Continued from the article “Kharkiv Through the Eyes of a Traitor’s Wife.” Part 1
The famine that ravaged Kharkiv in the early 1920s occupies a prominent place in Alexandra Voronina’s memoirs. Here is what she writes:
“The famine was growing worse, and epidemics were raging. During the winter of 1921–1922, people were dying by the hundreds and thousands on the streets of Kharkiv. It was indescribably hard, especially in the middle of winter, when countless homeless, helpless people simply froze to death on the streets. Violence and despair reigned in cities and villages. My mother and I traded our last valuables for food; that was the only way we survived. Black-market trading had long since replaced normal commerce—no one accepted cash, since it lost half its value within a day…
…The streets, as had been the case lately, were almost deserted. Only occasionally did figures of indeterminate gender appear, wrapped from head to toe in all sorts of rags; without even looking around, they hurried away and soon vanished from sight. Some of them dragged sleds behind them or simply a box to which runners made of plain wooden sticks had been attached. There was nothing unusual about these people I encountered along the way. It was a scene I’d long been familiar with… The absence of animals in everyday life no longer struck me as odd. No one kept cats or dogs in their homes anymore. You no longer see horses on the streets. Before, every family was sure to have a beloved cat or the most beautiful dog in the world. But now no one even mentioned animals. It was terribly shameful that people—these superior beings—couldn’t protect their sweet, loyal friends, who had trusted them for so many centuries. They had all perished, but people pretended to have forgotten about it, justifying themselves by saying that how could they possibly think about their pets or try to save them when so many people were dying of starvation…”
By the end of 1921, Alexandra learned that organizations coordinating the work of foreign missions in Ukraine—which were providing aid to the starving—needed staff members who spoke German and French. She applied, and soon Asya was hired by the Pomgola branch, located in a luxurious mansion—House No. 2 on Sadovo-Kulikovskaya Street (the home of the wealthy merchant Balabanov, which had been confiscated by the Bolsheviks).
While working there, Voronina met Quisling. However, her job didn’t always keep her from going hungry.
“…I usually went to work hungry—there often wasn’t any food at home. I was always hungry…”
…When Captain Quisling of the Norwegian General Staff arrived in my hometown of Kharkiv in February 1922 to oversee the work of the Nansen Organization in providing aid to the starving in Ukraine, the city was completely different from what it had been in the recent past. All schools, commercial and private businesses, and markets were closed; there was no public transportation. We had no gas, no electricity, and no water. People drew water from wells. Poorly supplied hospitals were overflowing with patients suffering from epidemic diseases, and people all around were on the brink of starvation…”
Alexandra recalls how, when they first met, Vidukun said:
“— Great! I go for a walk every day after dinner. If you don’t mind, I’ll stop by after your shift and walk you home, and we can talk on the way.”
“Okay, if that’s what you really want.”
To myself, I thought, “My God, he has dinner every day!”
They began spending a lot of time together.
…Paying no attention to others, the captain and I continued to wander together, talking and not noticing how winter gave way to spring, spring turned into summer, and our mutual respect and admiration for one another continued to grow. Famine in the country was worsening. It was extremely difficult to witness what was happening around us, and the captain told me that the situation was continuing to worsen throughout Ukraine. Everyone in our office knew that in April he had sent a report to the League of Nations in which he argued for the need to increase food supplies in order to somehow alleviate the desperate need that existed.
From time to time, rumors reached us that the Soviet government intended to introduce a new economic plan—the NEP—recognizing the right to private enterprise and private property, along with the establishment of a new monetary system based on the price of gold. Meanwhile, people like my mother and I saw only chaos, arbitrariness, and crippling inflation. To keep the discontented population under control, the authorities continued to arrest people on the slightest pretext; many of our friends and neighbors disappeared without a trace. As before, my mother and I continued to fear for our lives, and it was only thanks to her salary as a nurse and my earnings at Pomgol that we somehow managed to get by…
Their relationship continued, and one day Quisling proposed to 16-year-old Alexandra, and she accepted.
… At one point, he suddenly took my hand, looked at my index finger, and said, ‘You definitely need to clean this.’ I saw that I had a black streak under my fingernail. But we’d been working on the sewing machines all day, and we didn’t have a bathtub at home because by that time an entire family was living in our bathroom—the whole apartment was occupied by strangers, every single room. We washed ourselves in our room, in a basin. We were running low on soap. So it’s no wonder that my fingernail needed cleaning…
On August 21, they were married, and by September 1922, the newlyweds had left Ukraine. Alexandra lived with her husband in Norway for less than a year. In 1923, the Quisling couple returned to Kharkiv. As early as August 1922, Nansen had made it clear that Vidkun might soon have to return to Ukraine, where the famine was still raging. In December of that same year, statesman Hermod Lannung told the Danish newspaper *Politiken* that all food supplies had been exhausted, and cannibalism had become so commonplace that parents were afraid to let their children go out alone for fear that they might be slaughtered.
Nansen himself, among other things, warned his staff member in a confidential letter dated March 13 to be wary of the speculative activities of the Ukrainian Red Cross and other organizations. There were rumors that they were working with a fraudulent group that charged $29 to deliver packages to Ukraine. Nansen wrote that even if these were just rumors, it was still necessary to remain vigilant.
Alexandra Voronina recalls:
— You see, Nansen wants me to go back to Russia and finish the unfinished work of providing aid there. His organization has changed its name, but the problems remain the same. We’ll be heading there soon.
— When?” I asked.
— This spring, as soon as possible. I still have a few things to finish up here at General Headquarters. But you’d better start packing. We’ll try to rent out our apartment, but if we can’t find tenants, we’ll just close it up.
“So how long will we be in Russia, and where will we live?
” “At least a few months. We’ll be back in Kharkiv.”
Kharkiv! I was overjoyed. Until that moment, I hadn’t fully realized how much I wanted to see my mom and my friends again……When we left Moscow, it was still cold there, and it was snowing. The weather in Kharkiv in early March wasn’t much better, but the air in my hometown was more humid because of the melting snow; it smelled like spring—a scent so familiar and dear to my heart… “During the months I spent abroad, I had managed to forget the terrible changes brought about by the war and the revolution…
And then came the long-awaited reunion with her mother:
Now, when I walked into my old house, I literally froze in my tracks, struck by a heavy odor—the smell of poverty, filth, and hopelessness… She looked at me and said, ‘Don’t worry about me, my dear. I see and understand everything. Be a good and obedient wife. Your happiness is what matters most to me. I don’t want anything else. Things are getting better here. Under the NEP, you can engage in private trade and other business ventures. The hardest days of famine are behind us, and now there are so many nouveau riche that you can earn a living by working for them. I go to a wealthy family’s home and bake Easter cakes for them—for some reason, they love Easter cakes all year round. They like my baking, they pay me for my work, and I even have lunch there. Everything’s fine with me, so don’t worry about me.
But her attempts to calm me down only upset me even more…
She paints a vivid picture of Alexandra and her husband’s impressions as he once again came face-to-face with the reality of Kharkiv:
When I got home, our cook and maid had already left. Vidkun wasn’t home either, and I figured he’d gone for his evening walk. He had obviously unpacked our suitcase of bedding before he left, since our beds—which I had asked to be placed at opposite ends of the room while I was recovering from the abortion—were already made for the night. I began putting my things away in the dresser in our huge bedroom. Vidkun returned from his walk shortly afterward, just as I’d expected, but it hadn’t gone entirely smoothly. As soon as he walked in, he started railing against Russia and Soviet conditions. “God knows how they can live in such conditions! There’s no street lighting, and it’s pitch black all around; the sidewalk planks are rotten; the snow hasn’t been cleared. I stepped on a rotten plank covered in snow. It broke, and I fell knee-deep into icy water! It’s a miracle I didn’t break my leg.
I fully shared his outrage. Even I, who had grown accustomed to such conditions in Russia before leaving the country, was shocked by the filth and neglect I saw upon my return…
Alexandra didn’t yet know that this trip to Kharkiv would prove fateful for her marriage…
Maria Vasilyevna Paseshnikova, a native of Kharkiv who was 23 years old at the time, became Quisling’s second wife in 1923.
Photographs suggest that she was a beautiful woman with dark skin who dressed well and carried herself with dignity. Very little is known about her; her identity remains a mystery to researchers to this day. Alexandra Maria (or Mara, as her loved ones called her) passed off some details of her life—and even her noble origins—as her own in her memoirs. For this reason, Alexandra’s own recollections of this woman are particularly valuable.
My departure from Russia as Captain Quisling’s wife aroused envy and hatred among the people who filled our old apartment and our neighborhood. These people, including our former servants, constantly pestered my mother with spiteful remarks. They hinted that my marriage to Quisling was not particularly enviable, since he could not have been an officer in the Norwegian General Staff and was most likely just a Salvation Army officer sent to help the starving. And if he really was a Norwegian army officer, then it was clear that he was an international spy sent to Russia by the Entente powers. Mom tried to ignore these provocations and never mentioned them when she wrote to me, as she didn’t want to worry me. But one fine day, after some hesitation, Mom told me that a woman who had known me since childhood had come to see her. “You probably don’t remember her,” Mom said. “Her last name is Paseshnikova. Before the revolution, she used to help us in the laundry room and the kitchen a few days a week.
I barely remembered her, but Paseshnikova—obviously thanks to our neighbors—knew about my mother and my marriage, as well as the fact that we had recently returned from Norway. She came to my mother asking for help in getting her daughter Maria a job at Pomgol, where I had worked before I got married. Paseshnikova complained that she and her daughter were living in poverty and insisted that I use my influence and connections to help them. As she told me this, my mother was clearly displeased. Not only did she consider it inappropriate to bother my husband with such requests, but she was also outraged by the manner in which Paseshnikova had made the request, hinting that if her background and connections became known to anyone, my mother would face trouble. Not only did Paseshnikova and her daughter know about my mother’s background, but many other people also remembered that the last governor-general of the Kharkiv Governorate appointed by the tsar, Katerinich, was a relative of my mother’s. And if this information were to reach the authorities, all of our relatives who remained in Russia would face certain death. My mother had good reason to be concerned…
Of course, young Alexandra did everything she could to help Maria (who, according to the researchers’ findings, was already working as a GPU agent at that time) find a job. Here is how Voronina describes her new friend and where she lived:
… I was glad that Mare liked her new job, and she turned out to be quite a decent and pleasant person, but it wasn’t easy to talk to her because she had absolutely no interest in poetry, literature, or ballet. She was a very practical woman, too preoccupied with her appearance, food, and other material things…
…Mara was older than me and my friends, and we knew very little about her—where she went to school, what her plans and interests were, whether she was married and had children, or whether she had ever been anywhere other than Kharkiv. She never talked about herself, and to be honest, we weren’t particularly interested either. All we knew was that she lived with her mother in a small house on Kholodnaya Gora—it wasn’t even a city neighborhood, but a shantytown that had sprung up spontaneously behind the rail yard.
They called it “Cold Mountain” because a biting, icy wind always blew there. Thieves, drunks, and all sorts of societal outcasts lived there. The old city jail was also located there, and the Chekists had now begun to use it. My friends and I felt sorry for Mara, who had to live in a place like that…
Maria Paseshnikova and Quisling began a romantic relationship, and eventually he married his second wife from Kharkiv, leaving the unfortunate Alexandra with no choice but to accept the situation.
In fact, their divorce took place after Vidkun’s second marriage. Maria Vasilyevna lived with him until she was arrested by the Norwegian Resistance on May 9, 1945. Vidkun Quisling was charged with treason, convicted, and executed by firing squad on October 24, 1945. Maria was found not guilty and released. In the years that followed, she led a secluded life and died in Oslo in 1980, remaining faithful to her husband’s memory until the end. A few years before her death, she gave an interview to an American journalist in which she stated that she considered her late husband a martyr, not a traitor.
The journalist recalled seeing portraits of Quisling and Hitler hanging side by side on the wall in the apartment, with a candle burning like a lamp beneath each one.
But we’re getting ahead of ourselves. For Alexandra, who is still unaware of her husband’s infidelity and his plans, the time has come to leave Kharkiv. What were the young woman’s final memories of the city?
…On the day of our departure, several dozen—and perhaps even more than a hundred—of my friends were on the platform to see us off. Also present were a Soviet honor guard and several high-ranking officials, among whom, to my great surprise, was Bashkovich. He gave a slight bow when he saw that I had noticed him.
It was a cool September day, and I happily put on my leather coat. Standing on the steps of the international sleeper car, I was chatting with my friends. A military brass band was playing nearby, and I said with complete confidence that I would return and we would meet again. Having said that, I felt that I truly wanted to do everything in my power to make it happen.
A small crowd of women had gathered nearby; they were staring at us and at the sleeper car, through whose huge windows its luxurious interior was visible. As soon as our train started moving, one of the women pointed at me and said very loudly to the others, “Look at that communist scum! That’s the kind of life this communist scum lives!” Another woman chimed in: “But she’s a Chekist—they always wear leather coats like that!” Those cruel words of deep hatred were the last thing I heard in my hometown. That was my farewell to Russia. I was shocked by these women’s hatred, and it wasn’t until some time later that I realized that, back then in Russia, leather jackets were indeed worn exclusively by members of the Cheka…
P.S. On the day of her departure from Paris in late spring 1929, when the train had already pulled out, Vladimir Mayakovsky, a close friend of Alexandra Voronina’s, said to her as she was leaving: “No matter what happens, don’t return to Russia. Even if I write to you saying you should come back—it will be a trap. Don’t listen to me. Don’t come back.
Goodbye.”
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