lion of a kulak at that time, and what proportion of the population of your village was
so classified?
Mr. M.: Kulak means they start the collectivization, people doesn’t want to go, and at that time, my father was educated, and why he doesn’t come, they say he’s a kulak. They come to him and said I give you papers, because after tomorrow, they come to ar¬rest you.
They then escape. He has these papers. They didn’t give me this passport, and when you come in, the K.G.B., they are looking who are you and then take you to con¬centration camp.
Dr. WERES: You mentioned when you were incarcerated at the camp that they gave you daily injections of some drug.
Mr. M.: Not exactly daily. They give you if you’re thinking too much. Dr. WERES: Were other prisoners subjected to that?
Mr. M.: Everyone in the concentration camp. In other camps, I don’t know, but in that camp of thousands of people, everyone got an injection. You like ox, go to work, and don’t think, don’t think about escape. In the villages, they permit 25 rubles when somebody escapes.
Dr. WERES: Thank you. I’d like to make a suggestion to the staff. We can’t really go into detail on this here. This is a very interesting line of discussion. I would advise that you find a physician experienced with psychotropic medications and have that physician interview Mr. M. to try to ascertain what kind of drug that may have been, what kind of effect it may have had. Thank you.
Senator DeCONCINI: Ivan, thank you very much for your testimony. It’s been very, very helpful.
Mr. M.: Thank you very much.
Senator DeCONCINI: We’ll return the card to you here. Our next witness is Palashka Olefirenko. Please come forward. We want to thank you for being with us today.
Dr. SAMILENKO-TSVETKOV: With the permission of the witness, I will read the testimony of Mrs. Palashka Olefirenko of Phoenix, Arizona. Senator DeCONCINI: And who is the other witness with her? Dr. SAMILENKO-TSVETKOV: This is her daughter. Senator DeCONCINI: Thank you.

TESTIMONY OF MS. PALASHKA OLEFIRENKO OF PHOENIX, ARIZONA

My family lived in the village of Andriivka, Oleksandrivsky District, Donets region. My father was one of Ukraine’s hard-working villagers, but his work came to naught, because in 1931, the village soviet ordered the villagers to hand over their grain. There were several campaigns of grain seizures.

My father was arrested during the final grain seizure campaign because he could not fulfill his quota. In jail they made him hand over the last crumbs of bread remaining after the rest had been torn from the mouths of his children. But the Communist government was still not satisfied, and soon his entire family, including six little children, was thrown out of the house. They let us take neither food nor clothing, neither for the youngest children nor our grandfather who was over 80 years old.