Sunt locuri pline de istorie și povești pe lângă care am trecut în peregrinările noastre prin ținuturile românești fără a ne fi oprit. Unul din ele este localitatea Biertan pe unde străinii, printre care și printul Charles al Marii Britanii, nu prididesc a poposi. Frumusețile țării te îmbie la liniște și visare.
Aici am cules câteva rânduri din povestea Sarei.
- Sara Römischer. Although she was not famous in the traditional sense, her story is representative of that experienced by many Transylvanian Saxons in Biertan following the Second World War. Sara was deported to Siberia in January 1945. She survived and after five years returned to her hometown of Biertan to bring up her family through many further hardships. Read an English translation[3] of her harrowing story, or for the original German text[4] in Siebenbürgische Zeitung).
August 23, 2002
Hunger hurts
The 83-year-old Sara Römischer from Biertan wrote a report about the deportation to Russia that is well worth reading and at the same time shocking. The fate of the then 26-year-old woman is a representative reminder of the thousands upon thousands of Transylvanian Saxons who were deported to the Soviet Union for forced labor in January 1945.
I remember 1945, when we Saxons between the ages of 18 and 35 were deported to Russia for forced labor. It was January 16th, nice, warm weather and no snow yet. Then we were carried away by all the loved ones, the children, parents and siblings. I tried to hide myself somewhere and hid on our property in Voistel, where we had a shed to protect against rain. There, 50 m from the forest, there was hay for the cattle. I wasn't afraid to sleep alone. The fear of having to leave the children without knowing whether I would return or not was far greater. The children were then seven, five and three years old.
On the third day, at 4 a.m., my father-in-law came and told me that he would be taken in my place. I couldn't let that happen. I just came out of hiding and had to leave home that same day. I quickly packed something to eat and some warm clothes, because it was winter and war on top of that. My husband was in the German armed forces at the time.
From Biertan we all set out on foot in a slave march. The ringing of bells accompanied us for a long time. There was no way to burn through, every 50 m a Russian soldier walked with his rifle at the ready. We were held in Medias for two more days, until people from all the parishes in the Sibiu district were brought together. 32 wagons were ready for the first transport, including the flourishing youth of our population.
The seven-day journey began on January 24, 1945 in lousy cattle cars, men and women mixed. During the day the train stood still. At night we rest what the locomotive has to offer. In Konstantinowka (Donbass district), formerly an important industrial city, only a heap of rubble and rubble due to the war, was the end of the line. We walked in single file, one after the other, hoping to get into bed soon, or at least to a building that would protect us from the cold wind. Unfortunately we came to a smashed log house with no windows or doors. There was no question of resting or sleeping. We were put in a bath and then examined by a doctor. The new day was already breaking. We only wavered from excitement and hunger. Then one heard a loud call: "Dawai pa cusat!" ("To eat!") Who understood that? Two men translated. There was cabbage soup, but without the cabbage, pure salt water; the herb was not enough for all 1,500 people. That was our daily soup, year in, year out. But the young blood is resilient.
We came from the Mediasch district: Pretai, Reichesdorf, Hetzeldorf, Wurmloch, Tobsdorf, Biertan, Scharosch, all young people aged 18-35, the prime of our Saxons. The first two years can hardly be described: hunger, cold, bed bugs, lice in the hair and in the clothes. Many died of hunger - including Russians; they also had nothing to eat, just like us. Some caught dogs and cats. I also ate cat meat myself. Hunger hurts. Many of the men got sick. It is always easier for a woman to help herself. I saw the men picking grass to satiate hunger. I ate mallow raw. The piece of bread was eaten early in the morning at 4 a.m. and until the next morning there was no more bread, only cabbage soup. After three years we got some money.It got better for the Russian people too. After five years in Russia we were allowed to go back. Before we went home, we were given ten days to rest. What I wrote is the real truth.
Read more contemporary witness reports in a specially set up area of SiebenbuergeR.de here
On the third day, at 4 a.m., my father-in-law came and told me that he would be taken in my place. I couldn't let that happen. I just came out of hiding and had to leave home that same day. I quickly packed something to eat and some warm clothes, because it was winter and war on top of that. My husband was in the German armed forces at the time.
From Biertan we all set out on foot in a slave march. The ringing of bells accompanied us for a long time. There was no way to burn through, every 50 m a Russian soldier walked with his rifle at the ready. We were held in Medias for two more days, until people from all the parishes in the Sibiu district were brought together. 32 wagons were ready for the first transport, including the flourishing youth of our population.
The seven-day journey began on January 24, 1945 in lousy cattle cars, men and women mixed. During the day the train stood still. At night we rest what the locomotive has to offer. In Konstantinowka (Donbass district), formerly an important industrial city, only a heap of rubble and rubble due to the war, was the end of the line. We walked in single file, one after the other, hoping to get into bed soon, or at least to a building that would protect us from the cold wind. Unfortunately we came to a smashed log house with no windows or doors. There was no question of resting or sleeping. We were put in a bath and then examined by a doctor. The new day was already breaking. We only wavered from excitement and hunger. Then one heard a loud call: "Dawai pa cusat!" ("To eat!") Who understood that? Two men translated. There was cabbage soup, but without the cabbage, pure salt water; the herb was not enough for all 1,500 people. That was our daily soup, year in, year out. But the young blood is resilient.
We came from the Mediasch district: Pretai, Reichesdorf, Hetzeldorf, Wurmloch, Tobsdorf, Biertan, Scharosch, all young people aged 18-35, the prime of our Saxons. The first two years can hardly be described: hunger, cold, bed bugs, lice in the hair and in the clothes. Many died of hunger - including Russians; they also had nothing to eat, just like us. Some caught dogs and cats. I also ate cat meat myself. Hunger hurts. Many of the men got sick. It is always easier for a woman to help herself. I saw the men picking grass to satiate hunger. I ate mallow raw. The piece of bread was eaten early in the morning at 4 a.m. and until the next morning there was no more bread, only cabbage soup. After three years we got some money.It got better for the Russian people too. After five years in Russia we were allowed to go back. Before we went home, we were given ten days to rest. What I wrote is the real truth.
Sara Roman
Read more contemporary witness reports in a specially set up area of SiebenbuergeR.de here
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- 02/22/2010, 11:53 am from BigBrother : Those who can be held responsible for wars and poverty, hunger and hardship are ..... Here is one ... [ more ]
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