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 read-

ers, 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 reader-

ship 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 Lacy’s 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 Maendel’s 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 Stängl and I Met First on the Oktoberfest in Munich

In Memory of Eileen Goodwin 5

Celebrating Martha Ostrom-Schyll’s 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 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, Scen-

ery Hill. It is a very old inn, a beautiful place. George Washing-

ton spent a night there when he was traveling in Pennsylvania.

The jubilees Nadine and August with their special guests

Constancia D’Hoedt and her daughter Lucy (from right to left).

We celebrated with family and a few close friends. For us a defi-

nitely 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 Val-

ley, and New Meadow Run. The card was signed by Jörg and

Renate Barth. We were amazed that they remembered our wed-

ding anniversary.

Once again our thanks for all the greetings! Added are some

photos from our celebration at Century Inn.

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 Au-

gust’s lap, and Liam with Else. (Photos: Ted Chapman – son in law)

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

Keep In Touch Newsletter 2 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 oth-

er and intend to make our future together”. Johanna gave up her

home in West Des Moines, Iowa and moved into Hans Zimmer-

mann’s house in Colorado. Both of them immensely enjoy roam-

ing 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. Hanna Lacy asked us to include her address in the KIT

Public Address List, and she wants to share her address here be-

cause there are some slight changes:

Hanna Lacy

21 Providence Ave Woodhouse Leeds. LS6 2HN UK hanna.lacy@btinternet.com tel. +44 113 244 4523

Our Golden Wedding

By Andy and Gudrun Harries

We had our 50th

wedding anniversary recently. Our daughter Ve-

ronica gave us this photo frame which shows us on our wedding

day in August 1962 near Bremen, Germany, and then at our 50th

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.

KIT Gathering at Friendly Crossways

Third Weekend in August 2013

Our next ex-

Bruderhof reun-

ion will be in the

USA this com-

ing summer. It

will be on Au-

gust 16th

through

the 18th

2013 at

the lovely

Friendly Cross-

ways Youth

Hostel in Little-

ton, Massachu-

setts. 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 gemütlich. 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.

Message for my KIT Folk

By Connie McLanahan, Seattle/Washington

Lacking the ability to travel long distances any more, I look for-

ward all the more eagerly to each incoming issue with all the

news and information about old and long-time friends. The pic-

tures – 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 we’d 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 be-

trayal. Even so, they were most kind and helpful to us as we pre-

pared to go!

Blessings on you all, always and all ways.

My address: 1802 17th

Avenue, Apt 422, Seattle, WA 98032

USA.

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-

Keep In Touch Newsletter 3 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 Commis-

sion”.

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 hat’s denn für 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,, Kantstraße 9,

96052 Bamberg, Germany

Letters to the Editor

Addendum to George Maendel’s 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 Jor-

dan 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.” Don’t hide your light under a bushel; let it shine in the

world. If you have found the best way to give expression to

God’s will, tell the world. He was promoting the idea of engag-

ing 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 over-

whelmed with enthusiasm for the great outpouring of love they

found at Woodcrest. I noted my mother’s 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.

I’m 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 man’s

point of view as well as a woman’s). 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 ar-

rived at Forest River was break up the strong relationship among

the three top leaders, George Maendel’s 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

The Bruderhof excited by the visit from

Forest River

KIT. The above “addendum” was sent to the Hummer shortly af-

ter the September KIT Newsletter was published with George

Maendel’s article “Forest River’s 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

Keep In Touch Newsletter 4 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

have been much better to have walked away with whoever want-

ed 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 con-

tributions, 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.

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 en-

joyed seeing the bur-

ial ground and being

able to look at the

headstones. The pre-

sent B'hof people

still keep it tidy and

in good condition.

Matt and John Hol-

land did a very good

job as hosts! (Photo:

Andy Harries)

I find it harder, as I

get older to remem-

ber peoples names,

and sometimes who

they are, or where

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 every-

body 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 Stängl 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 George’s 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 go-

ing 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 Mu-

nich. 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 fur-

ther adding that she did not even like beer. Still, after all her pro-

tests, 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 insist-

ed that I meet this fellow “American”. Of course, Mandy was

Keep In Touch Newsletter 5 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 jun-

gle,” could not understand why someone would want to take her

home. However, she did consent to my escorting her, and togeth-

er 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 final-

ly 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 rela-

tives, but was invited by her aunt and uncle to stay with them un-

til I returned to England. We took walks with her grandfather in

the beautiful parks in Munich. I truly felt that I had been accept-

ed by her relatives, especially her Opa. He even shared his daily

bottle of beer with me. Mandy said that was his “seal-of-

approval”.

On December 6th

, 1963, Mandy came from Munich to Eng-

land to live with her family; they were living outside the com-

munity, in a little village named Charndon (near Bicester in Ox-

fordshire). 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 thir-

ty 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 un-

comfortable, the

kerosene heater

burning my back-

side or my nose

and ears freezing

because of having

the window open

to vent the stove’s

fumes. The wind-

shield wipers

worked alright in

the rain, but in the

snow the vacuum

hoses did not pro-

duce enough force

to keep the wind-

shield clear and I

George and Man-

dy 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 Cirences-

ter (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 Ci-

rencester. And finally the most ironic of all, Mandy's parents Jo-

seph and Ivy Stängl were married in Swindon, 1940.

Indeed, meeting with all of you at Lower Shaw Farm was a

wonderful experience, the weather was magnificent, the conver-

sations, exhilarating, the walks stimulating, the entertainment en-

joyable 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 pre-

sumed heart attack at the age of sixty-eight. When my sister Hel-

ena called me and left a message on my phone that Eileen had

been found dead, lying peacefully on her couch in her small, ru-

ral New Jersey apartment, I felt simultaneous sadness and ac-

ceptance. 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 6th

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 pastel-

colored 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 be-

ing 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

Keep In Touch Newsletter 6 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

Hanna Goodwin Johnson and daughter Margaret.

Eileen’s daughter Ruth Weaver with her husband Marcus.

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 advo-

cate 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 chil-

dren: Margaret, Aqua, and Jonathan. Christopher Goodwin has

Robert Rimes and his wife Martha Mercer. (Photos: Maeve Whitty)

Marcus Weaver, Herbert Goodwin and his wife Annette Ehrlich.

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: John-

ny 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 chil-

dren'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 twenty-

two 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 foot-

path 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-

Keep In Touch Newsletter 7 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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, intel-

ligent and creative to me. There were Eileen's younger brothers:

Herbert (“Herbie” we called him) in my age “group”, Christo-

pher, later a math major and commuting to college with me; and

dark-haired, outgoing Peter. Hannah, the only other sister to Ei-

leen 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 fa-

ther's funeral, and last year here in New Jersey as he visited Ei-

leen 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, walk-

ing 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 muse-

ums. 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 adven-

ture 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 tree-

lined river, singing and laughing as we went. A good memory!

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 ba-

sis. Typed letters can also be accepted – as they can be eas-

ily converted. Send your submissions to Erdmuthe Arnold,

or to any of the other KIT Staff who are all listed on the

last page.

Celebrating my Sister’s 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 re-

quested cremation and that her ashes be scattered in the Red-

woods. 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 Kühn (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 it´s

fifty years since I left the USA, and I am

not used to writing in English.

At about sixteen years of age I decid-

ed 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 Asunción.

In Asunción 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 be-

cause 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.

Keep In Touch Newsletter 8 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 Asunción 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 remem-

ber that they wanted me to kill a hen, but I couldn’t 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 Asunción

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 edu-

cation?” As I didn’t 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 Asunción down

to Buenos Aires. The next day we flew over the Andes to Flori-

da. From there I took the Greyhound bus and traveled on to Ken-

tucky and to Berea College. – Please don´t 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 trans-

ferred to college after successfully taking my exams. I had to

work half time to pay all my fees and couldn’t take all the sub-

jects I needed to finish on time, so I quit my studies in Septem-

ber 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 didn’t take either of us long to find a spouse.

Marili married 1964, and I married in 1965 and we still are to-

gether.

Heiko und I have three beautiful children, and one grand-

daughter. There is more to tell, but for now that’s enough. The

most wonderful thing is to know Jesus. He is around us with lov-

ing 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 commu-

nal 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 father’s brothers, their wives and children created our own

colony near Bright, Ontario. This was a practical as well as ideo-

logical move, as one of the Baer brothers had lost his wife, leav-

ing 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 authori-

tarian, 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 Lord’s 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 be-

came Hutterite. This time we learned Huttrisch (Tyrolean) in or-

der 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 Tru-

man College. (Photos submitted by Ruth Lambach.)

Keep In Touch Newsletter 9 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

I have lived “on the outside” since 1959, and have not become a

member of any church. When I think about the Christian mes-

sage: “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 I’ve worked and wherever I have in-

teracted with other people. I cannot escape my communal train-

ing, 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 collaborative-

ly. I have been told on numerous occasions that some corpora-

tion 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 re-

wards, I kept being promoted from teacher to coordinator, direc-

tor and eventually becoming one of two managers of 240 teach-

ers. In my early years as coordinator of the Indochinese Refugee

Program, I’d 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 pro-

gram, and I hired them even though they had no previous teach-

ing experience. I didn’t 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 exper-

imentation and promoted the idea that “The Curriculum is Look-

ing 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 dis-

cussed 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 re-

spected. Among the teachers were fundamental born again Chris-

tians, Atheists, Jews, a former Communist who had promoted

Pol Pot at college campuses, idealists, artists, a dog trainer, peo-

ple with liberal arts degrees who didn’t know what to do with

them, out of work journalists, stuck PHD candidates, Spanish

teachers, Art History majors, and people who’d majored in An-

Some Teachers in the Park before the picnic.

thropology. I look back at this time in the 1980’s 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 cel-

ebrate 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 res-

onated 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 collabora-

tive 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 celebra-

tions closes his column like this: “There is an American Dream

that’s economic only, and you don’t have to check your bigotry

at the door to attain it. But there’s a larger dream as well, one ar-

ticulated 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 Chi-

cago for twenty-two long years. A new president was hired. A

new dean came along. I had too much influence over the teachers

Keep In Touch Newsletter 10 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 er-

satz commune, juggling around the politics, the union and the

bureaucratic red tape, I was fired on April 23rd

, 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 experi-

ence in a unique work environment. It was an environment creat-

ed on communitarian principles whether or not I or anyone else

was aware of it. I feel fortunate to have gotten by at Truman Col-

lege “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 engage-

ment… We learned to share our ideas freely and eagerly, to view

new ideas and other teaching styles and techniques not as repre-

senting 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 develop-

ment workshops at other places using my technique, now pub-

lished: “Creating Community in the Classroom”. I cannot teach

in a situation where I don’t 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 Jejuí 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 be-

comes 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 Huguá Poí and finding a place

near Itacurubí 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 meas-

ure 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 solu-

tion 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 Asunción. At

the auction were Johnny Robinson, Christoph Mathis and, I be-

lieve, 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 Argenti-

na 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 Fer-

nando – one of the elder sons – but the youngest of the Zavala

boys, Victoriano (Totó), who had just returned from a break in

his studies at Texas University’s 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; nev-

ertheless 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 se-

lected 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 Pri-

mavera, 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 Aguaraí, he got hung up somewhere near Gen-

eral 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.

Keep In Touch Newsletter 11 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 na-

tive 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 slaugh-

ter 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 re-

place 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, eve-

rything 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

The oxen were partners of the careteros.

Paraguayans cut the

logs for our timber

needs.

Mennonites. We

would buy any-

thing 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, break-

ing into their

chacras and gar-

dens. Off we went

to Friesland, look-

ing 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 be-

coming too time-consuming and expensive, so the Brüderrat de-

cided we should buy up to hundred steers from Mr. Schmeling

who had an Estancia just south west of Santaní, nearly a day’s

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 af-

ter each party had made their estimate. Peti's estimate would al-

ways 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 selec-

tion, 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 Doña Antonina’s 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 hurry-

ing 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

Keep In Touch Newsletter 12 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 Vacahú and onto our Campo

Dolores and our coral at Riveroscué.

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 Cooperación 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 Guazú, 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 Guazú. Again all men from Isla Margarita, Loma

Hoby and Ibaté 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 fun-

nel 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 for-

ests 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, agutís, iguanas or coatís. 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.

In one of the next chapters Hans Zimmermann will also tell about

his last months in Primavera in 1960/61, during which he was work-

ing at the Estancia in Ibaté – above he inspects the animals.

(All three photos: © ETH Bibliothek Zürich – Bildarchiv)

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 Guaraní, 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, chug-

ging up the Río 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. Re-

becca, the housemother, had apparently decided to let her sleep

in. She heard baby Andy’s happily chirping voice from behind

Rebecca’s 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 Hilpert’s now empty bed. Salome

had gone too.

From whom? she wondered, while unfolding it. But she be-

lieved 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 you’ll get this at all.

I can only say to you: Courage, much courage, and then also

many happy wishes for your birthday. More I won’t 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 Rupert’s 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 sud-

denly knew: The signature! “Your Prince” he had written – that

was bad! Very bad! She must tell him when he’s back – he

mustn’t do this ever again. He’s not her “prince”! Didn’t he get

it? Wasn’t she clear enough? Was she confused when she ex-

plained? 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 agi-

tated when they talked, and it spilled over and she would begin

shaking too. She understood now what Werner meant when he

Keep In Touch Newsletter 13 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

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 he’s back.

Last week there wasn’t a day when they didn’t meet up some-

where. Even at mealtimes. If they became too exclusive, ques-

tions would be asked, and they’d then have to examine them-

selves in great depth. What if the questions were found to be jus-

tified? Anyhow, this behaviour wasn’t a true witness of Commu-

nity. They must not stand apart from the rest of the group be-

cause of their friendship.

If what they had was true friendship, then they’d remain

friends even if Rupert didn’t come back from Primavera and

Simone stayed in Asunción, 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 couldn’t stand it!

Earlier, Werner had sat across from her at her desk, doing

paperwork. No-one else was in the office.

“You’re going back to Primavera today, aren’t you,” Simone

said.

“Yes.” He raised his clear blue eyes and looked at her expec-

tantly. 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 mustn’t tease me! Laura anyhow, I don’t

need to mention it.”

“All right then. Who else.”

“Werner,” she begged, “please, don’t!”

He laughed. “All right, all right! Don’t worry. I’ll 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 wouldn’t mind. After all, Werner and

Laura were like parents to her. No, they were more than that. She

couldn’t explain it. They were very special.

As to her own parents, she still didn’t know how much she’d

tell them and how free or awkward she’d 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 man-

aged 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 in-

cessantly 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 didn’t make sense to talk about

friendship all the time. She’d 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 didn’t spare sharp words. He stressed that Rupert, as a nov-

ice, 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.

Alex’s 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 look-

ing into the future. But because you, Simone, are the brotherhood

member, and Rupert is still only a novice, it is essential that nei-

ther 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.” Alex’s voice had be-

come stricter again.

He went on to talk some more about those greatest of dan-

gers. 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. Simone’s 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 be-

lieved 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 wasn’t 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 don’t become ex-

clusive,” 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 Alex’s and Hope’s 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

País!” There’s hooting and roaring of automobiles, and spar-

Keep In Touch Newsletter 14 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

rows chirping in the garden next door. But these are all back-

ground sounds while there is the tick–ticking 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 bet-

ter for you not to be around, not yet. I’m only just beginning to

steady myself. If you come now, I’ll 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. I’m sorry!

What I mean is, I feel ‘un-attracted’ to you physically. Al-

though you are quite good-looking – I mean your face is – I find

that I don’t wish to be close to you at all physically.

On the Sunday when we were all playing volley-ball, remem-

ber? I watched you jumping about. You were making a lot of

‘jolly’ noises but it all sounded a bit contrived, and I thought,

you’re 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: That’s 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 Alex’s 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 inten-

tion to hurt you. But if it does hurt, it’ll 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 that’s not who

you are!

Although this letter is sharp, I remain, and wish to continue be-

ing

your Friend.

*

Third Letter:

I bet you are surprised that I’m coming to you only now. It is al-

ready close to twenty four hours since I last ‘needed’ you. But I

did continue to think of you.

I’m 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 I’m un-

able to see if it was about you or about me. But if I’m 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, call-

ing myself ‘your friend’ at the end of the letter. What my letter

expressed wasn’t 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: I’ve noticed

that I’m getting back to normal again. My appetite is returning, I

can sleep. Twice I’ve had a row, one with Marie Buchholz and

the other with Sam Leimann. Good, isn’t 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 mustn’t do this,” she said. Her voice was very

kind, but firm.

“Simone!” And after a while more urgently, as my crying

wouldn’t 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 didn’t 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 didn’t have, something I had to find. What a dread-

ful peace, I thought. And quietly I began crying again. I cried in-

cessantly, silently. It was indescribably painful. Then I couldn’t

hold myself back anymore.

“Mother,” I howled, “mother! All your life I’ve hurt you so

much! I’ve 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. I’ve already forgiven you a long

time ago.” She said it with great serenity, but she didn’t look at

me while she spoke. It was as if she was already occupying her-

self with something else, something not of this world anymore.

And I felt that I couldn’t call her back.

Keep In Touch Newsletter 15 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

“Too late, too late,” I cried, and my sobbing went on and on. It

wouldn’t 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 be-

ing

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 didn’t dare stand

between you. Then I saw a mug which was placed in a way that if

I picked it up, I’d 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 be-

tween 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 nui-

sance. 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 didn’t leave, of

course. She hadn’t a clue what my intentions were. Later, as oth-

ers 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 that’s 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 pri-

vate 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 wasn’t 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 aren’t coming to Asunción, after all.

It has been postponed indefinitely. So the waiting continues. Ac-

tually, I wish it was all behind me, the conversations and confes-

sions and all that. My constant state of anticipation doesn’t make

things easier. The trouble with me is that once I’m resolved on

doing something it then has to be right away. If there is a delay, I

dread that I’ll regret my decision. But I’ve promised myself that

I’ll 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 you’ll be staying away for longer

too. But let me quickly add: This is all as yet only hearsay. I’m

glad…

*

Fifth Letter:

I’d like to tell you so many things but how can I if you aren’t

here? I don’t even know if I’ll be able to write them down for

you. I’d 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 I’m sure: I always sus-

pected Lucy to be my brother Peter’s sweetheart… Well, be that

as it may. Apart from that one, this engagement stirred up a se-

ries 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 can’t help

but ask: Is it God’s intention, that you and I…? I think it is this

that I was lashing out against in my second letter to you. Yester-

day 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 no-

tion 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 Lucy’s so pretty. She’s vivacious, educated, outgoing

and has such beautiful manners. A real little lady. She has style.

In contrast, Albert comes across as rough, unattractive, inarticu-

late, not very educated, rather clumsy, a bit of a ‘simpleton’ – no

offence meant of course – in one word, too ‘common’ for some-

one 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 some-

thing 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 God’s ways? Not you, not I. Who knows, another might

cross my path, and you may find a different girl who’ll be a bet-

ter 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. That’s why I must leave it all in His

hands.

I learnt something today. A lover doesn’t 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 be-

long hate, falsehood, impurity, deception. But love which is of

life embraces all life and gives itself to all life, because the na-

ture 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

Keep In Touch Newsletter 16 Vol. XXIV No 3 December 2012

There’s 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 Pleil’s

Autobiography

Translated

into German

For anyone who would

like to order my book

Free From Bondage in

German,

BEHÜTET UND

BETROGEN,

here are the details: The

address of the publishing

company is, Dog Ear

Publishing, 4010 W. 86th

Street, Suite H, Indian-

apolis IN 48268 You can

order by mail or from the

company.

Here are two e-mail ad-

dresses you may go to:

adriennem@dogearpublishing.net

ambero@dogearpublishing.net

Tel. +0 866 – 823 – 9613

Fax +0 317 – 489 – 3506

The book can also be or-

dered from Amazon.

Price of the book is US

$21.00. It is also availa-

ble 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

Contact Details Volunteers produce the Keep In Touch Newsletter. Next issue: April 2013

Erdmuthe Arnold - Editor and Layouts. +49(0)69 444099 erdmuthe.arnold@t-online.de

Ostendstraße 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 Brüggen-Nettetal, Sort code: 31062154 Account: 2201052010 Ref: “KIT”

from other countries: Currency converted to Euro€ can also be deposited in-

to 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 – it’s free, anonymous & easy.

_________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

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