A Brief History

During the Cold War, as the seams of the Soviet Union were slowly being tugged apart, times were hard in Belarus. The shelves on the stores were empty, products were unavailable, and the people had to scramble to put food on the table for their children. I go to the grocery store now with my grandmother and she fans her eyes over the stocked shelves, the deli, the dozens of types of yogurt and kielbasa and breads. “Look how lavishly we live now, Alexa,” she says, “If we had money, we could buy whatever we wanted! Fish, meat, cakes, cheeses..” But that was not always the case.

After World War II, many country residents and farmers in the Soviet Union flocked to the cities in search of better opportunities and a more modern life. Agriculture dwindled for a short time and the production of produce became scarce. Political and social tensions between Soviet republics and the steady dissipation of central leadership lead to problems in regionalized leadership and more importantly, in inter-republic trade. Traditionally, Soviet republics traded freely with each other and the people lived in relative abundance, or at least had equal access to goods produced in the former Soviet Union.  Ukraine (and Russia) traditionally provided grain to Belarus, along with sugar and coal. As Belarus is a landlocked country, fish was provided by other republics as well, and became unheard of during the Cold War. For the first time, resources were being unevenly distributed or even withheld from republics by republics, and conditions were tough.

At the time, dachas, or plots of government owned land, were being awarded to those who had served the country with honor during World War II. By the mid-sixties, the land became appealing to not only former soldiers, but to city residents as well. In order to help the starving people, local leadership began to create ‘gardening collectives’ away from the city, accessible by electric train. The collectives were created by place of work: hospital workers, factory workers from the same factory, etc. were given plots of land next to each other so that the people could form a community. The plots of land given were 400 square meters each, no more. On the property, people could build a small ‘garden house’ but the purpose of the land was to grow their own food so that they could support themselves and their families. In addition, many collectives were given 300 square meters in the field, where no structures could be erected but potatoes could be planted.

Most of the land given was of poor quality – it depended on the region and on your luck. Many of the plots were in swamps, and people needed to fill in swamps or create drainage systems. My grandparents received their plot in 1968, about a 40 minute ride from the city. The land was on a former horse farm, and the land was compacted but otherwise not as bad as it could have been. Both of my grandfathers built the houses on their plots of land, as well as the fences, with help from their neighbors and friends. This collective effort soon resulted in small neighborhoods, with dirt roads, productive fields, and even more productive gardens. Raspberries, gooseberries, black and red currents, strawberries, grafted apple trees, carrots, onions, garlic, cabbage, you name it – it flourished on the 400 meter farms. Makeshift greenhouses were overflowing with tomatoes, cucumbers, and peppers. And of course, in the depths of the warm summer soil were 300 square meters worth of golden potatoes, Belarus’ pride. Cellars were filled with birch juice, all types of jam, pickled foods, shelves stocked to last an entire winter.

The busses and train rides back to the city are always one of my favorite sights. People struggling with bags full of tomatoes, cucumbers, potatoes, and in the fall, buckets and buckets of mushrooms – all coming home to the city. Times got easier for the people as they began to produce their own food.  After work and on weekends in the summers, people would rush to their dachas to tend to their gardens, relax with their neighbors, and escape the summer heat. As generations passed, grandparents would retire and spend their summers at their dachas, and their grandkids would run around the dirt roads with the neighborhood kids, stomachs full of all types of berries and jams. My sister and I were among those grandkids – we would spend our summers in Belarus even after we had moved to the states. Every year, when fall came around, we would grumble as we returned to the States, and only when I became older and started spending summers here did I realize what I was missing. Where were the currants? The fresh tomatoes picked minutes before lunch? The fresh jams and half-sour pickles and the warm dusty air?The friendly neighbors coming by at all hours of the day?

My life now is in the United States, and I feel extremely lucky to have been able to create a life here with my family. However, I miss the tastes of my homeland – the close community and the tiny, overly abundant gardens teeming with life.  When I was younger, all I cared about was chasing bugs and eating raspberries – now, I hope to be able to learn from my grandparents and their neighbors and bring some of their knowledge back home with me.