Agnessa: A Gulag Memoir

My Grandfather

      My Grandfather       You  know,  I  love  Chekhov  above  all  other  writers.  Only  now  have  I  begun  to   value  him.  He  is  also  interesting  to  me  because  he  was  on  Sakhalin  at  the  very   moment  that  my  maternal  grandfather  was  released  from  penal  servitude  on   the   island   of   Sakhalin.   I   think   Chekhov   knew   him.   I   told   my   grandfather’s   story  to  the  Lenin  Library  and  they  let  me  go  into  the  manuscript  division.  I   found  a  card  index  of  prisoners  that  Chekhov  compiled.  He  included  a  card   about  each  prisoner  for  whom  he  could  glean  some  information.     I  found  a  card  for  Ivan  Zelenov—a  native  of  Tomsk,  like  my  grandfather.   Everything  matches  including  the  birth  date.  The  only  thing  is  that  Grandpa’s   surname   was   Zelentsov.   Did   Chekhov   make   a   mistake?   Or   was   Grandpa   known  as  Zelentsov  on  Sakhalin?   Grandpa  Ivan  and  Grandma  Anisya  had  been  living  in  Barnaul,  Siberia.   Grandpa  was  a  simple  Russian  man.  Grandma  was  a  Yakut,  and  she  was  illit-­‐‑ erate.  They  had  many  children  and  Grandpa  worked  day  and  night  to  sup-­‐‑ port  the  family.   They  lived  opposite  a  rich  Polish  family  that  was  probably  sent  into  penal   servitude  after  the  Polish  rebellions  of  1863  or  even  as  far  back  as  1830.  They   actually  grew  rich  in  Siberia  and  had  several  houses  that  they  rented  to  the   locals.  And   when  the  landlord,  the  old  Pole,  was  already  in  his  eighties,  he   says  to  my  grandfather,  “I  am  old  and  weak.  I  can’t  do  much  except  sit  and   look  out  the  window.  I  see  your  house  and  I  watch  your  life.  I  see  how  your   children  run  barefoot  in  the  frost,  how  you  leave  early  every  morning  to  earn   money.  You  are  never  drunk  and  you  go  to  church.  I  know  from  this  that  you   are  honorable  and  industrious.  My  wife  and  I  have  nobody—no  children,  no   grandchildren,  but  death  is  just  around  the  corner.  I  would  like  to  bequeath  to   you   all   my   property,   and   in   exchange   you   will   look   after   us   as   if   we   were   kin.”     Grandpa   didn’t   agree   immediately.   He   said   he   had   to   consult   with   his   wife.  He  did  and  they  accepted  the  offer.  The  old  Pole  did  not  live  long.  When   he   died   Grandpa   took   good   care   of   his   wife:   he   called   doctors   when   she   needed  them,  he  bought  medicine,  and  looked  after  her.  Often  he  would  sit   with  her  and  chat  and  she  treated  him  like  her  own  son.     In  the  house  there  was  a  maid  and  two  Poles  who  sponged  off  the  family.   They   had   probably   dreamed   of   inheriting   everything,   and   suddenly   here   comes  this  poor  guy  without  relatives,  without  a  tribe.  So  when  the  old  lady   died  they  began  to  spread  rumors  that  Grandpa  poisoned  her,  and  they  spoke   as  if  they  had  seen  him  give  her  poison  from  a  spoon  with  their  own  eyes.  The   4 AGNESSA rumors  continued  even  after   the  old   woman   was  buried.   There   was  a  trial.   The  local  priest  was  the  main  witness;  his  word  was  worth  the  word  of  twelve   witnesses.   He   said   that   in   the   coffin   the   deceased   had   yellow   spots,   which   means  that  she  was  poisoned.  And  then  the  maid  and  those  two  Poles  testi-­‐‑ fied   and   repeated   that   they   had   seen   Grandpa   give   the   old   woman   poison   from  a  spoon.   They  dug  her  up,  opened  her  stomach  and  sent  it  to  Tomsk  to  be  exam-­‐‑ ined  by  experts.  The  answer  was  that  traces  of  arsenic  had  been  found.  But   arsenic  was  one  of  the  ingredients  in  a  medicine  that  had  been  prescribed  for   the  old  woman  to  encourage  her  appetite.  That   was   not  taken  into  account.   Everyone  knew  that  arsenic  is  a  poison.  And  that  means  that  my  grandpa  was   a  poisoner.   He  was  sentenced  to  twenty  years  of  penal  servitude.  It  was  already  win-­‐‑ ter.  He  was  supposed  to  travel  down  the  river  Ob,  but  all  the  boats  had  left   for  the  year.  So  Grandpa  went  to  prison  in  Barnaul  for  eight  months.  Grand-­‐‑ ma  and  the  children  were  allowed  to  visit  him.  They  set  up  a  samovar  in  the   prison  and  everyone  sat  around  the  samovar  and  talked  and  drank  tea  with   buns  that  the  family  had  brought.  And,  by  the  way,  the  guards  drank  tea  with   them.   But  when  spring  came,  a  boat  came  for  Grandpa.  He  stood  on  the  deck  in   handcuffs.  He  had  iron  chains  around  his  waist  and  his  head;  the  prisoner’s   hat.  Tears  rolled  down  his  face.   After...