_____________________________________________________________________________________

MATHIES GENEALOGY

_____________________________________________________________________________________

REMEMBERANCES OUT OF RUSSIA

FROM JOHANN J MATHIES, VINELAND, ONTARIO, 1965

[Johann - brother of A. J. Mathies]

[Interviewed by Annie Krause]

Return

[1921-1924]

In the spring of 1921, we left Tiege and moved to Alexanderkrone, my parents birthplace. First, we came to George Duecks and lived here three months. Uncle G. Dueck fled to Siberia where he died. Then we came to the dear John H. Koops where we stayed until our migration in 1924. Lived in the nearby house which was like a home to us. Now we had two children. From here I walked to Schoenbrun three times - 90 werst. The first time with my brother Abram, we reported to the Wollost in Brasel. We wanted to go back. The answer was a squealer has no right to his property. The second time I went with Jak. Dueck, Schönbunner, missionary who was married to our cousin Anna Baerg. And the third time I went alone. I'd made myself a cart with two wheels and with my cow pulling, the rope in my hand, I went to get grain from our Russians. I stayed over-night with my Partisanen Kaplun, the same one by whom I was almost shot once. He gave me a large bag of wheat of which he himself had scarcely enough. When we were still at Schoenbrunn in 1919, when my brother Jake had driven him and his wife away, this same Partisan came to me. He wanted to build a house and he knew that we had enough trees to supply his need. I got the saw and we sawed. I gave him as much as he needed and he asked me what he owed. I shook his hand and said he could have all he wanted. Then he cried and told me what he'd had in mind for me. Now I've always been afraid of starving to death but never of people.

When I stayed for [sic] night with J. Dueck at Schoenbunn, sleeping in our houses, it looked very bad with the half covered-over windows, and the squirrels under the floors. But I slept any way. Got up early in the morning when it was still dark, and our ways separated. J.  Dueck went right towards the Russian village Nowonilolajew at Roppow, I left 6 werst through Kaioalicha to Nowotroisk where I looked up some familiar Russians. One older man had good grain on Schöenbunner land and already cut it needed only to be hauled. I promised him that if he would bring the grain I'd gotten from the Russian to Schoenbunn, I'd help him load his. So he saddled his horses to his ladder-wagon, took his ten-year old grandson, gave me a large bag of grain so that by now I had about twenty pounds, and started out.

We came again through Kawalicha where we had lived in peace with the neighbouring Russians, and now in a short time everything had been smashed, and many had been murdered. As we neared Schoenbrunn we noticed that two men were standing by the land-wagon looking as though they wanted to tell us something.  Jermatschock looked at me, apparently noticing that I was uneasy. It was going towards evening and I was still to help him load the grain which was another west to go. The men pointed out that a large group of people were gathered where I had passed early in the morning. There lay five corpses, all tied together, black with worms, who had been shot two weeks ago. We hurriedly drove and unloaded my grain, drove passed and looked at the grim sight, then drove further to the field where Jermatschock had his grain. I took the fork as we had been taught and gave him the sheaves. Then said Jermatschoch, "No one has ever given them to me in that way". He had a good load. I said goodbye, the sun had already gone down, it was dark and the crickets were "cricketting". I thought of my wife and children then and how I was so far away alone on this open field. How often had I travelled this same road, and now it was nothing but murder and death everywhere. Our Schoenbrunn lay in ruins.

People were still living everywhere, also on our yard. A pair of elderly Germans had a son-in-law who was going lame, with whom I stayed overnight. The seemed friendly. Then had been put here by the Wollost. I trusted them and noticed they knew who I was. In my wandering I always had my blanket along so I could always find a corner where I could rest. I got up early the next morning and the wife advised me it would be better to come inside. Her husband had gone to the mill earlier and on this same yard were some more people living, among them a young man, a Russian, Waziel who had worked for J. Baergs, and he wanted to have a word with me. He advised me that it would be wise to leave Schoenbunn. The wife knew this and asked her son-in-law to get my cow which was back in the garden. Across the road lived an elderly German couple who had an old wagon which I could borrow. I was in luck. It was a [telegga?] butter-wagon and the wheels were uneven, but I loaded up my grain. The lady gave me more wheat and now I had thirty pounds. I ran through the weeds in the garden which were over my head, and was very helpful in getting the cow at the wagon.

This young crippled man then drove my wheat on the land road to Friedental, 3 werst to a friend's place. I myself walked through our planted forest to Friedental following the wagon to see it was going in the right direction. How thankful I was to these people who had been so helpful. They had a big heart. They lived as the birds and had more rights than we. Here I stayed overnight and in the morning there was opportunity to go to the city Orechow. I went to the market-place. There were some who were driving to Blumental. Here lived our Lutz, our black-smith who had worked for our family. So I stayed for night, then further to Tiefenbrunn, Alt-Halbstadt to Petershagen. Here my brother-in-law Jake Koop was teacher. I carried my grain up to the attic. Then opportunity again to take my grain to Alexanderkrone from John and Henry Koop. How lucky I felt again to be with my wife and children together, and on top of that the good grain also. Not everyone had this, and starved as a result. Whenever we gathered the talk was of bread. I had been here and there and eaten my fill, where earlier we'd never have thought we would ever visit. Our dear God taught us to pray: "Give us this day our daily bread".

When you come to a Russian whose table was built lower and we ate together, he would always cut off two slices of bread, and if one was to take one, another one would be cut and he'd remark "Johan Johanawiss". How soon we forget such things, and then comes war which brings people together again to love one another, and value that more than all the possessions they've lost. 

Times were changing, so also by us. We had a horse and cow, but one who is on the run, couldn't buy food so we sold the last we had, but the money wasn't worth much and we could only buy two spools of thread. The builder had to sell his motor for ten pounds of grain. It was like this all over.

During all of this, we still had some good times in Alexanderkrone. I'd made myself a saw, and back in the garden our dear God had allowed much grass to grow. I carried it with a string like the Turkish women had done and so our little room was warm all winter. There was no electric light as we have now, but for that time, it was better. In the evenings, the children sleeping with the grain under the bed, the good sunflower seeds to eat, it wasn't so bad. Neighbours visited each other. I visited together with some I had served with. So I came to G. G. Goetz who had a good little business. He gave me a good bag of wheat. "For you John I have some extra". 

Also visited D. Boldt at Neukirch who was with me on the way to Tifflis. He was also happy with his wife and baby. Often one thinks back of the good times and how thankful we are to our loving God who has given us brains to remember with. Once we drove high in the north in the sanitaeter late at night. A railway worker went along with his lantern, and his Balalika and sat at the end of the wagon and played with such feeling and message like we don't hear any more. 

Another time it was Mennonites, sanitaetir, sick, who were coming from the front at Kauces. It was my wagon. They played guitar and mandolin, the beautiful Na-sapplach-mansdhuriz. It was great. So also was it played at the forstei. 

At Schoenfeld by Roppow was an Anna Thiessen [long dead ago], later Mrs. Jak. Lorenz, she eagerly played guitar and sang. Especially the lovely song: 

Softly rest the sea, through the [Geziveige?]
The Holy breath of God blows,
O heart of man, peace unto you
Even you, even you, must go to sleep

Yes it is worth to live in this world and give god the honour. We have sung some beautiful Russian songs in Russia and I still sing them. there are also nice English ones here but we are German people. The sparrow still sings his song.