In the meantime we were performing on big stages all over the country; we were even invited to a television studio and then shown on television. This was an absolutely huge event! See, in those times, Soviet television had only three channels, and to get on it was practically impossible.

So even though I was only an extra, I was still part of something bigger than myself, and at least there were people sicker than I was. That meant I was already on the right path.

But since then, before any public appearance I am gripped by an animal fear. I need to expend huge effort to deal with it.

~

“How many points is your anger at?”

“At 9”

“And your protest?”

“At 7”

“Very good. Now let’s layer you, to get rid of the aggression. You’ll calm down, and you won’t protest any more. Lie down and get ready for the procedure.”

THE CORE AND THE FILTH

The people in the collective were constantly changing. Someone would be driven out for bad behaviour and someone else would join. Our number ranged from about 30 to 200. But there was a core of constant members, and it was a great honour to be in that core.

We lived in communes in strict hierarchy: each group had a head teacher and assistant teacher, and the children also had a chairperson and a board of leaders (leaders were reelected periodically). Everyone else was “filth”, that is, those who were being treated. That’s exactly what they called us — filth. I was among the filth.

The filth often had to undergo psychotherapy (also known as mechanotherapy or often simply facebeating). Children were also beaten on the backside with a belt. Not everyone was beaten, only those whose parents wouldn’t cause trouble, that is, who were the most blinded by the collective’s ideology. Of course I was among this group of children.

Up to 20 people would live in a two- to three-room apartment. We slept on the floor under communal blankets with communal pillows, without any bedlinen. Everyone took turns to cook. Our rations were very meagre, usually just porridge and packet soup.

It was considered that the poorer the living conditions and food, the stronger would be the spirit.

MY SECOND YEAR OF SCHOOL

When the first school year started in Dushanbe, all the children from the commune went to one school in the centre of town. I was in the second year, in the second class. There were several of us in this class, and we all lived together for a time. There were three teachers in charge of us who read us books and made sure we did our lessons.

By this time we were all so well trained that we would spy on each other, children on children. We thought we were doing the right thing, that we had to help each other so we didn’t fall prey to schizophrenia.

One time a girl from the commune ate a whole apple at breaktime and didn’t share it with anyone. One of our group noticed and quickly ran round telling everyone. We decided to meet after class and have words with that girl. We met, gave speeches, and then hit her in the face, like the adults did with us. She couldn’t even fight us because then she would have got even worse from the teachers. We weren’t even doing it out of envy for her apple, but because we didn’t want to see her ruined by schizophrenia and whoredom.

We were sincere soldiers.

~

“How do you rate your anger?”

“8”

“And resistance?”

“6”

“Prepare for the procedure. Wait, looks like we forgot to take your pulse…”

THE CASE OF THE PAEDOPHILE

When my daughter was 10 years old, we were already living in Switzerland. Once a policeman came to her class and told everyone about paedophiles: why they are dangerous, how to recognise them; and together with the teacher got everyone to practice saying “No!”. Later I asked my daughter whether she remembered everything and from her answers I understood she’d totally got it.