History

USSR, 1963. Moscow decided to strengthen its influence in Africa and began to befriend Morocco. King Hassan II had a problem: his citrus fruits were rotting on the plantations, and he was short on money.

The Kremlin proposed a barter. The USSR would send tractors, combine harvesters, nitrogen fertilizers, and glassware to Africa, while the holds of the ships returning to the USSR would be packed with those very Moroccan tangerines. These tangerines were far superior to the Georgian ones—they were bright orange, seedless, sweet, and incredibly easy to peel.

This massive import of fruit gave birth to the main hero of Soviet animation: Cheburashka. Eduard Uspensky came up with the character exactly when the flow of Moroccan cargo was at its peak. In the story, the big-eared creature is found in a crate of oranges, and this was not just the author’s fantasy. At the port of Odessa, dockers frequently found exotic small animals or lizards in crates from Africa that had fallen asleep among the fruit.

The harvest in Morocco took place at the end of November. By the time the ships reached Leningrad and Odessa, it was December, which is when the tangerines appeared on the shelves of Soviet grocery stores (gastronoms). They became the signature scent of New Year’s in the USSR.

Felix was not a cat, but a Polish Szlachcic (Nobleman) in the Russian Empire.

In his youth, he was so religious that he dreamed of becoming a Catholic priest. However, upon witnessing poverty and injustice, the place of the Bible in his soul was taken by Karl Marx’s Das Kapital. He paid dearly for his beliefs, enduring 11 years of hard labor, imprisonment, and exile. This experience forged the “Iron Felix.”

After the Revolution, Lenin entrusted him with the creation of the Cheka (All-Russian Extraordinary Commission), the shield of Soviet power. Dzerzhinsky built the gigantic state security apparatus from scratch. His formula for the ideal Chekist became a classic: a cool head, a warm heart, and clean hands. Felix was the perfect executor of the Party’s will.

The paradox: the country’s most feared man became the savior for 5 million homeless children left behind after the Civil War and World War I. Dzerzhinsky created and headed the “All-Russian Commission for Improving the Lives of Children” and successfully raised orphans into full-fledged citizens.

Possessing nearly absolute power, he lived like a monk, sleeping in his office at Lubyanka behind a screen on a simple soldier’s cot. No dachas or gold. After his death, only a change of underwear and an old Nagant revolver were found in his safe.

Dzerzhinsky died on July 20, 1926 (Felix was 48 years old). At a Central Committee Plenum, Dzerzhinsky delivered a furious speech, defending the economy against bureaucrats and the opposition. His nerves were frayed. A few hours after his two-hour speech, his heart stopped due to a heart attack.

Leningrad. The Siege lasted from September 8, 1941, to January 27, 1944 (872 days).

The first blockade winter was the most horrifying: bread rations plummeted to 125 grams per day for dependents, people ate carpenter’s glue, wallpaper, leather from belts, collapsed in the streets and did not rise again. Hundreds of thousands of lives were claimed by January-February 1942. The city seemed doomed—without food, without warmth, under constant shelling.

But in the spring of 1942, a decision came that saved thousands: vegetable gardens. In March, the executive committee of the Leningrad Soviet passed a resolution “On Personal Consumer Gardens for Workers and Their Associations.” Every resident, every enterprise, every organization had to provide themselves with vegetables. Everything that could be dug up was allocated for garden beds: vacant lots, stadiums, parks, squares, river and canal embankments, courtyards, even central squares.

Leningrad transformed into one enormous vegetable garden. Cabbage grew in St. Isaac’s Square; the cobblestones were dug up and replaced by neat rows of cabbage heads surrounding the cathedral. Turnips, potatoes, and rutabaga were planted in the Field of Mars. In the Summer Garden—carrots, beets, cauliflower, dill. The Hanging Garden of the Hermitage, the Round Court of the Academy of Arts, Decembrists’ Square—everywhere stone was replaced by agricultural plantings. Lawns, flowerbeds, even Palace Square, all went under potatoes. They planted everything that could sprout: potato peels with “eyes,” skins, leftover seeds.

633 subsidiary farms of enterprises and 1,468 associations of individual gardeners were organized—over 176,000 people took to the land. Seeds were distributed free of charge, brochures like “How to Grow Vegetables in a Besieged City” were published, and people were taught how to fight rats and pests. Schoolchildren, women, the elderly—everyone who could hold a shovel went to the garden beds. The harvest was guarded strictly: in wartime, vegetable theft was punishable immediately by bullet.

The 1942 harvest was modest—the plan was only 45% fulfilled, but this amounted to 136,400 tons of vegetables. Three times better than in 1941. In 1943, there were even more gardens—almost every family had their own plot.

The diet was entirely vegan. But it provided vitamins, fiber, and at least some calories. Most importantly, it gave people the strength to survive the subsequent winters. Hunger did not disappear completely, but it no longer killed on such a massive scale.

The city fed itself. It didn’t wait for handouts from above but dug the earth, sowed, weeded, and harvested.

My thoughts: Why do people in all post-apocalyptic media immediately start eating each other, looting, and fighting over canned goods? Is it simply easier for movies to show a raider with a gun than a shovel in hand? No, in the first winter in Leningrad, such things also happened, but the NKVD earned its ration well…

From November 20th to December 25th, 1941, the bread ration reached its lowest point throughout the entire blockade: 125 grams per day for employees, dependents, and children, and 250 grams for soldiers, industrial workers, and engineering/technical staff. It was a piece the size of a child’s palm—black, heavy, and sticky. Yet, this piece was what separated life from death. People cut it with thread so it wouldn’t crumble, hid it under their pillows, and ate it slowly, stretching it out for the entire day. This 125-gram piece became the symbol of the Siege.

The bread was baked at 13 bread factories and in several city bakeries—production did not stop for a single day, despite bombings, shelling, and the lack of electricity. Ovens were fired with firewood, flour was ground by hand, and dough was kneaded in barrels. But there was almost no real flour left. Stocks ran out quickly, and then substitutions began—one after another, each more desperate than the last.

In the early days of the blockade, the bread still consisted of a mixture of rye, oat, barley, soy, and malt flour. A month later, flax and hemp oil cake (residue after oil pressing), bran, sweepings from sacks (flour stuck to the walls), and wallpaper dust were added. By the winter of 1941–1942, the recipe had changed completely—it contained only 50–75% flour, with the rest filled by additives:

1. Edible cellulose (from wood) — 10–15%,
2. Oil cake and malt — 10–15%,
3. Wallpaper dust and sack sweepings — 2% each,
4. Pine needles — up to 1%,
5. Sometimes husks, sawdust, bark, and even carpenter’s glue (which was boiled and added for stickiness).

The bread turned out almost black, bitter, with a taste of pine needles or oil cake, heavy as a stone. It crumbled in the hands, stuck to the teeth, caused swelling and stomach pains—but it provided at least some calories and vitamins. Scientists from the Leningrad Technological Institute and the central laboratory of Glavkhleb (Main Bread Directorate) worked on the recipe around the clock: they tried to preserve even a small amount of nutritional value, increase the volume, and make it edible.

The rations changed several times. After November 1941, when the “Road of Life” opened across Lake Ladoga, the ration gradually increased:

• December 1941: 350 g for workers, 200 g for others.
• January–February 1942: 400–500 g for workers, 300 g for children and dependents.

But even 500 grams of blockade bread was insufficient. People ate it with water, with soup made from carpenter’s glue, with leaves, or with leather strips. Bread ration cards became the new currency. Queues for bread stretched for hours, under shelling and in the frost. Many people died right at the doors of the distribution points, yet the blockade bread helped millions of people survive.

Leningrad. Summer 1941. At the zoo, while preparing for evacuation, the staff understood that reptiles were among the most vulnerable.

The pre-war Leningrad Zoo housed quite a number of reptiles: snakes, lizards, monitor lizards, various species of turtles, and crocodiles. They required constant heat, humidity, specialized lighting, and food, which was nearly impossible to provide in a besieged and unpowered city. When mass evacuation began in June/July 1941, reptiles were prioritized. Attempts were made to move them first because without electricity and heating, they were doomed to a slow death by cold.

At the end of June/beginning of July, the first train echelon departed for Kazan with approximately 80 animals. Among them were black panthers, tigers, polar bears, a rhinoceros, a tapir, pelicans, large parrots, kangaroos, and monkeys—as well as reptiles. Exact species lists for the reptiles have not survived, but sources mention that snakes, lizards, turtles, and crocodiles were transported in the train. One American crocodile did not make it to Kazan. It died en route from stress, shaking, and the inability to maintain the required temperature. Its body simply could not withstand the journey.

Another shipment of reptiles (and other animals) was sent to Belarus, but the war caught up with them in Vitebsk. The train carrying the animals was bombed by the Luftwaffe (Trains and railway strategic infrastructure were a priority target for attacks).

In Leningrad itself remained those who could not be evacuated in time. Large predators were shot on the authorities’ orders to prevent them from breaking out during bombings. And the reptiles… they simply froze. Terrariums cooled down within hours; water in the drinking bowls turned to ice; and food (insects, vegetables, meat) disappeared.

Tropical snakes and lizards died first—their metabolism required heat, without which they fell into a coma and died. The crocodiles were fortunately evacuated in time.

By the spring of 1942, almost all reptiles in the besieged zoo had perished. The only one to survive all 872 days was a small star tortoise. It was one of the most undemanding animals, possessing a slow metabolism and the ability to hibernate at low temperatures.

The zoo staff did everything possible for her: they arranged warm shelters made of blankets and carried her to heated corners where they themselves sought warmth. The tortoise was fed scraps of vegetables, grass, and potato peels—the minimum required to prevent starvation. She did not demand meat, nor did she panic from the bombings; she simply waited.

By 1943, when only about a hundred animals remained in the zoo, the star tortoise was the only reptile alive. All other reptiles had died.

After the blockade was broken and the war ended, reptiles gradually returned to Leningrad, but those evacuated to Kazan partially remained there, forming the basis for the Kazan Zoo and Botanical Garden. The Leningrad Zoo preserved the memory of that tortoise as a quiet, small creature that did not cry out or roar, but simply survived against all odds.

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Patrick G Eddington

Leningrad. July 1941. In the zoo, just as the war was closing in and bombs were about to rain down on the city, a terrible order was issued: liquidate the large predators.

This was a decision made by the city authorities. Harsh, but unavoidable. The enclosures were mostly wooden, the cages fragile, and bombings could destroy them at any moment. Imagine: a tiger, a lion, or a bear loose on the streets of besieged Leningrad, among people starving to death. Nobody wanted such a nightmare. Therefore, in early July, even before the city was completely surrounded, the order was given: destroy all large predators. This included lions, tigers, leopards, bears, and wolves (those that could not be evacuated before the siege). This applied to those who could pose a real threat if they broke free.

The executioners were not the zoo keepers. The keepers could not bring themselves to raise a hand against their charges. The task fell to the militsiya (the Soviet equivalent of the police)—men in uniform, accustomed to orders, but not to this kind of order. They arrived at the zoo early in the morning, while the city was still asleep, and did what was required: they shot the animals with rifles.

The bodies of the predators were buried right there, in hastily dug pits. This was a necessary measure; the war left no other choice.

But there was a loophole in the order. A small, yet saving one. The decree stated: liquidate the large predators. Baby animals were not considered “large.” The militiamen decided to interpret the order literally: “Large means adult.”

Thus, the tiger cubs, brown bear cubs, and wolf cubs survived. The situation became somewhat more stable, so the authorities did not issue a second order to eliminate the now-grown cubs.

The liquidation of the predators became one of the first tragedies of the Siege and a reminder that war spares no one. But the specific wording in the order, “large predators,” allowed at least some to survive.

NOTE: I could not find any photographs of the liquidation (and it is unlikely anyone would have taken any at the time), so I have inserted a photo of a militsiya officer.

Leningrad. Summer 1941. In the zoo, even before the blockade ring closed around the city, a tiger cub named “Kotik” (rus. The Kitten) was born.

He entered the world in July, when the war was already raging, but Leningrad was still breathing relatively calmly. However, when the blockade ring closed, his mother tigress was “liquidated” (The city authorities ordered the elimination of large predators, fearing they might break out and pose a danger to the residents). The zoo employees could not allow the cub to die for nothing, but feeding a tiger cub was nearly impossible: there wasn’t enough milk even for the humans, and meat had become a luxury.

Then they found a solution that seemed miraculous even in those days. One of the zoo’s stray dogs, a dog named Alma, had recently lost her puppies. The keepers decided to take a chance: they placed the tiny tiger cub next to Alma.

The dog accepted him immediately. Kotik drank the dog’s milk and slept pressed close to the warm side of his adoptive mother.

The winter of 1941–1942 brought frost and famine. There was no electricity, no water, and no proper food in the zoo. Predators were fed a mash made of sawdust, oilcake, grass, pine cones, acorns, and rowan berries—sometimes they stuffed old hides with this mixture just to trick their instincts. Kotik, who had grown larger but was still young, ate what he was given and survived thanks to the care of the people and that very Alma.

Kotik survived the entire blockade. The exact date of Kotik’s death is unknown—the archives did not preserve all the details—but it was definitely sometime after the war, in peacetime.

NOTE: Kotik’s siblings did not survive the first blockade winter. Attempts were made to save them, but the conditions were too harsh for young predators without proper milk and meat. Kotik became the exception thanks to Alma and the special attention of the keepers.

New Israeli documents have emerged confirming that Zionist militias used massacres, rapes, and expulsions to ethnically cleanse some 800,000 Palestinians to create the state of Israel in 1948.

Haaretz reported on 27 February that the documents contain first-hand accounts of the 1948 war (known by Palestinians as the Nakba) written by commanders in the Zionist militias, which formed the core of the Israeli military.

The documents include an account of the war written by Yitzhak Broshi, commander of Golani's 12th Battalion. Broshi explains that he gave the order to raze the village of Arab a-Zabah, a Bedouin community in the Lower Galilee, and kill every person found there. “Every Arab among the Zabahim is to be killed,” his order stated.

In another case, Broshi ordered his troops to search for Arabs hiding in the Mount Turan area of the Lower Galilee after it had already been conquered. “Kill anyone who is hiding,” Broshi's order read.

In 1958, during the Brussels World’s Fair, Expo 58 (one of the largest and most famous expositions of the 20th century, where the famous Atomium was built), a so-called “Congolese Village” (village indigène or Kongorama) was organized in the “Tropical Gardens” section dedicated to the Belgian Congo (then still a Belgian colony). Approximately 598 people were brought there from the Congo (273 men, 128 women, and 197 children—entire families). During the day, about 120 of them were displayed in the reconstructed “village” behind a bamboo fence, dressed in “traditional” clothing.

Expo 58 ran from April 17th to October 19th, 1958, but the “village” was closed early—already in July 1958 (about 2–3 months after opening). The reason: the Congolese people (many of whom were educated city dwellers, not the “primitive natives” they were positioned as) began openly protesting the humiliation. Visitors threw bananas and money at them, insulted them, and mocked them. The people refused to tolerate it, staging strikes and demanding proper treatment. As a result, the organizers (the Belgian Ministry of Colonies) were forced to send them back to the Congo ahead of schedule to avoid a scandal.

The “human zoo” with the Congolese operated at a time when humanity had already entered the space age. (Meaning: approximately 6 months and 13 days passed between the launch of Sputnik 1 and the opening of the exhibition.)

Let me tell you briefly. The Revolution destroyed the Russian Empire. However, the First World War was still ongoing. German troops broke through the front line and were advancing towards Petrograd. The old Imperial Army had effectively disintegrated. Soldiers, weary of the war, were heading home. There was almost no one left to defend the capital.

The Bolsheviks raised the alarm. On February 22nd, Lenin issued an emergency decree: “The Socialist Fatherland is in danger!” and an urgent mobilization began.

Rifles were handed out on the streets. Workers, peasants, and sailors signed up as volunteers. A decree to establish the new “Workers’ and Peasants’ Red Army” had been signed back in January, but now its formation proceeded at an accelerated pace.

In those days, battles raged near Pskov and Narva. Hastily assembled volunteer detachments held back the Kaiser’s advancing troops. Although the German offensive could not be stopped in a single day, these battles became a symbol of resistance.

On February 23rd, mass volunteer enrollment into the Red Army took place in Petrograd and Moscow. This day was later chosen to celebrate the anniversary of the founding of the Red Army.

The date became a symbol. Initially, the holiday was called “Red Army Day,” and later “Soviet Army and Navy Day.” Today, in the CIS countries, it is known as “Defender of the Fatherland Day.”

From frozen volunteers with rifles to modern drone operators, the name has changed, but the essence remains the same. It is the day for those who are ready to take up arms and go to war

Initially, they tried to build the metro using the cut-and-cover method. That is, they dug huge trenches across the streets. Because of this, the city was paralyzed, and historical buildings suffered significant damage. The construction curator, Lazar Kaganovich, was furious. Authoritative engineers offered excuses: “Moscow’s geology is terrible. Groundwater will flood everything.”

And then, a young engineer named Veniamin Makovsky appeared. He declared: “Digging up the streets is nonsense! We need to go 40 meters deep and drill tunnels using a Tunnel Boring Machine (TBM), just like in London.”

The old professors rejected his idea, stating, “The pressure will crush the workers!”

At that time, arguing with authorities was unthinkable. But Makovsky took a major gamble. He personally pushed his idea through to Kaganovich. Realizing he had nothing to lose, Lazar presented the project to Stalin.

The authorities made an unexpected decision: to trust the young engineer. The USSR purchased one Tunnel Boring Machine from England, disassembled it, and, using reverse engineering, created their own copies. To prevent groundwater from flooding the workers, the ground was frozen using a solution of calcium chloride with a negative temperature, which circulated through special pipes.

A young Party leader, Nikita Khrushchev, personally descended into the shafts and stood knee-deep in icy mud, solving problems on site.

The metro opened in 1935. Makovsky turned out to be right with his project. For the first 20 years, the Moscow Metro was named not after Lenin, but after Lazar Kaganovich—the man whose iron will made this project come true.

Georgy Malenkov. You don’t know him, yet he was.

Stalin is dead. Georgy assumes the highest state post—Chairman of the Council of Ministers. The country is under collective leadership. Power is divided among three men: Malenkov controls the state apparatus, Beria controls the security services, and Khrushchev controls the Party.

Against them, Georgy appears to be a mild-mannered bureaucrat, but this is deceptive. He went through the harsh Stalinist school.

Everyone fears Beria. His ambitions threaten the others. Georgy is no lone hero. He enters into a conspiracy with Khrushchev and Marshal Zhukov.

Right there in the Kremlin, the military arrests Beria. Georgy, as the head of the meeting, sanctions the execution, and Beria is shot. The path is clear, but the allies will soon become enemies.

Georgy bets on the people and their needs. He declares: “Enough building only weapons; we need food and clothing.” He cuts taxes and allows small-scale entrepreneurship. Shop shelves noticeably begin to fill up. A saying even emerged among the people: “Malenkov has arrived, and we ate Blinks” (the rhyme is in Russian).

However, the real power belonged to Nikita Khrushchev, who controlled the Party’s personnel. Khrushchev outmaneuvered Malenkov in the cabinet intrigues, accusing him of inexperience and past mistakes. In 1955, Georgy was removed from the post of Prime Minister. He attempted to regain power but ultimately lost.

He was sent to Kazakhstan to work as the director of a power station. Later, he retired and died in Moscow in 1988, remaining in the shadow of Stalin and Khrushchev.

cross-posted from: https://lemmy.world/post/43462600

This map shows the spread of Homo sapiens out of Africa and across the globe, with very approximate dates.

Author: Altaileopard in 2006