Sunday, May 28th, 1967
It seems that I have now fallen unto the same troubles you have. This symptom of “fatigue” is now upon the farmers here as well. No one here is quite as worried as I am by this. It nags at me, as if the fatigue of the farmers here is connected to your troubles. This is a far-fetched notion; everyone suffers fatigue, and this year’s drought provides ample opportunity for it to surface. Still, I feel as if the two are connected. It is easy enough for me to say, but it is likely just my longing for your presence here to assist me. In either case, I would appreciate it if you would make copies of your case studies and send them to me. The fatigue of your village is likely very different from the one a few farmers contracted just yesterday, but I still worry. Shrieking and flailing in the night is not something I want to deal with on top of my already pressing troubles.
I would prefer to retain most of my supplies, but I believe I may be able to allocate some spare opium. While this isn’t usually the time of year I’m used to seeing diseases, this situation does not bode well. I’ve also prescribed the victims of the dust a similar treatment. Mikhail has told me that something similar happened back in America, before the Second World War. He says it didn’t end well. Let us show the Americans that the Soviet Union is every bit as resourceful and more in combating this dust.
Fishing has suffered in this village as well, although not to the point you describe. We cannot afford to work the fields for more grain; the government demands all of it that we can spare. I do not believe the people here will starve, but we will certainly have less food than last summer. There is talk among villagers of moving to a more industrialized region to escape. I would gladly join them if not for the medical matters of this village. I cannot abandon my post here, as I’m sure you’re well aware. We have a responsibility to help these people.