Dancing Under the Red Star by Karl Tobien

Author:Karl Tobien [Tobien, Karl]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
ISBN: 978-0-307-55063-7
Publisher: The Doubleday Religious Publishing Group
Published: 2006-05-24T16:00:00+00:00

Fourteen

BUREPOLOM

Our introduction to this transitional camp was rough indeed. We were put to work immediately and left to fend for ourselves among the camp’s most violent members. Because so many of the prisoners were criminals, the camp was informally ruled by a powerful organization of robbers, petty thieves, and pickpockets. All too soon, the hardened leader of these Blatnoi men, a tough, gangsterlike fellow named Mikal, started paying attention to me. In short, he wanted me, but I was not available for him. One day he made what I perceived to be a backward attempt at a come-on. Trying to be sexy, he nudged me gently with his finger on my thigh and said, “Don’t worry. You don’t have to be afraid of me. I could really take care of you here. This is a place where you need friends. Do you know what I mean?”

“Nyet!” I angrily snapped back, pulling away from him. “I’m not afraid of you. Get away from me!” I’m sure he hadn’t anticipated my brazen reply, but if he had wondered about the possibilities, he was clear about them now. He looked shocked, as if he couldn’t believe my defiance. It must have touched his machismo. A short while later another girl and I were at work, carrying some twelve-foot logs. Without a word, Mikal walked up to me and punched me so hard in my right arm that I nearly fell down. I spent the next few hours soaking my arm with a wet compress, trying to hold back the tears and the excruciating pain. Nevertheless, I still had to help carry logs to our camp for a building project.

I was struggling along, trying to hold up my end of a rough-cut log, and as we approached the camp gate, I couldn’t believe what I saw. Maybe I was hallucinating from the pain…or maybe not? It was my mother, standing at the gate! She saw me approaching. Our eyes locked, and she started walking toward me, trying to smile through her tears. But the guard cruelly pushed her back, saying, “Back off. You are not permitted.”

That evening I was allowed to spend ten very short minutes with her in the guardhouse, under the watchful eye of a guard. That didn’t matter to me in the slightest. I hadn’t seen Mama since the day of my arrest. It was incredible that she had traveled all this way and that we had found each other among the hundreds of prisoners in the camp. We hugged tightly, crying, and I buried my head in her shoulder. I felt her heart beating and the firm, loving grip of her arms around my back. I sobbed, “I love you, Mama” through the tears.

She closed her eyes and gently nodded her head in sad agreement, whispering, “I had to know you were all right, my Maidie. I had to let you know that I’m okay too and that I love you more than anything. I’ll wait for you. You can make it, Maidie; never forget that.

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