THE DETROIT JEWISH NEWS
Friday, January 18, 1985
Letters From Prison
ingly demonstrated when Paramount Pic-
' tures sought her cooperation in making a
television mini-series — a love story —
about her life with Anatoly. For months
? she wrestled with the problem. On the one
hand, Anatoly's plight would be brought
to the attention of a huge audience. On the
`-) other, their privacy would be utterly de-
stroyed. Avital was unable to make up her
mind, and the project was finally scrapped.
Now, as we sit in the modest Jerusalem
apartment she shares with a Russian
couple and their five young children, she
is preparing to embark on yet another
journey. At dawn the following morning,
she is flying to London for a television in-
terview and then on to the United States
where she hopes to meet President Ronald
Reagan, Secretary of State George Shultz
and anyone else who might be able to help.
She is exhausted and has a bad case of
the flu. But when I suggest that she
should be going to bed instead of flying
around the world, she simply shrugs. "Ein
Breira," she says in Hebrew. ("There is no
alternative.")
Avital Shcharansky has been living a life
of no alternatives for a long time now. It
is 11 years since she and Anatoly met out-
side the main synagogue in Moscow. He
was then the brilliant, 25-year-old leader
of the Jewish emigration movement. She
was a 22-year-old art student who had only
recently discovered that she was Jewish
and who was enthusiastic about emigrat-
ing to Israel.
Together, they applied for permission to
leave the Soviet Union. Inevitably, An-
atoly was fired from his job as a computer
engineer at a Moscow research institute,
while Avital was forced to leave the art col-
lege at which she had been studying.
For months, they shared a precarious ex-
istence: taking part in demonstrations;
demanding the right to live in Israel; being
arrested, released and then, just as ar-
bitrarily, arrested again. In June 1974,
while Anatoly was once again in detention
(this time because President Richard
Nixon was visiting the Soviet Union),
Avital was told that her visa to emigrate
to Israel had been granted.
If Anatoly cannot go, she announced, I
won't go either. The authorities were firm:
her visa to leave would expire in 10 days.
If she did not leave within that time, she
would never be granted another. Mean-
while, the emigration officials assured her,
Anatoly's visa would surely be approved
within six months.
"I did not know what to do," she says.
"Anatoly's mother came to see me and she
said I must take the visa."
Continued on next page
For a short time after his imprisonment, Anatoly Shcharansky was
able to send one letter a month to his parents and his wife, whom he
calls by both her Russian name, Natulya, and by her Hebrew name,
Avital. In turn, Avital wrote to him every day, knowing that few of her
letters would ever reach him.
In recent years, the Soviet authorities have not allowed Anatoly to
receive any letters from Avital and they have prohibited him from writing
to her. Any references to Avital in the letters he writes to his mother
are blacked out by the prison censors.
These are excerpts from some of the latest letters he was allowed to
send her.
Lefortovo Prison, Moscow
July 23, 1978
Chistopol Prison
September 20, 1978
My dear girl,
my beloved Natulya
Shalom my dear,
my beloved Natulya,
A whole life has passed since I sent you
my last letter on March 13 of last year (just
before his arrest). If you only know how
many unwritten and undelivered letters I
have sent you every day, every hour, I have
relived many times every minute which we
spent together...
In 1977 and 1978, July 4 — the anniver-
sary of our chuppah (wedding) — were dif-
ficult days for me...I simply didn't pay any
attention to anything else, thinking only
about you. I don't know how I could have
borne everything that befell me during this
year and a half were it not for you, my
beloved.
The one thing that oppresses and tortures
me, that doesn't allow me to sleep at night,
is the awareness of how difficult your life
has become...That's all for now, my beloved.
I don't want to say farewell and I'm not
saying it. I am not separated from you for a
minute. Take care of yourself. To me, you
are a great heroine and I am very happy
and proud to have such a wife.
Tolya
Recently, during an exercise period, I
overheard the lyrics and marvelous melody
from the film, "Love Story." I even caught
my breath from the memories. This melody
is also connected with an entirely different
story — ours. The movie theatre Warsaw in
March 1974. Do you remember how deeply
moved I was after that film? I wasn't think-
ing about the movie's characters at all. I
was thinking about us.
For some reason I was afraid, or more
precisely, I drove away the feeling that some
kind of tragedy was awaiting us. Right then,
I decided to induce you to submit your
documents for emigration as soon as possi-
ble without waiting for me to receive
permission.
I don't know what to call what did in fact
happen, but somehow I don't want to speak
about it simply as a tragedy. Our life, of
course, is both more complicated and better,
and more difficult and deeper, than all the
books and films...
This letter will probably be the last you
will receive from me before your birthday,
Natulya. I congratulate you in advance, my
beloved. Another birthday without me...it is
terrible to think that we were together on
this occasion only once — in November
1973, do you remember? And then, we were
playing chess, the first and only time in our
lives.
I don't want to part, and I am not parting
from you, my dear Avital. We are always
together everywhere. I embrace you and kiss
you, my pride and my happiness.
Tolya
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