Evdokia talks about herself, her parents, how she searched for her father, their life in Siberian exile and about how her mother worked on the construction of the Astrakhan-Kizlyar railway: I was born in Astrakhan oblast when it was still part of Kalmykia. It was called Dolbansky ulus of Kalmyk oblast. I am 86 now. Both my maternal and paternal grandparents were from the village of Dalchi. When we returned to Kalmykia from Siberia, our village had already been renamed Budarino by which name it is known to this day. Both my parents went to the same school in Liman. My father entered the Pyatigorsk Pedagogical Institute, whereas my mother went on to study at the Astrakhan Pedagogical School. My father was born in 1913, and my mother in 1915. My grandparents lived well, and they kept cows and sheep. After the Pedagogical Institute, my father studied at an officer’s school in Pyatigorsk and joined the army. I have not seen him since I was 6. One day my mother came home sobbing and then left saying that she had to work on the construction of the Astrakhan-Kizlyar railway. She was ordered to collect 12-year-old boys from the nearby state farms to work on the construction site. One morning someone knocked on our windows and door. As soon as my maternal grandmother opened the door, several soldiers rushed in giving us orders to put on clothes and leave the house. My grandfather said to us that we, Kalmyks, had all been declared ‘traitors’ and that we were going to a faraway land. I wanted to wait for my mother to come, but my grandmother told me that this was impossible. We were taken to the train station Zenzeli. My mother joined us there. On the way to a faraway land, our train drew over a newly built bridge. I heard that on Stalin’s order we were used to test that bridge. If the bridge collapsed and we drowned in the river, that was okay for them. On the way Kalmyks composed a song about Stalin: ‘Stalin has tortured us, may his flesh be torn apart by dogs’. The train carriages were very cold, and the wind blew through gaps. We were infested with bugs. Those who died were carried away by soldiers and tossed into the last carriage. Somehow we managed to reach Siberia. I always wanted to find my father. I found a man called Bayanov Egor Matveyevich, who was 100 then, in the village of Troitskoe. The old man teased me: ‘Where and why have you been searching for me for 100 years?’ I told him that I was Alexandr Naranovich’s daughter. Since it was already late, I left the old man to see him later. But he died and I never had the opportunity to talk to him about my father. My mother could sing and play on the dombra. In Siberia, she learned Russian and German songs from the exiled Germans. The village Golubkovsky where we, Klamyks, lived came to be known as a ‘Kalmyk village’. The neighbouring villages were known as ‘German’ and ‘Latvian’ villages. I remember both the Germans and the Latvians as well behaved, calm and educated people. In Siberia, we also learned how to cook Russian dishes. Those Kalmyks who were deported to Kazakhstan lived better. Our family ended up in the middle of nowhere in Siberia. Some of our relatives were sent to the Far North. In Siberia we were not allowed to move around. I went to school, which was 3 kilometers away, only 10 days a month. In Siberia, I finished 7 grades. My future husband stole me, and we got married. After we were allowed to return to Kalmykia, I attended an evening school in the village of Zenzeli for two years. Before the deportation when my mother was working on the Astrakhan-Kizlyar railway, she saw the following. The construction site was filled with wood, rubble, sand and cement. The whole site was always dusty. Young boys aged 12 dragged and loaded the wood. My mother was overseeing them. Each brigade was in charge of a railway about 30 kilometers long. As soon as the brigades finished the work in their sections, they were given another section.