It was 1933 and the height of the great famine called the Holodomor, not a natural disaster, but a man-made starvation that had its beginnings four years earlier, with many Ukrainian farmers, known for their independence, refusing to join the collective farms. That was to be the way of the world under Josef Stalin.
He introduced a policy of class warfare in the countryside in order to break down their resistance to collectivization. The more successful farmers, called kurkuls, were branded as the enemy, and brutal enforcement by regular troops and secret police were used to destroy them as a class.
Millions fell victim to Stalin's policies, and over the period of collectivization armed brigades confiscated land, livestock and other property; evicting entire families. Ukrainians were dragged from their homes, packed into freight trains, and shipped to remote areas in Siberia where they were left, often without food or shelter.
The Soviet government increased Ukraine's production quotas, ensuring they could not be met. Starvation became widespread. A decree had been implemented that called for the arrest or execution of anyone found taking as little as a few stalks of wheat or any possible food item from the fields where they worked.
Thousands of peasants were executed by the secret police, known as the NKVD, for refusing to join collective farms and were buried throughout the Bykivnia forest.
The famine decimated the villages and towns. Eventually, the city dwellers lived in fear, dreading the night when a 'Black Maria'... a police van, would pull up beside their building and take someone away. Families kept vigil at prison walls, NKVD offices, and even begged Stalin himself to help them find their kin, but to no avail.
Somehow the small red dacha the Kuryakin family called home survived this hell. They had already weathered the deportation of Count Alexander Sergeivich Kuryakin to the gulag called Solovki. It was far away in Solovetsky Islands in the White Sea. He was taken away from them when they were evicted from their stately home in the city of Kyiv,
From there their they took refuge in their dacha that had been boarded up by the Bolsheviks. Time passed and it became safe for them to take down the boards, and repair their new home, they deemed themselves lucky to have it while so many others were suffering.
Alexander's wife, Marina Ivanova Ursari-Kuryakina was devastated at the loss of her husband, and there was little she could do about it but write letters inquiring about him.
She even sent a few to a friend in America, a man who had been for a brief time the Ambassador to the Tsar, and had became Alexander's friend. He wrote back to her, telling her he'd try to help, but in truth there was nothing he could do. The U.S. Government had broken off diplomatic relations with Russia shortly after the Bolshevik Party seized power from the Tsarist regime after the October Revolution, despite the secret support certain influential Americans had given the Party.
Nicholaí Alexandrovich, Alexander and Marina's son was now the head of the family and worked on one of the farming collectives, trying desperately to keep them alive and safe, that included his wife Tatiana, and son Dimitry.
Nicholaí was never caught, though he managed to smuggle a few seeds here and there, tucking them into the cuffs of his pants. At home, once the warm weather arrived they would start a small garden, hidden behind their isolated dacha.
They survived the winter, sometimes barely. Famine food... the weed loaf made from cheap cornmeal, wheat chaff, dried nettle leaves and other weeds, was the essence of life during the horrific winter and early spring in Ukraine.
Marina kneaded the ingredients into a dull green mass, adding water and a little salt; fashioning it into a patty. It was called bread but barely fit the description. Once ready she spread wax shavings on a pan to keep it from sticking and burning and placed it in the cast iron oven. She took the bread from the oven when it was ready and it was a welcome feast, though it was tough and tasted like grass. Thanks to this 'weed loaf', and horsehide she'd cut into pieces and boiled for soup, they managed from day to day.
Sometimes Nicholaí was able to hunt in the forest and that would supplement their meagre diet. He had to be careful venturing out into the forest of Bykivnia to do so, lest he be caught by the secret police.
Marina once walked alone to Kyiv to see if she could obtain something more to eat for her family; exchanging a pair of ruby earrings and a gold cross she wore around her neck for about 2kg of flour.
They preserved what foods they did not eat, and more seeds; hiding them in a root cellar dug deep into the cold ground beneath the dacha. Access to it was through a trap door beneath a pot bellied stove in the kitchen and it could only be lifted with two pieces of sturdy wood. Still the trapdoor wasn't evident as Nicholaí was a skilled carpenter, and made sure the wood flooring fit tightly together.
Somehow the dacha and Kuryakin's were ignored, perhaps because they were not part of any village. The nearest neighbor Mrs. Greshchenkov and her son lived miles away.
Military blockades had been erected around many of the villages, preventing food being transported into them, as well as the hungry from leaving in search of from other regions were brought in to sweep through them and confiscate hidden grain, and eventually any and all food from the farmer's homes. Their resistance to joining the collective would mean their deaths.
Stalin stated of Ukraine that 'the national question is in essence a rural question.' He and his commanders were determined to teach a lesson through famine and to ultimately deal a crushing blow to Ukraine's rural population; the backbone of the country.
They would be forced into subservience, or death; the latter of which Josef Stalin apparently preferred.
Many fell victim to his policies and over the period of collectivization armed brigades forcibly confiscated land, livestock and other properties, evicting entire families. Ukrainians were dragged from their homes, packed into freight trains, and shipped to remote areas in Siberia where they were left without food or shelter to die and be forgotten.
In September of 1933, a pregnant Tanya Kuryakina gave birth to her second son who they named Illya Nickovich. The boy's name was chosen by Nicholaí. whose childhood friend Elijah had once saved his life. He made a vow to name one of his sons after his friend to honor his heroism. Illya was the Russian version of the name Elijah, a Jewish name...
The baby was very small, and Tanya was concerned her lack of nutritious food during the pregnancy would cause him to be weak and sickly, but he was anything but that. He was strong despite his size, and had quite an appetite. She had just finished nursing him and put Illya to sleep in a basket at her feet.
Marina had just finished baking a real loaf of bread, and the smell of it cooling was mouthwatering. If Nicholaí had not caught something while hunting, the bread would be supper for all of them, that and a thin vegetable broth.
There came a noise at the back door leading to the kitchen and Nicholaí tramped through it with his young son Dimitry not far behind him. He'd been teaching the boy how to hunt, even though he was but a child. The boy was tall like his father and seemed to easily take to the ways of the forest.
"Look Mama, Baba! We have rabbits!" Dimitry shouted with delight.
"Shush, Dima, you will wake your brother," Tanya hushed him. When she looked down at her little boy, she saw that Illya was already awake; smiling at him, he stroked his soft hair, which she was happy was blond like her's. Illya was a very serious baby and rarely smiled, but he had very expressive and beautiful blue eyes.
His grandmother said he was a thinker, and seemed to listen intently to everything.
"This one is going to be very smart," she said. "My brother Vanya must do a reading for him someday."
Marina was gypsy by birth, and her brother Ivan Ivanovich Ursari was the leader of their small tribe. He was a wise man and someday, according to gypsy custom his daughter Anastasia and Illya might become betrothed when they came of age. Illya's parents, weren't quite sure about that though...
Marina clapped her hands, spying the rabbits in Nicholai's hands, though she clicked her tongue at he and Dimitry having tracked in mud onto the floor.
"Mama it is Spring and mud is everywhere," her son protested.
"Next time scrape your boots Kolya! Now let me have those kroliki. They will make a fine stew! When you have cleaned up yourself, move the stove and I will get a few carrots and potatoes from the root cellar. We will eat well for the next few days thanks to you."
"Thanks to Dimitry," Nicholaí boasted. "He bagged them himself and took but one shot each. Not bad for a little boy, enh?" He tousled his son's auburn hair; pleased the boy was very much like him.
Dimitry beamed with pride. He knelt at the basket, making funny faces at Illya, and that made child smile at last.
"When you are older little brother, I will teach you how to hunt and you will be a great shot with a gun. Papa and I will see to that."
Illya laughed.
"Listen Mama, Illyusha laughed at me."
"That is because he loves you and liked what you said. I think he can not wait to grow up and be just like his big brother."
"Would you like that Illya?" Dima whispered to him.
"Da da da da...daaa," the little blond babbled. He was holding on tight to a small wooden bear his father had carved for him.
"See he says yes," Dimitry laughed. "You will be the best with a gun little brother, and I will be so proud of you."
Little did he know how prophetic a statement that would be...