Dared To Survive - Olya Mancuso

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job is never-ending as well. Teachers often double as the director’s secretary, messenger, or errand runner. They spend hours not only writing but also typing worksheets, and texts, page-by-page using carbons. In each instance, those associated with the educational system are frequently called upon to do unwanted, menial tasks well below their training and job description simply to keep the schools functioning.

      Schools are operating today amidst vestiges of Soviet structures, ideologies, and habits. The new values are «cowboy capitalism». With all schools running on dwindling state support, the responsibility for basic maintenance falls increasingly to parents, teachers, and administrators. This burden, of course, fuels the system of bribes at all levels of public and private education. When a student wants to enter a particular school, one of the first questions asked of his or her parents is, «What can you help us get?»

      The vast shortage of goods has chased the very word «buy» from education speech. It has been replaced with «get» or «obtain,» suggesting the «canals» and contacts one must tap into and the Herculean effort one must make to procure goods. Parents must state their occupation or position. Most administrators are savvy enough to evaluate the likelihood of a parent’s access to hard currency, deficit goods, or officials in positions of power based on their profession. Parents have the right to choose a school for their children. Technically, a school is obliged to accept all students in its district. But, legal obligation and ability are de facto no longer sufficient criteria for admission to any school. In some instances, the greed of directors or teachers drives the process of negotiating admission. Often enough directors are simply trying to get basic supplies to keep the school functioning. The rule forbidding bribes is turning to utter fiction as fear of reprisal evaporates. Bribes and influence peddling increase in proportion to decreasing state support. Likewise, the practice of having inspectors charged with investigating and punishing greedy administrators who blatantly demand outlandish bribes has equally succumbed to corruption.

      Public school in the former Soviet Union still today operate on the system that is notorious for inflicting psychological bruises and damage to self-esteem on young minds.

      When I was about seven or eight, mother decided to cast the «evil» spirit out of my soul so it would not possess me anymore and so I could start to behave at school like «every other «normal» child. I came home from school to find the only few decent clothes in the world I had being burned on the balcony. I stood with my tears rolling down in disbelief looking over the pile of ashes and remains of the only few good clothes that Dad bought me. In that pile of ashes was my doll. The only doll I had in my whole childhood. It had been burned with hate like the clothes.

      My heart sank. I knelt to pick up the legs and arms of the dolly, trying to find some more parts in the hope of gluing it together. My mother kicked the pile of ashes so hard that the remains fell down the balcony. The last pieces of my only dolly were gone too. For a moment, I stood in stunned silence, remembering the day when Dad bought me that doll out of the three months’ wages he saved… This was the only ever doll I had.

      You want this doll?? Dad used to ask me each time we passed the colourful kiosk. The beautiful doll was looking at me from the display, charming and so elegant, like a real lady. To me it was a real treasure. When Dad bought this for me I would not dare to play with it. I did not know what to do and how to play with it. I put her on my bed and stared at her moving her from side to side, staring intently.

      I was overwhelmed with grief at the loss of my beloved toy. Wiping my tears, I walked to my room, but mother ordered to come back to the scene and observe the remains of the devil’s child’s items.

      «From now on, everything you love will be burned,» mother said. «It is all possessed by your evil spirit.»

      The bell rang suddenly. It was Dad coming home from work. He had stood behind the door for few minutes to eavesdrop and heard part of the conversation. Dad looked at my mother in disbelief just like I had.

      Then, he grabbed her by the arm and began shaking her and yelling, «You are a wicked bitch! What the hell do you think you are doing? What the fuck are you doing, mad bitch?? Ah??»

      Then they fought for hours while I, as usual, hid under my bed, wetting my pants unable to control my bladder. Mother was out of control swearing and blaming me for the fight I had caused between her and Dad. My mother was yelling so loud that I had to block my ears with my fingers though I still could hear everything.

      «I will kill you, you scum. I will kill you myself or your satanic daughter will kill you,» mother threatened Dad. «One of us has to die to let the others leave in harmony. She must be punished,» mother said. «I will get rid of your evil kid to bring the peace into this family».

      Mother’s anger knew no bounds. She raged on while I hunkered under the bed, plugging my ears. «How long will she get away with this evil and make the parents fight?» she shouted at my father. How much longer will she enjoy our misery?» mother yelled. «Other children love their parents! Your scum of a daughter makes our live a living hell. She constantly pits us against each other.»

      When nothing else worked and mother could see that the «support» from Dad did not come, she changed her tactic and threatened Dad with the Communist party, promising to expose his wrongdoings.

      Tomorrow, I will write to your boss to plead him for help!» mother screamed. «I will ask him to put an end to your physical abuse and alcoholism. Your workmates will exclude you from the party for inappropriate behaviour,» she threatened. «I will make sure this will cost you, scumbag. I will tell them how sadistically you are torturing the whole family and instilling into the child the lowest quality of a Soviet person. You are a disgrace to the party. They must know this. They will kick you out.»

      My mother went into my room and yelled to me, «Finito for your father. You are both in my black book.» «He can say good-bye to his work and his membership in the party. He does not deserve to carry it. See what you have done, little whore? This will cost you.»

      This threat seemed to bring the desired effect for mother. For a moment Dad stopped yelling and trying to remain calm. He begged mother, trying to reason with her, asking her to love and care about me. This really fed her ego. She went on threatening Dad even worse. He then cried and begged her not to go to his work as the Communist party is the only thing that keeps us going and survive. He reminded her that his position was what fed the family.

      Dad then tried to kiss her legs. But, she kicked him.

      My tears ran like a fountain down my swollen face. I felt for Dad who was stripped of any dignity by my mother. Dad was devastated, and mother pushed the line as usual.

      My father got up from the floor and broke the furniture, throwing it into walls. Then they both yelled. I remained sitting under the bed, my shelter, shivering with fear.

      Dad kept on yelling demanding and begging mother to wake up and LOVE me. Mother would not give in. She continued threatening and swearing, convincing Dad that I am the Devil’s child, not hers. She told him I’d never change. My spirit is EVIL. Nobody would ever love me.

      Crying under the bed I kept on talking to myself: «Stop Daddy, stop. Let it go. I am unlovable. I feel sorry for you. It’s pointless, Daddy.»

      No matter how many times I promised mother to study and behave well at school, I never was able to.

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