KIT Volume XXIV No 3 December 2012 - Highres 1-63mb

Keep In Touch Newsletter
Volume XXIV No 3 December 2012 The KIT Newsletter editorial staff welcomes all suggested contributions for publication in the Newsletter from subscribers and readers, but whether a given submission meets the criteria for publication is at the sole discretion of the editors. While priority will be given to original contributions by people with past Bruderhof connections, any letters, articles, or reports which the editors deem to be of historical or personal interest or to offer new perspectives on issues of particular relevance to the ex-Bruderhof Newsletter readership may be included as well. The editors may suggest to the authors changes to improve their presentation.
Have you made your KIT Newsletter subscription/donation payment this year? Please find details on last page.
Contents Nadine and August Pleil Celebrated Diamond Wedding 1 Happy New Couple: Johanna Homann and Hans Zimmermann 2 Hanna Lacys address Gudrun and Andy Harries Golden Wedding 2 KIT Gathering at Friendly Crossways in August 2 Message for my KIT Folk 2 An open letter to the Bruderhof-Communities 2 Letters to the Editor Addendum to George Maendels Report on Forest River 3 The Bruderhof excited by the visit from Forest River 3 Thanks for the last Newsletter 4 Greetings from Abilene, Texas! Part 2: 4 Mandy Stngl and I Met First on the Oktoberfest in Munich In Memory of Eileen Goodwin 5 Celebrating Martha Ostrom-Schylls Life 7 My Escape from the Bruderhof 7 Communal Ripples: Building Community in the Classroom 8 Childhood Memories of Primavera, Paraguay Part 6 10 8. Oh Heart, Where Are You Going? Part 4 12 KIT Newsletter Contact Details 16 ____________________________________________________ We celebrated with family and a few close friends. For us a definitely memorable occasion! Our children put a tribute together and our pastor son-in-law, Ted Chapman put it all together and read it at the beginning of the celebration. It was indeed touching to hear how our children actually honored us, and how well they thought of us. We also received flowers from two communities, Spring Valley, and New Meadow Run. The card was signed by Jrg and Renate Barth. We were amazed that they remembered our wedding anniversary. Once again our thanks for all the greetings! Added are some photos from our celebration at Century Inn.
We celebrated our Diamond Wedding with Family and Close Friends

By Nadine Pleil, Washington/Pennsylvania August and I want to express our thanks to all of you who sent us congratulations for our Diamond Wedding. We married the year Elisabeth II. became the Queen of England. We are very thankful that we have been given sixty years of marriage. It is not to be taken for granted. We also received a card from the Queen of England. Our children arranged for a celebration at Century Inn, Scenery Hill. It is a very old inn, a beautiful place. George Washington spent a night there when he was traveling in Pennsylvania.
Not all children of August and Nidine could be present, these four were: Andrea, Else, Raymond and Helga.
The two youngest grandchildren: ZuZu and his Lion King on Augusts lap, and Liam with Else. (Photos: Ted Chapman son in law)
The jubilees Nadine and August with their special guests Constancia DHoedt and her daughter Lucy (from right to left).
The BRUDERHOF ESCAPE BOOKS written by Elisabeth Bohlken-Zumpe, Miriam Arnold Holmes, and Nadine Moonje Pleil are all stll available. Please contact: Margot Purcell, 2095 South Emmas Lane, La Porte, IN 46350 USA, tel: 001 219 324 8068, purcellmb@comcast.net
Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012
Happy New Couple: Johanna Homann and Hans Zimmermann

KIT: Ramon Sender commented on the Hummer on November 17th 2012: What wonderful news! A match via KIT/Hummer connections!Earlier that same day, Johanna Patrick Homann and Hans Zimmermann had announced that we found each other and intend to make our future together. Johanna gave up her home in West Des Moines, Iowa and moved into Hans Zimmermanns house in Colorado. Both of them immensely enjoy roaming through the lovely mountain surroundings, watching animals and nature. We wish them both a happy future. Changes for the KIT Address List:
Hans Zimmermann and Johanna Homann 18330 Spruce Road Monument, CO 80132 USA tel: +1 719 487 1953
KIT Gathering at Friendly Crossways Third Weekend in August 2013

Our next exBruderhof reunion will be in the USA this coming summer. It will be on August 16th through the 18th 2013 at the lovely Friendly Crossways Youth Hostel in Littleton, Massachusetts. All are welcome, young and old! Bring yourselves and your families. It will be a great opportunity to catch up with each other. We will talk, have camp fires, cook and be gemtlich. For those who want action or adventure, a variety of activities will be available. We will be close to the ocean and mountains in this scenic area of the Northeastern USA. Please invite those who have never been, or have been too shy to come. The organizers for this weekend are Maeve Whitty, Virginia Loewenthal, Al Hinkey, and Miriam Arnold Holmes.
KIT. Hanna Lacy asked us to include her address in the KIT Public Address List, and she wants to share her address here because there are some slight changes:
Hanna Lacy 21 Providence Ave Woodhouse Leeds. LS6 2HN UK hanna.lacy@btinternet.com tel. +44 113 244 4523
Message for my KIT Folk

By Connie McLanahan, Seattle/Washington Lacking the ability to travel long distances any more, I look forward all the more eagerly to each incoming issue with all the news and information about old and long-time friends. The pictures are a real plus. I feel I was there! So many thanks for keeping me in touch with all of you at least many of you! Because my health has improved almost dramatically since early August 2012 (no change in diet, medicines (I need very few), I simply thank God several times each day, and wonder what He still needs me to do at age 95 now. But while I wait to discern His wishes, I am grateful for countless blessings: being one of you all my KIT sisters and brothers among them, and for our two-plus years at (then) Oak Lake in Pennsylvania. We joined people who were living the Sermon on the Mount per Eberhard, Emmy and Else, plus the other few originals with happy, open hearts. Not till wed lived there over a year did we voice, even to each other, Jack and I, that our daily observations of the hierarchy told us the new, (since1960) regime was on an entirely erroneous path, and we left, broken-hearted at the betrayal. Even so, they were most kind and helpful to us as we prepared to go! Blessings on you all, always and all ways. My address: 1802 17th Avenue, Apt 422, Seattle, WA 98032 USA.
Our Golden Wedding

By Andy and Gudrun Harries
We had our 50th wedding anniversary recently. Our daughter Veronica gave us this photo frame which shows us on our wedding day in August 1962 near Bremen, Germany, and then at our 50 th celebration by the River Thames. Spot the difference? It was a hot day. We thought it would be nice to share this with our KIT family.
An open letter to the Bruderhof-Communities

By Dr. Konrad Kluever, Bamberg When sipping my Mate each morning, I give thanks to our Heavenly Father Creator of The Universes and Everything Therein for my wonderful and protected childhood in Pri-
mavera as well as for my parents who had ventured out to forge a New and Special Society in an unknown and hostile environment in the name of Christ and His Kingdom, entailing a life of LOVE and SHARING for their children and grandchildren, and to follow the directive of Jesus in the so called Great Commission. For this I am grateful in spite of the fact that everything my parents gave their lives, health, suffering and stood for, all of which supposedly was OUR Heimat: 'til death do us part!!! had crumbled and disappeared into oblivion Das Haus ist zerfallen, was hats denn fr Not, Der Geist lebt in uns Allen und unsre Burg ist GOTT!!! In this sense I feel overjoyed for the wonderful thing that is happening to the Now-Bruderhof youths, for their chance to be able to frequent their own Bruderhof-Highschool at which the so-called Great Commission will be central to all activities. My earnest wish: That history will not repeat itself! SHALOM. November. 9, 2012, Dr. Konrad Kluever,, Kantstrae 9, 96052 Bamberg, Germany
Im making these corrections because from your report, George, it sounds as though the Eastern Arnoldleut suddenly appeared when in fact they were invited by Forest River based on the very positive report by Johnny Maendel and my mother (a mans point of view as well as a womans). I personally was very much aware of what was going on, and remember such things as grown men pushing each other off doorsteps in order to get inside and influence someone to vote in a certain way. It was a rough time; it was a time of great tumult; it was a revolution after which nothing was ever the same again, and two years later a similar but more vicious break took place between the Bruderhof and Forest River. I was a teenager during this time, intent on finding my way in the world while the world around me was going through revolutions. The Second Detail One of the first things the Bruderhof leaders did when they arrived at Forest River was break up the strong relationship among the three top leaders, George Maendels father Joe, Johnny, and Allan. They immediately sent Johnny to Woodcrest. Joe was sent later, and there was a lot of back and forth with his family. In fact, George, your family was seriously, very seriously broken apart. I wonder who took care of you young ones. I don't think you ever got shipped to Woodcrest, but your mother and father certainly were. I think you have lots of interesting information and stories and you tell the story well but there are occasions where the story gives a different impression from my first hand knowledge and experience. Ruth Lambach, Chicago, Illinois
Letters to the Editor

Addendum to George Maendels Report on Forest River Paragraphs 7 and 8
At Forest River there was a real spirit of spiritual questioning and searching which was led by three men who worked closely to manage the affairs, and on a personal level got along well too. These three men were Joe Maendel, the farm boss, Johnny Maendel, the newly appointed minister, and Allan Baer, the business manager (my father). Their questioning and searching was prompted to some extent by the recent visit of Clarence Jordan from Koinonia who had made a visit to each of the Hutterite Colonies in Manitoba. It was also prompted by the restlessness of Allan Baer, for whom joining the Hutterites was already his third quest in communal life. (The first was Kubassek Colony in Bright, Commune with two brothers and their families, and he had investigated the possibility of joining the Bruderhof in 1947 as well.) I especially remember my father during this time at Forest River quoting from the New Testament: Matthew 5: (14, 15, 16): You are the light of the world. A city that is set on a hill cannot be hid. Dont hide your light under a bushel; let it shine in the world. If you have found the best way to give expression to Gods will, tell the world. He was promoting the idea of engaging with others of like faith and doing active missionary work to spread the good news. Forest River Organized a Trip to Koinonia and Woodcrest Eager to live out their words and ideas, Forest River organized a trip to Koinonia in Georgia, and to Woodcrest in New York. My mother, Edna Baer, who left all of her ten children with me (age thirteen) in charge, was the only female who was chosen to go on this trip along with Johnny Maendel and a man from another colony. (Having a female along was already a major departure from typical Hutterite culture.) They were gone perhaps two or three weeks. We expected they would have glowing words about Koinonia on their return, but surprisingly, they were overwhelmed with enthusiasm for the great outpouring of love they found at Woodcrest. I noted my mothers emotional enthusiasm about this, as she normally was a very self contained Germanic Mennonite woman, who did not usually carry her heart on her sleeve.
The Bruderhof excited by the visit from Forest River

KIT. The above addendum was sent to the Hummer shortly after the September KIT Newsletter was published with George Maendels article Forest Rivers Exclusion 1955 (page 10). Hector Black also remembers the visit Ruth Lambach mentions: I remember that visit very well, Ruth. Can't recall the name of the brother from Montana who came with Johnny and Edna, but I think he was kin to my wife Susie's Mom and the Lehrerleut. It was my second introduction to Hutterites and the (to me) rather confused connection. I was in Paraguay when the decision was made to break with the Hutterites. People had been a little lax with the headscarves and such, but at that joint brotherhood meeting saw wagonload after wagonload of people fully dressed as Hutterites. Our first introduction to Hutterites was a visit by Julius Kubasseck and others from Ontario. As I remember, this was a very different meeting, much more subdued, and I got the feeling that something was not quite right or kosher with the Kubasseck community breakaway Hutterites, or something. We were as excited by the visits, as Johnny, Edna and the third person were. I seem to remember that the visit of the four carpenters was the next big Hutterite event again very joyful and exciting for all of us. I remember going down the rooms over the shop where the brothers were housed and singing Gute Nacht. It was a very moving encounter. They helped build what was Forest River House, now gone. After that came the exchange. I was sent to Forest River along with Art Rosenblum, and I'm not sure who else. That was the point at which bad stuff came in, like winning the hog for the Cause, etc. We thought that having the majority of Forest River members on our side made it right, but it didn't. It would
have been much better to have walked away with whoever wanted to join us. All hindsight, I was very much for winning the hog for the Cause. Alas. Hector Black, Cookeville, Tennessee
Thanks for the last Newsletter

Thank you very much to all the people who helped put the latest newsletter together, especially Erdmuthe, who does put in a lot of her time and energy to produce it. Thanks also to the people who have written about the KIT gathering at Lower Shaw Farm and who helped everybody take part in the experience. I think the photos add a lot by showing some of the spirit of the time there. I think Linda has written very well to bring over what the weekend was like; thank you, Linda, and also Carol and Maeve, who added more. All of us like reading the KIT Newsletter, so it's important that we send in contributions, without them there wouldn't be one. Just to add about the coach trip which John had organised and was an experience in itself. John gave us a very entertaining and unique running commentary as we drove along the narrow country roads, even if I couldn't understand some of it because of the noise.
they are from, so I often have to ask, who are you for example, but then that is one way of introducing oneself and starting a conversation. I also liked what George Gurganus contributed to the KIT Newsletter. I had never met him or Amanda before, but I really enjoyed having a chat and getting to know them both. It makes so much difference if one has met people, rather than just heard a name. What George wrote makes me think that it can also be good if one doesn't know some of the people, because if one doesn't know who the exes are or are not, one will treat everybody the same, not that one shouldn't anyway. Many thanks also, to all the people who helped make it a wonderful weekend. Included is a picture of Matt and John Holland. Andy Harries, Andover, Hampshire
Greetings from Abilene, Texas! Part 2

Mandy Stngl and I Met First on the Oktoberfest in Munich
By George Gurganus The KIT reunion at Lower Shaw Farm in England in July of 2012 was especially exciting for Mandy and myself, because it meant revisiting of an area with which we, at one time, were very familiar. [See Georges report in the KIT Newsletter September 2012, page 3.] From 1961 through June of 1964 I was in the U.S.-Air Force and stationed at Fairford AFB, England. In September of 1963 I was preparing to go on leave with a friend, Bert, to Spain. I had originally planned to go to Munich, but Bert talked me into going to Spain, saying that our money would go a lot further there. Reluctantly, I agreed to his wishes, and off we went on a military flight to Spain. However, our plans were interrupted when the plane we were traveling on developed radio trouble over France. After we landed, we found out we could not continue the flight until the needed parts were flown in from England, which was going to take a few days. While we were in the flight office, we overheard a pilot say that he would be flying to Frankfurt the very next morning. Great, my wishes were going to be realized! The next morning we flew to Frankfurt, then took a train to Munich. We were going to the Oktoberfest after all! About the same time, Mandy was in Munich being persuaded by co-workers to attend the Oktoberfest. Mandy was not too keen on the idea, but her friends assured her that they would all stay together. One of the ladies told Mandy that some women even met their husbands there, to which she replied sarcastically, "that's sure a fine place to meet your husband". She protested further adding that she did not even like beer. Still, after all her protests, her friends prevailed, and off she went to the festival. The Oktoberfest for the most part, took place in huge tents, and right in the center was a round bandstand, with oom pah-pah music being played. The air was filled with loud happy singing by anyone who wanted to join in. Bert and I jumped right in singing with the others that shared their table with the young Yankees. A good time was being had by one and all. A woman introduced herself to me. She immediately began to tell me about her friend, who was also an American. Mrs. Schmidt had taken Mandy under her wings. She knew Mandy's background was very different, and wanted to make sure that Mandy was protected. I guess that she trusted me, for she insisted that I meet this fellow American. Of course, Mandy was
Visiting the Cotswold Bruderhof
(Photo: SecretGuest.co.uk)
I also found it quite a moving experience to walk through the old Cotswold Bruderhof, and see many of the buildings they worked so hard to build or improve for living accommodations, especially as it was the place where my parents joined and spent their first years of B'hof life, and also the place where I was born. I also enjoyed seeing the burial ground and being able to look at the headstones. The present B'hof people still keep it tidy and in good condition.
Matt and John Holland did a very good job as hosts! (Photo: Andy Harries)
I find it harder, as I get older to remember peoples names, and sometimes who they are, or where
from South America and could only speak a little English, but that did not matter. All that mattered to Mrs. Schmidt was that Mandy and I would meet. She did introduce us, and we really did hit it off. I had asked Mandy if I could take her home, but being from the jungle, could not understand why someone would want to take her home. However, she did consent to my escorting her, and together we took one of the last trams before they shut down for the night, and arrived at Mandy's apartment (she was living with her uncle Max and aunt Klara). I had to walk back to my hotel as I had missed the last tram. That in itself was an ordeal as I could not speak any German. However, I followed the tracks that finally led me to the main train station. Mandy and I continued to see each other for the next few weeks. I was fascinated by her background and the stories she told about life in the Paraguayan jungles. I not only met her relatives, but was invited by her aunt and uncle to stay with them until I returned to England. We took walks with her grandfather in the beautiful parks in Munich. I truly felt that I had been accepted by her relatives, especially her Opa. He even shared his daily bottle of beer with me. Mandy said that was his seal-ofapproval. On December 6th, 1963, Mandy came from Munich to England to live with her family; they were living outside the community, in a little village named Charndon (near Bicester in Oxfordshire). I was going to meet her at the train station when she arrived. I knew the time and place where the train would stop, but I did not know if it was am or pm. Consequently, I met every train for twelve hours until she finally arrived. I mentioned already that I was stationed at Fairford, in Glostershire. Well, as it happened Charndon was only about thirty miles away. Driving, it took less than an hour to make the trip. Consequently, almost every weekend I was on the road going to Charndon. My car was a 1947 Ford Prefect Saloon, which had a top-end speed of about forty-five mph, if the wind was behind, and if I was going down-hill. I do not want to seem ungrateful for the car I possessed, for it always was able to get me to where I was going. The car did have its problems though. For instance, the heater did not work, and on especially cold days when I drove to see Mandy, I had to wrap blankets around me to stay warm. On one such trip, I removed the rear seat put a kerosene stove in its place and went on my merry way. I do not know which was most uncomfortable, the kerosene heater burning my backside or my nose and ears freezing because of having the window open to vent the stoves fumes. The windshield wipers worked alright in the rain, but in the snow the vacuum hoses did not produce enough force to keep the windshield clear and I
George and Mandy Gurganus at Lower Shaw Farm July, 2012 (Photo: SecretGuest.co.uk)
had to keep the right-side window down, and work the wiper with a stick and string. Good fun! I mentioned about Fairford being close to Swindon. Well the ironies only get greater. Mandy and I were married in Cirencester (about twelve miles northwest of Swindon). Our honeymoon was at the Bull Hotel in Fairford (about eight miles north of Swindon), and many of our dates were in both Swindon and Cirencester. And finally the most ironic of all, Mandy's parents Joseph and Ivy Stngl were married in Swindon, 1940. Indeed, meeting with all of you at Lower Shaw Farm was a wonderful experience, the weather was magnificent, the conversations, exhilarating, the walks stimulating, the entertainment enjoyable and the people attending, inviting. But to Mandy and me, being able to visit the area and see things which were such an important part of our lives, adds a crowning glory to a wonderful weekend.
In Memory of Eileen Goodwin

By Maeve Whitty
Eileen Goodwin with grand-daughter Michelle, Christmas 2011.
On the 1st of September 2012 Eileen Goodwin died from a presumed heart attack at the age of sixty-eight. When my sister Helena called me and left a message on my phone that Eileen had been found dead, lying peacefully on her couch in her small, rural New Jersey apartment, I felt simultaneous sadness and acceptance. Two years ago, Eileen collapsed while shopping, and was resuscitated but lived the rest of her life with a weak heart. We knew that she was living on borrowed time. On the 6 th of September she was buried at the Mennonite church in Vineland, New Jersey. As I enter the church, it is already filled with black-jacketed men and boys, and many little girls with long braids in pastelcolored dresses, and women with dark dresses and the traditional white bonnet. I am immediately and strongly reminded of my days in the Woodcrest Bruderhof. The church is filled, and a separate extension has to be opened to accommodate everyone. There are Mennonites present from Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and even from Indiana in the Midwest. It is a lengthy sermon filled with Biblical quotes. All the Mennonites present must have brought Bibles, because every time the preacher quotes a Bible verse, there's a rustling of pages as the congregation looked it up. "Sister Eileen" is praised as being an eccentric, sometimes difficult individual who spoke her mind. She is especially known for her work with neglected and abused children as a CASA volunteer, representing children in
Hanna Goodwin Johnson and daughter Margaret.
Robert Rimes and his wife Martha Mercer. (Photos: Maeve Whitty)
Eileens daughter Ruth Weaver with her husband Marcus.
Marcus Weaver, Herbert Goodwin and his wife Annette Ehrlich.
Five little boys: The 1st and 3rd, counting from right, are Clement and Milton, Ruth Weaver's little boys, and Eileen's grandsons.
the court system in New Jersey. Eileen was a passionate advocate for vulnerable children. I see the blue-kopftuched Bruderhof women, who come up and shake my hand warmly as I enter: Annette (Ehrlich) with her husband Herbert Goodwin, Eileen's brother; and Robbie Rimes with his wife Martha (Mercer). Eileen's younger sister Hannah Goodwin is present from Pittsburgh with her three grown children: Margaret, Aqua, and Jonathan. Christopher Goodwin has
come from New York State. David Goodwin with his wife Starla and their five children, also Mennonites; returned just recently from Chile. Not present are two other Bruderhof brothers: Johnny and his wife Adele, as well as Peter and his wife Terra (Melancon), neither was Andrew, the oldest brother, who lives in Australia with his wife and two grown sons. There is a natural attitude to death among the Mennonites that I find refreshing. During the burial at the little cemetery at the edge of some pine woods next to the church, the crowd of children is fascinated as the sandy New Jersey soil is shoveled on top of the casket. Eileen's grandsons Milton and Clement, and some of the other boys are animatedly discussing how the deep hole is filling up. A little barefooted boy, about age three, walks up to the sandy grave and starts playing with the sand as though it were a sandbox. I think Eileen would have enjoyed the children's curiosity. The afternoon ends with a sudden tragic turn of events. As we walk back to the church for a sandwich lunch, everyone is called back in for an announcement. David Goodwin's twentytwo year old son, Felix (Eileen's nephew), was to be one of the pallbearers at the burial, but he wasn't at the funeral he had suddenly gone missing. David left the church during the service several times to look for him. He was found close by, on a footpath fairly near the church, dead. He had apparently collapsed and died of an undiagnosed medical condition. My first clear memory of Eileen Goodwin was when I was in my early twenties at the New Meadow Run Bruderhof in the 1970s. Eileen, the oldest daughter of Margaret and Fred Good-
win, had returned to the Bruderhof to live with her family. She came as a single mother with her little bi-racial daughter Ruth. On the Bruderhof I enjoyed Eileen, her siblings and her mother Margaret. (Fred Goodwin had previously died very suddenly on May 15th, 1973.) I felt at ease around the Goodwin family, never felt judged or criticized. All the Goodwins seemed quirky, intelligent and creative to me. There were Eileen's younger brothers: Herbert (Herbie we called him) in my age group, Christopher, later a math major and commuting to college with me; and dark-haired, outgoing Peter. Hannah, the only other sister to Eileen came and went, in and out of the Bruderhof, as I recall. She was tall, artistic and had loose flying hair. David and Johnny were slight, younger boys, and I did not know them well. I only met the oldest brother Andrew twice: many years ago at their father's funeral, and last year here in New Jersey as he visited Eileen shortly after her stroke. Eileen re-entered my life about four years ago after she moved to southern New Jersey from Pennsylvania to be closer to her only daughter, Ruth, who is part of a conservative Mennonite Church. She and my sister Helena (Oonagh) became good friends, keeping in touch on a weekly basis. When I would come to visit Helena, we would usually spend time with Eileen, walking in the New Jersey Pine Barrens, sharing a cup of tea or a meal, or a trip to a concert, or one of the Philadelphia art museums. Eileen lived very frugally. She worked as a Home Health Aide for the home-bound elderly, and was a passionate volunteer and advocate for abused children. Like her daughter Ruth, she was a member of the local Mennonite church, but in true Eileen fashion, would chafe against what she considered rigid customs and organizational hierarchy. She had a deep faith, and attempted to live her life in accordance with her beliefs. She spoke her mind, and this often set her at odds in whatever organization she was part of, whether the Bruderhof or the Mennonite church or at work. I found her outspokenness refreshing. Eileen's life was not easy; she struggled mentally and emotionally and went through some very dark times. But she expressed herself and gave voice to her opinions and tried to live a life consistent with her values, and I admired that in her. Last year, Eileen, my sister Helena and I enjoyed an adventure of sorts with Eileen. It was a brutally hot, humid July day, with temperatures over 100 degrees Fahrenheit. To escape the heat, we visited a local air-conditioned museum in the morning. When we were done we decided to go tubing trip down the Brandywine River in New Jersey. What great fun! Helena and I were only too glad to be in our swimming-suits, but Eileen plunged in the water in her long Mennonite dress and then we all happily sat in our separate tubes, floating gently down the treelined river, singing and laughing as we went. A good memory!
Celebrating my Sisters Life: Martha Ostrom-Schyll

By Dave Ostrom As reported in the last KIT Newsletter, my sister Martha Fay Ostrom Schyll passed away on August 17th, 2012. Marty requested cremation and that her ashes be scattered in the Redwoods. Verbona, our oldest sister, and Linda, Bill's sister and Marty's sister-in-law, Kittie, our niece, as well as two close friends and Diane and I gathered in the Redwoods outside Guernville where there was Celebration of Life held for Marty. The following poem was read at Marty's request: Poem For The Living When I am dead, Cry for me a little. Think of me sometimes, But not too much. It is not good for you Or your wife or your husband Or your children To allow your thoughts to dwell Too long on the dead. Think of me now and again As I was in life At some moment which is pleasant to recall. But not for long. Leave me in peace As I shall leave you, too, in peace. While you live, Let your thoughts be with the living. T. Kroeber Following this Marty's ashes were scattered around many of the giant redwoods.
My Escape from the Bruderhof

By Margarete Khn (Greti Friedemann) Hello, everybody! Since Erdmuthe asked me to contribute something about my life after leaving the Bruderhof, I would like to keep my promise. My request is: Please correct my mistakes because its fifty years since I left the USA, and I am not used to writing in English. At about sixteen years of age I decided to leave the Bruderhof. At that time I was the first female teenager that dared to take this step. Gabriel Arnold and a son of the Kleiner family, I think his name was Fritz, already had left and were staying in Asuncin. In Asuncin I had to stay in a middle-class Paraguayan family. I had to sleep on a mattress on the floor in a primitive room. My meals were served in a sort of tin can. This was so humiliating that the tears were flowing, so that family decided to take me back to the Bruderhof house. After that experience they sent me to an American couple because the housewife needed a companion. They had beautiful wooden furniture which it was my job to polish. The maid and I slept on a bunk bed next to the kitchen and we could not lock our door. Early in the morning the guy sat in the kitchen to drink his mate yerba tea and I had to sit right in front of him and he started holding my hand. The lady was sleeping and had no knowledge.
Please Submit your Personal Stories

KIT: We want to encourage our readers to submit personal accounts and stories on topics which are of interest to ex Bruderhofers. Please send them electronically, as word.doc or pdf-file attachments to make the work easier for those of us who edit and publish the Newsletter on a voluntary basis. Typed letters can also be accepted as they can be easily converted. Send your submissions to Erdmuthe Arnold, or to any of the other KIT Staff who are all listed on the last page.
On weekends we drove to their weekend house which had a pool, and as I entered the water the fellow swam after me and started to grab me between my legs, it was so embarrassing. Gabriel knew about this man because he was working for the American Caterpillar Company. He said this man is a skirt chaser and has love affairs with his secretaries. Gabriel told the Bruderhof that You better get Greti back to the Bruderhof house. They did. By that time Annegret Sumner had left the Bruderhof. She stayed with a very nice family and had a good time. Sometimes we met. I remember the time when Richard Nixon visited Asuncin and we hitchhiked to the airport to get a glimpse of him. We rode in a car with a Paraguayan man without knowing him and it was good that we were two girls. My greetings to Annegret, if she gets this letter. Now the brothers became more careful in their choice of where to put me. This time I had great luck because I came to an American Christian couple who were working for Point Four, doing development work for the country. They were fair and good to me, and later on to Justina Jaime who also joined us. Mrs. Ambrose taught us everything about home economics. We went to the market and did the shopping and cooking. I remember that they wanted me to kill a hen, but I couldnt do it, so we had quite a fuss. Another time I lost the purse on the way back from the market. I saw a beggar who picked up the purse and shouted so loud I scared him to death. I loved to listen to the songs of gran baile; you could hear them everywhere. Once I visited the slums of Asuncin Chacaritas with a maid and was shocked because it was such an absolutely disgusting and unworthy place for people to live.
Well to make it short, the Ambroses decided to send me to America. They said, You are so young, why not get more education? As I didnt have the finances, they paid my flight, got all my papers that I needed, and contacted the Berea College in Kentucky. The journey began by water plane in Asuncin down to Buenos Aires. The next day we flew over the Andes to Florida. From there I took the Greyhound bus and traveled on to Kentucky and to Berea College. Please dont ask me how a naive Bruderhof girl managed all this, but I did. And nowadays I think it was only with the help of God. In Berea College I started out as sophomore and later transferred to college after successfully taking my exams. I had to work half time to pay all my fees and couldnt take all the subjects I needed to finish on time, so I quit my studies in September 1962. I traveled to Bremen where the whole Friedemann family was living crowded in two rooms with all their eleven children. Oh what a nightmare! How different this was for me! I got a job doing translations and with my sister Marili. We paid for another room until my father, Werner was able to buy a house. Marili and I gave half of our salary to our father so he could pay it off. It didnt take either of us long to find a spouse. Marili married 1964, and I married in 1965 and we still are together. Heiko und I have three beautiful children, and one granddaughter. There is more to tell, but for now thats enough. The most wonderful thing is to know Jesus. He is around us with loving arms, and if I fall, I fall right into his arms and nothing can harm me. With love
COMMUNAL RIPPLES: Building Community in the Classroom

By Ruth Lambach We would like to start a column called Communal Ripples in KIT in which people can write about the influence their communal upbringing has had on their present life. Here is an example. This column was inspired by the last USA KIT conference at Friendly Crossways in 2011. I was socialized to live communally. When I was but five years old, our family along with two of my fathers brothers, their wives and children created our own colony near Bright, Ontario. This was a practical as well as ideological move, as one of the Baer brothers had lost his wife, leaving him with six children, one, just a month old. Across the field from us was the Hungarian Julius Kubaszek Colony, a colony that had attempted to join the Hutterites, but due to the authoritarian, egotistical and eccentric leadership of Julius, the Hutterites did not accept him. Nonetheless, we spent the summer of 1947 at this colony where I was spanked twice for minor infractions, and where I was told we had to learn Hungarian in order to get to heaven. I learned enough Hungarian to call the Kindergarten teacher a disno (pig) and recite the Lords Prayer. After this, my parents visited the real Hutterite Colonies in Manitoba. So in April of 1949 we joined New Rosedale Colony near Winnipeg and became Hutterite. This time we learned Huttrisch (Tyrolean) in order to get to heaven. At Forest River Colony in North Dakota we merged with the Bruderhof, where I became a novice just as my father was put into Ausschluss. After the Bruderhof left Forest River, our family moved to Koinonia Farm in Georgia. We left Koinonia after six months and rejoined the Bruderhof at Oaklake in Pennsylvania and finally, in 1960, my family left communal life for good.
Ralph and Ruth singing When I first came to this land, I was not a wealthy man" as they lead students and teachers around Truman College. (Photos submitted by Ruth Lambach.)
I have lived on the outside since 1959, and have not become a member of any church. When I think about the Christian message: love your neighbor as yourself, I consider that most church going people are practicing their values as though they were still in Kindergarten. I see Christianity as a radical religion that demands, if anything, everything. Once I joined a church, and all they asked of me was to stand up and say my name. There were no other demands than to occasionally bring cookies to the after service coffee hour. While I have not gone to church much, I have implemented communal values wherever Ive worked and wherever I have interacted with other people. I cannot escape my communal training, and some of it I consider quite noble, even though it has worked against me in creating a successful professional career. I would have to conclude that my highest value is to create and operate in openly egalitarian and communicative environments. Corporations seek people who commit themselves to their work without reservation and Masters of Business Administration (MBA) programs teach people how to work more collaboratively. I have been told on numerous occasions that some corporation would be happy to have me work for them. Seamlessly, my goals and the goals of the larger system were one. I gave my total self to my work. This is the legacy I got from being raised in community. I worked as though I were living in a commune where each person worked for the common good for twenty-two years at Truman College in Chicago. While I got meager financial rewards, I kept being promoted from teacher to coordinator, director and eventually becoming one of two managers of 240 teachers. In my early years as coordinator of the Indochinese Refugee Program, Id spend from 9am until 9pm to insure that the values I cherished were implemented among the teachers. When I hired teachers, I hired people I respected and whom I believed would, like me, find the work personally rewarding and interesting. As a result, I had a staff of teachers who recruited others to the program, and I hired them even though they had no previous teaching experience. I didnt put great emphasis on their resumes, but rather imagined non English speaking adults in a classroom, and asked myself: Would this person be capable of making refugees feel comfortable making strange new sounds come out of their mouth? The teachers I hired were young, enthusiastic, intelligent, communicative, open and engaging, college educated and above all, curious about other cultures. They were open to learning from each other. Others at the college were envious of my great staff and wanted to know how I created this highly effective and enthusiastic learning community. I encouraged maximum experimentation and promoted the idea that The Curriculum is Looking at You. Each was challenged to figure out how to use their unique talents in order to get their students engaged using the target language, English. The teachers rose to my expectations and worked a lot harder because they designed their own classes and made something happen. Every interchange among teachers became staff development. Above all, I could send strangers into their classes without any previous notification. I openly discussed and supported their talents and had them demonstrate to each other how they achieved what they did in the classroom. The diversity of the staff was impressive. Each teacher knew that despite their differences, they would be listened to and respected. Among the teachers were fundamental born again Christians, Atheists, Jews, a former Communist who had promoted Pol Pot at college campuses, idealists, artists, a dog trainer, people with liberal arts degrees who didnt know what to do with them, out of work journalists, stuck PHD candidates, Spanish teachers, Art History majors, and people whod majored in An-
Some Teachers in the Park before the picnic.
thropology. I look back at this time in the 1980s and am amazed that I was able to convince this motley crew of thirty-three teachers and their students, to dress in red, white and blue to celebrate July 4th. For Christmas we showed the Helen Keller story, Miracle Worker, which demonstrates the devotion of a teacher to get through to a student. On Martin Luther King Day we showed The Autobiography of Miss Jane Pittman, the story about the most famous Underground Railroad leader who led slaves from the South to freedom in the North. Cambodians in particular resonated to this story of a fearful flight through deep forests. For Thanksgiving we showed Nanook of the North, the first silent documentary filmed in 1922 by Robert Flaherty who followed a family of Inuk in the Canadian Arctic and captured how much of their time was given to struggling for food, shelter and clothing. We sang: For health and strength and daily food we give our thanks this day. Every month we celebrated a holiday and teachers as well as their students contributed to these collaborative events. We were teaching American, and I not yet a citizen was learning many things about being an American.
The students at Truman College enjoyed the lessons.
Bob Koehler, a journalist who reported on one of these celebrations closes his column like this: There is an American Dream thats economic only, and you dont have to check your bigotry at the door to attain it. But theres a larger dream as well, one articulated by King in his famous 1963 speech, and this was the one advanced at a Truman College lecture hall last week. I worked in this ersatz commune at Truman College in Chicago for twenty-two long years. A new president was hired. A new dean came along. I had too much influence over the teachers
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and students, even though I did not have the actual power of the Dean. My freewheeling egalitarian response to the needs of the students and my democratic empowerment of teachers did not suit the bureaucracy. After twenty-two years of living in this ersatz commune, juggling around the politics, the union and the bureaucratic red tape, I was fired on April 23 rd, 2004, just two years after getting the job as manager. That was the last community I belonged to. It was fun while it lasted. When I left, the shock to the teachers and staff lasted for months and to this day they still speak about the time with a sense of nostalgia knowing they had a once in a lifetime experience in a unique work environment. It was an environment created on communitarian principles whether or not I or anyone else was aware of it. I feel fortunate to have gotten by at Truman College under the radar for as many years as I did. Comments from teachers who testified on my behalf follow:
Ruth created a rare professional community based on honesty, respect for diversity, intellectual exchange and personal engagement We learned to share our ideas freely and eagerly, to view new ideas and other teaching styles and techniques not as representing competition, nor as some implicit form of criticism, but rather as something to expand and enhance our own teaching. Another one states: I am a more successful teacher because Ruth has shown me how to build community in the classroom. Since leaving Truman College, I have given staff development workshops at other places using my technique, now published: Creating Community in the Classroom. I cannot teach in a situation where I dont first create a sense of community. At my 60th birthday celebration, one hundred-twenty-five people from work showed up and I was satisfied that indeed I was a member of a learning community about the size of a good sized Hutterite Colony.
Childhood Memories of Primavera, Paraguay

By Hans Zimmermann Part 6 DRIVING THE BULLS HOME OVER GREAT DISTANCES Next thing I knew we were up early driving the animals away to the River Jeju with the local cowboys helping us cross the river. The bulls were quite docile and it did not take much for them to follow a couple of horses into the water and swim to the other side. I can still see the sixteen heads and horns, all I could see, swimming across the river which was 150 meters wide or more. At the same time they were drifting down stream in the strong current. It seemed a piece of cake as the animals soon scrambled up the embankment on the other side. We had unsaddled our horses, loaded our tack into a couple of boats, and the horses swam along as we crossed the river. A long drive like this becomes monotonous, and I remember little except staying the night at the Estancia Santa Virginia, next day crossing the swamp again near the town of General Aquino, then going through the extended village of Hugu Po and finding a place near Itacurub del Rosario for the second night. Next morning we were met by Christoph Mathis who had to clear the guia de translado (transfer papers) with the authorities. We finally reached Loma Hoby late that day. I for one was ready for a good long rest. Over all we soon saw an improvement in the quality of the calves and breeding stock. One or two of the bulls did not measure up or got infections on their penises which were hanging too low to the ground, one thing Johnny Robinson was trying to avoid. We made salami out of those critters. I believe that both Johnny Robinson and Christoph Mathis were not quite satisfied with just the zebu cattle, the meat of which is lean and the cattle still on the light side. Other breeds such as the British Hereford, Angus red or black were not suited for our tropical climate, so when a new breed, a cross between red Angus and Brahman (Cebu), was developed in the USA by King Ranch in Texas, and introduced in Paraguay, Johnny felt this would be a better solution to our long term goals of better beef cattle. The next national cattle auction would be later that year, where cattle of all different breeds were sold. It was held in a section of the botanical gardens on the outskirts of Asuncin. At the auction were Johnny Robinson, Christoph Mathis and, I believe, Ted Land. Of all the breeders, Henrique Zavala who owned the Estancia Galileo in the Chaco on the banks of the Pilcomajo River which is also the border with northern Argentina had the best and largest number of young Santa Gertrudis bulls. Our brothers were impressed with this breed, so they agreed to visit the estancia in the Chaco to make a selection from a larger group of bulls. Johnny, Christoph, and Peti had planned to go together for this purchase, however Johnny could not go. At the ranch Christoph and Peti did not meet up with Don Fernando one of the elder sons but the youngest of the Zavala boys, Victoriano (Tot), who had just returned from a break in his studies at Texas Universitys A&M (college for agriculture, veterinarian studies and engineering), and a stint at the King Ranch. It turned out that he was more difficult to deal with; nevertheless they did purchase eight bulls, some of breeding age, others just a little over a year. These bulls had to be driven the forty miles to the Paraguay River, where they were loaded on a cattle ship, together with some rejects from the slaughter houses and shipped up river to Puerto Rosario. Christoph was the only one on the ship to watch them and supervise the offloading. Peter Keiderling, I and two more of our Paraguayan cowboys were selected to meet them at the river port. Our start from Loma Hoby at 4:00am was way too late, even though we each had two horses and went at a fast trot, making good time and arriving at noon at our Rosario house, however Christoph would not wait. Not finding us there, he hired some locals with horses, and started driving the bulls towards Primavera, choosing the road which skirts the campos and presented less interference from vehicular traffic. We had no time to rest, and Christoph had a four hour head start. Two of our horses got colic and had to be left behind at our house in Puerto Rosario which was taken care of by Johannes Wirtz. Having lost two horses we had to go slower and had not caught up with Christoph by the late afternoon at a point south west of Itacurubi where we stayed the night. Again I was too tired to remember anything from that evening as we had covered well over hundred kilometers on horseback in one day. Another loss was my dog Aguara, he got hung up somewhere near General Aquino, but this resourceful companion showed up again two weeks later. The next day after some delay settling the transfer papers in Itacurubi, we were on our way to Loma Hoby, where we arrived in late afternoon. The new Santa Gertrudis bulls were let loose on Campo Riveros Cue with a selected herd of cows. The Cebu bulls remained on Campo Loma, again with a selection of cows which had already a high percentage of Cebu blood in them, we called that our Cebu Plantell, a selected heard of cows and bulls, to keep the bread pure.
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I enjoyed my job and the individual freedom the work with the cattle provided. I broke in my own horses which performed much better than some of the other rejects; these were poorly trained horses, who none of the cowboys wanted to ride.. The biggest improvement was my own horses were willing to run. Now I could catch up with a wild steer (novillo as we called them) on the open campo to rope them. A POPULATION OF 750 HAD TO BE FED By end of 1957 and beginning 1958 the population of Primavera was I believe over 700 people, in addition there were fifty or more Paraguayans working for us, who were employed in the sawmill, clearing the forest for new fields or hoeing the weeds in the mandioca, corn, bean or other fields. Paraguayans cut logs for our timber needs. The logs had to be hauled in from the forest by teams of oxen pulling the alza primas. We had three or four alza primas in Isla Margarita and Loma Hoby, each pulled by a team of six oxen. Employees worked in brick making and even in the turning shop. Four or five worked as cowboys, and two or three natives worked in the slaughter house. Beef is one of the major foods in Paraguay, in addition to mandioca, corn and rice which we also gave to our native workers. They lived in their own houses on the fringes of our villages. On weekends our native workers would head home to their villages if they were in the vicinity. SLAUGHTERING WAS DONE FREQUENTLY Our demand for beef was going up; we slaughtered one or two animals three times a week on Monday, Wednesday and Friday (at times up to five animals per week). The frequency of slaughter was required due to the lack of refrigeration capability. Our breeding herd was just a little over 2000 animals all inclusive, breeding cows and bulls including the calves, yearlings and two to three year olds. Our cattle reached maturity in three or four years; this meant we were killing them faster than we could replace them. This was a major problem; when we ran short, we were forced to slaughter some of our valuable draught oxen needed for our logging industry. Our careteros, the natives who managed the oxen for the alza primas, had difficulty dealing with sacrificing their beloved animals. I know Venceslao Jaime found that to be very difficult, the oxen were like their partners. Like training a good horse, training oxen to cart the lumber out of the forest takes dedication and skill. The natives had a custom to give the oxen female names, not sure why they did that. By now it would be too late to find out, that industry is extinct, everything now done by trucks and machines. We needed more animals for slaughter so we went looking to purchase them from our neighbors be they Paraguayan or the
Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012 Paraguayans cut the logs for our timber needs.
The oxen were partners of the careteros.
Mennonites. We would buy anything including big old bulls which are not the best tasting. We found a ready source with the Mennonites who had many old bulls which had become a nuisance, breaking into their chacras and gardens. Off we went to Friesland, looking for them on the campos, in forests and drive them out of the fields. Here is where my dogs came in handy. I would chase the bulls out of the fields and forests into the open where our cowboys could rope them. We would then hook them up to another tame ox so that we could drive them home to Loma Hoby. At times however the bulls got away from us and we returned empty handed, which meant the three or four of us, wasted the better part of a day. This effort to scrounge for an animal here or there was becoming too time-consuming and expensive, so the Brderrat decided we should buy up to hundred steers from Mr. Schmeling who had an Estancia just south west of Santan, nearly a days ride by horse from Primavera. I certainly looked forward to this cattle drive; we would be away for four to five days. On this drive would be Christoph and Peti Mathis, Peter Keiderling and myself in addition to four of our Paraguayan cowboys. It took us one day to get there; the second day was spent sorting out the steers on the open range, and then driving them back with lead oxen to the main corral. Since we were buying cattle on the hoof, the weight was estimated for each animal. Peti made the estimate for us, while the Schmeling son and his foreman made theirs. To come to a consensus, one steer was slaughtered and weighed after each party had made their estimate. Peti's estimate would always be lower than Schmelings. The weighing of the slaughtered animal showed that the estimates were close enough and we could settle on that basis. On the third day we finished the selection, and were ready to leave in the early morning of the fourth day. It was critical to get an early start as we had to drive the cattle through the mile wide forest after crossing the River Tapiracuay at Doa Antoninas rest stop. With the tame lead oxen called sinuellos in front, everything went smoothly as we also had the help of the Schmeling cowboys, so we reached the crossing of the Tapiracuay by late morning. Now the tricky part was ahead; all oncoming traffic going through the forest had to be stopped. Riders had to be posted at any possible turn off or side road. Luckily this road was already over hundred years old with steep side banks, what we call in German ein Hohlweg, so there were only a few critical spots. When we estimated everyone was in position, we set the animals in motion, with riders leading hurrying the lead oxen to a gallop we proceeded to stampede the herd down this road. Yes it was a thundering herd generating plenty of dust. When we reached the open campo on the other side we slowed down the animals and let them rest. Now we had a chance to take a count, and I was amazed we did not lose a single one. We let the animals rest for one hour, and at this point the
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cowboys from Schmeling returned to their estancia with the lead oxen. By now the steers had fallen into a pattern and our eight men were able to continue through Vacah and onto our Campo Dolores and our coral at Riveroscu. The following day the hundred steers were driven down to Campo Invernada where the grass was similar to the swamps of the Schmeling Estancia. We now had a supply of healthy large steers which would last us for many months and would cut down the number of animals we had to slaughter on a weekly basis. The work with the cattle continued to be interesting and a challenge. We had to deal with diseases such as foot and mouth and anthrax. We immunized the cattle with vaccinations. Peti Mathis had worked for a year on a ranch in southern Paraguay managed by the U.S. Point IV program for agriculture STICA (Servicio Tecnico Interamericano de Cooperacin Agricola). It taught the local ranchers modern breeding programs and general ranch management. Monte Jaime was now fenced off but there remained wild cattle in Isla Guaz, these had to be moved to Campo Dolores while the rice field was cultivated on lower Campo Dolores and upper Campo Invernada, so we attempted another cattle drive, this time in Isla Guaz. Again all men from Isla Margarita, Loma Hoby and Ibat were asked to drive the cattle out of the forest on foot. Sadly this again was not very successful, the most effective way turned out to be: have an opening in the fence; build a funnel with strong but pliable poles where the cattle could go through but not return, that did the trick. SPIRITUAL COMMUNITY LIFE WAS SECONDARY My focus remained on the management and work with our cattle and horses. The spiritual life of the Bruderhof was secondary to me, and I did not even join the Gemeindestunde or participate in the Sunday morning communal services. Weekends our wild forests provided a bigger attraction, so I and one or two other boys would go hunting with our dogs, for whatever we could track, mostly armadillos, aguts, iguanas or coats. Two young men I looked up to were Daniel Meier and Bill Bridgwater; they were one or two years older and had experienced the world outside of the community. However, the youth group gatherings and activities were a must to attend, always great fun: evenings out on the campos next to the woods where we would dance, later build a big fire and sing songs until late evening.
I was not showing any commitment, so the brotherhood decided it was time for me to take a distance from the community and make up my mind as to what to make out of my life. I had just turned eighteen. It was proposed that I work for a while on the Estancia of the Zavalas in the Chaco, the people from whom we had bought the Santa Gertrudis bulls. For me this was a major step. I had to mentally prepare myself. It would be a challenge, being on my own, far removed from home, living with the native Paraguayans, speaking only Spanish or Guaran, the indigenous language of Paraguay. To be continued. ____________________________________________________
8. Oh Heart, Where Are You Going?

By Susanna Alves Part 4 No Mistakes Allowed Simone woke up late. The house was very still. With a slight shock she realised that Rupert was well away by now and with him the greater part of the Bruderhof household members, chugging up the Ro Paraguay on the Stella Maris towards Puerto Rosario. She stood dazed in the doorway of her bedroom, still in her nightgown. The hall looked tidy. All signs of the departing crowd had been removed, and it looked attractively empty in the rays of bright autumn sunlight. There was no-one in sight. Rebecca, the housemother, had apparently decided to let her sleep in. She heard baby Andys happily chirping voice from behind Rebeccas closed door. There was a folded note on the coffee-table in the corner. It read Simone, personal. She picked it up and returned into the bedroom, sitting on Salome Hilperts now empty bed. Salome had gone too. From whom? she wondered, while unfolding it. But she believed she knew exactly. And she was right. It said: So many thoughts still invaded me while I read your letter, but this all has to rest now for two weeks. Time is so short and I have no idea if youll get this at all. I can only say to you: Courage, much courage, and then also many happy wishes for your birthday. More I wont write. So, once again lots of courage and may we both soon find ourselves on steady feet again. Your Prince. * That was it. She re-read it, stuck it in her bag, for later, and got on with getting washed, dressed and ready for a quick breakfast followed by a brisk walk down the streets to the Old House and the office. Now and then, as she worked through the morning, she pulled out Ruperts note to re-read it. As short as it was, there was much about it to make her think. She liked his handwriting, and on paper he definitely sounded fluent and confident. But then, she reasoned, he had written in English, while they always spoke together in German. Like a fool, she began counting the hours since she had last seen him. But there was something bothering her. Then she suddenly knew: The signature! Your Prince he had written that was bad! Very bad! She must tell him when hes back he mustnt do this ever again. Hes not her prince! Didnt he get it? Wasnt she clear enough? Was she confused when she explained? That prince of her dreams was really much more than what Rupert and she had agreed to. Yes, she must make quite sure that he never uses this signature again! Should she write him a note about it? He always got so agitated when they talked, and it spilled over and she would begin shaking too. She understood now what Werner meant when he
In one of the next chapters Hans Zimmermann will also tell about his last months in Primavera in 1960/61, during which he was working at the Estancia in Ibat above he inspects the animals. (All three photos: ETH Bibliothek Zrich Bildarchiv)
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said it would be a hard struggle. Always those tensions! Like a pendulum between opposing poles, unable to decide which is the stronger: Friendship, or love? She must find the ground in the middle, and once there, she desperately wants to stay there and make sure that Rupert gets there too. And there was more: Rupert and she had been together much too much, lately. She must tell him that too, when hes back. Last week there wasnt a day when they didnt meet up somewhere. Even at mealtimes. If they became too exclusive, questions would be asked, and theyd then have to examine themselves in great depth. What if the questions were found to be justified? Anyhow, this behaviour wasnt a true witness of Community. They must not stand apart from the rest of the group because of their friendship. If what they had was true friendship, then theyd remain friends even if Rupert didnt come back from Primavera and Simone stayed in Asuncin, or the brotherhood sent her to El Arado in Uruguay with her family. She knew this was to be a most difficult test. But if they could honestly say that they were at peace with such an outcome, then they would have found firm ground again. And she wanted to find it very fast. She found the tension so unbearable! She couldnt stand it! Earlier, Werner had sat across from her at her desk, doing paperwork. No-one else was in the office. Youre going back to Primavera today, arent you, Simone said. Yes. He raised his clear blue eyes and looked at her expectantly. There seemed to be a mischievous twinkle. She looked at him with nonchalance and said nothing further. So he said, Well? Well, greetings at home. He smiled slyly. Well then. To whom, for example. You know exactly who I mean. She was blushing. Yes? Oh, you mean Laura my wife of course. Ach Werner! You mustnt tease me! Laura anyhow, I dont need to mention it. All right then. Who else. Werner, she begged, please, dont! He laughed. All right, all right! Dont worry. Ill pass on your greetings. Her agitation flared up again so badly that she stepped out of the room to catch her breath. Her heart was pounding. But she quickly calmed down and went back to her desk. Werner, she now said with composure, please, I want you to feel free to tell Laura anything you wish. An enormous smile spread over his face. Thank you. Simone was sure Rupert wouldnt mind. After all, Werner and Laura were like parents to her. No, they were more than that. She couldnt explain it. They were very special. As to her own parents, she still didnt know how much shed tell them and how free or awkward shed feel telling them. There lay the difference. She had noticed that she seemed to be getting back to normal again. Liese had said she looked ghastly; pale and gaunt. She had lost weight, her clothes hung quite loose. But she already managed to eat a bit more, and slept better too, although she still had the most incredible dreams and frightening nightmares. Still, she could see again what was going on around her, and the powerful emotions and obsessive thoughts that had been troubling her incessantly had, for the most part, drifted away. She would so much like to stay like this. She wanted those strong feelings to leave her in peace. It really didnt make sense to talk about friendship all the time. Shed try to avoid it in future. And then came the conversation with Alex and Hope. It was sobering.
Simone had unburdened herself with them. Alex spoke clearly and didnt spare sharp words. He stressed that Rupert, as a novice, had to remain unconditionally free. Simone had to allow him to be free. She must not tie him to her, neither with words, thoughts or deeds. Rupert still had to take the last step towards unity with the Brotherhood, through baptism. He had to take this step without one thought about her, without any ulterior motives whatsoever. Alexs tone made her anxious. For the first time she felt scolded and meek about it, and in a voice that sounded defensive, she told Alex and Hope that Rupert and her aim had been not to allow anything surreptitious to enter their friendship, that they both had been quite positive on that count. It is unavoidable, Alex now said in a gentler voice, that both of you will encounter moments in which you will be looking into the future. But because you, Simone, are the brotherhood member, and Rupert is still only a novice, it is essential that neither of you allow any thoughts of that kind to take a hold in your minds. Rupert must not bind himself to anyone before he has bound himself to Christ, through baptism. Alexs voice had become stricter again. He went on to talk some more about those greatest of dangers. There were the pitfalls of pledges and promises; of physical contact, another easy snare; and how thoughts and deceptions creep in too easily to subvert the best of intentions. I cannot say it often enough, Alex said sharply: You will not make any promises, or form any kind of bond. Absolutely no mention must be made of anything of the sort. Neither will you allow yourself to be tempted, or to tempt Rupert, by physical contact such as in dance, or handshakes. These contacts must remain utterly pure. And as to thoughts, you will not delude yourself. It must be crystal-clear that you promised your life to Christ, totally and undividedly. Christ is the Bridegroom, in the deepest and truest meaning. Both you and Rupert belong to Him. It was a stern and serious warning. Simones mouth was dry and her heart raced. She felt very insecure. But she had to speak about something more. There was that constant worry about having become too exclusive with Rupert. I must tell them, she thought, lest they think I am hiding this trouble spot. Whilst she explained how things had been last week, she also told them that Evie and Liese had noticed, had criticised her, and repeating the contents of their lengthy talks about it, Simone believed she had now managed to reassure both Alex and Hope that there was a sharp and clear attitude in the Bruderhof-house circle that would not tolerate anything that wasnt right. At the end, Hope said: Once Rupert is back, Alex and I want the two of you to come for tea. So that you dont become exclusive, she added as an afterthought. They laughed. Simone breathed a bit easier. Simone had felt keenly the loss of Werner as her confidante, with his departure for Primavera. But Alex and Hope encouraged her to confide in them. So what could she do but give them her trust? She felt happier now. Although that night she still had trouble falling asleep, laying awake till well after midnight. All those thoughts came crowding in again. But the next day she awoke feeling joyful and serene, quite composed. She was sure this was due to Alexs and Hopes help and support. THE LETTERS Second Letter: I need you! The office is very quiet. No-one is around. From the streets, on and off, I hear the newspaper boys shouting, El Pas! Theres hooting and roaring of automobiles, and spar-
14
rows chirping in the garden next door. But these are all background sounds while there is the tickticking of the clock on my desk like the rhythm of my own heartbeat. And the longing to have you around and close again it fills the room. I imagine that you suddenly stand in the doorway, whistling, nothing much in mind but to be with me. And instantly something wells up inside of me that braces itself against this. No, it is better for you not to be around, not yet. Im only just beginning to steady myself. If you come now, Ill get wobbly again. These are the feelings that pull me to and fro just now (Next day, early afternoon:) but as far as my imaginings go, I can calm myself down again. You are far away from here, and there is not the faintest possibility of you suddenly appearing in the doorway. So I must come to terms with the other, with this I need you. I want to confess something: I want nothing more than friendship. There are moments like now, when I feel a physical repulsion. No, repulsion is too harsh a word. Im sorry! What I mean is, I feel un-attracted to you physically. Although you are quite good-looking I mean your face is I find that I dont wish to be close to you at all physically. On the Sunday when we were all playing volley-ball, remember? I watched you jumping about. You were making a lot of jolly noises but it all sounded a bit contrived, and I thought, youre actually ridiculously small; those short legs, the long trunk. And your posture, the way you carry yourself. I once wrote in my diary that your smooth movements attracted and fascinated me. Now I tell you: Thats gone. I want friendship from you, that which comes from the inside. I do not want to admire your exterior. This noon I continued thinking about Alexs words that we are not to form a bond by word, deed or thought. I felt then, as I feel now, that with me this danger is becoming more and more remote. I hope this is the case with you too, or will very soon be, should your feelings still travel in the wrong direction. For the time being at least, I do not need anyone to be more than just a friend. If this hurts you, then you must forgive me. It is not my intention to hurt you. But if it does hurt, itll show that you want and expect more than just friendship. And in that event, you may bring this whole story to an end, if you wish, because in that case I do not wish to be your friend. I will say here, not as a request, but as a warning: Do not ever call yourself my prince again! Because thats not who you are! Although this letter is sharp, I remain, and wish to continue being your Friend. * Third Letter: I bet you are surprised that Im coming to you only now. It is already close to twenty four hours since I last needed you. But I did continue to think of you. Im sorry that I was so nasty in my second letter. I find myself quite childish. To think that I was capable of writing like that! Will you forgive me, please? I was extremely defensive. I cannot explain why. And Im unable to see if it was about you or about me. But if Im honest and this I must be then I believe I was trying to defend myself against thoughts and feelings that were really mine. How could I have been so cruel and turn against you? What hypocrisy, calling myself your friend at the end of the letter. What my letter expressed wasnt friendship. Forgive me, my Friend.
How many days till you are back? Eight and a half days. Another eight and a half days of waiting But there is at least something up-beat to report: Ive noticed that Im getting back to normal again. My appetite is returning, I can sleep. Twice Ive had a row, one with Marie Buchholz and the other with Sam Leimann. Good, isnt it? Quite positive. Well, as to the sleeping bit, I could and should retract here. I actually dream every siesta and every night, not anymore about you or not only of you. This morning, for example, I woke from a strange, eerie dream which I am unable to forget: The dream: I was in Loma Hoby, somewhere in a meadow. The whole Hof household had come together. They were sitting in a circle. In the centre stood a deck-chair, and in it lay my mother. She was asleep. Everybody was waiting for her death. There was a great silence. At times she awoke to move her head restlessly to and fro. I sat near her. I was trying to grasp that she was dying. But suddenly I understood. No, no! I screamed, how can this be? How can this be possible? The silent faces around her, waiting, petrified me. I jumped up and ran away. It was unbearable. Terrible sobs started shaking me. I ran and ran until I was far away from them all, as far as I could possibly get. On the campo beyond the Kindergarten grounds I stumbled and fell. I lay face down and hid my face in my arms, while my fingers were tearing at the grass. I sobbed and sobbed until my crying turned into screams. I howled. It was so painful; it ached so much, there, inside of me. I screamed and screamed, No! No! No! A hand touched my shoulder. Simone. It was Harriett, the gentle, elderly Kindergarten teacher. Simone, you mustnt do this, she said. Her voice was very kind, but firm. Simone! And after a while more urgently, as my crying wouldnt stop, Simone, come. You must go back! You must work it through! Come! And she pulled me up. I stood. My face was smeared with tears, grass and earth. The wild sobs were slowly giving way to a quieter crying. She continued speaking entreatingly until I became very quiet. Only an occasional sob shook me now and then. Then I had to go back. I had to! And I had to walk it alone. When I got there, I saw that everybody had gathered at long rows of tables for a love-meal. My mother was sitting at one end. Little Walti, my youngest brother, who didnt understand what was going on, sat opposite her. I placed myself next to my mother. On my other side was my brother Peter. He was sad but quiet. I had the feeling that he understood what was going on, and that nonetheless he was at peace with it and with himself, something I didnt have, something I had to find. What a dreadful peace, I thought. And quietly I began crying again. I cried incessantly, silently. It was indescribably painful. Then I couldnt hold myself back anymore. Mother, I howled, mother! All your life Ive hurt you so much! Ive always made things so difficult for you! Feverishly I searched for her hand and held it tight. The sobbing came in heavy thrusts. Let it be, Simone, she said, and put her other hand over mine. Everything is all right. Ive already forgiven you a long time ago. She said it with great serenity, but she didnt look at me while she spoke. It was as if she was already occupying herself with something else, something not of this world anymore. And I felt that I couldnt call her back.
15
Too late, too late, I cried, and my sobbing went on and on. It wouldnt stop
*
What a dream! Can you see how haunting? I think it wants to tell me something. I wonder what the message is supposed to be. Do you? If there have been any doubts about telling my parents, my mother, about you and me, these have now gone. I hear a voice telling me, You must. And I will. Go on being my friend, please, just as I wish to continue being your Friend.
*
Fourth Letter: Last night I dreamt about you. It was evening, washing-up time. You were in the kitchen drying dishes, with Barbara, who was beside you by the table. I joined you there but didnt dare stand between you. Then I saw a mug which was placed in a way that if I picked it up, Id have to come between you and Barbara. So I reached over, and it worked. Once I stood beside you I was happy. That was all. I am sure my dreams have some meaning or reason. Well, mostly. I have an explanation for this one. Remember when we were with Barbara by the stone benches and she was sitting between us? Her being there bothered me dreadfully. She felt like a wedge between us. It was only a feeling, of course, because our conversation that evening was really nice. But still, only toward the end of our chat did I feel that she had stopped being a nuisance. The thing is, there have been other times when she has put herself between us. But not wanting to sound mean about Barbara, whom I like a lot this chat by the benches, let me explain: I had called you to join me at the front wall because I needed to tell you something. Barbara came with me. Then you arrived. She didnt leave, of course. She hadnt a clue what my intentions were. Later, as others came to the wall and it unsettled us, we wandered up to the stone benches. Barbara came along too. It was then that she sat herself between us as if this was her reserved slot. And thats when I felt provoked. I struggled, not knowing, should I ask her to leave, or wait till the conversation came to a natural end? The words, Barbara, actually I want to talk in private with Rupert, went round and round in my head. I heard myself saying them. But then they seemed so threadbare that I pulled myself together, pushed those words aside, and in no time I was back in my normal happy state of mind, fully concentrating on what we were talking about. The irritation just disappeared. As it turned out, all this foolish agonising wasnt necessary at all, because we did find a moment, later that evening, to talk, just the two of us. Nearly a week has gone by since then, and it still popped up in my dream. Is not the subconscious intriguing? Latest news: My parents arent coming to Asuncin, after all. It has been postponed indefinitely. So the waiting continues. Actually, I wish it was all behind me, the conversations and confessions and all that. My constant state of anticipation doesnt make things easier. The trouble with me is that once Im resolved on doing something it then has to be right away. If there is a delay, I dread that Ill regret my decision. But Ive promised myself that Ill refuse to compromise, come what may. Courage, much courage, you said in your farewell letter. Thank you. Your Friend. PS: There are rumours that state schools will stay closed for a while longer. In that case youll be staying away for longer too. But let me quickly add: This is all as yet only hearsay. Im glad *
Fifth Letter: Id like to tell you so many things but how can I if you arent here? I dont even know if Ill be able to write them down for you. Id just like to see you now, laugh at you with my eyes, be glad together with you. There was the engagement yesterday, of Lucy Jones to Albert Baumann. Strange, but I can say it now Im sure: I always suspected Lucy to be my brother Peters sweetheart Well, be that as it may. Apart from that one, this engagement stirred up a series of distracting thoughts in me. Before you went away, you quoted the song, Gott mag es lenken, Gott mag es schenken, Er hat die Gnad. [It is God who directs and God who bestows, the grace is His.] These words came to mind again, and very vividly. The thing is, I cant help but ask: Is it Gods intention, that you and I? I think it is this that I was lashing out against in my second letter to you. Yesterday I instantly understood. But let me try and explain what I mean. You see, Lucy and Albert when we heard about it, everybody was surprised: Lucy and Albert of all people? Impossible! Not those two! The notion that Lucy and Albert now belong together seemed so unlikely, even laughable. Of course this is looking at it in an extremely superficial light. But Lucys so pretty. Shes vivacious, educated, outgoing and has such beautiful manners. A real little lady. She has style. In contrast, Albert comes across as rough, unattractive, inarticulate, not very educated, rather clumsy, a bit of a simpleton no offence meant of course in one word, too common for someone like Lucy. I found myself comparing this couple with you and me. You and I? Impossible! Never! No, never ever! Only to come to my senses and realise with absolute horror what I was doing. I brimmed over with shame. What hurtful, dreadful pride! How nasty, beastly, childish indeed. It just goes to show how quickly I lose myself to worldly judgements and fail to see the spiritual content. If, say, God does direct it that you and I are led into something beyond friendship, then I must never allow such thoughts and sentiments to enter my heart. But I said If Yet I want to remain open to this possibility. I must remain open. Who can foresee Gods ways? Not you, not I. Who knows, another might cross my path, and you may find a different girl wholl be a better life companion for you. Oh yes, I must remain quite critical about myself and not allow human thought and speculation to enter. Only God knows. Thats why I must leave it all in His hands. I learnt something today. A lover doesnt want anything for him or herself, demands nothing, has nothing. Everything he or she wants or does is hoped and wished only for the beloved. If a wish creeps in for love to be returned in equal measure, then True Love vanishes and all that remains becomes selfishness. And where there is self-regard, can there be love? Surely not. Philip Britts wrote: To life belong love, trust, purity and sincerity; to death belong hate, falsehood, impurity, deception. But love which is of life embraces all life and gives itself to all life, because the nature of love is giving, not taking. Therefore, love that is exclusive is false, and to the attributes of life can be added self-surrender, while to the attributes of death can be added self-seeking. I found so much precious wisdom, I cannot write it all here, just one more. Dante writes in Purgatory, XV, 40 ff: However far love may extend, It grows in strength and power eternal, Wherever men agree and love
16
Theres more to love. So each loves more, And, mirror-like, exchanges with the other. * And just one more. It is so appropriate: Pronouns by Karle Wilson Baker: The Lord said: Say We; But I shook my head, Hid my hands tight behind my back and said, Stubbornly, I. The Lord said, Say We; But I looked upon them, grimy and all awry. Myself in all those twisted shapes? Ah no! Distastefully I turned my head away, Persisting, They.
The Lord said, Say We; And I, At last, Richer by a hoard Of years And tears, Looked into their eyes and found the heavy word That bent my neck and bowed my head: Like a shamed schoolboy then I mumbled low, We, Lord. Dear Friend, we still have a long, long life before us made up of thousands of days and hours. Let us make the very best of each hour, yes indeed of each minute. With love, your Friend. * To be continued
Nadine Pleils Autobiography Translated into German

For anyone who would like to order my book Free From Bondage in German,
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here are the details: The address of the publishing company is, Dog Ear Publishing, 4010 W. 86th Street, Suite H, Indianapolis IN 48268 You can order by mail or from the company. Here are two e-mail addresses you may go to:
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Erdmuthe Arnold - Editor and Layouts. +49(0)69 444099 erdmuthe.arnold@t-online.de Ostendstrae 22, 60314, Frankfurt am Main, GERMANY. Charles Lamar - Editor. +1-415-386-6072 rastus@mindspring.com c/o SFCR, 755 Frederick St. 1st floor, San Francisco, CA 94117, USA. Linda Jackson - Dispatch email and Rest of the World. lord.linda7@gmail.com 7 Severn Street, Longridge, Lancashire, PR3 3ND, UK. +44(0)1772-784473 or (mobile) +44(0)7703-133369 Dave Ostrom - Dispatch USA and Canada. ddostrom@q.com 1530 Lydon Court, Clarkston, WA 99403, USA. Ruth Lambach - Editor Communal Ripples. +1-773-274-2777 rlambach@gmail.com 7739 N. Eastlake Terrace, Chicago, IL 60626, USA. Margot Purcell - Address Lists. +1-219-324-8068 purcellmb@comcast.net 2095 South Emmas Lane, LaPorte, IN 46350, USA. Subscriptions The suggested annual contribution is US$ 20, UK 10 or Euro 15 The Newsletter is available via: email - full colour. (The preferred method) Please confirm email receipt to Linda Jackson. printed paper - monochrome. large A3 - monochrome. For the vision impaired. Depending on which currency you use, please send your money: in North America: US$, Cash or Check payable to Tim Johnson +1-404-373-0633 155 Garden Lane, Decatur, GA 30030, USA. timchowki@comcast.net for UK: UK, PayPal UK, Bank Transfer or Cheque payable to Raphael Vowles Reading, Berkshire, UK. raphaelvowles@yahoo.co.uk +44(0)777 391 0044 Bank transfer: Sort code: 40-47-58 Account: 85757290 First Direct Bank, 40 Wakefield Road, Leeds, LS98 1FD, UK. from other countries: Currency converted to UK can also be deposited in to the account using: IBAN: GB75MIDL 404758 85757290 or BIC: MIGLGB21720. in Europe (Euro-zone): Bank Transfer or Eurocheque payable to Anthony Lord +49(0)21 57 3109 Johann-Finken-Str. 35, 41334 Nettetal, GERMANY. nalord44@googlemail.com Bank transfer: VOBA Brggen-Nettetal, Sort code: 31062154 Account: 2201052010 Ref: KIT from other countries: Currency converted to Euro can also be deposited into the account using: IBAN:DE52 3106 2154 2201 0520 10 or BIC: GENODED1KBN. Yahoo Group see: http://groups.yahoo.com/group/KIT-exBruderhof-CCI/ Web: KIT Newsletter - Archive. Anyone can join its free, anonymous & easy.
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Tel. +0 866 823 9613 Fax +0 317 489 3506 The book can also be ordered from Amazon. Price of the book is US $21.00. It is also available from Amazon Books Germany. The German version has more content and also more pictures, as August asked me to write a bit more about a few things. Nadine Moonje Pleil
Address correction requested: Please advise all changes to Margot Purcell.

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Eileen Goodwin with grand-daughter Michelle, Christmas 2011.

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Hanna Goodwin Johnson and daughter Margaret.

Eileens daughter Ruth Weaver with her husband Marcus.

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Some Teachers in the Park before the picnic.

The students at Truman College enjoyed the lessons.

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Childhood Memories of Primavera, Paraguay

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The oxen were partners of the careteros.

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8. Oh Heart, Where Are You Going?

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Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

Keep In Touch Newsletter

Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

Keep In Touch Newsletter

Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

Nadine Pleils Autobiography Translated into German

Contact Details Volunteers produce the Keep In Touch Newsletter.

Next issue: April 2013

BEHTET UND BETROGEN,

Address correction requested: Please advise all changes to Margot Purcell.

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