(12 of 19)
We had driven into town, and Lusia went off on an errand while I waited in the car, the bag on the floor behind the front seat. A man walked over and asked through my half-open window, "Are you headed for Moscow?" I told him no. My memory of what happened next is blank. I recall someone pulling the bag through a window. I tried to get out of the car but couldn't find the door handle, something that usually comes automatically. I finally extricated myself and saw three women standing nearby, one holding what looked like a doctor's kit. "They jumped over the railing," one woman told me. "Did you know they smashed your window?" The left rear window had been smashed, but I hadn't heard a thing. I believe I'd been momentarily stunned by some narcotic. I have no direct evidence, but there was a strange odor, like that of rotting fruit.
"We called the police," one said. "They're coming." One of the women must have been a doctor, the other two were probably nurses assigned to treat me if I suffered any ill effects from the narcotic. They'd lied about calling the police. They didn't want me to go straight to the precinct station; maybe they were afraid I'd pass out along the way. They walked off before I could ask them to serve as witnesses.
Beginning in March 1980, a policeman was stationed in front of our apartment door around the clock. Anyone who came to see me was given a hard time, and those from other cities were usually forced to leave Gorky. Some found themselves in serious trouble: at least three persons who attempted to visit spent several months in psychiatric confinement.
A Visa for Liza
In 1981 the Sakharovs began their first hunger strike while in Gorky (earlier they had conducted others in support of various dissidents). The issue was the KGB's refusal to permit Liza to join her fiance, Elena Bonner's son Alexei, in the U.S. Some Soviet dissidents strongly criticized the strike, fearing Sakharov might die over a relatively "trivial" family issue.
Our two-year campaign had made Liza's case widely known, so we could count on sympathy and support. Most people would understand that a hunger strike was not a bizarre extravagance but our one remaining option.
At first, Lusia and I exchanged written notes about our plans, so that the KGB couldn't eavesdrop on us. Once we had made our decision, there was no reason to conceal it. On the contrary, by declaring our intentions, we gave the KGB an opportunity to let Liza go quietly and save face. So, in October, we sent out appeals for support.
Lusia traveled to Moscow with letters announcing our hunger strike, also notebooks containing the work I had done on these memoirs. I didn't want the KGB to get any of this. A week later, she returned with 100 bottles of Borzhomi mineral water, which helps maintain the body's electrolyte balance while fasting. On Oct. 21 I sent telegrams to Brezhnev and the head of the Academy of Sciences, announcing that our hunger strike would begin on Nov. 22.