrat called Olga
    Semyonova
    Tian-Shanskaia,
    described how in one village near
    herhomepigsdugupthebodyofa
    babythathadbeenmurdered.
    ‘No action was taken in the
    matter. Peasants do not like criminal
    investigations and keep quiet even
    whentheyknowsomething.’
    Officials could demand taxes
    before the harvest if they wanted,
    and would then confiscate property
    when the peasant in question could
    not pay.When the revolution came,
    the peasants rose up and seized the
    lords’ lands, as well as that of any
    profitableneighbourswhohadmade
    money from the few agricultural
    reforms imposed beforeWorldWar
    One.
    The
    Bolsheviks,
    who
    understood
    nothing
    of
    the
    countryside, declared war on them,
    seizing their grain and causing
    famine. Somewhere between 10 and
    14 million people died of hunger in
    thefouryearsafter1917.
    These old women were living
    witnesses to the history of their
    nation,itstriumphsanditstragedies,
    butsadlytheydidnotmuchwantto
    talkaboutit.
    ‘Now there is freedom of
    religion,butthereislittletime.When
    they smashed up the church, they
    imprisonedthepriests,’saidGalya’s
    aunt,
    slapping
    my
    foot
    and
    chuckling.
    Her sister chipped in: ‘The pope
    of Rome will soon announce a
    censusofreligions.’
    The aunt was not to be outdone.
    She summoned all the breath in her
    lungs and intoned: ‘They will come
    andkillus.’
    Both old women burst out
    laughing. Galya leaned over to kiss
    them on their pale cheeks. They
    adjusted their headscarves, and we
    left, leaving them sitting on the sofa
    companionably
    discussing
    their
    imminent demise. The photograph I
    took could just as easily be from a
    hundred years ago. Galya looked at
    me,shruggedandgiggled.
    Itriedtogiveupthequestatthis
    point and go back to Bryansk to
    regroup,butGalyawashavingnone
    ofit.Althoughbornhere,shevisited
    rarely and wanted to show the
    peculiarWesterner off to all her old
    friends. So it was that we boarded
    another bus, which took us beyond
    the end of the metalled road, to
    Pupkovo.
    There had been no rain for
    weeks, and the road was pale dust
    withastripofyellowinggrassupthe
    middle. I could not imagine how
    anyone reached Pupkovo in the
    thaw, when a winter’s worth of
    snowmeltedallatonce,butthenthe
    thaw itself was hard to imagine in
    thisbrutalheat.Chunksofthefields
    on either side of the bus broke off
    into the air, floating on a wavering
    mirage.
    When the bus stopped at the
    entrance to the village, there was
    desolation.A standing cross marked
    where the communists had knocked
    the church down. The church had
    stooduntil1937,thecrosssaid,soI
    wondered briefly if this was where
    Father Dmitry had worshipped as a
    boy.We strode down a slight