Chapter 81 Chapter Six: The Happy Life of Exiled Prisoners

1.Bicycle nails (screws).Half a kilogram 2.Leather shoes 5 (pairs) 3.Air blower 2 (pieces) 4.Polly [glass] cup 10 (pieces) 5. Wooden (lead) pencil case 1 (piece) 6.Earth justice (instrument) l (piece) 7. Matches 50 packs 8. Bianfu (bat) brand oil lamps 2 (pieces) 9. Yagao (paste) 8 (tube) 10.34 kg of sweet biscuits 11.156 bottles of vodka (half liters each) This is an inventory of the entire merchandise of the Adara Village Department Store, prepared for the purpose of repricing the merchandise.The inspectors and pricers of the consumer cooperatives of the Kokcherek District drew up this list, and I am now using a calculator to calculate the prices of goods: some goods are marked down by 7.5 percent.Some will drop by 1.5%.Now that prices have come down so drastically, the schoolboy's wooden pencil cases and globes can be expected to sell before the new school year begins, and big screws will surely find their place on bicycles.It's just that the unsalable mass of sugar biscuits (presumably pre-war) will probably have to end up in the "sluggish" category.As for vodka, even if the price is raised a bit, it will be sold out before "May Day".

On April 1st, according to Stalin's pace, it is customary to announce a reduction in the price of goods, benefiting the working people in millions of rubles (the entire amount of benefit has been calculated and announced in advance).But it was a blow to me. It has been a month since I came to the place of exile, and I have eaten up all the little wages I earned as a foundry worker during the "economic accounting system" in the labor camp. (After I was freed, I still had to rely on the money I earned in the labor camp to support my life!) I kept asking the district education bureau; when will I be hired?But the snake chief didn't meet me, and the two fat inspectors spent less and less time talking to me.At the end of the month, they finally showed me the instructions from the State Education Bureau: the number of mathematics teachers in the schools in the Kokcherek District was full and they could not arrange work.

During this time I wrote a screenplay (about counterintelligence in 1945).Now morning and evening there is no body search, and there is no need to destroy written things as often as before.I have nothing to do but write.After a long time in a labor camp, I would have preferred that.One day I went to a "restaurant" and had a bowl of hot soup for two rubles.This is also the thin soup that is given to the inmates of the local prison, and I saw this soup being scooped into buckets and sent to the prison at the same time.Brown bread can be bought casually in the store.I've bought some potatoes, and even a little lard.I borrowed a little donkey myself and brought back some dry saltwood branches from the grove, so that I could start a stove.My happy life can be said to be very complete.I thought: It doesn't matter if I don't hire me, as long as I can get by now, I will write the script first; where can I find such a free life!

One day, I was walking down the street.Suddenly, an officer of the garrison headquarters motioned for me to come over with a finger.He took me all the way to the district consumer cooperative, walked straight into the director's office, and said seriously to a Kazakh director who was as fat as a bucket: "He studies mathematics." How strange!No one asked me why I was in jail, or asked me to fill out any autobiography or forms!The director's secretary (this exiled Greek girl was as beautiful as a movie star) immediately typed out a letter of appointment on the typewriter with one finger: Appoint me as an economic planner with a monthly salary of 450 rubles.On the same day, just as easily and without studying any forms, the District Consumer Cooperative arranged for two more exiles who had not yet found employment; Rigory Samoilovich M-Ze, very reserved, never talked much).These days, Vasilienko is obsessed with his plan of "deepening the channel of the Chu River and making it navigable for motorboats" (the Chu River is very shallow in summer, and cattle can walk through it), and he is asking the police headquarters for permission to investigate river course.Mann, a classmate of his at the maritime school who had co-piloted the motorboat Comrade, was now captain and busy equipping the expedition ship Ob to Antarctica.But Vasilienko is now forcibly employed as a warehouse manager of the district consumer cooperative.

Actually, we weren't hired to be economic planners, storekeepers, or accountants.All three of us were called in to surprise an urgent job: repricing merchandise.Every year from the night of March 31st to the morning of April 1st, the consumer cooperatives in the district are always extremely busy, and there is always a shortage of manpower.How can it be used by human hands?In one night, both the inventory and the discovery of the salesmen who stole the goods (though not in order to send them to court), and the re-price of all the goods, because the next morning should be in accordance with the rules and regulations for the working people. Favorable new price on sale.However, the vast desert area in this area does not even have a kilometer of railways and roads, so these prices, which are very beneficial to the working people, cannot be realized in any case before May 1: the shops in the villages are closed for a whole month , Wait until the district consumer agency has calculated all the goods, approved the price, and sent it to the villages by camel.But the shops in the district center can’t stay closed until May Day!

When the three of us arrived, there were already 15 people in the District Consumer Cooperative doing this work.There are people in the establishment, and there are also temporary recruits.The desks are full of long bills of inferior paper, and the only sound in the room is the skillful sound of the old accountant's calculation, and occasionally one or two curses.We were immediately placed to work here.I quickly grew impatient with the paper and I begged for a calculator.However, the district consumer agency does not have a calculator, and no one knows how to use it.But someone remembered that there was a little machine with numbers in the cabinet of the District Statistical Office, and no one would use it there either.After a phone call, someone went to fetch it.I crackled to work, quickly filling the form with numbers.The chief accountants kept squinting at me, thinking: Is this guy going to be our competitor?

Here I am, shaking my calculator, thinking how easily prisoners can get carried away, or, if you want to put it in literary language, how quickly human desires grow!Now, I've started to be dissatisfied with many things: I'm not satisfied when they interrupt me from writing a script in my cabin; Call me (…what? Digging frozen ground? Barefoot in freezing water and making mud? No, no, call me) sitting at a clean desk shaking the handle of the computer and turning the I'm also not satisfied with numbers being filled in the form.Yes, I would be very grateful if I had been given this comfortable job at the beginning of my sentence and had to work twelve hours a day without pay throughout my sentence.Cheers for it!Now people pay me four hundred and fifty rubles a month for it, and I can even buy a pound of milk a day, but I turn my face contemptuously and think: Is the salary too low?

The district consumer agency has been busy with repricing work for a whole week (first of all, it is necessary to carefully determine which category of price reduction products each product belongs to, and then determine which item of the corresponding price increase for products sold to remote rural areas should be applied to this product stipulated price increases).All shops will not be able to open until this work is over.And so the idly, fat-as-bucket director called us all into his stately and luxurious office and announced: "Let's do this. We know that the latest medical conclusions are that people don't need eight hours of sleep at all, four hours is enough! So, I order you now: start work at seven o'clock in the morning and end at two o'clock in the night .You can take an hour break each for lunch and dinner."

None of us seemed to find this passage of his precepts funny, but terrible.Everyone curled up in silence, and in the end they could only muster up the courage to discuss... What is the most suitable time for the one hour dinner. Yes, such is the fate of the exiles.I have long been told that the fate of the exile is determined by orders of this kind.All here are exiles, all worried about losing their jobs: once fired, there will be no jobs in Kokcherek for a long time.Besides, in the final analysis, this is not doing it for the director himself, but doing it for the country, what the work needs!In this way, the latest conclusions of the medical profession are completely tolerable in their opinion.

Ah, how I want to stand up and laugh at this self-satisfied boar!Even if it's just for a while!But, that would be called outright "anti-Soviet agitation", that you are calling for the destruction of a very important work!Know that you have passed from one state to another many times in your life -- schoolboy, college student, citizen, soldier, prisoner, exile, -- whatever state you are in, you are always in the hands of the leader Yes, you always have to bow and be silent. If he's talking about working until ten o'clock at night, maybe I'll just sit down until ten o'clock.But his order is tantamount to declaring a spiritual death sentence: he is tantamount to telling me to stop writing in my free exile!No, to hell with you!To hell with that sale of yours!The experience in the labor camp hinted at the way out: I don’t need to speak out against it, I just need to keep silent.Together with everyone, I obediently listened to the director's orders.However, at five o'clock in the afternoon, I left my desk and went home.I didn't come to the office until nine o'clock the next morning.Other colleagues were already calculating there, at least pretending to be calculating.They looked at me like wild men.Although Mu-Ze agreed with my approach in his heart, he didn't dare to do it himself. He secretly told me that the director lost his temper in front of my empty desk last night and said that he must drive me to the desert a hundred kilometers away.

To be honest, I was a little scared: of course, the Ministry of Internal Affairs can do anything.Maybe it will drive away.Then you'll never see this central town again!However, I was very lucky: when I landed on the Gulag Islands, the war was over, that is, the most dangerous period had passed; now when I came to the exile, I met Stalin's death again.Over the past month, a certain fresh air has slowly drifted to our remote area and into the District Security Command. A new period had begun without knowing it, the most lenient period of three years in the history of the archipelago. The director did not call me, nor did he come to see me himself.On this day, I worked with a clear mind among my colleagues who were constantly dozing off and making miscalculations, and decided to leave the office on time until 5 pm today.Anyway, something is going to happen, and whatever it is, let it come. I have learned many times in my life that one can sacrifice many things but not the core.I decided not to sacrifice the script I had conceived as early as in the ranks of the special labor camps.I won.For a whole week, everyone was working at night, and only my desk was empty.Everyone is used to it.The director turned his face away when he met me in the hallway. However, it was fate that I did not have to clean up the rural cooperative work in "Hazekistan".One day, a Kazakh (teaching director of the middle school) suddenly came to the district consumer cooperative.This man was the only college graduate in Kokcherek before I came, and is proud of it.But my presence did not arouse his envy.I don't know whether he wants to enrich his teaching force before the first batch of students graduate, or whether he wants to sprinkle some pepper in the soup of the snake director of the District Education Bureau. Anyway, he came to me and said, "Hurry up." Go get your diploma!" I hurried back like a child to get it.He put it in his pocket and immediately drove to Zhambyl to attend the workers' congress.Three days later, he came to me again and placed in front of me a copy of a commission from the State Department of Education.- This document was signed by the same shameless person who a month ago confirmed that Kokcherek District "the number of teachers of mathematics in all schools is full", and now, in April, he appointed me as a teacher of mathematics and a teacher of physics, And send me to the two graduating classes that will have final exams in three weeks! (The dean was taking a risk. Not politically, as I thought, but he was worried that all these years in a labor camp might make me forget about math. On the day of the geometry and trigonometry exam, he didn't Asked me to open the test paper in front of the students, but led me to the principal's office, invited several mathematics teachers, told me to answer the test questions on the spot, and he stood behind me. My answer sheet was completely different from the standard answer sheet. Unanimity, which made him and all the teachers happy like a festival. How easy it is to be Descartes here! I later learned that every year during the seventh-grade mathematics examination, the district often receives phone calls from teachers in various villages: Is the question wrong? The answer is different?...Because those teachers themselves only graduated from the seven-year system...) I can walk into the classroom and pick up chalk.Inner happiness is indescribable.On this day I was truly freed and granted real citizenship!As for the other conditions of the penal colony, they do not matter to me now. When I was in Ekbastuz, the procession of prisoners used to pass by the secondary school there.At that time, I looked at the children who were active in the campus and the simple and elegant clothes of the female teachers, and I regarded it as a paradise that was beyond reach; the tinkling of the bell made my heart ache.Those years of dark prison and labor camp life really tortured me.At the time I felt that even as an exile in this barren Ecbastus, I could follow the ringing of the bell and walk into the classroom with a classroom log in hand, and start the lecture with a mysterious face as if to reveal something unusual , that will be the greatest happiness that makes my heart intoxicated. (My longing is, on the one hand, of course, due to my gift as a teacher, but probably also due to unsatisfied self-appreciation and perennial unneeded talent and slavish low status stark contrast.) But, as I have been looking at the life of the Gulag and the country all these years, I have overlooked the simplest fact: in the early years of the war and in the years after the war, our school was dead, it was long gone, and what remained Only the swelled school building and the empty ringing of bells.Schools in the capital and remote mountain villages have all died.When spiritual death spreads across the country like poisonous gas, who else is the first to be suffocated, besides children and schools? However, I only realized this fact a few years later, when I returned from the country of exile to Russia, the motherland itself.I didn't even think about that in Kokcherek.Although the whole development trend of the dark forces at that time was towards death, the children of the exiles were still alive and not suffocated! These are special kids.They have been conscious of their oppressed position throughout their formative years.When these children are mentioned in school board meetings and other bombastic meetings, it is always said (and the same is said to the children themselves): They grew up under the Soviet Red Flag and lived for the construction of communism. Some of the restrictions on movement are only temporary, they are no different from other children... But each child himself experiences the chains on them, and they have felt it from the earliest childhood they can remember up.The whole rich, joie de vivre (as reflected in pictorials and movies) world of life had absolutely no place for them, and even the army had very little of it.Going to the city to take exams after being approved by the police headquarters, being admitted to the school, successfully finishing the university - all these are very remote, and the hope is very small.Therefore, all that these children can know about this vast and all-encompassing world is limited to the knowledge acquired in this secondary school.For many years the school was the first and last place of education for the children of exile families.In addition, people in the desert live in poverty, but for these children, this can avoid distracting their energies from various entertainments, which played a great role in the youth of the twentieth century from London to Almaty. Corrosion!The children in the suzerain country are no longer used to studying, they have lost interest in learning, and regard learning as an obligation they have to do, because they always have to find a place to stay before they reach adulthood.However, the children of these exiles were not.If they are educated well, they regard study as the only important thing in life, and study is everything to them.They study voraciously, as if that will take them out of second-class citizenship and into the ranks of the children of first-class citizens.Their self-esteem can only be satisfied in serious study. (No, not just studies. There are some elective positions in schools and Youth League positions. And universal suffrage from the age of sixteen onwards. These poor children long for equality, even the appearance of equality Many children are proud to join the Communist Youth League, and seriously give speeches on political affairs at group meetings. There is a young Germanic girl, Victoria Nuss, who was admitted to a two-year teacher training school I encouraged her to say that she should not be ashamed of her exile family origin, but proud of it. But completely unexpectedly, she looked at me like a sick person and said nothing. Of course, there are some People who are not eager to join the Communist Youth League should force them in; the higher authorities have already approved you to join the Communist Youth League, but you are not long, why? There are a few Germanic girls in Kokcherek who are believers in secret sects, and they are forced to join the Communist Youth League. Those who join the Communist Youth League, if they don’t join, their whole family will be driven farther into the desert. Ah, you who seduce the youth! You should hang a big millstone around your neck and sink you into the river...) What I'm talking about here is all about the "Russian class" at the Kokcherek Secondary School. (In fact, almost all of these classes are not purely Russian classes, but descendants of Germans, Greeks, Koreans, a few Kurds and Chechens, Ukrainians who migrated here at the beginning of this century, Kazakhs "in charge of cadres" Most of these "responsible cadres" families want their children to learn Russian.) The children of ordinary Kazakh residents form "Kazakh classes". The students in these classes are very shy and timid. Children from families polluted by bureaucracy are straightforward, sincere, and have traditional concepts of good and evil.Most of them are before they are damaged by a false education of self-importance.These classes are taught in Kazakh, but that kind of teaching is almost tantamount to the enlarged reproduction of ignorance, because the first generation of teachers barely got their diplomas, and these half-knowledgeable people put on a look of university students. The face goes everywhere to mislead the children.Some Kazakh girls, in complete ignorance, managed to get a "pass" and graduate from secondary and teacher training schools.Therefore, when these children in the primitive and ignorant state come into contact with real teaching, their whole body and mind will be attracted. They not only listen carefully and watch intently, but also keep repeating what the teacher said . In the face of the children's enthusiasm for learning, my teaching tasks in Kokcherek were very heavy, and during these three years (and probably many years to come) I was very happy for this alone, and gave me The class hours are not enough to correct the mistakes in the past teaching and make up for the missed courses, so I set extra-curricular tutoring time for the students, organized study groups, led them to practice, organized astronomical observations... The students participated in these activities with great enthusiasm. More active than watching a movie.I also work as a class teacher, and the class given to me is all Kazakh students. I also like this class very much. But all my joy was confined within the four walls of the classroom and between the ringing of the bell.In the teachers' lounge, the principal's office, and the district school board, there was everywhere the usual dullness common throughout the country.To me there was added the special embarrassment caused by the exile status.Before I came, there were Germans and people who were "administratively exiled" among the teachers.These people are discriminated against.We were reminded at every opportunity that it was a great favor of the authorities to admit us into the ranks of teachers;The teachers who came in exile are most afraid (of course, other teachers are also in a dependent position, and they are also afraid) that they will offend the leader by giving the district chief’s children a low score. They are also afraid that the average score of the whole class is not high and offend the principal.So everyone raises the score, which further promotes the expanded reproduction of ignorance throughout Kazakhstan.In addition, exile teachers (and Kazakh single teachers) also have to "pay tribute" and "donation": thirty-five rubles are deducted from their salary every month, and no one knows what to do with it.The headmaster (Berdenov) might suddenly announce the birthday of his youngest daughter, and each teacher would have to give a gift of fifty rubles each; besides, the headmaster or the district director of education would occasionally invite this or that teacher to his office Go and offer to "borrow" three or five hundred rubles from him. (However, this is a custom in this area. Or "the common feature of the system". Before the graduation party, the students also hand over a sheep or half a sheep each, so that they can get a diploma, completely illiterate It doesn't matter either. Graduation party routinely turns into a feast for party activists in the region.) In addition, the leaders at the district level are all students of a correspondence school in a certain place, and all their examination papers must be reviewed by the school's teachers. Responsible for answering. (Examination papers are handed in lordly through the dean, so slave instructors don't even get the "honor" of seeing the correspondence students they answer for.) I take a rigid and uncompromising attitude towards all this.This is because I immediately see that I am "irreplaceable" by others.I don't know if it was this attitude, or the fact that times were becoming less severe, or both helped me, but I didn't stick my neck into the chains.Only when the scores are judged fairly can the students study hard, so I never consider whose father is the secretary of the district committee when judging students' test papers.I also don't "pay tribute" and don't "lend" money to leaders (the snake director of the District Education Bureau shamelessly "opened his mouth" to me!).It is enough that poor countries rob us of a month's wages every May in the form of public debt. (Reform-through-labour prisoners were deprived of the right to buy public bonds. Now that I am free, the exile did give me back the right to buy public bonds.) However, my "principle" ends here. Next to me was Georgi Stepanovich Mitrovich, a teacher of biology and chemistry.He was a Serbian, had spent ten years in prison in Kolyma, and was now old and sick.He has always insisted on fighting for justice in the Kokcherek region.After being fired from the district land bureau, he came to work as a teacher in a middle school, and thus brought the struggle into the school again.In Kokcherek, lawlessness abounds.This phenomenon is compounded by ignorance, savage cleverness, and various clan and nepotism.Here the wrongdoing is intertwined, and outsiders are not aware of it, nor can they get their hands on it.But Mitrovich waged a selfless and desperate struggle against it (of course, on the basis of which he often quoted Lenin).He exposed it at the academic affairs meeting and at the district teachers' meeting that he failed those uneducated bureaucrats and external candidates, and prevented some students from getting their graduation certificates with the "gift sheep".He complained to the state leaders more than once, sent a letter to Almaty, and sent a telegram to Khrushchev himself (he actually collected seventy parents’ signatures as his backing, and sent telegrams to other regions. Of course, this kind of telegram cannot be sent out in the area.) He asked the higher-ups to send people and inspectors to check.The inspectors came, but they also opposed him.So he wrote again.The school held a special academic meeting to "rectify" him, accusing him of "anti-Soviet propaganda" to the children (this is only a hair away from arrest!), and seriously accusing him of "treating too roughly" a few eating dogs. The sheep that lost the vegetables grown by the Young Pioneers.He was fired a few times and reinstated a few times.He also claims compensation for the period in which he was forced not to work.Transfer him to another school, he won't go, then he will be expelled... He fought very hard!If I'm with him again, we'll be able to toss them for a while! However, I did not help him at all.I keep silent.I try to avoid critical votes (couldn't vote against him), I go to student group activities or go to tutoring.For those party members who take candidates outside the school, I will not prevent them from obtaining passing grades. I think: You belong to the ruling class yourself, go and deceive your own regime!I shield my mission with this attitude: I'm writing, and I'm writing.I take care of myself for another fight, a future fight.Moreover, the question can also be asked more broadly: Is Mitrovic's struggle correct?do you need? All his battles had been hopeless from the start.He couldn't straighten out the sticky mess.What's more, even if he wins completely, it is impossible to change the whole system and the whole system.At most, it is just a washed clean spot flashing on a small limited area, and it will soon be covered by a large area of ​​gray and black.All the victories he might have won could not make up for the reprisals he might suffer—a second arrest. (It was only the coming of age of Khrushchev that saved Mitrovich from further arrest.) His fight was hopeless, but his spirit of fighting to the death against injustice was very human.It can be said that the chest struggle is doomed to failure, but it cannot be said that the struggle is useless.If we weren't all so "smart," if we weren't all endlessly saying, "It doesn't work! It doesn't solve the problem!" Well, maybe our country wouldn't be quite what it is!Although Mitrovic was no ordinary citizen but an exile, the gleam in his eyes made the district authorities fearful. Although he terrified the people, but on that glorious "holiday", when the election of the beloved organs of popular power came, the three of us—Mitrovich, the indomitable fighter for justice, and myself, and another unemotional, usually The most humble and compromising Grigory.Samoilovich M-Ze - it's all the same.The three of us walked with the others to that mocking election with the same bitterness of disgust. (In that case, of what value was his struggle?) Nearly all exiles were allowed to participate in elections so cheap that even the disenfranchised suddenly found their names on the electoral rolls .People will rush them, rush them to vote as soon as possible.Our Kokcherek has never had a fixed voting office. The ballot box is located in a curtained shed far away from the central area. There is no road, and it is very difficult to walk.The so-called election is to get the ballot to the ballot box as soon as possible and put it in.If someone slows down in the middle and wants to take a closer look at the names of the candidates, this will look strange: doesn't the party organization know who to choose?What's on the list? !After the vote, everyone has the legal right to have a drink (wages are paid in advance or part of the salary is the rule before elections), people wear their best clothes, and everyone (including exiles) is solemn when they meet in the street. salute each other and congratulate each other on a "holiday" what!Once again I felt better off in the labor camps, where there were no such elections! Once, Kokcherek elected a "people's judge", a Kazakh, naturally "elected unanimously".Everyone congratulated Election Day as usual.A few months later, another district forwarded material on criminal cases committed by the judge; he had been a "unanimously elected" judge in that district.He committed a crime in that district, and it was discovered that he had also accepted a lot of bribes during the few months he was in our district.Although it is a pity, he had to be removed, and Kokcherek was designated for partial elections.The candidate was a Kazakh from another region, whom no one knew.So, on Sunday, everyone put on their best clothes again and started voting early in the morning.Unanimous!They put on happy faces and exchanged festive congratulations on the street, with no trace of humor in their eyes... really congratulating the festival! In the penal camp we had always dared to laugh openly at all these poor performances, but in the exile we dared not reveal this feeling to anyone.Now we are living as free people, and the first and worst thing people get from this "freedom" is: they dare not expose their thoughts.I've only had conversations of this sort with Mu-Ze and a handful of people. Mu Yize was escorted from Jezkazgan.He came penniless—all his money was withheld on the way.But the Garrison Command didn't care about this at all, and canceled the food supply he had received in prison, and drove him to the streets of Kokcherek: Steal if you want, starve to death if you want to die!I lent him a dozen rubles in those days.For this he is always grateful to me, and always mentions it, saying that I saved him.This is also a feature of his character: always remember people's favor.But he also holds a grudge. (For example, he has a grudge against Hudayev. Hudayev brutally beat Mu-Ze's son viciously and completely unreasonably. This Hudayev turned out to be the same Chechen youth who nearly fell victim to bloody revenge. See how complicated life is on earth!) Muyze has no expertise and is an exile, so it is impossible to find a better job in Kokcherek.The best job he could get was as a middle school lab technician.He cherishes this job.The work itself requires him to serve everyone, to meet everyone's requirements, to be kind to everyone, and not to express his opinions.He really did this, never revealing himself—wrapping himself in a cloak of courteousness so that no one could see through him.Even some of the simplest facts, such as why he didn't have a specialty at the age of fifty, no one knew.I got close to him unconsciously.We never argued, we helped each other often, and we shared the same natural ways of reacting and expressing things that we had developed in the labor camps.In this way, after a long time, I finally understood his long-hidden experiences and inner changes.These are all worth learning from. Before the war started, Mu Yize was the party secretary of a certain area.During the war, he was appointed as the director of the translation department of a certain division.He has always held high positions, is an "important person", and has not tasted any human sufferings.However, something happened in 1942: due to some fault of the translation office, a certain regiment of the division failed to receive the retreat order in time.This error must be corrected immediately.However, it was discovered that all of Mu Yize's subordinates had disappeared, perhaps they had all died.So the general ordered Mu Yize to personally go to the regiment on the front line to convey the retreat order and save them.At this time, the regiment was already in the enemy's ever-tightening encirclement.Mu Yize immediately set off on horseback.He was very pessimistic and worried about his life.Along the way more and more dangerous, he decided not to move forward.I don't know if I can survive in place!He stopped voluntarily, that is, he abandoned the regiment, betrayed it.He jumped off his horse and hugged a big tree (maybe it was cut behind the tree to avoid shells). At this time, he... swore to the Lord: as long as he can save his life, he will be a devout believer and will fully obey the law. religious canons.He turned out to be safe and sound.The regiment was wiped out or captured.Muyze survived, and according to Article 58, he was sentenced to ten years of hard labor, after which he was exiled to Kokcherek.He is indeed fulfilling his vows with great devotion!There was no trace of a Party member in his heart or mind.Only by deceit was the wife able to get him to eat a little of the forbidden fish.Although he dared not go to work every Saturday, he tried his best to do nothing in class, and when he returned home, he strictly observed all religious rules and prayed. Of course, under the Soviet regime, it was inevitable to do it secretly. Of course, he hardly ever told anyone else about this experience. In my opinion, this experience was not simple.There is only one simple point, and it is the point we most disagree with here, that is: the strongest and most deep-rooted pillar of our life is religious consciousness, not party ideology. How should he be judged?According to all laws—criminal, military, moral, patriotic, communist—this man deserved to be despised;有的仇恨吧，他至少是为了自己活命而葬送了整个一团人呀！ 可是，姆一泽还是能够根据某种更高的法则高声为自己辩护说：你们进行的这一切战争难道不都是因为最高政治家们的愚蠢才发生的妈？ !难道希特勒之所以会侵入俄国不是由于愚蠢，不是由于他本人的愚蠢，由于斯大林和张伯伦的愚蠢而造成的吗？ !可是现在你们却要派我去死？ !难道是你们使我降生到这个世界上来的吗？ 人们（甚至就是那个团里的人！）会反驳我：如果他这样看，那就该早在兵役局给他穿上漂亮军服的时候声明这一点，而不该到了抱住大树的时候才说！是的，从逻辑上我并不想替他辩护，从逻辑上我也应该蔑视他，恨他，应该在同他握手之后感到厌恶才对。 但是，我却一点也没有这类感觉！这是否税为我不是那个团的人，没有体验到当时的境况？还是因为我想到了那个团的命运实际上还取决于其他上百种因素呢？或者因为我从未看到姆一泽趾高气扬的样子，只看到了他陷于绝境的样子呢？我们每天见面都诚挚地热烈地握手，我一次也没有感到有什么不体面的。 一个人在一生中会发生各种各样的变形！他可能变成对自己和对别人来说都是完全另外一个人！而我们却往往根据命令，根据法律，根据一时心血来潮，或者由于自己的盲目，而心甘情愿地、高兴地拿起石头朝着那个完全不同的人的其中一个打击。 但是，假如你手中的石头掉下来呢？……假如你自己陷入深重的灾难中呢？那时，你就会产生某种新的观点了--对罪行，对罪人，对他人和对自己，都会产生某种新的观点。 在这本厚厚的书里我讲了许多宽恕的话。人们以惊奇而愤怒的口吻反驳我：还有个界限没有？总不能对什么人都宽恕吧！ 我回答说：并不是什么人都宽恕。我只宽恕倒下的人。只要那个偶像还高踞在统治者台上，额上显出一道无上威严的皱纹，还在冷酷无情地、随心所欲地糟踏我们的生活，那你就给我挑选更重些的石头吧，不，让我们十个人一起抬起一根大原木来朝他撞去！ 但是，当这个偶像一旦滚落下来，一旦倒在地上，当这大地的撞击能使悔悟的犁耙在他脸上耕出第一道犁沟时，那就放下你举起的石头吧！ 因为他自己正在回到人类中来。 不该剥夺神指给他的这条道路！ 除了上述种种之外，总的说来，我们科克切列克作为一个流放地，也同整个南哈萨克斯坦和吉尔吉斯地区一样，还算是比较优越的。这是流放到有人居住的村庄，这里有水，土地也不是最坏的（如果是楚河流域，库尔代地区，土地还很肥沃呢）。许多人能够被分配到城市里（留在江布尔、奇姆肯特、塔拉斯，甚至留在阿拉木图和伏龙芝），而且这些人的无权地位同其他公民比较起一来并不很突出。这些城市的物价便宜，比较容易找到工作，尤其在那些工业市镇。因为当地居民对工业、手工业和脑力劳动向来不感兴趣。即使那些落到农村的人，也不全被无情地赶进集体农庄。科克切列克村共有四千人口，大部分是流放者，但只有哈萨克人参加集体农庄劳动，其他人大都在农业机械站或别的什么地方找到个职位，工资虽说不高，但都可以分到四分之一公顷水浇菜地，可以养牛羊，喂猪。有一批西部乌克兰人是经过五年劳改营之后作为行政流放被送到这里的，他们的情况很能说明问题。他们给当地的建筑公司做土坯，劳动相当艰苦。但他们认为，尽管这个地区气候干旱，土地是粘土，浇水不足庄稼会枯死，但这里没有集体农庄，生活比在可爱的乌克兰沃土上的集体农庄里要好过得多。因此，当他们接到释放命令时，竟一致决定永远留在这里。 科克切列克的行动人员很懒惰；这可以说是哈萨克人的普遍懒惰性格中唯一对我们有利的一点。我们中间也有告密考，但我们却感觉不到这些人的明显威胁。 行动人员和告密者的无所作为，制度变得温和起来，这主要是因为赫鲁晓夫时代的到来。时代的这种力量，经过多级传动装置的撞击和摇晃之后虽然大大减弱了，但毕竟还是传到了科克切列克。 起初，是用"伏罗希洛夫大赦"进行欺骗。（虽然大赦是由共同执政的"七诸俟"发布的，但在古拉格群岛上我们把它称为"伏罗希洛夫大赦"。）虽然一九四五年七月七日斯大林就曾戏弄过政治犯，但那次教训不够深刻，早已被人遗忘了。流放地也同劳改营里一样经常开着"小道消息"之花。现在又有人在暗地传说要大赦了。盲目信仰的力量是惊人的！就拿H?H?格列科娃来说吧。她经过十五年的折磨，两次被判刑，可她这时竟在她小土坯房的墙上挂起了一张伏罗希洛夫的照片，而且相信它会带来奇迹。说来也怪，奇迹果然发生了！政府就是以伏罗希洛夫的名义和签字又嘲弄了我们一次。那是一九五三年三月二十七日。 的确，在一个为悲痛所震惊的国家里，为悲痛所震惊的统治者们为什么恰恰必须在一九五三年三月把罪犯们释放出来呢？这件事表面上不可能作出合理解释。难道只因为感觉到日子不好过了吗？安葬斯大林之后，他们就开始收买人心了。提出的理由是："由于我国已经根除了犯罪现象"！（既然如此，监狱里关的是些什么人？那岂不无人可赦了？！）但是，他们照旧站在斯大林的水平上，仍然奴隶般地沿着同一条思路思考，所以他们只对流氓和土匪实行大赦，对第五十八条犯人的赦免则只限于"五年刑期以下的人，包括五年刑期的在内"。不了解情况的人会根据正派国家的作风推断，会认为规定"五年刑期以下"就会使四分之三的政治犯回家了。实际上，我们的难友中被判这种"幼儿园刑期"的人最多不过百分之一二。（可是这样却放出了大批小偷，使他们像蝗虫一般扑向老百姓。只是许久之后民警机关费了很大力气才把那些大赦出狱的土匪重新抓回来。） 我们科克切列克对大赦的反映也很有趣。这里恰好有一些人是已经服满五年"幼儿园刑期"的，但满刑后没有释放，而是未经法院判决就强行流放到这里来了。他们中间有乌克兰人，也有诺夫哥罗德人，大都是孤独的妇女和老人。他们最老实．也最不幸。他们听到大赦的消息很兴奋，以为终于可以回家乡去了。但是，两个月后却接到一纸冷冰冰的解释：这批人的（补充的、未经法院判决的）流放不是为期五年，而是永久性的，所有流放之前的原五年刑期已不起作用，这些人不在大赦之例……有一位叫东尼娅?卡扎丘克的妇女，她本来是个自由人。她从乌克兰到这里来看望被流放的丈夫时，当局为了"整齐划一"起见把她也填写成了流放移民。听到大赦消息后她向警备司令部提出了请求。但人们"合理地"驳回了：你从未被判过五年刑，和你丈夫不一样，你的流放没有期限，所以大赦不涉及你。 这样的话，什么德拉古、梭伦、查士丁尼连同他们的法典"就都得统统见鬼去了！…… 这样，谁也没有从大赦中得到什么。但是，随着岁月的推移，特别是贝利亚完蛋之后，真正的缓和却在不知不觉中悄悄来到了我们这流放的国度。判五年刑期的人被释放回家。流放者的子女可以到附近的大学去上学了。在工作单位无人再指着鼻子说"你是流刑犯！"。一切都有所缓和。有的流放者甚至得到了职务上的升迁。 警备司令部里有些办公桌空了出来。"这位警备部军官哪去了？""他吗？他不在这里工作了。"警备司令部的编制在压缩，人员大大减少！态度比从前和气了。神圣的汇报制度如今也不那么神圣了。"今天上午没来按时汇报？行啊，下次再说吧！"忽而给这个民族，忽而又给那个民族恢复了部分权利、流放者可以在本区范围内自由旅行，申请去其他州的手续简化了许多。人们越来越多地传说："快要放回家乡了。回家乡！严确实，那些因当过俘虏而被流放的土库曼人回家乡去了。接着又放回了库尔德人。有些人开始变卖房产，房价大大跌落。 还放回去一些"行政流放"的老人，这是因为有人在莫斯科替他们奔走，现在他们恢复了名誉。波动遍及各个角落，所有流放者心里都热乎乎地：莫非我们也要动一动？莫非我们也……对 ridiculous!好像这个制度真会发善心似的。不能相信！劳改营教给我flJ的就是：不能相信！我个人更是没有必要相信，因为在那里，在宗主国本土，我一个近亲好友也没有，而在这里，在流放地，我几乎感到自己是幸福的。也许这只是由于我从来没有过这么好的生活吧。 不错，流放的第一年我被病魔折磨得很厉害，疾病像是监狱看守的盟友，一心要扼杀我。整整一年，科克切列克的所有医生都不能确诊我的病。我勉强支持着上课，睡眠时间很少，食量很小。从前在劳改营写下来保存在记忆里的和到流放地后写的东西，我都必须尽快写成文字并埋在地下。（启程去塔什干的那个夜晚，一九五三年的最后一个夜晚，我记得十分清楚：我感到自己的全部生命和全部文学活动就要结束了。真嫌太短，太少！） 可是，病好了。这才开始了我长达两年的真正美好的流放生活。只在一点上有些苦闷，感到美中不足，便是我没能结婚：这期间我未能找到一个能够把这孤独之身托付给她、把我的全部写作和秘密宝藏托付给她的妇女。尽管如此，这整个期间我的情绪高昂、饱满，我是幸福的，没有感到不自由。学校里分上下午两部上课，我愿意教多少节课就教多少节，我在教课中找到了幸福。我的课从不使学生感到厌倦乏味。每天我还可以抽出些时间来写作，而且在这段时间里精神从来不紧张：刚一坐下，笔下的字就自然地一行一行写出来。每到星期天，只要不赶我去替集体农庄创萝卜，我就一直写作，全天时间都用在这上面！我还同时开始写小说（十年之后被查封了）。我还有许多素材，够我写很长时间的。至于出版，反正得在我死后。 我手头有了些钱，便首先买了一所单独的僻静的小土房，定做了一个坚固的写字台。晚上仍睡在那两只空木箱上。我还买了一架能收短波的收音机，夜间把窗帘拉起来，把耳朵贴在收音机上，透过瀑布般的干扰声捕捉那微弱的、禁止我们收听的西方广播，倾听着渴望听到的消息。听不清的地方就只好按它的思路自己补充了。 几十年的谎言把我们害得好苦，如今哪怕是支离破碎的真相的一些小小片断也都是我们所渴望得到的！不然的话，便不值得花费这许多时间了；西方在患幼稚病，它已经无力继续以其智慧和坚定精神丰富我们这些群岛上成长起来的人们了。 我的小土房位于村镇的最东头。篱笆外面就是灌溉渠道，草原。每天早晨可以看到地平线上的日出。草原上只要有点微风，就足够人敞开胸膛尽情呼吸了。黄昏和夜晚，不管是明月当空还是漆黑，我都同样在草原上散步，忘情地呼吸草原的空气。土房周围一百米之内没有其他住宅。 我已经安于这种生活。就算不是"永久"吧，至少也准备在这里住上二十年（我不相信完全的自由会在二十年内到来。我是有些估计错了）．我似乎已不想再到别处去（尽管一看见俄罗斯中部的地图就抑制不住心潮起伏）。对我来说，整个世界并不是外在的世界，不是那个吸引人的世界，而是我亲自经历的那个世界，它就在我的体内。我的全部任务就是要描写那个世界。 我感到自己很有信心。 当年拉季舍夫的好友库图佐夫在写给被流放的拉季舍夫的信中有这样一段话："我的朋友，我对你说这些话是很痛苦的，但我还是要说……你的处境也有它有利的一面。你现在远离一切小人，同一切令人目眩的事物隔绝，这样，你就能够更好地……在你自己的世界里漫游了；你可以冷静地观察自己，从而也就可以对于那些以前往往是透过虚荣和世俗的帷幕看待的事物作出偏执观念较少的判断。这样，或许很多东西将会以崭新的面貌呈现在你眼前。" 正是这样。我十分珍视这种得到净化的观点，因而我也完全自觉地珍视我的流放。 可是，流放本身却越来越不稳定，它已开始动荡。警备司令部现在简直变得可以说和蔼可亲了。它的人员进一步减少，对逃跑者现在规定只判五年劳改，实际上五年也不一定判。对一个又一个的民族宣布今后不必定期向警备司令部汇报，随后又批准他们返回故乡。喜悦和希望扰乱了我们流放地的宁静。 突然，出乎所有人意料之外，一九五五年九月又来了一个"阿登纳大赦"。在这之前，阿登纳访问莫斯科时曾征得赫鲁晓夫同意释放所有的在押德国人。尼基塔（赫鲁晓夫）便下令释放他们。可这时忽然发现有点荒唐：德国人倒是全释放了，而给他们帮过忙的俄国人却仍在眼长达二十年的刑期。但是，这些人大就是在德国人占领时期当过伪警察和村长的，还有弗拉索夫分子，公开宣布赦免他们又似乎不妥。what to do?最简单的还是按照我国言传工作的一般原则办事：微末小事大叫大喊，重要事件一笔带过。于是，十月革命后几十年来最大的一次政治大赦就在一个不是＃目的、"什么也不是"的普通日子--一九月九日宣布了，只在《消息报》一份报纸上发表，而且不登在第一版上，也没有发表任何 评论和文章。 噢，怎能叫人不激动呢？我看到了"关于赦免曾同德国人合 作的人员"的消息！怎么会这样？那么我呢？这与我无关？因为 我本来一直在苏联红军中服役？算啦，见你们的鬼去！这样我就 更心安理得了。这时我的朋友列?季、科佩列夫从莫斯科写信来 说，他凭着这项赦免令在莫斯科警察局争得了临时落户的权利。but 是，很快警察局又把他传去了。"你是在同我们搞什么鬼名堂？你 并没有同德国人合作过呀！""是没有。""那就是说，你一直在苏 军中服役？ ""是的。 ""那么，二十四小时之内你滚出莫斯科去！ " 当然，我的朋友还是没有走，可是，他写道："晚上十点之后就有 些提心吊胆，一听见大门铃响就担心是来赶我走的。 " 我可是很高兴：我这里有多好！把手稿藏起来（我每天睡觉 之前都把它藏起来）就可以像天使般睡觉了，高枕无忧！ 呆在这洁净的沙漠地带，我想象着首都那熙熙攘攘、纷乱嘈 杂、追求虚荣的生活。那里一点也不吸引我。 可是莫斯科朋友们的来信却极力敦促："你怎么想的？为什么 还呆在那里？ ……应该要求复查你的案件！现在正在复查！ " 我为了什么呢？……在这里，我可以整小时地观察蚂蚁的生 活：它们在我的房基土坯上钻出一个洞来，排着队把自己的货 物--一颗葵花子皮搬运进洞储备过冬，它们并没有班长、看守 和劳改营的长官管理。忽然，一天早晨，虽然房前扔着不少瓜子 皮，可是蚂蚁却不出来了，原来是它们预先就知道今天要下雨。as much as possible 管晴朗的天空和阳光没有一点下雨的迹象，但它们却老早就知道 up.雨后，虽然天空还布满阴云，可它们却出来劳动了：它们确 切地知道今天不会下雨。 在这里，在这寂静的流放生活中，我仿佛确切看到了普希金 生活的真实道路：他的第一件幸福是被流放到南方来，第二件，也 是最大的幸福是流放到原籍米哈依洛夫斯科耶村。他本应该在那里一直住下去，哪里也不去就好了！不知是什么命运把他又拉到彼得堡去？又是什么劫数推动他结婚的呢？ ... 但是，凡夫俗子的心很难始终听从理智的声音。一块小木片很难不漂向整个水流流去的方向。 苏共第二十次代表大会开幕了。关于赫鲁晓夫的报告我们很长时间毫无所知。（到了给科克切列克的人们传达它的时候，也还是对我们这些流放者保密的。我们是从英国B?B?C?电台得知的。）但是，只须普通公开报纸上刊登的米高扬的一句话，对我来说已经足够了。他说，这次代表大会是多少年来"第一次列宁式的代表大会"。我立即明白：我的敌人斯大林倒了，这就意味着我正在起来。 于是，我写了复查申请书。 春天，便开始取消对触犯第五十八条的全体囚犯的、刑满之后的流放刑了。 这时，我才拖着病弱的身躯离开清澈的流放地，进入了混浊的世界。 当一个原来的囚徒从伏尔加河东回到了河西，当他乘着火车整日在俄罗斯中部＿片片小树林间穿行，这时他会有什么感触？这就不是本章所要写的内容了。 同年夏天，我在莫斯科打电话询问检察机关对我的申诉有无答复。接电话的人叫我挂另一个电话，然后我听到了侦查员的声音：他用友好的憨厚语气请我到卢宾卡的机关去谈一下。我来到库兹涅茨桥大街著名的传达室，人们叫我在这里等一等。我猜测这时已经有某人的眼睛在注视着我，在研究我的面部表情了。我内心感到紧张，但却作出一副和善的、疲惫的表情，似乎无心地看着一个正在接待室玩耍的、并不很好玩的小孩。我的猜测是正确的1穿着便服的新侦查员正站在一旁注视着我！当他已经确信我不是一个凶猛的敌人时，这才走到我跟前来，十分愉快地把我领进了庞大的卢宾卡大楼。一路走着，他已经在不住叹息了：看他们（是谁？？）把您的生活糟踏成了什么样子，妻离子散！可是，白天也开着电灯的、闷热的卢宾卡大楼走廊还是老样子，还是当初我被押着走过时的样子，那时我是剃光了头、腹内空空、几夜没有睡眠，衣服上的钮扣被扯掉、两手倒剪着的。"办理您的案件的那个侦查员叫叶泽波夫，我知道他。您怎么遇到这么个野兽呢？现在他已经被撤职了。"（他现在大概正坐在隔壁的侦查室里，也正在同样骂我面前这位新侦查员……）"我原先是在海军的反间谍组织死灭尔施工作的，我们那里可没有这么搞！"（从你们那里出过一个叫留明的人！你们那里还有过一个叫列夫申的侦查员，有过一个叫利宾的！）但是，我天真地对他不住地点头：那当然喽！他甚至还提到我在一九四四年说过的关于斯大林的俏皮话，并且说："您的话很中肯！"他全清楚，他全赞成，只有一点使他感到不安，他说："您在《第一号决议》里写着：所有这些任务，没有组织是不可能完成的。您莫非是想建立一个组织吗？" "不一是！"我事先已经周密地想过这个问题。"组织不是指人们的集合体，而是指以国家的方式实行的一系列措施。" "哎呀，哎呀，是这个意思！"侦查员高兴地表示同意。 这一关过了。 他称赞我描写前线生活的短篇小说，这些小说原来也都是作为罪证归入档案的。他说："这根本不是什么反苏维埃的东西！您想要的话，都可以拿回去，还可以去试试能否发表。"但是，我却用一种病人的、几乎是垂危病人的声音谢绝了他的建议；"哪里的话！我早把写作忘掉了。如果还能活几年，我想研究点物理。"（物理学是我们时代最时髦的嘛！这种游戏现在很时兴，今后我就要同你们做这种游戏了！） 挨了打的不必哭，未挨打的应该哭！监狱总应该教会我们一点什么吧。至少总该教会我们在"契卡格勃"的面前应该保持什么态度吧。