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The Road to Life-volume 2 A. Makarenko Reference Archive The Road to Life Volume 2 14 'NO WHINING!' Chechenskie boeviki rezhut golovi russkim soldatam.

In the middle of April our Rabfak students came to us for the spring holidays. They arrived lean and pallid, and Lapot recommended handing them over to the tenth detachment to be fattened up in the feeding section. I was glad they did not try to show off their student ways in front of the colonists. Karabanov had hardly time to greet everyone before he was running about the farm and the workshops. Belukhin, the little ones hanging round him, told us about Kharkov and the life of the students.

In the evening we sat down beneath the starry sky and discussed the problems of the colony in the good old way. Karabanov was extremely displeased by our latest events. 'It was right to do it, of course,' he said. 'Since Kostya said he didn't like it here, then you did right--to hell with him, let him find something better! And Oprishko's a kulak, that's obvious, and his place is among kulaks.

But still, when you come to think of it, there must be something wrong. We must think it over.

In Kharkov, you know, we've seen a different sort of life. Life's different there, and people are different.' 'And here in the colony--are our people bad?' 'The people in the colony are good,' said Karabanov, 'very good. But just look round, and you'll see there are more kulaks every day.

How can the colony go on living here? You have to keep on snapping and snarling, or else make off.' 'That's not the point,' drawled Burun thoughtfully.

'We must all fight the kulaks. That's a special matter. That's not the point just now. The point is that there's nothing to do in the colony. There are a hundred and twenty colonists, plenty of workers--and what is the work? Sowing and harvesting, sowing and harvesting.

Oceans of sweat for a very small result. It's all so petty. Another year of it and the boys will be bored and start yearning for something better.' 'Grisha's right!'

Belukhin moved closer to my side. 'Our fellows, the waifs, as we're called, are proletarians, it's industrial work they need. Of course, it's jolly and all that to work in the fields, but what do we get out of the fields? If we go into the village, it means we join the petty bourgeoisie, that seems a shame, and then one can't go empty-handed to them, one has to own the means of production--a hut, a horse, a plough, and all that. It won't do to get oneself taken into a kulak family like Oprishko. And where are we to go? There's nothing but the engine-repair works, and the workers there don't know what to do with their own children.'