
Jenia is the 1st
Place Winner in the University Undergraduate
division of the 2007 GRHS Youth Essay Contest and
receives the $750 University Undergraduate
Scholarship. She also won first place in the
University Undergraduate division of the Black Hills
Youth Essay contest.
She says, "My name is Jenia.
I am from Ukraine and am 20 years old. English &
German languages are the main part of my student
life. History, reading books, traveling and dancing
are my best interests. I have a wonderful big
family whose support and belief helped me to win
this contest. I decided to write an essay because I
have a German background and I am very proud of it!
My plans for the near future are to spend this
summer in the USA and to graduate in linguistics
from Kiev National Aviation University.”
Jenia is working at a summer camp in NY and was
present at the GRHS Convention to accept her awards.
The Bismarck Tribune and KFYR TV in Bismarck
recognized her presence at the convention.At the
“Voices of the Future” workshop, she gave a summary
of her essay that is a genealogy of her
grandmother’s German Russian family. Her grandmother
and family live in Ochakov, Ukraine.
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My
Grandmother’s Story – My Heritage
About two years ago, on a cold winter evening,
I was sitting at the window watching
the way millions of different
fragile white snowflakes were falling on the ground and turning
into one big snow cover. It reminded me plenty of human fates
and fortunes, which are quite
different: happy and unhappy, complicated and careless.
Suddenly, I smelled the scent of the most delicious sweet
pastries from the kitchen being cooked by my grandmother Ludmila.
I’m fond of spending time with her because my grandmother is a
very attentive, careful, kind and wise person.
“Jenia, let’s have tea” – invited my granny. Her invitation
reminded me about earlier times when
I was a little girl and my
grandmother told me tall tales. I would ask her to tell
me more and more, and she could continue to
concoct something
non-stop.
During our tea, I
said, “Granny, please tell me a story how it was in my
childhood! Do you remember?” She became lost in thought, looked
at me attentively and then said, okay Jenia, it is the right
time, not for a tale, but for the real story in which the main
characters will be your ancestors. I became excited at the
expectation of hearing something very interesting and
exceptional.
Grandmother
Ludmila Lutz Kramarenko began her story. “My dear, your
grandmother is 60 years old
of age, but a hard and bitter period of my life has
passed. Only God knows how much time I have till the end of my
life on the earth. That’s why I want to tell you about my
parents’ lives, and the lives of some of your other ancestors.
The story of their lives has lived in my heart all my life like
an unsaid painful question, “What for? Why?”
Grandmother
Ludmila hesitated for a moment, and then continued her story.
“There was a great resettlement of German people from Baden and
Würtemberg in Germany to South Russia from 1804 till 1824, by
the invitation of Russian Czar Alexander I. As told by my
father, Lutz Peter Petrovich, confirmed with information from
German church records, (In 2002, Ludmila found this information
in a special book in a German Church.) his ancestor Lutz
Johannes was resettled from the town or village Marios
Schlüchtern, maybe to Bessarabia, and then to Ukraine in Odessa
region. My grandfather Lutz Peter was born in 1880, in the
village Bischofsfeld, and died in June 28, 1924. My father also
used to talk about village Yanovka, but unfortunately I don’t
remember, exactly. I was a little girl then. Nevertheless, I’m
going to tell you the life story of my father Lutz Peter
Petrovich, as told to me.
My father’s mother, Risling
Elizabeth (1882 – 1967), had six brothers and sisters, Evgenia,
Regina, Lidia, Georgij, Rohus and Pius. Elizabeth was the eldest
in the family, and she married Lutz Peter. They had three
children, Peter, who became my father, Ida, and Klema. My father
was born in 1909 (he didn’t know his birth date exactly) in the
village Eremeevka of Razdelyansky district in Odessa region. My
grandfather was a very rich landlord who owned a large estate.
Later, his property was taken by the government during the
collectivization. After his father’s death my father Peter
became the head of the family. He took everything that was
produced on their farm to Odessa for selling in order to feed
and to dress his sisters and brothers. Times were very hard and
anxious. Often, bandits would fall upon him and take away
everything on the way to Odessa. When my father became an adult,
he bought a gun to protect himself, and bandits soon learned
that he had one. One time when Peter was going to market, he had
to leave his cart and goods to escape on horseback while the
gangsters pursued him until reaching his village.
Peter stayed with his mother and
family until 1929 when he married Rosa, a countrywoman. They
acquired their own house, and lived in the village Eremeevka
until 1942. They had five children, four daughters and one son,
but the eldest daughter died when she was 12 years old.
When World War II began, the
German Army occupied the Odessa region. Then the Soviet
government decided to move the German people away because Soviet
rulers thought the German people would help the fascists. While
Rosa and the children lived under German rule, Peter was sent to
the Perm region (Ural, taiga) where he had to work at cutting
down trees for shipbuilding – so-called “ship timber”, and burn
charcoal for producing tar which was used in building. He was
forced to work under inhuman conditions, cold weather with 50
degrees of frost, shabby clothes, and hunger. Workers had
special deep resin galoshes (rubbers) and puttees. Their clothes
were covered with ice, and they worked about 12 hours per day.
My father slept under a shelter of branches and he buried in the
snow for warmkeeping.
In time, Peter and other workers
made dugouts in the ground for shelter, and then built fires to
heat it. One day my father was so hungry, that in order not to
die, he found potato peelings on the dump, which he boiled and
ate. Later he became ill and nearly died from it. Old Believers,
who lived in the taiga and communicated with nobody, saved my
father. It was not easy for Peter to communicate with them since
my father knew very little Russian as his family had always
spoken German. .
Peter sent a lot of letters to
his wife and children in Odessa during his years working in the
Ural taiga, but he received no answers. He didn’t know that the
fascists had taken them as prisoners. Then he applied to
the authorities to search for information about his family and
was told his family was missing. Later, he applied again, and
the answer was that his family had perished. So, he looked for
them for about 10 years, but during this time his family was
working for a German landlord in Germany.
When World War II ended, the
Soviet Union took their German people back, not to their
previous homes as they were promised, but to Siberia and
Kazakhstan, considering them traitors. My father’s family was
taken to an uninhabited steppe in Kazakhstan, where they had to
dig dugouts for shelter so they wouldn’t die from the cold; and
lack of food and starvation were constant problems.”
“Now”, Grandmother Ludmila said
it was time to tell about her mother’s lifestory. Ludmila’s
mother’s name was Ogryzko Anna Adolphovna, and her parents,
Adolph and Mikhajlina Ogryzko, were Poles. They lived in
Gadivlya village of Lepelsky district, Vitebsk region,
Belorussia. “So, my mother’s motherland is Belorussia. They had
five children, three daughters, Yanina (1913), Maria, my mother
Anna (1915), and two sons, Stephen and one more son, born in
1911, but unfortunately, I don’t remember his name.
In 1914 their father, Adolph,
came back from World War I with one leg missing, along with
other severe wounds. He died in 1916 when my mother, Anna, was
only 6 months old. Her childhood was very hard. The eldest
brother became the head of their family and helped his mother
bring up children. He was an excellent hunter, and they were
able to survive, thanks to his hunting in the forest. Later, my
mother’s family built a big house. Her brother bought a good gun
which he used for hunting. As time passed, the family was able
to acquire their own household effects, including several cows,
horses, sheep, pigs, geese, and chickens. It was difficult to
maintain such a big house. Besides, they had to mow hay, and sow
grain. To harvest, the children reaped, threshed, cropped, bound
sheaves, and threshed by chains doing everything with their
hands. They had to feed not only themselves but also the
livestock.
There were no schools at that
time. Later the government organized the special program called
“Campaign against Illiteracy”. My mother had a chance to attend
these classes for only two
months in summer, because the weather was warm and she could go
barefooted. In autumn, when the weather became cold and rainy,
she had to stay home because she didn’t have boots to wear. The
custom was that little girls had to keep house, and as my mother
was the youngest in the family, she had less opportunity to
study than other children in the family. As a result, she could
only read a little, and write her surname”.
Grandmother Ludmila said that
mother Anna’s life was very
hard, as it was for all of her brothers and sisters. “Her
brother couldn’t get married for
a long time because the custom in Polish society was that a man
could not marry until he had his own house in which to live with
his wife. So, almost all Poles married at 35-40 years of age. In
his lifetime, my mother’s brother only had time to build a big
house for their whole family, rather than to build one of his
own.
Socialism was the main principle
of the Soviet regime. Private property was taken away from the
people, and collective farms were established. My mother’s
family was considered very rich, so in 1931 they were forced to
give up their property and become members of a collective farm.
Of course, they resisted giving up their property because
everything they owned had been made by their backbreaking work,
and it was a price for their life. As a result of their
resistance, my mother’s family was forcibly dispossessed, and
deported to Perm region, taiga. My mother, Anna, was only 16,
Stephan was 20, Yanina was 17, but the eldest brother and his
wife Maria were sent to Murmansk. Unfortunately, Maria died in
childbirth on the way to this city. My mother never got to know
anything about the rest of her eldest brother’s life.
It was a cold, frosty winter day
when the people were deported and taken to the taiga on carts.
They arrived there without any conditions for living. I remember
my mother told me they dug an earth-house and covered it with
trees. In order to heat their new place for living they burnt
wood-knots inside the dugout. My father’s work in the forest was
hard, wearisome and exhausting. Many people died. They had
nothing to eat at all. Stephen starved to death. My mother and
her sister Yanina swelled out, their heads doubled, their legs
were like poles. It seemed they were going to burst.
One day when they were working in
taiga they found an old tumbledown flour mill, in other words,
only its frames. The dirty floury dust had crusted in some
places on the decayed boards. So my mother scraped it up and
boiled it. After she and her sister had eaten plenty of it, they
were taken ill with dysentery; and, it took three months to
recover. She said she and her sister had turned into skin and
bone. It was terrible to look at them! But, nevertheless, they
had survived!
In 1936, my mother got married to
her countryman Dmitry, and in 1937, their daughter Valentina was
born. Dmitry was subjected to repression, arrested, falsely
accused, convicted, and executed when his child was six months.
In 1956 he was rehabilitated (exonerated). The government
apologized to his daughter, saying it was an act of sabotage and
a mistake by the authorities. During this time, my mother lived
with her mother-in-law, worked as a slave, and waited nine years
for her husband. It’s impossible to describe this period of her
life in forced labor without tears! They carried lumber over the
river waist-deep in the icy water. They were always hungry, had
only shabby clothes, were covered with lice, and were eaten by
forest insects. They had no soap. A piece of soap was worth its
weight in gold at that time.
In 1945 my mother, Anna, met my
father, Peter Lutz. Anna looked very much like his first wife.
My father started to pay his addresses to her. My mother and my
father were so poor that they shared every tithe. They fell in
love with each other and decided to get married. But it was not
easy during those times. German people were under the control of
the Soviet government. They didn’t trust Germans. That’s why my
mother at once was called to commandant’s office and was given
warning. She was told, “If you marry him, you’ll be killed! He
is a German after all!” And my mother answered: “I don’t care.
You can kill me if you want. Peter is the same man as others, or
even better!” I remember how my mother was telling me this and
my father was crying. My mother was afraid of course that my
father’s first family would be found. But he pledged his word to
her, that if they had children, he would never leave her. He was
on his knees to her and was swearing.
So it happened in this way. In
1957, my father was called to commandant’s office and was told
his family had been found. Of course, by this time, my father
had another wife and three children. This news was a hard blow
to him and my mother. He felt keenly. My father was also forced
at the commandant’s office to go back to his previous family, or
to write a disavowal. Because he had to refuse his first family,
it affected him psychologically all his life. My father’s first
family couldn’t understand this disavowal, and they were very
offended by him. Unfortunately, they didn’t know the truth,
which was that he was forced to do it.
My father went to see them in
1957 after 15 years of separation. Of course, they had become
estranged from each other. His children had become adults, with
the youngest being 18 years old. His wife, Rosa, begged my
father to stay with them. She said: “You lived with them,
please, now stay with us and live with us!” But my father
answered: “Your children are adults already, you brought them
up, but my other children are little. I have to bring up them.”
I was 11 years old; the youngest was three at that moment. So my
father returned to us. I was so glad! I loved him so much and I
was waiting for him! Every day I prayed to God for his
home-coming. It seemed to me he would stay with his first wife.
But his children began to come to our place after his visit to
Kazakhstan. He went there again in 1959 and came back again. He
spent the rest of his life in such a way with us. We saw how
difficult it was for him. He felt sorry for that family and for
us. But there was a great distance between us at that time. They
were living in Uzbekistan in Yangul, a town near Tashkent (the
capital), and we were living in Perm region.
After 1955, the Soviet government
began to remove the commandant’s inspectorate powers over all
repressed German people, and gave them more of a free hand. They
were able to leave and return to their families. Unfortunately,
almost all of these people had married a second time. Only a few
returned to their previous wives. However, this situation
created a great tragedy! Grandmother Ludmila explained that when
she was a little girl, many men came back to their second
families after returning from visiting their first wives. It was
terrible, with a lot of tears, heartaches, and gladness, all at
the same time! I remember when our neighbor’s father returned
to his second family where he had a wife and five little
children. I remember embracing my father when he returned, and
told him how glad I was to see him. He treated me with chocolate
candies. It was such a rarity for us at that time. We were so
poor; we ate everything we could find in the forest, such as
berries, mushrooms, cedar cones, and we even chewed tree resin.
In 1959, while my father was
paying a visit to his first family, my eldest sister who was a
daughter of my mother’s first marriage, died in childbirth,
leaving a child. When father returned he saw there was a child’s
bed with a baby, and there was no daughter, it was a sad blow to
him because he loved her like she was his own daughter.
Nevertheless, my parents brought up this baby too. The baby’s
own father didn’t want to leave the baby, but he fell ill
because of nervous shock. So, my parents became guardians to
this child.
On October 1, 1959, our family
moved from the Ural area, to Ukraine. Surely, my father couldn’t
deceive his heart. It was like a call for his soul to come back
to his Motherland. As my father was German, there were some
restrictions for repressed Germans when returning to settle in
Ukraine. My father could not register in Ochakov and was refused
permission to live there. Then, he went to the public
prosecutor’s recipient in Nikolaev who advised my father to go
to Kirovograd to the uranium mines. He added: “You’ll be surely
registered with your family there”.
Soviet laws placed restrictions
on Germans returning to their former villages, so my father did
not have complete freedom of actions. He also had some problems
with the administrative authorities concerning his passport. At
first, they wanted to give only a short term passport in order
to restrict my father; but later he found a job other than in
the uranium mines. He was not able to work in the mines because
of an asthma condition. He had become ill with asthma in Ural
due to the severe winter cold. Now, my parents worked in a
plant treating maize seeds. While working there, they turned the
plant into an example of cleanliness and order for the whole
territory. My father had always put everything in model order as
a real German. They also planted a flower garden where the dump
was located. There were so many beautiful flowers that the
garden was a wonder to everybody”. Grandmother Ludmila said her
parents’ work at the plant was very hard. She explained that it
was difficult for her to tell about their work, but they were
always among the best workers at the plant. “My parents had only
gratitude for their work at the plant, although it didn’t give
them many material benefits. We lived poorly and jejune despite
it. My parents worked at this plant until 1977 when they
retired. In 1990 my parents moved to our house in Ochakov. I
looked after them until my father died in 1990, and my mother
died in 1995. My parents are buried in Ochakov.
My father, Peter Lutz’s first
family moved to Germany to live, and in 2002 I paid them a
visit. It had been 35 years of separation since we last saw
each other in 1967. I spent about a month visiting them in
Germany. I like the motherland of my forefathers so very much!
I remember when I was 16, the age
for me to get a pass (passport), my father said to me, “Ludmila,
don’t write your nationality as German because you’ll be
persecuted as I am now”. So, I wrote “Pole” as my nationality.
Later, I regretted it very much. Then, in 2002 I took it to
court and changed my nationality from Pole to German. I’m proud
of my father being a German. All my life I considered myself to
be a real German. I kept all German traditions in my soul. I’m
60 years old now, and I have adopted Lutheranism, and attend a
German church. I think I found my place at last. It’s difficult
for me to put all my feelings into words, but when I come to
Evangelical-Lutheran church I feel myself at peace. I don’t
want to leave this place. I say my prayers in the German and
Russian languages every night when I go to bed. I remember my
father said his prayers in German, and my mother said her
prayers in Polish. Unfortunately, I don’t know a Polish prayer,
but I know it in the memory of my mother.
My life also has not been easy.
Now, I have one son and four grandchildren. But the only thing I
want for all of you is to have a life that will not go through
such terrible times as my parents did. I want you not to
be afraid of anything or
anyone in your life. You’ll never whisper as I did when I talked
about my background. Let the music and flowers in blossom
always stay in your hearts. This
world will be as nice as blue serene for all of you. Be happy.
Let God bless you!” – Grandmother fell silent. It was the end of
her story.
I looked at her eyes full of
tears and I understood how much I didn’t know before this
evening. I realized I was a completely happy common
girl. I live in an independent country in peaceful times.
My family and I do not have to live in the cold dugout and to
feel hungry all the time. One only knows everything in
comparison. You can understand what happiness means if you
realize what grief is.
All of us must know enough about
the lives of our forefathers to tell our descendants. One
deserves his future only if he knows and remembers his
background. I kneel before my forebears for everything they
have done for us. I wish for future generations to learn about
their family history, so they will know and understand their
heritage.
Bibliography
1. Personal
story of my family as told by my Grandmother Ludmila Lutz
Kramarenko in Russian, and translated by me to English.
2. www.grhs.com
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