33. Bible Lessons
Soon we managed to get a Bible. Zina arrived in Sverdlovsk and got in touch with the unregistered Baptists. They managed to bribe a doobak nicknamed Vasya-Tavda, and he passed food and the Bible to me. Later, through the same doobak, I received two more Bibles and more food. The doobak was very scared, because I was on the KGB’s list, but the Sverdlovsk Baptists paid him well. Twice during searches the Bible was taken from me. Both times I got fifteen days in the punishment cell. Zhenya and Valik had time to read the Bible. They literally drank it in, having excellent memories.
With the third Bible we decided to do this: we made a hiding place in the camp library. The librarian Sergey Gelik, a former officer, himself undertook to keep the Bible. There were many who wanted to read it. A queue was set up. Sergey kept an eye on this. When someone was reading, several others would watch out for the doobaks. If the doobaks were heading for the library, Sergey took the Bible and hid it immediately. About two months later someone betrayed where the Bible was being read. Once, after work, we were sitting in the library and talking. Mamedov was reading the Bible. One of the watchers shouted:
– Brothers, the doobaks are running!
Sergey vanished with the Bible, and we all buried our eyes in books we had prepared in advance. The doobaks burst into the library.
– Everyone stay where you are! Don’t move! The doobaks turned everything upside down, but they didn’t find the Bible. And so, until my release, we studied it safely. Perhaps it is still in the library, being handed down as an inheritance and with the fire of saving truth setting free spiritual prisoners.
Life in the camp went on as usual. Back-breaking work for a bowl of balanda, restless sleep, rumors of an epidemic of suicides.
About two months before my release, I was hurrying with the crowd of the punishment brigade to the washroom. At the entrance to the washroom — the toilet was there too — some confusion arose. Then the prisoners, one after another, started darting into the room again. When I ran up to the door, I saw that everyone was jumping over a man lying on the dirty cement floor. He was wheezing. Foam was coming from his mouth, but no one paid him any attention. His fingers were moving; his soul was still in him and cried out for help. Although I had already seen a lot in the camp, I was struck by the prisoners’ indifference. To the question “What’s wrong with him? How long has he been here?” no one answered; no one cared. Then old Karpukhin came running up.
– What’s wrong with him?
– I’m asking myself, no one knows.
– Stay with him, – I asked Karpukhin, – And I’ll run to the hospital.
– All right, only let’s drag him into the corridor first, otherwise they’ll trample him to death here. See how they’re hurrying to wash up faster and get to the canteen. They’re afraid of being left without balanda, and no one gives a damn that a man is dying.
We dragged the dying man into the corridor. Karpukhin was saying:
– Ah, what have we come to, human life has become cheaper than balanda. Ah, people, people, – Karpukhin lamented, sobbing. His tears fell on the dying man. I came back with two orderlies. The unfortunate man was carried off to the hospital. The next day Karpukhin and I went to the hospital. He lay yellow, with a sharpened nose. Eyes closed.
– Maybe he’s asleep, – said Karpukhin.
– No, I’m not asleep, – he answered quietly, without opening his eyes.
– Can we talk? We called the orderlies, otherwise it would have been the end for you, – Karpukhin went on.
– So what? Who asked you to?
Karpukhin and I exchanged glances. Everything was clear — a suicide attempt.
Without opening his eyes he continued:
– I was too scared to put my head in a noose; I’d seen many taken down from the rope. They are terrible after such a death. I drank some solvents; if you hadn’t interfered, I would be free. And what’s the point of living? To suffer here for another seven years, working for a bowl of balanda under the fists? No, that’s not for me. And if I am released, who needs me? No, I don’t need such a life.
He was gradually becoming hysterical. It was with difficulty that we calmed him down. We agreed to be friends and to come and see him. We realized that he was alone and had no one to lean on.
We offered him support.
– Now we are like godfathers to you; we will not leave you in trouble, – said Karpukhin. Nikolay, that was the unfortunate man’s name, smiled for the first time.
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