“And the best news of all is that at the start of May our generous new regime will be assigning our region a kolkhoz. And a kolkhoz, for those of you who don’t know, is a huge socialized agricultural unit operated by enormous harvesting combines, tractors, mechanical equipment and other machinery. It’s most impressive. Industrialism is the birth of the working-class revolution. A new age indeed lies ahead for the common working man — no more horses and oxen on our vast tracts of land! We are re-establishing our agricultural system, where all workers will be equal, and all property will be held in common ownership. Yes, it’s true, the former Olivinski estate is ours for the taking. The property, as you know, is immense — it has a barn, a pigpen, a chicken-coop, fields of wheat as far as the eye can see, even a duck pond — everything is there just waiting for us. A kolhoz is a remarkable place, it will not be owned solely by one oversized, greedy capitalist landlord; on the contrary, it will be operated and managed by you, the working masses, the backbone of our great new nation! History is being rewritten. Through collectivization you will see socialism at work, where everyone will be equal. A woman will be equal to a man and a man to a woman. It’s even written in the Constitution.”
At this point, everyone in the Clubhouse was startled by a loud banging noise. All eyes fell on Bubon, who was striking the floor with his cane.
“A woman equal to a man?” he shouted. “Never! Those damn bitches, nothing but Jezebels!” He yelled so loud the veins on his neck stood out. “They’ll never be equal to a man. Never! They’re all sluts, whores, every last one of them!”
Cornelius walked up to the old man and said contemptuously, “Don’t interrupt me when I’m talking. Keep your stupid comments to yourself.”
He was about to seize Bubon and pull him off the platform. But when the old man raised his cane and aimed it directly at his head, Cornelius backed off. He knew how strong Bubon was. Stepping aside, he turned his attention back to the audience.
“Now where did I leave off? Oh, yes, the kolkhoz. The kolkhoz is an extraordinary place and it has its own set of rules and regulations. At the beginning of May, we will release all our animals into the vast fields of the former Olivinski estate. The horses will be housed in the barn, the cows in the shed, the pigs in the pigpen, and the chickens in the chicken-coop. We’ll feed the horses oats and hay, and say, ‘Eat! Eat! There’s plenty more’. The cows will get the best feed money can buy, and our buckets will overflow with milk. Experienced workers will come all the way from Moscow and show us how to shear our sheep, and we’ll also have special milkmaids. If we work hard together, we’ll all prosper.” He raised his arms as if to embrace the crowd. “Glory to Stalin! Glory to the greatest friend of the people!”
Marsessa sprang out of her seat. “Kolkhoz, hah! To hell with your kolkhoz! Your mother won’t live to see the day I give up my cow to your stinking kolkhoz! Never!” Then to the people, “Did you hear? Cornelius wants to seize our horses and our sheep. He wants us to give up everything. All his life he was a filthy, miserable, good-for-nothing, and now he wants everything for nothing.”
“Not me, you stupid woman,” Cornelius shot back at her, “it’s the regime, the regime wants everything for nothing. Your brain is fried; you don’t understand the first thing about socialism. Now shut up and sit down.” He turned sternly and reproachfully to the crowd. “Shame on you for voting such a featherbrain onto the presidium!”
“Comrades! Comrades!” Kokoshin waved his hands. “We are now coming to the end of our meeting, but before I call it a day, I would like to ask Dounia Avdeevna, our new Deputy, to say a few final words.”
Dounia rose from her seat and looked lovingly at the crowd. Her hands clasped in front of her, she cried out, “What joy! What absolute joy! We are witnessing history in the making. Labor has triumphed! My dear friend and colleague Comrade Kokoshin has called upon me to say a few words. Well, let’s see, what can I talk to you about? About life? My life has been gray and uneventful like the lives of most proletarians. I was born in Pinsk to the family of Avdeya Zemlakov. My papasha, by hauling various wares in and around Pinsk and operating a junk cart, somehow managed to provide for us. And when I grew up my papasha sent me to school. Even though I’m a proletarian, my life has been enriched by education. Never underestimate the importance of education! And now I’m a teacher. If you’re interested in my grandfather, allow me to say a few words.
“During the dark, gloomy, oppressive days of the Czar, my grandfather settled in Pinsk, where he worked as a tailor. And that’s how the Zemlankov family came to be from Pinsk. I’m very honored that you, dear people, have granted me the honorable position of Deputy of B.S.S.R. Our regime, I want you to know, is very fair and generous and because of this, I love it very much, and I know the regime loves me too because I’m an honest and cultured laborer. Our regime doesn’t like capitalist landowners and greedy, self-serving farmers, and I don’t like them either. I say, death to all the kulaks!
“And in spring the elections will come and you will officially choose me as your deputy. I am grateful to all of you for this chance. I will go to the meetings and tell the authorities how nice and hardworking you all are. I will say to the regime: please build for the people of the Pinsk Marshes big factories, develop their farms, and expand their cities. And don’t worry, people, I will also say to the authorities: burn their churches and chase their priests out of the seminaries. Destroy the last vestiges of oppression and set them free. Yes, I will say all this, and just for you.”
Pausing a moment, she appeared to be searching for something or someone in the audience. Shaking her head, she said seriously, “You have a total of thirteen teachers in your region and not one of them is here with us today. How curious! How discouraging! But on the other hand, if they are truly preoccupied with school matters, then, naturally, I won’t hold it against them. A teacher, dear people, is like an ant that pulls a weight greater than itself. Grammar, arithmetic, geography and so on, must all first be absorbed by the teacher and then deposited into the heads of the pupils. This mission is a very difficult one because your children, as we all know, are a bunch of morons. But not to worry, our teachers are smart and educated people. They are trained to chase ignorance from their little heads and replace it with the light of knowledge. That’s why I’m not angry with our teachers for not being here today, because I myself am a teacher, and I know the great challenges that face them. You did the right thing when you chose me, a Morozovich schoolteacher, for Deputy. I will work hard and find the absolute best way to represent you. Hurrah for Stalin! Hurrah for our new regime!”
“Hurrah!” echoed the crowd. But they were growing restless.
Clapping his hands, Leyzarov quickly adjourned the meeting. The Clubhouse emptied in a matter of minutes.
Walking along the road, bundled in her tattered coat and headscarf, Marsessa Kunsia was making her way home. A group of young people passing by her, teasingly asked if she would sing them her “bull song.”