while the sakhalin convict is on prison rations hc rcccivcs daily 3 pounds1 of bakcd brcad, 40 zolotniks of meat, about 15 zolotniks of groats, and various addi- tional rations worth 1 kopcck. On a fast day 1 pound of fish is substitutcd for the mcat.
Thc acccpted departmental method is most inadcquate to dctcrminc how far this ration satisfics the convict's actual necds, if only bccausc it draws conclusions from compara- tive as wcll as purcly cxternal cvaluations of statistics which apply to the f^^ rations of various groups of popu- lations both abroad and in Russia. If prisoncrs in Saxon and Prussian prisons reccivc meat only three times a weck, always to the cxtcnt of less than onc-fifth of a pound, and if thc Tambovsky peasant cats four pounds of bread a day, this docs not mean that the Sakhalin convict receives a large amount of mcat and litdc bread; it only mcans that the Gcrman prison officials arc afraid of bcing accuscd of misguidcd philanthropy and that thc Tambovsky peasant's dict differs in that it contains more bread. From the practi- cal point of view, it is very important that the evaluation of the rations of any given group begin with a qualitative, not with a quantitativc, analysis. This would permit a simultancous study of the natural and living conditions in which the group livcs. If a strict individuality is not ad- hercd to, the solution of the problem will be one-sided, and I imagine it will be regarded as conclusive only by dry-as-dust formalists.
One day the agricultural inspector, Mr. Von Friken, and
I were returning to Alexandrovsk from Krasny Yar, I in a tarantajj2 and he on horseback. It was hot and the taiga was sweltcring. Prisoners wcrc working hatless on the road be- twecn the post and Krasny Yar, their shirts drcnched with pcrspiration; they probably thought I was an official when I drovc up bcsidc them uncxpectedly. They stopped my horses and complaincd to me that they wcrc being given bread which was impossible to cat. Whcn I told thcm to appcal to thc authoritics, thcy answcrcd:
"Wc told thc scnior guard Davydov, and he callcd us mutincers."
Thc bread actually was tcrriblc. \X'hcn brokcn opcn, it glistcncd in the sun with minutc drops of watcr, stuck to thc fingcrs and lookcd likc a dirty, slimy mass, repulsivc to hold in thc hands. Scvcral picccs of brcad werc brought to mc, and it was all undcrbakcd and madc from badly millcd flour. Quitc obviously therc was a vast difTcrcncc in thc wcight of thc flour which rcachcd thc bakcr and thc brcad madc from it. It was bakcd in Novo-Mikhaylovka under thc supcrvision of scnior guard Daivydov.
Thc thrcc pounds of bread which arc included in thcir rations contain much lcss flour than thc rcgulations rc- quirc,3 owing to the misusc of thc wcight diffcrcntial be- twccn thc flour and thc bread. Thc convict bakcrs in thc abovc-mcntioncd Novo-Mikhaylovka sold their own por- tions of bread and gorgcd thcmsclves on thc surplus. In thc Alcxandrovsk prison tbc pcoplc who arc fcd from thc com- mon kcttle rcceivc dcccm brcad; thosc living in thcir own quartcrs arc issucd inferior brcad, and thosc who work out- side the post rcccivc cven worse brcad. In other words, the only brcad that is fairly good is that which might bc secn by thc island commandant or thc inspector.
In order to incrcasc thc amount of bread obtained from the flour, the bakcrs and the guards connectcd with food rationing use various devices which had been improved upon by Siberian practices, with thc scalding of flour being one of the least harmful. At onc time che flour was mixed wich sifted clay in the Tymovsk district, to increase the weight of the bread.
Similar abuses are all the easier because the officials cannot sit in the bakery all day and inspect and keep watch over every loaf of bread. Furthermore, almost no complaints are voiced by the prisoners.4
Whether the bread is good or bad, not all of it is eaten by the prisoners. They ration themselves prudently, because it has long been the custom among exiles and in our prisons to use government bread as small change. The prisoner pays bread to the person who cleans his cell, to the man who substitutes for him at work, to the sharer of his frailties. He pays with bread for needles, thread and soap. To vary his dull, extremely monotonous and perpetu- ally sahy diet, he saves his bread and then exchanges it at the maidan for milk, a white roll, sugar, vodka. . . . The majority of people born in the Caucasus become ill from the black bread and so they attempc to barter it. Thus, if the three pounds of bread listed in the regulations seem com- pletely adequate quantitatively, when we realize the quality of the bread and the living conditions in prison, the value of the food allotment is seen to be a delusion and the sta- tistics lose their meaning. Only salted meat is provided; the fish, too, is salted.5 They are served boiled, in a soup.
The prison soup looks like a semiliquid porridge made of groats and potatoes cooked to a pulp, with little red pieces of meat or fish floating in it. Some of the officials praise it, but they do not dare to eat it themselves. The soup, even when it is prepared for the sick convicts, is extremely salty. If visitors are expected in the prison, if the smoke of a ship is visible on the horizon, or if the guards and cooks have been having an argument in the kitchen—all these things have their effect on the taste, color and odor of the soup. It is disgusting stuff, and not even pepper and bay leaf could improve it. The salted fish soup is regarded as exceptionally bad, and it is easy to understand why. First, it spoils quickly, and so they try to make use of the already decaying fish as quickly as possible. Second, the polluted fish which the exiles catch at the head- waters is also thrown into the kettle. At one time the convicts in the Korsakov prison were fed with a soup made of salted herring. According to the physician in charge of the medical department, this was supremely tasteless; the cooked herring quickly disintegrated into tiny pieces, while the presence of small bones made swallowing difficult and caused inflammation of the alimentary canal. No one knows how often the prisoners throw the soup away because it is unpalatable, but it is known that they do so.c
How do the prisoners eat? There is no mess hall. The prisoners line up at noon in the barracks or at the lean-to where the kitchen is located, as though they were at a railroad ticket office. Each one holds some sort of recep- tacle. By this time the soup is usually ready and being over- cooked: it is kept "steeping" in the covered ketcles. The cook has a long pole with a scoop attached to it, and with this he ladles the stew from the caldron and gives each person his portion. He can scoop up two portions of meat at a time, or no meat, exaccly as he pleases. By the time the people at the end of the line reach him, the soup is no longer soup, buc a thick tepid mass at the bottom of the kettle. This weak stew is then diluted with water.7
After receiving their portions the prisoners leave. Some eat while walking, others eat sitcing on the ground, and still others eat on their plank beds. There is no supervision co make certain that they cat everything, and that they refrain from selling and exchanging their portions. Nobody asks whether everyone has eaten, or whether anyone fell asleep before ration cime. And if you tell the people in charge of the kitchen that among the depressed and mentally ill people serving terms of penal servitude there are many who must be supervised to make certain they eat and must even be force fed, such an observation only evokes a per- plexed expression on their faces and the answer: "How could I know, your worship?"
Of those receiving government rations, only 25 to 40 percent8 are fed from the prison kettle; the remainder ob- tain provisions where they are. This majority is divided into two categories: some consume their rations in their own quarters with their families or with their co-owners; others, who have been commandeered for work far from the prison, eat where they are working. After finishing his work quota each worker of the second category cooks his own meal separately in a tin pot unless it is raining and unless he falls asleep after his hard labor. He is fatigued and hungry, and to save himself trouble he will often eat the meat and fish raw. The guard does not care whether he falls asleep during the mcal, or whether he sold his rations, or squandered them in card-playing, or whether the food was spoiled or the brcad sodden with rain. Sometimes they will eat thrce to four days' rations in one day, and then they eat bread or starve. The supervisor of the medical depart- mcnt says that when they are working by the seashore or on the riverbanks thcy arc not squeamish about eating mus- sels or fish, while thc taiga provides roats of various kinds if thcy arc famished. According to the mining engineer Keppcn, workcrs in thc mincs have becn known to eat tal- low candles.9