Frederick Mokiewich Dunaenko

Patriarch and preacher
Years of exile, 1894 - 1902

Herewith a summary of Dunanenko's exile, as described in his autobiography, Endureth to the End: A Chapter in the Life of Frederick M. Dunaenko, with special attention to the trauma that his wife and children experienced.

Prior to his exile, Dunaenko was persecuted for having a vernacular Bible and sympathizing with the Stundists.

A picture from "Endureth to the End: A Chapter in the life of Frederick M. Dunaenko." This photo dates from around 1902. The girl who is identifed in the caption as Julia is probably Eva.

In 1894, he was arrested by the police and forced to walk 18 versts [about 12 miles or 20 km] from his home to a police station where he was beaten. He staggered home afterwards: “I went off the road and sat under an acacia and thought: 'My God! I'm so tired of the authorities' abuse and tyranny. I almost don't want to live any more” (Endureth, p. 21).

“I got home all beaten up, covered with bruises. My wife got scared...The kids were staring at me, wondering why I looked so tired...As I looked at them, my heart was heavy with sorrow: 'Soon you'll probably be little orphans.'” Sometime later, Dunaenko was detained again. This time, a police inspector told him that he was going to be exiled. Dunaenko replied: “Your Excellency, please allow me to go home and say goodbye to my wife and children.” The official acceded grudgingly to his request: “All right, go, say your goodbyes. The parting will be a long one” (p. 22).

“He [the inspector] ordered the policemen to go with me. I came home, and announced to my dear children: 'So, that's how it is, my dear ones. I must leave you. God knows, if we'll ever meet again...' My wife begins to cry, but still tries to soothe me: 'God is on your side. He will not abandon you.’”

“I began to kiss everyone one last time...My wife was moaning; my children were crying. They [the policemen] led me out of the gate. I waved one last time. Began to walk. Looked around. My wife stood there, like a hen with her chicks....This happened in 1894, on the nineth of May, on the eve of St. Nicholas” (p. 22).

Dunaenko’s sentence of exile commenced officially on 4 June 1894 and was for a term of five years.

At this time, there were three children in the Dunaenko family: the eldest boy, Eli [?], was about 10 years old; a daughter, Eva, was 9-years old; and the youngest son, Alexander, was 3-years old. Olga was pregnant with their fourth child, Sam, who was born in September 1894.

In the years that followed, Dunaenko was imprisoned in different places, including Kiev, Kharkov, and Rostov. “In Russia," he remarked, "there isn’t a single city without a prison” (p. 31). Eventually, he was sent to Erevan in Russian Armenia.

“I wrote to my wife a very long letter describing all my life: how we made our way to the Caucasus and how I was set up there. In return, my wife sent me a letter describing her own life. And in this way, I understood that my life in exile was better than hers. She wrote of daily hounding by the police, who were ordering her to baptize our children into the Orthodox church” (p. 33).

With the help of a kindly Russian official in Erevan, Dunaenko’s wife and children were permitted to join him. Their reunion took place in 1896. “She came, the four children with her...The children marvelled at everything” (p. 33). In 1896, the four children and their ages were: Eli, 12; Eva, 11; Alexander, 5; and 2-year-old Sam.

But their protector, the kindly Russian official in Erevan, was transferred was transferred to another region a year later. He was replaced by a mean-spirited functionary whom Dunaenko referred to as "a Georgian Chekezova:"

Dunaenko and his family were destitute: “We didn't even have enough clothes to cover the children, and it was February [1897]. Fortunately, “good-hearted Armenians found out about our plight” and wrote to government officials on behalf of Dunaenko and his family. As a result, Dunaenko was transferred to Alexandropol and Karakliz in northwestern Armenia, where he was given a job as a watchman at a railway and forestry camp. Olga was able to work as a laundress. Their children were not starving, but conditions in the work camps were no substitute for a comfortable family home.

On 4 June 1899, Dunaenko’s term of exile was supposed to end. “I thought I would be told I was free” (p. 37). Inexplicably, his sentence was extended for another two years, until 4 June 1901. Subsequently, Olga and children were allowed to go home but Dunaenko was detained for a few more years.

During this period of exile, a son, Paul, was born in 1895 or 1896. A daughter, Mary, was conceived and born in 1901. It must have been distressing for Olga to leave her husband, and upsetting for the children to leave their father in exile, not knowing when or indeed if they would see him again. When they parted from their father in 1901, Eli would have been about 17 years old. Eva would have been 16; Alex, 10; Sam, 7; and Paul about 5 years old.

In 1904, Frederick Dunaenko was able to return home. “Finally, I got a passport from the authorities in my old district, and made my way back to my homeland, to a house of my own with my wife and my children. My children had grown up and matured. They had seen their mother and father suffer [emphasis added] and went out of their way not to give us any trouble” (p. 37).

After returning to his village, Dunaenko continued to be vexatious to the Orthodox Church and officialdom. At one point, he was threatened with exile again – this time to Archangel in the far north of Russia.

“Since the Caucasus didn't seem to cure you of your mental fever,” an exasperated official declared, “perhaps Archangelsk Prefecture will be cold enough to do it....” (p. 39). Dunaenko answered: “Your Excellency, give [me] a passport with which I could go abroad.” “That's a good choice,” the official said.

“I was very glad that the authorities placed no hurdles to my going abroad. I got the passport, collected what strength I had left, and in the year 1910 travelled to CANADA” (p. 39).

In his autobiography, Endureth to the End, Dunaenko doesn't mention that two of his older children, Eva and Alex, had gone ahead to Canada in 1907 and that he and Olga were accompanied by their younger children when they emigrated three years later. But as Dunaenko says, he couldn't record everything in this memoir: “There is a lot I haven't said in these notes. If I were to write about everything in detail, then my book would be as thick as the Bible” (p. 42).