Grey Is The Colour Of Hope (3)

'We did, however, hold a New Year celebration. We managed to keep back a box of toothpowder when we returned our washing things, and used it to outline a full sized Christmas tree on the black metal surround of the unused stove. I did the top and middle part and Natasha, lying on the floor (she was unable to get up at the time) drew the trunk. Actually not one trunk, but two, wearing zek 'come now, come now' boots. We had made a paste out of the toothpowder with a bit of water, so the whole thing came out really well. It was such a happy little tree. And lying on the floor - Natasha on her sixth day of hunger strike, I on my eleventh - we rejoiced when when we looked at it, like a couple of children.'.

An excerpt from 'Grey is The Colour Of Hope', a KGB prison memoir written by Irina Ratushinskaya which was first published in 1988.  

Grey Is The Colour Of Hope (2)

 'A rabbit, a wolf, and a fox are sitting in a Soviet prison cell. The rabbits is there for the evasion of military service, the fox is there for being a thief, and the wolf is there for rustling horned cattle. Suddenly the door flies open and a rooster is flung into the cell.

'I'm a political' he cries immediately.

The others gaze at him in amazement and awe. 'That's really something!' they murmur respectfully 'We're just common criminals, but you . . . . Tell us what did you do?'

The rooster assumes a heroic stance 'I pecked a pioneer* on the bum!'.

But all jokes aside, wild romantic liars like this don't become 'political prisoners'. After all, our women's political zone, reserved for 'especially dangerous state criminals', is the only one of it's kind in the country. There are other women political prisoners scattered throughout other Soviet camps, but you don't find yourself in the Barashevo Small Zone just for possessing an over-vivid imagination. The KGB are not fools by far, so what could their reason for sending so transparently false a person into our zone? Why do it?

Gradually things start becoming a little clearer. Vladimirova announces that camp or no camp, she will continue her struggle! She even has a plan prepared: first we must establish contact with the men's political zone - it is not far, after all, just across the road. All we have to do is cross our no man's land in full view of the two guards armed with sub machine guns, climb over the fence, cross the road, climb another fence and pass through another no man's land under the eyes of the guards: as for negotiating the barbed wire obstacles - well that is child's play.'.          

*Soviet equivalent of a cub scout or girl guide  

Grey Is The Colour Of Hope (1)

 'So we passed the time reading, or by training mice. There was no way of getting rid of them, so we decided to amuse ourselves. On the one occasion during those two and half months when the prison authorities let us make purchases from the kiosk, we shared the candies and rusks we bought (there was nothing else in the kiosk) with our long-tailed friends; they needed a change from prison-issue bread, too. Fortunately there were no rats in the punishment barracks, because there simply was not enough food for them. Their hunting ground was around the kitchens in the main zone. 

Sharing a cell with Tanya was easy. In conditions where some minor quirk of character could strain relations there were never any problems with Tanya. I have lost count of the days we spent in the punishment cells. Nowadays [now I am well away from being imprisoned] I often find myself look at some new face and wondering: what would it be like to share prison soup with you? Or carry out the slop bucket? Or conduct a hunger strike? How would you behave with the KGB? And, as a rule, the answer comes fairly quickly. This is not a deliberate exercise: it is the result of having had to assess people in extreme situations. Is it fair to look at people that way? Who knows..... '

From page 286 of 'Grey Is The Colour of Hope' a memoir of her time in prison by former KGB/political prisoner, 1982-86, and Ukrainian poet Irina Ratushinskaya (1953-2017).

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