workhorse

western Ukraine

2005-10-29T12:26:00.000+03:00

i'm back online, now in Seattle. i'll post more pictures and movie clips from Ukraine over the next couple weeks.

here are some pictures from my trip with Seva to western Ukraine.

crisis

2005-09-08T21:57:00.000+03:00

on September 3, the presidential chief of staff Zinchenko resigned and called for Poroshenko and Tretyakov to resign as well, saying they were involved in corruption.

on September 6, Yushchenko held emergency talks with his cabinet in order to stop the infighting. apparently no dismissals came as a result of those meetings.

this morning Poroshenko and Tomenko resigned. Yushchenko, at his press conference this afternoon, said he had become tired of waking up every day to face the conflicts within his cabinet. apparently he's fired what remained of the cabinet, including Premier Minister Yulia Tymoshenko.

Yushchenko appointed Oleh Rybachuk to replace Zinchenko, and has already appointed a new man (whom i haven't seen before and whose name i didn't catch) to replace Tymoshenko.

the Rada was in session today, argumentative but functioning normally, every faction blaming the others for the crisis. Yushchenko appears completely calm, but then he always does.

i just saw commercial announcing tonight's news/talk show with the topic "The End of the Orange Revolution." kind of ridiculous, but catchy. anyway we're all speculating about everything -- no real information has come out yet.

До зустрічі, Київ.

2005-09-08T14:03:00.000+03:00

tomorrow i'll be in Seattle. i'm packing up (most of) my stuff and saying goodbye to everyone here.

last year when i moved here Kyivites asked me "Why??"

now, when i tell them i'm moving away, they again ask me "Why?"

both are reasonable questions. i have no satisfying answer for either of them!

i know i'll return to Kyiv -- but sadly i don't know when.

and i hope i'm not leaving at "the right time", as it might be said. the gov't has entered a serious crisis in the last 3 days. three high-level resignations and a lot of yelling and finger-pointing in the Rada. press conferences all day long on TV.

anyway, i plan to keep posting on this blog. about what i'm not yet sure. please bear with me -- and thanks again for reading!

for Neeka

2005-09-07T22:28:00.000+03:00

seen in Lviv

Ovruch

2005-08-28T13:03:00.000+03:00

Ilya, Seva, and i just returned to Kyiv after two days in Ovruch. yesterday we picked mushrooms in the forest, and afterwards took turns chopping wood while Anya watched.

tonight Seva and i will take the overnight train to Lviv. neither of us have been to the far west of Ukraine. we want to tramp around and visit some villages in the Carpathian Mountains.

[note: for some reason this post didn't load on the 28th. i loaded it again today, 3 september, after returning from western Ukraine. more about that trip later.]

killer

2005-08-24T01:38:00.000+03:00

we came home to find Binrucho crouching over his first kill. a little bird got into the apartment -- and it probably didn't live long. the only evidence of struggle was an overturned sugar bowl. we found the bird with its head torn off. Binrucho had this look, as if to say "i didn't mean to do it."

we explained to him that this rite of passage means he can no longer play the kitten card. he is now a cat.

Turkey

2005-08-22T16:11:00.000+03:00

well, as with my recent trip to Bosnia, i'm finding it damn difficult to write anything coherent about the trip to Turkey. just too much information (personal, political, historical) to mash into one short and entertaining blog entry. it makes me sad, really. maybe my writing powers have fallen. or maybe not. (probably the real explanation is that i have very little alone-time with my laptop these days.) so, i'm just going to post pictures and hope they suffice. (check back soon for some pics of the Balkan trip, too.)

my photos of Turkey

i do want to say thank you to Arda, Gul, Anil, Tuna, and Yalcin (and, of course, Seva and Ilya) for making the trip fantastic.

yesterday i ran across an article in the LA Times. though it isn't well written i found it pretty interesting and illustrative of some of the contradictions in modern Turkish culture:

Islamic-Style Swimsuits Give Women Freedom to Dive In

"Some may never live, but the crazy never die."

2005-08-22T00:23:00.000+03:00

WOODY CREEK, Colo. — At dusk Saturday, about 350 friends and relatives of Hunter S. Thompson stood outside and stared into an inky sky, drinking, waiting. In front of them loomed a massive monument in the shape of the late writer's icon — a dagger topped by a "gonzo" fist — roughly 2 feet taller than the Statue of Liberty. [more here and here]

a wedding (Ukrainian style?)

2005-08-21T01:30:00.000+03:00

we're back in Kyiv. Turkey was fantastic. i'm trying to get some pictures posted.

tonight Ilya, Lena, and i attended the wedding reception of Ilya's old friend Boris. we arrived late. maybe 50 people (family and closest friends) were in the rented reception room of the old school. wooden utensils were being handed to the winners of some sort of contest. (i think this was non-traditional.) a bunch of tables were set up in the shape of a horseshoe. Boris and his bride were in the middle, and in front of them were a lot of flowers, a traditional loaf of bread, and an embroidered sash. we took seats with everyone else. the food was half-eaten and most of the bottles (wine, vodka, juice, water) were half-empty.

at the request of the MC (in this case, a woman hired for the job) the bride's brother brought out a huge, gift-wrapped box. a lot of people crowded around. amid a lot of cheering it was opened. i didn't see what was inside. (actually, neither did Ilya or Lena, making us suspect that they didn't actually open it.)

regardless, the happy couple kissed. and i don't mean just kissed, they actually went at each other. it was sweet. we all yelled our praise. a toast occurred, then a short interlude during which the DJ played an elevator version of the Beatles' Obla-Di-Obla-Da. we toasted again. the MC chimed in: "who's the baldest man here?" after some analysis it was determined that a particular gentleman was (as it turned out) the lucky man. the MC announced there would be a short-skirt contest.

seven young women lined up. only one wore a skirt. the rest hiked up their dresses as far as they could go. the bald man stretched a tape from their heals as far up as HE could go, yelling out the centimeters each girl had achieved. the Best Woman won the contest -- her dress had the highest slit. for winning she was allowed to present the bride & groom with a box (oddly, a beat-up, yellow & blue UkrPost box) inside which the happy couple found a freshly picked head of cabbage.

the MC announced the rules: "tear the cabbage apart and, depending on the color of the button found inside, you will have a boy (red button) or girl (blue button)." turned out it was a joke and they found nothing inside! ha ha! not sure what that means. the couple made-out again.

there was a break in the action. we signaled to the bride & groom and made for the outer hallway. Ilya wanted to give his regards and make an early exit. but before Boris could break away, his new mother-in-law arrived to the hallway, shoeless with mud covering her feet and ankles. clearly a Ukrainian tradition! a plastic tub with water appeared. then Boris, wielding a bottle of vodka! the woman acted wild, stomping her feet and trying to wipe mud on anyone nearby. (us!) Boris managed to get her feet into the tub and, using the vodka, washed the mud from her legs. we all cheered. the reconciled mother-in-law and son-in-law went to the dance floor, twirling happily to a chancon tune.

we went outside, exclaiming to each other with a glance how difficult our endeavor would be, leaving early after arriving late. but luck was on our side -- fireworks began exploding over the soccer field across the street. everyone, including the newlyweds, came outside to admire this salute to the lucky pair. much cheering. afterwards, we were able to congratulate the them both, chat with them for awhile, toast them with a sip of champaign, and make a smooth exit.

we returned to the apartment where Sasha, Alya, and Lena's sister Yulya were relaxing. we ate a small dinner, drank some congac, and watched the second half of Predator, starring Arnold Schwarzenegger.

Istanbul

2005-08-10T02:08:00.000+03:00

Ilya and i are flying to Istanbul in the morning. our plans to go to Georgia didn't work out but Arda invited us to come to Istanbul. Seva arrives there today. after a few days there we're planning to visit eastern Turkey. and, wherever we go, we plan to eat as much tasty food as possible.

for Kreg

2005-08-09T23:54:00.000+03:00

an excerpt from the short story "Rubbish Wind" by Andrey Platonov, written in 1934 and found in a collection of his stories titled The Return.

A stranger to all thought, indifferent, as if he did not exist, Lichtenberg walked up to the radiator of the truck. The metal gave off a trembling heat; thousands of men, converted to metal, were resting heavily in the motor, no longer demanding either socialism or truth, sustained by cheap petrol alone. Lichtenberg leaned against the vehicle, pressing his face to it as if to some fallen brotherhood; through the chinks of the radiator he saw the mechanism's tomb-like darkness, in its clefts humanity had lost its way and fallen down dead. Only now and again amid the empty factories could you find mute workers; for every worker there were ten members of the State Guard, and in the course of a day every worker produced a hundred horsepower in order to feed, comfort and arm the guards who ruled over them. One miserable labourer maintained ten triumphant masters, and yet these ten masters were filled not with joy but with anxiety, clutching weapons in their hands against those who were poor and isolated.

Over the radiator of the vehicle hung a golden strip of material bearing an inscription in black letters: "Honour the leader of the Germans -- the wise, courageous and great Adolf! Eternal glory to Hitler!" On either side of the inscription lay signs of the swastika, like the tracks of insect feet.

"O splendid nineteenth century, you were wrong!" Lichtenberg said into the dust of the air -- and suddenly his thought stopped, transformed into a physical force. He lifted his heavy stick and hit the vehicle in the chest -- in the radiator -- smashing its honeycombs. The National driver silently got out from behind the wheel and, gripping the torso of the thin physicist, struck his head with equal force against the same radiator. Lichtenberg collapsed into the rubbish on the ground and lay there a while without sensation; this no longer caused him suffering -- he had very little sense of himself anyway as a vital body and ego, and his head ached more from the rubbish of reality than from the blows against iron.

Above his vision the day shone weak and white, he looked into it without blinking; dust had blocked up his eye sockets, and tears were flowing from them to wash away the tickling dirt. Above him stood the driver; all the animals this man had eaten in the course of his life -- cows, rams, sheep, fish and crabs -- after being digested inside him, had left on his body and face their expression of frenzy and of deaf savagery. Lichtenberg got to his feet, jabbed his stick into the animal torso of the driver and walked away from the vehicle. Astonished at such an act off heedless courage, the driver forgot to give Lichtenberg a second blow.

r.i.p. zachariah

2005-08-05T14:17:00.000+03:00

for 14 years you outlived even your own self, the master of the chain-link fence, the destroyer of doors, the digger of comfortable holes, the lover of babies & broccoli, the dude who took himself for a walk (better done at night, or in the rain, lest you be followed). your own legend carried you forward but you, always modest, never mentioned it - the chickens & rabbits, the dead shows, the shovel-wielding enemies, the days tramping through the mountains (and like muir you forever held tents to be for sissies). and now it's somehow fitting that your big heart finally said 'enough' and left you, leaving us only with your body. maybe it was your final great escape - you were always smarter than us, anyway. good bye, zack, we love you.

Sarajevo roses

2005-08-02T17:31:00.000+03:00

just returned from our Budapest/Sarajevo/Dubrovnik trip. will have to write more about it later and try to assemble some pictures. we all had a great time. (our friend Evelyn even flew in from Paris!) though Budapest and Dubrovnik (on the Croatian coast) were beautiful and interesting, Sarajevo was the most incredible place and i want to go back there tomorrow. alas, tonight Svet and i are going to Kamyanets-Podilsky for 2 days of climbing. can't complain about that, though.

Budapest & Sarajevo

2005-07-22T01:27:00.000+03:00

my friend Lara kicks ass. so does my friend Olga. Olga suggested we go to Budapest this weekend. what could i say but "let's go!" we bought tickets and reserved space at a hostel. i wrote Lara about these wonderful plans and, from her nice flat in Sarajevo, she wrote back: "dude, what are you doing? you've got to come here!! it's only a night train from Budapest!" so what could i say to that? Olga and i are leaving today. we'll be gone for about 10 days.

Lara is working on her PhD. check out her latest article.

birthday party

2005-07-21T23:05:00.000+03:00

we made a good 16-hour celebration of Ilya's birthday yesterday. started out at the apartment with a great lunch w/vodka, made by his folks. Ilya then went to his office where his work-mates broke out the champaign. later i met them at Docker Pub, as did Olga. Alyonka ordered a cocktail that arrived with a dangerous (and lit) firework sticking out of it -- Ilya drank it. a cover band played Zeppelin, Stones, Beatles, and Deep Purple tunes. at some point a table of drunk dudes (drunker than us) started singing along with the chorus of every song. (i think they only knew the choruses.) Olga was lucky enough to leave before they started. the rest of us left and went to Hydropark to dance. after working up a sweat we walked to the Dnieper and swam as the sky turned from black to navy blue. it was so windy we were warmer in the water than out of it! i think only one injury occurred here (unless Alyonka was bruised when i spun her into a fake tree on the dance floor): Ilya and i were running up and down the beach trying to dry off and warm up -- in the half-light i stepped on a rock and hurt my foot. (just a bruise, i think.) wet and cold we returned to the dance club where a sweet waitress fed us hot mushroom soup and tea. the sun was well above the horizon when we got home.

Ilya was completely happy about his party. today we were still talking about it, as well as laughing about the confusing conversations we had today that were attributable to our hangovers and lack of sleep.

pictures

2005-07-19T14:05:00.000+03:00

just spent three more days climbing in Kamyanets Podilsky with Svet. some pictures are here.

Moscow

2005-07-13T15:56:00.000+03:00

last week Ilya and Sasha went to Moscow for a day. Ilya returned with a new hat and a big bottle of Martini.

tonight Svet and i are going to Kamyanets Podilsky on the overnight train. i'll be back Sunday.

good question

2005-07-13T15:52:00.000+03:00

Mark Morford asks: "Why do you work so hard? Is it maybe time to quit your safe job and follow your path and infuriate the establishment?" LINK. i love this guy.

tickets & hooligans

2005-07-13T15:49:00.000+03:00

bought my plane ticket back to the states yesterday. i thought the airline (KLM) was going to rob me, or if not rob me then make it extremely difficult to re-schedule the return leg of last year's round-trip ticket. i expected to pay over $1000 to do this. they did make it very difficult to re-schedule, in fact told me i simply could not (though i'd been told otherwise by two or three other people). but they surprised me by selling me a one-way ticket to Seattle for only $665. sweet (relatively). i leave Kyiv on September 9.

so when, on the way home from my relatively successful trip to the KLM office, i was robbed by two hooligans in our stairwell i didn't feel so bad. they took about $60. bastards. but they were kind enough not to steal my passport or plane ticket or bank card. it was the first time i've ever been robbed, and considering the places i've been it was long overdue. it still sucks, though.

hoorah!

2005-07-13T15:46:00.000+03:00

Thompson's Ashes to Be Blasted From Cannon

thanks to Justin for sending the news.

Kamyanets Podilsky

2005-07-13T01:14:00.000+03:00

recently Ilya and i had a few great days with Sasha & Alya in Novodnestrovsk. we fished and camped on the Dniester River. i tried to upload a short video from the trip but was unsuccessful, so instead here's a picture of Ilya and Sasha.

after camping i took a marshutka from Novodnestrovsk to Kamyanets Podilsky, about a 4-hour ride to the west. it wasn't the most comfortable ride (one girl puked on herself because of the heat and windy roads) but i reached Kamyanets and met Svet at the train station (he'd taken the overnight from Kyiv). we rock climbed for 2 days in the canyon surrounding the old part of the city. we really liked this town and plan to return this week for 3 more days. the climbing there is great, the town is beautiful, and the people are nice. here are a couple pictures of the old part of the town.

Hydropark

2005-07-12T21:20:00.000+03:00

spent last night at Hydropark, the disco/sports/beach/carnival island on the Dnieper. i danced a lot, like a crazy man, and lip-synced to some chancon tunes to the great amusement of my company. managed to get home and to bed just before sunrise. i've yet to decide if waking up with a hangover in the afternoon is better or worse than waking up with one in the morning. anyway, it was worth it.

public service announcement

2005-07-12T21:15:00.000+03:00

seen on the Metro:

"Beer won't kill you -- water will kill you."

road trip

2005-06-30T11:38:00.000+03:00

Ilya and i are going to Novodnestrovsk today. Sasha invited us to come for the weekend and fish from his new boat. after the weekend we'll probably bus to Kamyanets Podilsky (another 50 km to the west), a medieval fortress city built above a gorge. we'll meet Svet there, do some sightseeing, and rock climb for a couple days.

international refugee day

2005-06-29T23:04:00.000+03:00

last week, in honor of International Refugee Day, a number of Kyiv refugee assistance organizations sponsored a soccer match. the game pitted a team of refugees against a team of airport security guards. unfortunately the guards didn't show up (cowards) so another team was hastily assembled.

the match ended 4-0, the refugee team (though i think both teams were made up of refugees) really coming together in the second half to run away with it.

after the match was a picnic with 1-hryvnia beer and sandwiches. kids danced on a small stage, three bongo-players accompanied amplified African pop music (think KEXP "Best Ambience"), other people danced, others stood around chatting and eating. an afternoon thunderstorm appeared, rain came down, and everyone ran for cover.

yes, on the man's shirt is Mobutu, ex-president/dictator of Zaire (now the Democratic Republic of Congo) who ruled the country for thirty years before being ousted in 1997. he died in exile 4 months later. though at the time the leadership that replaced Mobutu was praised by neighboring as well as European countries, the larger problems remained and it wasn't long before the neighbors were all at war with each other. somewhere in the neighborhood of 3.8 million people have died in Zaire/Congo because of conflict.

big thanks to my new friend Olga, who works at HIAS and invited me to this celebration.

back on topic

2005-06-22T23:20:00.000+03:00

after a bunch of non-Ukraine posts i feel the need to either apologize or make right. i think i'll make right. here's a picture of the inside of our refrigerator.

strategies for a UN force in Iraq

2005-06-22T01:45:00.000+03:00

Juan Cole makes a nice analysis: UN Strategy as a Resolution of the Iraq Crisis.

and here is a response to it by billmon at Whiskey Bar, another incisive and well-written blog: Dreaming of blue helmets.

and here's Juan's response to billmon's response. (the relevant bit begins with "As for getting anyone over at the UN to take on Iraq...")

$45 billion more, but...

2005-06-19T21:01:00.000+03:00

Vote on additional $45 billion likely Monday
WASHINGTON (AP) — The House is expected to give the Pentagon an additional $45 billion for wars next year even as public support for combat in Iraq wanes and lawmakers press for an exit strategy.

via Harper's Index:

Annual cost of all sixteen U.N. peacekeeping missions currently underway: $3,870,000,000.
Monthly cost of the U.S. occupation of Iraq: $4,100,000,000.

via Juan Cole:

Experts: Iraq withdrawal now would be bad idea
WASHINGTON (KRT) -- Americans who are telling pollsters they want U.S. troops out of Iraq could see some nasty consequences if President Bush heeded their wishes, foreign policy experts warn.

and for desert:

Dread Pirate Zarqawi
"...it is now often forgotten that the major politicians running Iraq are the same people who lied to the US public about Saddam's WMD and about Baath links to terrorism..."

Solnit on despair

2005-06-19T20:59:00.000+03:00

"I wonder, now, if surrender and despair as I encounter them in the US and UK are, in part, luxury goods, for those for whom loss means the blues, not starvation, enslavement, or violent death."

Sontag might have suggested that despair serves as an excuse, among the "anti-principled" (her awkward term), to go on living amid all the contradictions that become unavoidable during times of war. it is easier to despair than to face the fact that we are part of the problem -- or maybe the despair is better described as depression fed by personal contradictions that we lack the moral courage (as Sontag put it) to address.

Solnit goes on to say: "Despair presumes it knows what will happen next." read her entire essay here. the essay is actually about hope:

"I'm hopeful, partly because we don't know what is going to happen in [the] future and we might as well live according to our principles as long as we're here. Hope, the opposite of fear, lets us do that."

Sontag on principles

2005-06-18T20:39:00.000+03:00

"The perennial destiny of principles: while everyone professes to have them, they are likely to be sacrificed when they become inconveniencing. Generally a moral principle is something that puts one at variance with accepted practice. And that variance has consequences, sometimes unpleasant consequences, as the community takes its revenge on those who challenge its contradictions --- who want a society actually to uphold the principles it professes to defend.

"The standard that a society should actually embody its own professed principles is a utopian one, in the sense that moral principles contradict the way things really are --- and always will be. How things really are --- and always will be --- is neither all-evil nor all-good but deficient, inconsistent, inferior. Principles invite us to do something about the morass of contradictions in which we function morally. Principles invite us to clean up our act; to become intolerant of moral laxity and compromise and cowardice and the turning away from what is upsetting: that secret gnawing of the heart that tells us that what we are doing is not right, and so counsels us that we'd be better off just not thinking about it." (read more here)

Foucault on politics

2005-06-16T22:32:00.000+03:00

Elders: I would like to ask Mr. Foucault why he is so interested in politics, because he told me that in fact he likes politics much more than philosophy.

Foucault: I've never concerned myself, in any case, with philosophy. But that is not a problem. [He laughs.] Your question is: why am I so interested in politics? But if I were to answer you very simply, I would say this: why shouldn't I be interested? That is to say, what blindness, what deafness, what density of ideology would have to weigh me down to prevent me from being interested in what is probably the most crucial subject to our existence, that is to say the society in which we live, the economic relations within which it functions, and the system of power which defines the regular forms and the regular permissions and prohibitions of our conduct. The essence of our life consists, after all, of the political functioning of the society in which we find ourselves. (more here)

Foucault on polemics

2005-06-15T23:28:00.000+03:00

Paul Rabinow: Why is it that you don’t engage in polemics ?

Michel Foucault: I like discussions, and when I am asked questions, I try to answer them. It’s true that I don’t like to get involved in polemics. If I open a book and see that the author is accusing an adversary of “infantile leftism” I shut it again right away. That’s not my way of doing things; I don’t belong to the world of people who do things that way. I insist on this difference as something essential: a whole morality is at stake, the one that concerns the search for truth and the relation to the other.

In the serious play of questions and answers, in the work of reciprocal elucidation, the rights of each person are in some sense immanent in the discussion. They depend only on the dialogue situation. The person asking the questions is merely exercising the right that has been given him: to remain unconvinced, to perceive a contradiction, to require more information, to emphasize different postulates, to point out faulty reasoning, and so on. As for the person answering the questions, he too exercises a right that does not go beyond the discussion itself; by the logic of his own discourse, he is tied to what he has said earlier, and by the acceptance of dialogue he is tied to the questioning of other. Questions and answers depend on a game—a game that is at once pleasant and difficult—in which each of the two partners takes pains to use only the rights given him by the other and by the accepted form of dialogue.

The polemicist, on the other hand, proceeds encased in privileges that he possesses in advance and will never agree to question. On principle, he possesses rights authorizing him to wage war and making that struggle a just undertaking; the person he confronts is not a partner in search for the truth but an adversary, an enemy who is wrong, who is armful, and whose very existence constitutes a threat. For him, then the game consists not of recognizing this person as a subject having the right to speak but of abolishing him as interlocutor, from any possible dialogue; and his final objective will be not to come as close as possible to a difficult truth but to bring about the triumph of the just cause he has been manifestly upholding from the beginning. The polemicist relies on a legitimacy that his adversary is by definition denied. (continue reading here)

playgrounds

2005-06-10T02:31:00.000+03:00

a friend is working on a project and requested that i take pictures of playgrounds in Kyiv. here are 17 playgrounds from the region where i live. not very interesting pictures, but together maybe they give a sense of something.

Goosin!

2005-06-08T23:41:00.000+03:00

unbelievable World Cup qualifying match between Ukraine and Greece tonight. somehow, after 82 minutes of scoreless, Greek-dominated play, the Ukrainian stopper Goosin found himself, thanks to the only error by the Greek defense, all alone with the ball against the Greek goalkeeper. he had a few seconds to look around him, apparently hoping to make a pass but there was no Ukrainian anywhere near him, so, taking a long look at the keeper in front of him, he shot the ball into the back of the net. he seemed as surprised and ecstatic as we were.

Greece had controlled the entire game, looking like the strong team that they are (champions of last year's EuroCup). Ukraine held Greece at bay for the final 10 minutes and won the match 1-0. unbelievable.

футбол

2005-06-05T20:02:00.000+03:00

last Sunday Ilya, his friend Valera, and i went to Respublikansky Stadium to see the championship soccer match for the Cup of Ukraine. it was 32 celsius on the field at game-time. our seats were in the sun and i think maybe it was hotter than 32 (though we saw only one fan carried out because of heat stroke). the stadium was divided between orange-clad Shakhtar Donetsk fans at one end and blue-white Dynamo Kyiv fans at our end.

the game was not terribly interesting. in the 15th minute Dynamo was fouled in the penalty area and scored the PK. a few minutes later one of the Shakhtar players elbowed (apparently, because i didn't see the foul) a Dynamo defender in the face -- red card! -- he was thrown out of the game. later in the first half a Shakhtar forward was fouled in the penalty area and awarded a PK, which the Dynamo goalkeeper saved! we all chanted "Sasha! Sasha! Sasha!"

the second half of the game was boring, but in the stands a large smoke bomb went off near us, riot cops secured the area, and ten minutes later another bomb went off in the same spot. a loudspeaker caught fire, a flare was thrown onto the field (both handled by military dudes armed with buckets of water), and another smoke bomb went off in the Shakhtar end of the stadium.

near the end of the match the announcer spoke to the crowd: "Respected fans, please if you are rooting for Shakhtar Donetsk stay in your seat for 15 minutes after the game." a strategy to avoid fights. we didn't see a fight all day and had expected we would.

Dynamo Kyiv won the Cup. final score 1-0.

last night at the stadium was a World Cup qualifying match between Ukraine and Kazakhstan. many players from Shakhtar and Dynamo play for the Ukraine national team. somehow Ilya and i didn't hear about this match so we watched it on TV. Ukraine won 2-0 and remains in first place in their group. they play Greece next week in another WC qualifying match (in Greece).

Deneshi

2005-06-03T12:24:00.000+03:00

last week Svet and i went rock climbing at Deneshi, a crag not far from Kyiv. you can read my (gonzo) report here, published at the Moscow climbing web site Baurock.ru. Svet's report is here, in Russian.

Goran Bregovic

2005-06-02T23:51:00.000+03:00

tonight the Serbian musician Goran Bregovic played a free concert in Mykhailivska Square. thousands of people showed up to see the 55-year-old master of .... i don't know how to describe his music! it's a mixture of gypsy, jazz, big-band, folk, movie-score. it was his first time to Kyiv and he said he would only come if his concert would be free. great guy!

the band was made up of 20 musicians -- horn players, tuba players, a sax player, three traditionally dressed singers, a couple drummers, another singer, Bregovic sitting on a chair playing (left-handed) guitar, more singers and musicians on strings and wind instruments that i can't remember right now.

the crowd was dancing all over the square, spilling into the streets and under the trees. dancing in line while waiting for beer or the WC or in spontaneous conga lines. it didn't feel like Kyiv at first, but then i realized that it was the real Kyiv. so many smiling people! Bregovic's music makes you smile. (link)

our new lock

2005-05-31T17:09:00.000+03:00

one Saturday last month Ilya and i left the apartment to play soccer. we took with us only a soccer ball and a set of keys. after playing for a couple hours we returned to the apartment but the key would not open the door.

the door to our apartment is actually two doors, one door that opens outward and a second door that opens inward. each is made of heavy wood and each has its own lock.

we were able to open the first door but the key would not open the second door. the lock simply would not turn. we worked at it for 20 minutes, twisting the key, shaking it, wiggling it, turning slowly, turning quickly -- but nothing worked. Ilya then said it would be cheaper to break the lock than to call a locksmith: better to open it ourselves and pay for the replacement. this didn't seem entirely logical to me, but i agreed.

so we began to kick the door. it didn't budge. we kicked it harder. we put our shoulders to it. still nothing. all we were doing was making a lot of noise. our neighbor, the building manager, opened his door to see what was going on. he's an older man with a pleasant demeanor. he looked at our situation with complete calm, as if he'd seen it 100 times before. he handed us a small axe, said "good luck", and returned to his apartment.

after 30 minutes of work with the axe we were able to loosen the hardware attached to the door jamb and pry the door open. we were in! the door was in fine condition but we'd pretty well destroyed the jamb. nonetheless, with only one locking door we weren't worried about being robbed -- the outer door would be even more difficult to break through.

a few busy weeks went by and we finally visited the boiler room in the basement of our building -- supposedly a repairman worked there. to get to the boiler room you walk through a chain-link gate, down a set of narrow stairs, into a dark room with piles of scrap metal, then into a second room. this second room is tidy and most of its volume is filled with pipes running everywhichway, all recently painted green. this room hot. we ducked under some pipes and found, in the back of the room, an older man sitting quietly behind a desk. we greeted each other as if we had just entered his office. Ilya explained our problem. the man said that he usually worked on plumbing and electrical. he asked where we lived, looked pensively at his desk for a moment, then said "okay, let's have a look."

soon we would begin referring to this man as master. (i'm still not quite sure why. Ilya's mom Galia, who was staying with us at the time, began calling him this. i think this name refers to any skilled tradesman.) master looked like a handyman from a 1950s TV show: thin build, short hair, kind face, easy smile, calm demeanor, dressed in a well-worn but clean denim shirt tucked into black slacks, black work-shoes on his feet. he was missing the ends of four fingers -- two on each hand -- and on his left hand near the thumb was an old tattoo of an anchor.

as the master followed us to the apartment he seemed to be in a good mood. there was a slight smell of liquor on his breath (nothing out of the ordinary for a man in Kyiv). he inspected our broken lock, said it wouldn't be a problem to fix it, that he'd just remove the old one and put a new one there. Ilya pointed out that we had destroyed the jamb adjacent to the old lock. the master said "don't worry about that -- that's my problem. tomorrow at 6:00 is okay?" so we planned to see him the next evening.

the next day Ilya was walking in the street outside our building. he and the master happened to run into each other. it was just near 6:00. Ilya said "oh, great, so you're ready to fix our lock!" the master looked at him and said "fix your lock? really?" he simply did not remember our agreement. Ilya explained that he'd been to our apartment the day before. "really?" said the master, "well, then, let's have a look." so he came up again, had a look, went to the boiler room to get his tools, and set to work on our lock.

after removing the old lock, the master found that the new lock Ilya had bought was missing some screws. he agreed to return the next day with screws and finish the job. in order to have money to buy the screws he asked to be paid. Ilya gave him the agreed-upon 30 hryvnias (about $6), which included payment for his completion of the job.

next day the master arrived at 6:00 as expected. he went to work, pounding and drilling. after 90 minutes of work he said he needed to go downstairs for "a minute" and he left.

an hour later Galia and i began to wonder if he'd gone for a drink. when he returned 90 minutes after he'd left, he was grinning, happy, a bit drunk. he set to work again, occasionally dropping his tools. Galia shook her head, saying "it's a comedy." after 30 minutes of work we could hear him talking to himself. there was a problem. he would return the next day. big discussion about what time he would come -- middle of the day was best for him (it would be Saturday). we told him that we wouldn't be home during the day. the master agreed to come at 6:00 again. he measured the jamb with a ruler, saying it was difficult. after much explanation of the situation, saying he needs to reinforce the jamb with a longer piece of wood, he left. Galia then said "it's a nightmare." she couldn't believe that Ilya had already paid him.

the next morning i left early to see a matinee showing of the new Star Wars movie. when i returned in the early afternoon i couldn't get into the apartment. it seemed as if the lock had been replaced. i couldn't understand how. when i'd left the apartment that morning, Ilya had already gone and Galia had been preparing to leave. i kicked the door a couple times to see if maybe it would swing open. no luck. from a phone booth i called Ilya and he confirmed that the lock had been fixed and that i was indeed locked out. "sorry, dude!" master had come that morning and finished his work. "we'll be home later. can you wait?"

the weather was beautiful so i sat near the river, watched the fishermen, and drank a beer. when Ilya and Galia returned we laughed about the whole thing, and celebrated our new lock.

rock climbing in Crimea

2005-05-24T00:54:00.000+03:00

May 1st we left Kyiv before sunrise. it was Easter morning and all around the city people were walking home from all-night church services, carrying baskets of blessed food and lit candles shielded with a hand. it was a beautiful morning, calm, clear, good for driving.

the car had not been blessed, and we thought about stopping at a church on the way out of Kyiv, but after 10 hours we reached the Crimean peninsula with no problems.

a few more hours of driving and we arrived in Yalta. we went directly to the Nikita neighborhood and fell asleep in two small apartments. 6 of the next 7 days we rock climbed: 4 days at Nikita crags, walking distance from the apartments, and the other 2 days at nearby crags, also good.

i've posted some pictures here.

the climbing was great, the rock and routes comparable to good crags in the western US. sport route grades reach 8c+. i met a bunch of good people there. one day i climbed with Ukraine's best climber, Max Petrenko. most climbers from Kyiv try to go to Crimea during the May holidays. the climate on the south coast is wonderful, mediterranean, perfect for outdoor activities of any kind.

almost every day we ate at a Tatar restaurant in Yalta's central market, Cafe Lilia. here's a good thing to consider, wherever you find yourself: eat at a local restaurant in the public market. everything is fresh, the cooks take pride in their food, and the prices are reasonable.

while not climbing or eating we visited the Nikita botanical garden, went to the top of Ai Petri peak, hiked in Bolshoi Kanyon, spent an afternoon on the Black Sea beach, watched a movie, strolled on the Yalta waterfront, drank Crimean wine.

we drove back to Kyiv in one day, a long day, Victory Day, May 9th. (actually Andriy drove the entire way.) we saw a number of tank monuments in Crimea adorned with a special Victory Day addition: the old Soviet flag. overall our trip to Crimea was interesting and great.

secret way to war

2005-05-22T01:44:00.000+03:00

early this month a secret British memo was leaked. it's provided an important date in the timeline leading to the US invasion of Iraq. it also gives an idea of who was thinking what during the summer of 2002.

Mark Danner on the British Smoking-Gun Memo

probably the news of this smoking-gun made or is making an appearance in the US media. i doubt it will get much airtime. NYT reports that Bush has not acknowledged a letter from 89 House democrats asking him to verify the memo. Blaire's people are saying that the memo reveals nothing that is not already known. in his article Danner puts together the history and as the pieces fall into place it really doesn't look good. whether he intended to or not (probably he did) he's made the beginning of a court case.

two good articles

2005-05-20T19:34:00.000+03:00

though these articles have nothing to do with Ukraine and nothing to do with each other, i'm posting links to them anyway.

maybe you saw this on TV in the states: US Senator Norm Coleman attempting to blame the UN for violations in the Iraq Oil for Food program. well, one of the people Coleman fingered didn't take kindly to his ridiculous accusations. British parliamentarian George Galloway flew to Washington and turned the tables on the entire "investigation". check out the result in this report from The Nation. [tip of the hat to Jason for the link]

Mr. Galloway Goes to Washington

the second article takes on the "alt-porn" trend from a feminist viewpoint. the author doesn't draw any conclusions but begins the deconstruction work, bringing in Andrea Dworkin, Deep Throat, Lynndie England, Emma Goldman, et al. very thought-provoking.

On the Triumph of the Pornographic Imagination

[to reach this article The New Republic may require you to register -- it's free, and it's worth it.]

KBAC!

2005-05-19T17:16:00.000+03:00

summer must be near: kvas is being sold on the streets. kvas has been drunk here since the time of Kyivan Rus' (over a thousand years). it's a lightly fermented drink, usually made of black bread, and the only thing i can think to compare it to is a cool, sweet, flat beer. on a hot day kvas is perfect.

Crimea

2005-05-18T23:06:00.000+03:00

before writing about our climbing trip i want to post something about the Crimean Tatars. i'll try to keep it short.

in Seattle, May 18 marks 25 years since Mt. St. Helens erupted. in Crimea, May 18 marks 61 years since the deportation by Stalin's NKVD of the entire Crimean Tatar population, some 380,000 people, to the far east -- Uzbekistan, Tajikistan, and elsewhere.

officially, the deportations were attributed to allegations that the Crimean Tatars collaborated with the Nazis during the German occupation of Crimea. historians now suggest that Stalin wanted to cleanse southern regions of his empire of Muslims in preparation for southern wars. others say the Crimean Tatars were not subservient enough, therefore were punished with deportation. there could be other reasons as well, for instance that the Soviets wanted the best and most beautiful land in southern Crimea -- at that time Crimean Tatars accounted for 70 percent of the population of these areas.

now Crimean Tatars account for less than 1 percent of the people in these areas, according to Mustafa Cemilev, chairman of the Crimean Tatar National Parliament and member of Ukraine's Verkhovna Rada. Cemilev is an old Soviet dissident (spent time in prison for his activities), seems to be a good leader, is calm, reasonable, communicative, committed. he met repeatedly with Kuchma and has already begun talks with Yushchenko to help resolve many of the remaining issues on the peninsula.

the majority of the citizens on the Crimean peninsula are ethnic Russians (estimated at 60 percent). unlike the rest of Ukraine, most of the road signs and building signs there appear in Russian rather than Ukrainian. during the presidential election the peninsula voted overwhelmingly for Yanukovitch. except for the southern coast the area is very poor -- the towns reminded me of the Donetsk region.

today Crimean Tatars account for appx 14 percent of the peninsula's population. it is estimated that half of the Crimean Tatar population still lives outside Crimea. after 1989, when the Soviets allowed them to begin repatriating, Crimean Tatars began returning to the peninsula from the far east. some 100,000 Crimean Tatars still live in Uzbekistan -- with the current violence there it is possible that many will choose to return to their Crimean homeland. if this happens it will complicate even more the land issue on the Crimean peninsula.

after the Soviet Union collapsed, Ukrainian legislation distributed lands to people who had worked on the former collective farms. at the time, most Crimean Tatars were working lands in the far east. upon repatriating to Crimea, they found the land had already been redistributed to Russians and Ukrainians. Crimean Tatars therefore found themselves in their homeland but without rights to the land they once owned. this problem exists today and is the source of most of the tensions. Moscow continues to support its fellow Russians, partially through propaganda efforts against the Crimean Tatars. the Crimean Tatars are also discriminated against by political forces in Crimea; for instance, when there is violence the Crimean Tatars are usually blamed and then punished out of proportion for their wrongdoings. though the unemployment rate throughout Crimea is high, it's highest among the Crimean Tartars -- 60 percent.

last year a bill went before the Verkhovna Rada (Ukraine's parliament) to reestablish Crimean Tatar social rights. unfortunately it was vetoed by Kuchma. Cemilev is now working with the Rada and with Yushchenko in order to have it put up for vote again.

good news for the Crimean Tatars came last week. the previous Prime Minister of Crimea (Leonid Hrach) had refused to negotiate with the Mustafa Cemilev; after the presidential election, Yushchenko appointed a new Prime Minister (Anatoliy Matviyenko) who has agreed to what is being referred to as a "power-sharing" deal. the Crimean Tatars will receive the deputy prime minister post as well as two other ministry positions. they will receive some media space, as well.

unfortunately there remains much to do. the power-sharing deal came after much difficult negotiating. Cemilev was far from satisfied. i'm not sure what is now happening. i read that the Crimean Tatar cabinet members wrote letters of resignation, in protest of the make-up of the new Crimean cabinet -- a few of the cabinet members were involved in Yanukovitch's fraudulent presidential campaign. in addition, the Crimean authorities (Russians and Ukrainians) are apparently drafting a moratorium on the distribution of land.

in related news, Yushchenko and his family vacationed in Yalta on May 5, visiting the zoo. Ukrayinska Pravda quoted him as saying: "The view, the flora here in Crimea never ceases to amaze our family. When I see the beautiful Crimean nature, I feel very happy as a human being, but as a president I remember all the violations that were going on here. We respect Crimea and we love Crimeans."

today on television i saw a large Crimean Tatar rally in front of the Lenin statue on the Yalta waterfront. many people, many signs, many calls for justice. two weeks ago i was on that waterfront. the Lenin statue is a tall one and he looks majestically out to the Black Sea. partially blocking his view of the sea is a big McDonalds restaurant. his nice view was completely blocked one day by a huge German cruise-ship named Mona Lisa, moored next to the McDonalds. it is a strange time for Crimeans. thank god Yushchenko loves them...

please read this interview with Mustafa Cemilev, chairman of the Crimean Tatar National Parliament. it is very good and gives a human feel to the current issues.

road trip

2005-04-29T01:13:00.000+03:00

a couple weeks ago i met Svet, a rock climber who lives not far from us. he has been very kind, even inviting me on a week-long climbing trip to Crimea. i haven't climbed in 8 months so i've been training to get ready.

last night Svet showed me his apartment. it is possible (though difficult) to climb from the kitchen, through the hallway, into the living room, across the ceiling, and into the far hallway without touching the ground. here's Svet showing the way across the ceiling.

there will be 5 of us packed into a small car for the 12-hour drive south to Yalta. if we survive this drive i think we'll have a great week.

Don’t kill our Zhulka.

2005-04-26T17:42:00.000+03:00

19 years ago this morning the Chernobyl reactor exploded. i mentioned the town Pripyat in a previous post (Novodnestrovsk) and thanks to Neeka have found more interesting photos of the town taken by British photographer John Darwell -- the photo above is of Pripyat -- i'm pretty sure that's the reactor on the horizon. the town is completely vacant now.

from the Kyiv Post 22 April 2005: "Some 7 million people are estimated to suffer from radiation-related effects, and Ukraine has registered some 4,400 deaths blamed on the accident. Chernobyl's last working reactor was shut down in December 2000, but decommissioning works have continued."

also via Neeka, now on the internet is a fascinating but heartbreaking excerpt from a book soon to be published, Voices from Chernobyl by Svetlana Alexievich. here are three short quotes from the excerpt.

from a soldier, in Pripyat after the evacuation:

There’s a note on the door: Dear kind person, please don’t look for valuables here. We never had any. Use whatever you want, but don’t trash the place. We’ll be back. I saw signs on other houses in different colors—Dear house, forgive us! People said goodbye to their homes like they were people. Or they’d written: We’re leaving in the morning, or, We’re leaving at night, and they’d put the date and even the time. There were notes written on school notebook paper: Don’t beat the cat. Otherwise the rats will eat everything. And then in a child’s handwriting: Don’t kill our Zhulka. She’s a good cat.

from an environmental inspector:

Chernobyl happened, and suddenly you got this new feeling, we weren’t used to it, that everyone has their separate life. Until then no one needed this life. But now you had to think: What are you eating, what are you feeding your kids? What’s dangerous, what isn’t? Should you move to another place, or should you stay? Everyone had to make their own decisions. And we were used to living—how? As an entire village, as a collective—a factory, a kolkhoz. We were Soviet people, we were collectivized. Then we changed. Everything changed. It takes a lot of work to understand this.

from a photographer:

We’re metaphysicians. We don’t live on this earth, but in our dreams, in our conversations. Because you need to add something to this ordinary life, in order to understand it. Even when you’re near death.

snow, and a poem

2005-04-23T01:45:00.000+03:00

yesterday it was cold and windy like January in Seattle. today it snowed, so i stayed indoors and passed time translating this poem of Pushkin's.

If life deceives, if it betrays you,
Don't be angry, don't lose heart!
Let it all fall apart:
A cheerful day, believe, is due.

The heart lives in greener grass;
Today is dreary, wet concrete:
The moment, all, it will pass;
That which passes will then be sweet.

nice poem, yes? i kept the meter and rhyme of the original (except for the gender of the rhymes). i'm not completely satisfied with it but since Pushkin is long dead and can't read it, i'll let it be. for the pleasure of the modern reader i even managed to work in an anachronism: concrete.

i suspect a Spanish translation would maintain the meaning and beauty much better than an English one could. in Russian the poem is concise and meaningful, and it also sounds good. i think Spanish could convey this better than English.

here's a literal translation of the Russian, for comparison:

If life deceives you,
Don't be sad, don't be angry!
Resign yourself to this day of despondency:
A day of merriment, believe, will come.

The heart lives in the future;
The present is dreary:
All is momentary, all will pass;
What passes will then be sweet.

you can see where i had to take some potentially libelous liberties. it was difficult to find appropriate rhymes for -ass and -eet, but i couldn't avoid using "pass" and "sweet" as they seem to be the essence of the poem.

i don't know which translation is better. to keep the rhyme or keep the words? i suppose it depends on one's taste. Nabokov debated all of this when translating Pushkin's Eugene Onegin into English. i haven't read any of Nabokov's commentary, though, or his translation. in the end he decided on a translation without rhyme, but i don't know if he kept the meter. a lot has been written about this topic.

here you can find the Russian original of the poem i translated today.

lost classic

2005-04-19T15:31:00.000+03:00

on TV this afternoon: a movie starring Rick Schroder and Brad Pitt. they play brothers in high school, Pitt the good boy who runs track and Schroder the bad-ass who smokes pot and gets in fights. the back-alleys of LA have never looked so empty or so historic! and that's only the beginning of the story -- check your local video store for this one -- i recommend it. (IMDB details)

religious discussion, of sorts

2005-04-17T00:04:00.000+03:00

"remember how we'd shout son of god! in Russian after his best soccer plays?"

"yeah. unfortunately he never thought that was very funny."

"well, Jesus is an Arab."

"what? no, i don't think so. he's from Venezuela."

"that doesn't mean anything. he told me himself that he's Muslim."

"i think that's unlikely. remember how he pointed to the sky after introducing himself, when you smiled at his name? in the Americas many men have the name Jesus. clearly their families are not Muslim."

"still, he told me that he was, and many of his friends are Arabs from Tunisia."

"sure, but that doesn't mean Jesus is an Arab, or Muslim. but if he said he is then maybe he is, though i'm skeptical."

"now that i think about it, i did see him drinking a beer during Ramadan."

"i think that's proof enough, especially considering that he would probably be extra-observant, being a convert and all."

"maybe, but still he told me he was an Arab."

"you mean Muslim? i suppose it's possible. we should ask him next time we see him."

"i think he went back to Venezuela with the others."

"oh."

poetry

2005-04-14T22:48:00.000+03:00

internet connection has been horrible lately. the only cure for my aggravation has been to avoid touching the computer altogether. this is fine; i have books. but this ridiculous situation feels like i've had an argument with my lover. i feel chastised and childish.

however, my silent annoyance seems to have worked in my favor. today the computer took my by the arm and led me to this wonderful place (albeit for only 10 minutes):

Russian Poetry: From the Ends to the Beginnings

Russian originals appear with an English translation beside them. some even give an audio recording. i'm wishing the best of everything in life to whoever made this web site. it has reconciled me and the computer -- i've forgiven it completely for its insolence and even admitted that it wasn't actually at fault. and i will promise myself forever if it offers up Nabokov's translation of Eugene Onegin.

the box

2005-04-14T21:09:00.000+03:00

last week i received a package! it was from Janaya. how wonderful it was and how many goodies were inside. you can imagine! she and Justin sent a stack of new music picked out especially for me. and there were treats and toys for Binrucho; snacks, tea, and sweets for us pigs; and even a few hard-to-find office supplies. i can't thank you enough, 'naya! and i can't thank Tim enough, either, for including in the package what for my imagination was a vacation to far-off Nepal, all on one CD-rom. in that immortal word: wow.

Novodnestrovsk

2005-04-07T22:43:00.000+03:00

the town of Novodnestrovsk sits on a hill above the Dniester River just north of the Moldova border. it's not a large town, consisting mainly of Soviet-era apartment buildings. an air of lassitude prevails, borne on the scribbled graffiti that adorns all the buildings.

the surrounding landscape ungulates like the open ocean; patches of forest foam on rising fields. spring has arrived there and many of the fields have already been plowed under in anticipation of sowing. a tiny, beat-up circus on the edge of town was being disassembled when we arrived.

the town is surrounded on two sides by forest and on the others by slopes leading to the Dniester, which has been dammed nearby to create a thin lake that winds for miles to the north. on this lake we went fishing.

i've posted pictures of our fishing trips here. we fished at two spots Sunday and another one, not far from the dam, on Monday. after two days at the river we felt refreshed, though exhausted. winter had been put to rest!

Novodnestrovsk in daytime seems to hover and at night feels excessively heavy. maybe this feeling is the result of drinking vodka during the middle of the day. more likely it comes from having learned that the people of Novodnestrovsk lived, until 1986, in a town called Pripyat, within sight of the Chernobyl reactor.

on 26 April 1986 the reactor exploded. a few days later everyone nearby was evacuated; they have never returned. Pripyat is your house burnt to the ground and your land taken and an emigration card handed to you for a second life on the borderlands. Novodnestrovsk is one of the towns where people were resettled.

for some present-day pictures of Pripyat visit this interesting web site. the author rides her motorcycle through the zone, including Pripyat, which she refers to as Ghost Town. (thanks, Scully, for the link.)

i should clarify that in Novodnestrovsk at night the trees don't feel heavy. the people don't feel heavy. the nearby villages don't feel heavy. it is the feeling i had amid the apartment blocks. twice i saw a coffin lid leaning next to the entrance to an apartment building, an old lady with a black scarf tied on her head and a wreath in her hands walking slowly to the wake, thoughtless Euro-pop blaring from some open window. maybe just the buildings feel heavy there. definitely there's an odd feeling, whatever it is.

leaving Novodnestrovsk we drove north towards Ovruch. the landscape was beautiful, the sun shining. i kept staring out the window and thinking of Turgenev's hunting excursions into the steppe. it was a delightful drive, interrupted only by lunch at a truck-stop where an old television offered a revealing MTV documentary about dancers getting breast enlargements.

we said goodbye to Zhenia in Ovruch and continued south towards Kyiv. we passed through the Chernobyl zone at dusk. the sun burned below the horizon on our right, the sky's edge painted red and orange, and on our left in the open grasslands wildfires simmered, smokeless golden rings dotting the darkening landscape. beyond the fires, just over that other horizon and one step ahead of the sun, the cement-encased reactor was already sleeping.

road trip

2005-04-02T00:19:00.000+03:00

tomorrow we're caravanning west to Novodnestrovsk, taking Sasha's new car. Zhenia is going with us. probably we'll do some fishing and return to Kyiv next week.

here's Alya last October at her family's dacha near Novodnestrovsk.

ТИР

2005-03-31T01:25:00.000+03:00

yesterday evening i sat on the sofa reading Sketches from a Hunter's Album. the particularly dark sketch i was reading had reached its climax (a weary and broken landowner raises his pistol to the forehead of a horse) when the doorbell rang.

at the door were the cousins Sasha and Ilya. Sasha is staying with us this week (along with his wife Alya and daughter Nastya) while he shops for a new car. i waved them in and asked if they'd bought a car. Ilya answered: "no, but Sasha got a gun!"

Sasha pulled a .38 revolver from his coat pocket. its brushed black metal gleamed dully and the wood grip fit perfectly into his hand. it was a beauty, i suppose. he asked if we had an empty plastic bottle. it was an odd request but Sasha is not one for joking with me so i fetched one from the kitchen. when i returned to the hallway he was loading bullets from a box into the chambers of the gun. Ilya set the bottle on the floor.

now surely you understand that sometimes things happen that are so unexpected that at first you don't act at all. surprising moments when, as in a dream, you've resigned yourself to accepting the mysterious way a situation has arisen, sensing there was no way to anticipate it, that it is happening based on some unseen, possibly alien, logic. you accept fate. (as an aside, Ukraine encourages this state of mind. it may in fact be necessary for survival here, this sort of dreaming-yet-awake state.) well, what happened next could be said to fit into this category, for i thought surely there was a crucial piece of information that i had missed, that no person in their right mind....

Sasha turned, aimed, and fired the gun at the plastic bottle. a loud crack echoed off the walls, a cloud of smoke appeared, and Ilya jumped to grab the bottle. he and Sasha inspected it carefully. "yep, whaddaya know! it went right through!"

i was stunned, and said "of course it went through! what were you thinking?"

Ilya ran to the kitchen and returned with a plywood cutting board. he propped it against the thick curtain that hangs in front of our coat closet. sure that a bullet would pass through the board i cleared our shoes from behind the curtain. Sasha took aim again and -- crack! we hurried to the board. the bullet had not gone through (Ilya gave me a look to say "i knew it wouldn't") but had lodged itself in the third ply.

at this point i realized that we were not dealing with a real .38 Magnum but with an attractive (German, it turns out) imitation. the bullets were real but very small. smaller than .22, i think.

tonight Sasha and Ilya hung a bottle cap on the thick curtain and took target practice from five paces. they shot off a couple dozen rounds. after a few minutes of fairly constant firing there was a silence in the apartment. i was in the kitchen and could hear some whispering. (Alya was in the shower and Nastya was in the bedroom.) i went to see what was going on. Sasha was holding back the curtain and he and Ilya were looking at Nastya's jacket. it hung there innocently, white puffs bursting from a dozen little holes in its sleeve. such was the fate of Nastya's jacket.

almost spring

2005-03-25T13:52:00.000+02:00

somebody threw out a plastic sled yesterday. probably some child made a wild ride and broke it, but nonetheless i'm viewing it as an important sign.

Seva was in Chicago this week. he visited the Ukrainian neighborhood there and reported seeing "girls in VERY short skirts" -- another important sign of spring but one that has not yet occurred in Kyiv.

book reviews

2005-03-24T00:34:00.000+02:00

so i've been reading lately. spring isn't here yet and i'm passing the time with books. Russian short prose in the 1830s -- here's the rundown so far. sorry about the laundry-list format.

Gogol (b. 1809) is irreverent and very funny! like a man telling a story to a table full of people, some known to him and some not, he's determined not to lose their attention, even going so far as to add fantastic and unbelievable elements to his tale, all to the amusement and pleasure of his audience. he's a success! a man loses his nose! no! how is it possible? but the nose has disappeared. in another story, a man comes to believe he's the King of Spain and isn't swayed from this belief even after he's taken away to the nut house. in another, two old friends quarrel like bitter enemies. it's easy to see Gogol's influence on Dostoevsky (foggy St Petersburg, poor clerks losing their minds, bizarre dreams, winged carriages) as well as on Bulgakov 100 years later. Gogol was born and raised in Ukraine and his earliest stories are set in small towns to the east of Kyiv, his later ones in St Petersburg.

Pushkin (b. 1799) writes prose like a minimalist sculptor, or like, well, a poet. not a word appears that is unnecessary. his characters take full shape in half a page and this is enough to be drawn completely into their story. beautifully constructed short stories, each with an element of suspense. humorous, too. it's hard to get the timeline straight, so it's difficult to see if he influenced Gogol or vise-versa, particularly regarding the voice of the "author" in the short story. in particular i'm thinking of the Tales of Belkin and the "unfinished" short by Gogol Ivan Fyodorovich Shponka and His Aunt. it wasn't until the 1830s that Pushkin began writing prose, and Gogol's earliest stories were published in 1831. as far as i know Gogol never wrote poetry.

Lermontov (b. 1814) writes like Pushkin, though as a man angry, a man with a point, and therefore occasionally gets carried away. he was exiled to the Caucuses for writing an elegy to Pushkin; the poem implicitly criticized the system that drew Pushkin into the duel that killed him. Lermontov's Man of Our Time probably grew out of his experiences in the Caucuses and uses a number of the authorial tricks Pushkin used in his Tales of Belkin series. Lermontov's prose is more philosophical, more daring. he himself was killed in a duel at the age of 26, just a few years after Pushkin was.

Turgenev (b. 1818). i'm only part-way through this book (Sketches from a Hunter's Album) but it's also very funny, though like Pushkin not shockingly funny, not funny to make the reader laugh, but funny because his descriptions are precise but unhurried. for instance, as an aside he takes half a page to effortlessly describe a peasant's dog. Turgenev is like an anthropologist. himself a landowner, he had traveled abroad and became quite critical of the tsarist system in Russia. he made hunting trips with peasants in the Russian countryside (the source of the sketches). the stories are wonderful, his descriptions of people and nature enchanting. he doesn't exaggerate -- well, maybe a little. Turgenev was exiled when all 25 of the stories were published in one volume, apparently for his implied criticism (that is, giving human characteristics to the lowest classes) of the class system and its subjection of serfs.

next up: Dostoevsky's earliest book. i'd rather read Gogol's Dead Souls but i can't find it anywhere! maybe it will turn up.

maybe it was

2005-03-22T00:30:00.000+02:00

the weather was poor but i pulled myself together and went in search of a particular establishment i'd been wanting to find. the address was in a grey and depressing part of town. to my luck i had no trouble finding the building, a 7-story stone block, blackened by the years, sitting somberly on the corner of a wide boulevard. as i arrived the rain let up. few people were about.

on the ground floor were a number of businesses (a furniture shop, a post office, a "consulting" firm) and, above these, private apartments. i did not see what i was looking for so i circled the building. in the back alley were a number of metal doors for accessing the apartments, but there as well i did not see the establishment i was in search of. avoiding innumerable puddles, i made another trip around the building to be sure i hadn't missed it. when i reached the alley again a woman was standing near one of the metal doors smoking a cigarette.

i took a cigarette from my pocket and asked her for a light. she gave it, and i asked if maybe she knew of this place i was looking for. she didn't. i thanked her anyway, and as i made one last look at the back of the building someone called down from above: "aye!" i looked up expecting to see a pirate but instead saw a middle-aged man standing above me on his 4th floor balcony, eyebrows raised, dragging on an invisible cigarette. i looked at mine, shrugged, and when i looked back up i saw him raise one finger as if to say "just a minute!" and he disappeared.

i'd never before had someone beg a cigarette from such a distance, and i felt slightly annoyed that he wanted me to wait while he ran down the stairs. before this feeling took hold, though, i looked up and he had reappeared holding a cigarette box. with much concentration he began lowering the box to me on what appeared to be shoestrings tied end-to-end!

he worked very carefully at this procedure, even disappearing from my view. the box descended slowly and when it reached me i had to yell out that i had it. he looked over the railing, surprised, or hopeful, i couldn't tell which.

the box was new, and empty except for an old AA battery to give it the proper weight. i put two cigarettes inside, closed the lid, and tugged the string. the box began to rise. i watched the man pull it straight up above me, and as water droplets fell past him from the eaves above i was struck by the sensation that i was praying. involuntarily i smiled. it was a spiritual moment in an otherwise soulless day.

fear & loathing in Russanovka

2005-03-17T00:35:00.000+02:00

without a word the post office clerk took my unwrapped package and held it against an empty envelope on the wall behind her. the size looked appropriate so i said "it's good." she handed me the envelope and i paid her for it.

i sat on a stool and addressed the envelope, then walked to the other side of the office. there a young clerk was finishing a transaction with an old man. he slowly picked up his change, looked at it, then looked to see that his hat was in his other hand, and moved away from the window. i slid my package to the girl, who instead of greeting me had begun organizing some booklets on the desk beside her. i greeted her and after a long moment she looked up, eyed my package with a glance, and said something tersely which i didn't understand. i did make out the word "stamp." she was turning back to her booklets as i asked her to please excuse me, but that i hadn't understood. she repeated the same phrase exactly, this time with a look of complete impatience. for some reason i again made out only the word "stamp." hoping to sound polite, i said "over there?" and pointed to the woman who'd sold me the envelope. the young clerk lost all patience at this point and began to say something else to me about the damn stamp, but she was interrupted by the other clerk who seemed to tell her from across the room to settle down, after which both women fell silent and returned to organizing their desks. i stared at them both for a few seconds, realized they were considering our transaction complete, grabbed my package and walked out of the post office feeling angry and stupid.

outside there was a commotion. across the street people were gathering on both banks of the canal. glad for this immediate distraction, though fearing the worst, i jumped over two slushy puddles and crossed the road to see what was happening. someone had fallen through the ice. i saw a line of clothing in the middle of the canal -- it appeared to be people but i couldn't make out shapes. the sun had just set and at first i could not see what type of rescue technique was being used. then it became clear: two young men were lying end-to-end on the ice, the second holding the feet of the first, and the first was pulling a large, dark bundle out of a slushy hole in the ice.

a truck arrived. three men in orange jumpsuits ran down the slope to the edge of the canal. the first hurried onto the ice carrying one end of a rope. staying light on his feet, he zigzagged across to the scene. the dark bundle, now out of the hole, had begun to take the shape of an old fisherman, who at first did not move but then began to slowly swing his legs to and fro (coincidentally looking like a beached whale). the man in orange arrived at the fisherman and began tearing wet clothing off of him. the second man in orange then walked onto the ice and immediately fell through into the slushy water. the other two men in orange laughed, but he skillfully wriggled out of the hole, stood up, and sauntered over to help the other. they carried the fisherman to the far bank.

the two young men, who'd saved the old man by extending him a wooden crutch, stood shirtless on the far bank wringing water out of their clothes. no one thanked them or congratulated them, and they didn't seem to expect this. the old man was put onto a tarp and carried away, probably to be given some hot tea and sent home.

i walked on.

now, dear reader, because disturbing occurrences happen in threes, and we all know this, i feel i must relate the third thing that happened during my walk, but for the record let it be known that i would rather not be mentioning it.

so, i walked on. and suddenly, across a huge puddle, i came face-to-face with a short, wool-wrapped babushka wearing the most busted pair of eyeglasses i've ever seen. babushkas rarely wear eyeglasses at all, and to meet one wearing a pair so crooked as to make you stumble, with one shattered lens, covered in different kinds (and ages) of tape, well, this was unsettling, especially given the state of my nerves at the time. through the one good lens she was examining the huge puddle between us. it extended across the entire sidewalk and, apparently stumped by its size, she seemed unsure of how to get around it. (i say "apparently" because who knows what goes on in the mind found behind a pair of eyeglasses like that?) i lept across the right edge, got my shoe wet, and hurried back to the apartment avoiding eye contact with anyone else.

in Kyiv again

2005-03-16T21:05:00.000+02:00

had a nice weekend in Ovruch. more on that another day.

there was a good article in the LA Times about Ukraine. (thanks to abdymok for the link.)

friday

2005-03-11T15:44:00.000+02:00

Zhenia is in Kyiv today. he says it was 22 below in Ovruch this morning. Ilya and i will pack our sweaters and go there with him for the weekend. report to follow.

book review

2005-03-10T23:50:00.000+02:00

I was very thrilled, as I realized the exceptional importance of this letter. I decided to wear a starched collar, a light blue tie and a grey suit.

from Black Snow

last week i read Mikhail Bulgakov's Black Snow. it was the funniest book i've read in a long time. he was a master of satire and in this book he seemed to be exorcising some old demons. though he never finished writing the book, i found the story complete enough to satisfy and entertain thoroughly. before he died in 1940 Bulgakov wrote a one-page epilogue that, though not brilliant, at least lets the reader know that he considered the project complete.

the story is about his experience adapting his novel The White Guard for the Moscow theater in the 1920s. during his lifetime he was known primarily for the staged adaptation of this novel. the satire of Black Snow is aimed at the theater artists (writers, actors, directors) of his day, including the revered Stanislovsky. here's another amusing quote from the book:

"There are no theories!" I screamed, drunk with overconfidence, yelling and grinding my teeth. At that moment I suddenly noticed an enormous greasy spot on my grey jacket with a piece of onion sticking to it. I looked round bewildered. It was no longer night. Bombardov switched off the lamp and in the half-light of dawn everything in the room began to stand out in all its squalor.

Bulgakov wrote Black Snow late in his life, during the years he was working on The Master and Margarita, the book he's most well-known for. i recently read this book as well. there is a clear element of satire throughout it, also, but the book is much more complex and serious. it is a real work of art, and took Bulgakov ten years to write. though he died not long after finishing Master and Margarita, the book was not published until 1966 due to Soviet censorship. (proving once again that such regimes could never figure out how to deal with satire and criticism.) Black Snow was not published until 1967. during his lifetime Bulgakov was not known as a novelist but he's now considered one of the Russian greats.

i recommend Black Snow (which may also appear under the title A Theatrical Novel) to anyone who has written a play or movie and attempted to get it published or produced. The Master and Margarita i would suggest to anyone interested in magical realism, Moscow in the 1920s, the Devil, the role of religion in the USSR, Pontius Pilate, cats, or anyone who's read a bit of Russian literature (particularly Dostoyevsky) -- i guess that covers just about everyone.

that certain point

2005-03-07T23:17:00.000+02:00

"From a certain point onward there is no longer any turning back. That is the point which must be reached." as much as i dislike starting off with a Kafka quote, i've done it nonetheless. anyway it's a good one, and important. to me.

for years, when working on projects (or simply living) i've looked into the future attempting to catch a glimpse of this certain point. i've never seen it. as with many such portentous ideas found in Kafka's journals, he left this one unexplained. or better put, such statements in themselves were as near to an explanation of his feelings as he could express -- poetry imbued with philosophy. in this case he was likely thinking about the process of writing a story ("the thing that pleases me most about the short story is that I have gotten rid of it") but as is the case with many of Kafka's serious ideas, his texts are woven together with his own experience, the thread being the black one of his own introspection. recently i find myself understanding in a new way what "the point which must be reached" means in the timeline of my own experience.

the artist Bruce Nauman made a video some years ago. it's called Setting a Good Corner and runs uninterrupted: one camera on a tripod, no cuts, no edits. the viewer watches him setting a fence post from which he'll hang a gate at the corner of his ranch. the duration of this video is determined by the job at hand. since the sixties, video artists have been exploring new ways to structure time. Nauman became interested in a video having a specific duration, one that was determined by the project itself.

in the case of Setting a Good Corner he indeed did need to set a good corner: he had to hang a gate. so he set up the shot, gathered his tools, turned on the camera, and performed the task. "I wasn't sure when I finished it if anybody would take it seriously. It turned out to be kind of interesting to watch," Nauman said afterwards. in fact his ranch partner warned him that to make a video about such a subject was brash, as people had many different and equally good ways of setting a corner. Nauman found this statement very interesting; it posed a new question about what the project was: a how-to video, or art?

as any performing artist must do, Nauman prepared himself beforehand. because it was a one-take performance he had to be ready. asked about the process of setting the corner he said:

You have to adjust yourself to it because it's hard work. And when I was digging that hole, the ground was extremely dry. The ground was very hard, like chipping limestone almost, you know? And so you adjust yourself to the task and if you go out there and say, "Boy I just hate doing this and I got to get it done," you're probably not going to do a good job. And you might just forget, not even bother. But if you can find that spot -- I suppose it's like running -- I used to be a swimmer and swim laps, and you just have to be there with what you're doing. Your mind could actually go a lot of other places, but your body has to be there with what you're doing. It's a good discipline.

i recommend reading this interview with Nauman, it's short and very interesting, whether you're tastes are for making videos, building a fence, theorizing about art, or working on a ranch. it's where i found the above quotes.

it turns out that the point of no turning back, for me, is not far from the point of beginning. i won't go so far as to destroy the theory (it's one i've held closely for too many years) by stating that the point of no turning back might be found in the present moment -- the theory disappears in an unsatisfying way. the point of no turning back seems to appear at the moment when one adjusts oneself to the task at hand, regardless of how long the task will take. this adjustment can happen quickly, it can take some time, or it can never happen. of course there are many factors, not all within one's control. Nauman speaks about asking the right questions beforehand. although his statement is slightly cryptic, what he's saying is that any project is a process involving questions/answers and how they interact with the original idea and influence the final outcome -- and they all depend on the actor's state of mind before and during the performance of the task.

another relaxing morning at the dacha

2005-03-04T23:47:00.000+02:00

former minister of internal affairs Yuri Kravchenko was found dead this morning in his dacha outside Kyiv. the official report was suicide with a gunshot to the temple. second-hand accounts suggest there were two shots fired, one of them non-lethal.

Kravchenko was to appear today in the prosecutor general's office to answer questions about (his role in) the Gongadze murder. as minister of internal affairs he had been in charge of Ukraine's police force in September 2000 when Gongadze disappeared. Kravchenko, while reducing the statistical crime rate in Ukraine during the late 1990s, also played the role of Kuchma's strong arm: political opponents receiving the attention of Kravchenko many times ended up in jail on trumped up charges. in the case of opposition journalist Georgy Gongadze he ended up decapitated.

a couple days ago Yushchenko announced that the Gongadze murder case can be considered solved. three law enforcement officials had been arrested. after the announcement, another witness in police custody was nearly killed when someone tossed a hand grenade at him.

last summer a deputy in parliament suggested that Kravchenko be put under house arrest for his own safety, implying that he might take his own life or that he might be murdered. apparently his death occurred at 7:45 am today. his meeting with the PGO was scheduled for 10:00 am.

here's the Kyiv Post article about today's death. Gongadze's family refuses to call the case closed until Gongadze's head has been found and a proper burial arranged.

is that...?

2005-03-02T23:44:00.000+02:00

i'm not sure why anyone would be curious, but in the case anyone is, here's a picture of the Ukraine embassy in Paris. even if nobody cares, i'm considering it a tribute to the ladies at the embassy who were very nice to me.

for the truly curious, please click here to see a few other photos made in Paris with an old camera.

the banya

2005-03-01T00:04:00.000+02:00

in the town where Zhenia lives there is a milk factory. on the grounds of this factory is a small building that houses the private banya (Russian bath-house) of Zhenia's director.

one cold Saturday we woke up early (slight hang-over), assembled bags of clean clothes, towels, birch-tree branches, and shaving supplies, and left the house on foot. it was snowing softly. we stopped near a shop and Zhenia left us to hold the bags while he went inside for provisions: beer, potato chips, dried squid, and water. we continued walking across town. the fresh air was good for our heads.

we arrived at the factory gate and Zhenia spoke in a friendly manner with the guard. he waved us in. we slid through the rusty turnstile and walked across the deserted grounds to an old, one-story brick building.

the banya contained a number of rooms: an entryway, a changing room with a long table and stools, a bathroom, a hallway with three showers, a room with a square pool, and, off this room, the sauna. we were the first to arrive. someone (the guard?) had lit a fire in the sauna's oven sometime earlier. in the surprisingly immaculate changing room we stripped off our clothes, stepped into plastic slippers, and went straight to the sauna.

it was lit by one bulb and made entirely of wood except for the wall containing the oven, which was of old bricks. behind the door we found enough space to kick off our slippers before climbing over the lower bench to the upper one. the upper bench was head-high and nine feet long (the length of the room). sitting on the upper bench we stared directly into the open door of the oven. the room was enjoyably hot. Zhenia picked up what looked like a long-handled mallet (it was not a mallet but a scoop) and threw a half-dozen cups of water from a bucket into the dark oven.

the heat became intense. sweat jumped out of us. we sat back and rubbed our heads and arms. the heat burned our throats. conversation stopped. the air was on fire. every moment felt that it had to be the last moment, that "as soon as the next moment arrives i've got to get out of here!", but somehow one could always get past that next moment, at which point the same panicked thought would occur again because the pain was so great. as the heat became too much for someone he would announce this with a grunt, hop down into his slippers, and exit quickly so as not to let out any heat.

once outside he would leap into the pool of cold water. sometimes this would elicit a yelp. (occasionally, echoing off the tiles in the pool room, a yelp could be heard in the sauna where the sweating men might smile if they could manage it.) after floating around for awhile (maybe 5 seconds, maybe 5 minutes) the cooled man would climb out and walk to the changing room to relax at the long table. the rest of the party would soon join him, as there are few things in life as pleasant as overheating the body, shocking it with a cold bath, and then sipping a glass of beer.

after our first round the director and his friend arrived. sitting around the long table we greeted them as god intended, and after they undressed we all went to the sauna and sat ourselves along the top bench. as we relaxed Zhenia prepared the birch branch. he repeatedly soaked and shook it. it gradually became supple and a mild aroma from the leaves filled the room. finally, to test the branch, he struck himself with it hard on the shoulder. satisfied, he turned to me and asked, "are you ready?"

naturally i said "of course," but not without some apprehension -- Zhenia appeared mischievous and i realized partly why: suddenly he was wearing a ridiculous-looking felt hat. (you can imagine a naked man in a shapeless felt hat, sweating profusely and waving a large branch at you.) i stretched out on my stomach along the top bench while he ladled a couple liters of water into the oven. the heat descended quickly. he beat and scraped and smothered repeatedly with the wet branch, alternately shaking it in the air above in order to increase the heat of the maneuver. it is difficult to not yell out during this procedure. the heat is literally unbearable.

after the beating/rubdown with the branch i cannonballed into the pool, then climbed out and lounged on the tile feeling calmly ecstatic and cleansed. then i had some beer and squid. after everyone had had a turn being beaten we gathered around the pool. a bucket of salt appeared. everyone began rubbing themselves down with handfuls of salt. (not as painful as it sounds.) we helped each other rub salt onto our backs and then returned to the sauna for one last burn, getting the heat to a ridiculous temperature (no idea what it was as there was no thermometer) and then we dove into the pool and returned to the changing room.

after finishing the beer we took long showers, shaved our faces, dressed, and packed up our things. our slow walk home was a happy one, our bags lighter, our jackets unzipped, feeling warm and relaxed. it was obvious to the other townsfolk, who were bundled against the cold, that we were on our way home from the banya.

NOTES:

regarding the felt hat, it is used to protect the head of the one who's giving the beating. his head is right next to the ceiling (where the heat is most intense) and he's exerting himself a lot -- a good way to lose consciousness if he's not careful!

to see a short video of Zhenia having just acquired, from i don't know where or whom, a couple of birch branches click here.

great pictures

2005-02-23T00:10:00.000+02:00

check out Teri's journal for some pictures of her trip to Kyiv! see Teri on the metro. see me buying bread. see COLD.

the cat, and a tip of the hat (to MB)

2005-02-22T00:25:00.000+02:00

a foreigner appeared in the city today. his arrival was apparent to no one but himself. two boys threw snowballs at a staggering old drunk who cursed them vulgarly. a bundled child shoveled snow onto the foot of its mother. cars slushed through the cold side-streets. snow fell lightly from a gray sky.

he drank hot tea, staring out from a balcony. it was sadly clear to him that no one had taken notice of his arrival. indeed no one had noticed his previous visit, which abutted this new one seamlessly.

suddenly joining him on the balcony was a huge black cat, standing on its hind legs and twirling its whiskers with one dextrous paw.

"what is it that you see?" asked the cat.

thoughtfully, looking onto the street, he answered, "i see what i feel."

"ah! and what do you feel?" queried the cat.

"i have the feeling of a convergence today, that what i am feeling is merging with what i've been thinking," he said.

"and about what do you think?"

"that all is illusion."

"and where did you get this idea?" asked the cat, quite intrigued and amused.

"from Burroughs, or from an eastern text, i don't remember which," he answered, with little attachment to his words.

"so you feel that something is slipping, to use your old phrase, or that your perceptions have partially overlapped themselves." after a pause the cat ventured with a grin, "or is it that you slipped long ago and only now realize it?"

he looked at the fat cat. "i think the illusions are showing themselves today. they have their ways, you know."

"well, please excuse me for saying so, but that sounds a bit trite," said the cat. "is it not you that creates the illusion? please forgive me again, but just now you switched from the singular to the plural."

"yes, i suppose i was giving character to something that doesn't really exist. the idea turns to steam as soon as it's mentioned."

"so you are saying we cannot discuss it?"

"i think maybe not."

just then a young man fell down in the street and cursed. his companion laughed politely.

"if you will allow me, may i attempt to bring some clarity to this conversation?" the cat asked, shaking his back paw absentmindedly.

"i would welcome it," said the man not entirely convincingly.

"please, my friend, listen," said the cat. "some good people partner repeatedly with new authorities. it is a habit they cannot break. it drives them, and drives them madly. to enslave themselves anew seems to offer new freedoms. relatively speaking, it can be argued that they are repeatedly freed. and, as follows naturally, they become again enslaved. you understand this."

"quite well."

"then you will also understand this, my good friend, and i will put it into words you can understand: the only true authority is illusion. from here, unfortunately, i cannot tell you how to proceed."

"well, thank you," said the man, slightly annoyed. "and anyway i didn't ask you how to proceed."

"you are right, please forgive me for anticipating," said the cat genuinely. "quite surely, though, you would like to know this!"

"well, i suppose so," admitted the man.

the day was growing short, the snow had stopped falling, and the streetlights were beginning to flicker. no one could be seen in the street.

"detachment is only a stepping-stone, my thoughtful fellow. it is quite easy to mistake it for a castle," the cat instructed, growing excited.

"of course."

"are you not standing here right now? would you not step off this balcony if i said it would free you? do you believe someone would notice?"

the man stared at the empty street.

"don't be so sure," said the cat with an absurd air of authority.

r.i.p., doctor

2005-02-21T23:28:00.000+02:00

it's a sad day when a good madman sends himself off. this one defined decent (and indecent) journalism for a good generation or two, and was a damn fine (most of the time) writer to boot. he lived hard, spoke his mind relentlessly, faced the fear - didn't avoid it. unhappy as i am to hear the news, it's somehow comforting to know that mr. duke had the last laugh and ended it with his own hand in this "foul year of our lord" 2005.

report
another report
and another report

bird tracks

2005-02-20T03:54:00.000+02:00

seen just now on a snow-covered mound. maybe a crow.

back in Kyiv

2005-02-19T23:40:00.000+02:00

Teri and i had a splendid week in Paris. the highlights were pouring our own wine from the barrel at a kitschy/medieval French restaurant, seeing a Joseph Beuys installation at the Pompidou Center (consisting of a couple hundred rolls of felt, a grand piano, a small chalkboard, and what looked like a pen), and having lunch at Evelyn & Ivan's flat where we played Cuban music for i can't remember how many hours. oh, and missing my flight at CDG because security personnel were on strike.

here in Kyiv life is back to normal. Ilya is currently on a 32-hour busride to Czech Republic; he'll visit his girlfriend Lena for two weeks. today i had lunch with Andrei & Lena at their new, big flat -- their daughter will soon start walking and they needed more space for her. the flat came furnished with a piano, which unfortunately is locked shut... will need to do something about that.

picked up a couple discs in Paris. tonight Binrucho and i are listening to:
bonnie billy & sweendog - "Superwolf" (thanks, Kreg. it's even got a Paul Bowles quote in the sleeve.)
Adam Green - "Gemstones" (great lines like "I would dance on NBC and say George Bush shook hands with me and then I'd go and choke on a cock.")
Richard Buckner - "dents and shells" (thank you Teri)
Elliott Smith - "from a basement on the hill" (growing on me like a coast redwood)
Vic Chesnutt - "Is the Actor Happy?" (finally reissued! i should say thanks, Corey, ten years on.)

i'd say it felt like i was in Seattle listening to commercial-free radio if it weren't for this glass of carrot-apple juice sitting in front of me.

too cold here, going to Paris

2005-02-06T21:30:00.000+02:00

here's a picture of Ilya, me, and Teri on a bus near the Lavra. we look like alcoholics but really it's just so friggin cold that our faces are frozen.

Teri and i are going to Paris for a week. i'll get a new visa and be back in Kyiv on the 14th.

ciao!

last night

2005-02-02T01:32:00.000+02:00

Ilya inadvertently made a Django Reinhardt impersonation and i caught it on camera.

link

news update

2005-02-01T02:15:00.000+02:00

the funeral for Yushchenko's mother was today. (she died of natural causes.) the ceremony in Kyiv was large and public. she'll be buried in her hometown in the north of Ukraine.

last week Yushchenko was in Poland for the 60th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz. the holocaust occurred in Ukraine as well. the book Babi Yar, about the events in Kyiv, was originally published (in the 1960s, secretly, if i remember right) by A. Anatoli (Kuznetsov). it's named after the ravine where 34,000 Jews were murdered during two days in september 1941.

Dick Cheney was in Poland, and met with Yushchenko while wearing an orange tie. a fellow revolutionary? a man buying credit for his boss before the elections in Iraq?

Yushchenko then traveled to Switzerland and addressed the World Economic Forum, met with Schroeder, Kwasniewski, Bill Gates, and others. he's calling without doubt for Ukraine's acceptance into the EU. the response seems respectful but cool.

60 Minutes did a piece on the new president. i read the transcript... if you didn't see it i don't think you missed much, except maybe a good look at Yushchenko's mug.

the NYT continues to publish needlessly opinionated articles about the change in power here -- an editorial chided Yushchenko for nominating Tymoshenko for prime minister -- i don't know what their deal is. maybe just trying to state an opinion just for the sake of it (then again, it is an editorial.). was weird to read the recent pieces treating Kuchma and his cronies like outgoing royalty.

anyway, Yulia Tymoshenko just might become prime minister. the Rada votes thursday. (Moroz and his faction will back her. other factions are undecided, last i read.) the TV news tonight said she has a good chance.

details of Yushchenko's poisoning are slowly coming out. nothing official yet, though. he may have been poisoned more than once.

Yushchenko remains focused on bringing Gongadze's murder to a public trial, maybe within a couple months. he also promises to create an honest bureaucracy..... hmmm... a nearly impossible task. Pora will keep things moving in the right direction. on his trip abroad Yushchenko called repeatedly for new foreign investment.

Poland is all of a sudden the great friend of Ukraine. go figure. very nice to see.

anyone interested in more in-depth analysis should hop over to Orange Ukraine. Dan McMinn has been writing some good stuff. and Neeka put up an interesting interview with the guy who designed a lot of Yushchenko's campaign material. (for instance, why the color orange?) she's posted a bunch of other great things lately, too.

Seva Rzhondkovsky, painter

2005-01-31T22:10:00.000+02:00

Seva has a great new web site, created by Bre. dozens of his best paintings can be seen there. for those who dont' know Seva, here's a quote from him:

"I grew up between Kiev's artistic environment and a tiny village near Chernobyl, that is the same as it was hundreds of years ago. The clash of the urban and artistic with rustic and primitive created tension that resulted in my necessity to paint. My somewhat unusual life experience produced somewhat unusual vision of the world. Later, my extensive travels increased the urge to paint and to tell my stories through paintings."

Seva now lives in Seattle, as do his mother and daughter. he was the primary inspiration for my move to Kyiv. Ilya and Seva are cousins. in fact, Seva and his mother Tania (who worked in the arts here) used to live in this apartment. now Ilya and i do.

did i mention that Seva is also a linguist, musician, chef, anthropologist, teacher, ....?

Ilya slightly distraught

2005-01-30T01:30:00.000+02:00

"fuck. my whole life i thought Danny Glover was Mel Brooks."

Iraq elections

2005-01-26T23:46:00.000+02:00

i read an interesting article about the Iraq elections by Frank Brodhead, author of a book about previous US-sponsored elections. sums up a lot of the left's basic criticisms, then goes deeper. it's argued pretty well and it's easier to follow than, say, the one-man-newspaper Juan Cole. check it out: Reframing the Iraq Election.

and speaking of Juan Cole, this opinion of his is more interesting after having read Brodhead's article:

The US military is planning to keep 120,000 troops in Iraq for the next two years, according to Lt. Gen. James J. Lovelace, Jr. He admitted that the number could fluctuate depending on the circumstances. I was saying before that I did not think it wise to announce a strict timetable for US military withdrawal from Iraq, lest the appointment of a date certain become, itself, an occasion for instability and violence. I think the troop levels should be drawn down steadily, without an announcement until perhaps the very end. But this announcement of a 24-month-long continued military presence is also unwise. Why would Lt. Gen. Lovelace say this? How can he know what the will of the new parliament will be, once it meets in mid to late February? Once there is an elected government, no matter how flawed the elections, the US will be in Iraq at the pleasure of the representatives of the Iraqi people. I think it is unfortunate that the US is saying anything at all about long-term plans just before the election. [Tuesday, January 25, 2005]

on the metro

2005-01-25T14:19:00.000+02:00

office work in Kyiv begins at 10:00 in the morning. to ride the Metro at 9:30 is to know what it's like to be on a dance-floor so crowded you can only tap your toes -- everyone bundled in winter clothes, smashed together, swaying in unison to the muffled rattling of the car. a briefcase is jammed in the back of your knee. your elbow is crushed against a woman's spine. what is that thing pushing against your hip? you stare into the back of a man's fur cap. and through the ceiling vents, on those extra-cold, clear mornings as you cross the Dnieper River, some ice crystals get into the car and swirl around in the air above you.

inauguration day

2005-01-23T23:38:00.000+02:00

at noon today Yushchenko was inaugurated in the Rada. he swore on the bible (for the second time...) and symbolically accepted the golden mace. he walked to the presidential palace and was given command of all wings of the Ukrainian military. then he drove down the hill (maybe half a mile) to Maidan and addressed the crowd. 5 Kanal estimated there were 500,000 people in the square. probably you've seen pictures. Colin Powell was there, Vaclev Havel, parliament heads of many nations (Burdzhanadze from Georgia, for example), various symbolic figures from around the world (Russia sent a parliament member), as well as the usual group of Yushchenko's compatriots. Yushchenko was very serious throughout the ceremonies, even appearing tired at times.

Ilya and i watched all of these proceedings on the television, then went to Maidan around 8 p.m. when there was to be a concert and fireworks. walking up Kreshchatyk Street the crowd was still huge. noticeably, what had remained of the tent city was gone. (earlier in the week there were still a few dozen large army tents.) Okean Elzi began playing and we pushed through the crowd at Maidan to a spot near the independence monument. most everyone was dancing to the music (including an old homeless guy who was getting funky in the street, to everyone's amazement) when a bunch of Mercedes drove down the hill and stopped at the back of the crowd. Yushchenko stepped out of one just by us and walked to a platform near the monument. he stood with his wife and kids, waved to the crowd, and within minutes a huge firework display went off behind him above the glass facade of the Globus shopping mall. spectacular! seriously. everyone was impressed. it lasted 10 or 15 minutes.

celebrity sighting: a terrible picture, but that's Yushchenko behind the scaffolding

the crowd was so huge, and so many people were leaving after the fireworks, that the Metro stations were overflowing onto the street. some were closed. Ilya and i went to a cafe for a sandwich and a beer, then caught the Metro to the left bank with no trouble.

it appears that Yushchenko will indeed visit Putin first, then fly to Europe next week. i haven't seen any reports of what's going on today in Donetsk. the few press reports i've read seem to hint that "everyone is watching to see" if Yushchenko will incorporate Kozak (read, nationalist) symbols into his inauguration. the golden mace is one, but it is the most traditional. he attended a Kozak ceremony yesterday. concern among ethnic Russians is that they may experience discrimination now that a nationalist president is in power. Yushchenko has called for an end to talk of a divided country. here's an interesting historical tidbit i read in the Washington Post:

In October 2003, on a trip to Donetsk, Yanukovych's home base, local officials attempted to prevent Yushchenko's plane from landing. When the plane finally touched down, Yushchenko was greeted by a drunken mob screaming that he was a fascist.

so, over a year ago, eastern Ukraine was refusing (fearing?) any change in the current political regime. remember, Yushchenko was part of Kuchma's team for 2 years, then was fired in 2001. one can speculate on the reasons for his firing. the point is that many people fear Yushchenko, i still believe based on a lack of information (combined with a campaign of disinformation -- oligarchs in the east had much to lose if an opposition candidate rose to power). an old woman on the Kyiv Metro once said to Lena, in all seriousness, that "Yushchenko is Hitler." this opinion seems not uncommon among ethnic Russians.

i still don't understand the division issue.

party element club

2005-01-22T01:23:00.000+02:00

after two hours of very satisfying Russian billiards, Ilya and i payed our tab and prepared to leave the bar. actually, it wasn't just a bar. it was a bar/pool-hall/casino/disco-club. as we were leaving we heard loud music and hollering coming from the disco room in the back. wearing our heavy jackets and hats we walked into the room. the dance-floor in front of the DJ was filled with nearly naked people. on one side, guys in briefs. on the other, girls in briefs. everyone topless and dancing and yelling. a bouncer approached us immediately. "10 hryvnias." (about $2.) we said we weren't staying. as we made our way out to the street we laughed uneasily.

finally (plus bonus Iraq "info")

2005-01-21T02:56:00.000+02:00

Yushchenko has been declared president of Ukraine. early yesterday morning the Supreme Court rejected the appeals of Yanukovitch. the Rada passed a resolution to hold the inauguration sunday, 23 january. probably there will be a party afterward at Maidan Nezalezhnasty.

meanwhile, preparations for the election in Iraq are coming along smoothly, if one takes the point of view that suicide bombers are like campaign balloons. Baghdad is an occupied city. reporters, Iraqis, Americans, British, all fear going out on the streets. police and western security forces travel around in trucks, wearing masks and pointing their guns at anything that appears threatening (i.e. anything that moves). the Sunni Muslims (40% of the population) will not participate in the vote. it is unknown how many other citizens will risk traveling to their polling stations. no international election observers will put their lives in such danger, so there will be no way to say whether the outcome is valid. (ex-CIA agent Allawi's party has already been caught buying votes.) there's no doubt that on 30 january we'll see unprecedented suicide bombings. hundreds of horrible deaths will occur, maybe thousands. and i can already here Bush and Blair calling it "a great day for Democracy."

a couple days ago Juan Cole wrote:

For American observers concerned with Iraq not to realize how truly awful the situation is, and to fail to understand that the US faces a grave crisis if key policies are not changed, makes them poor Americans. [Condoleeza Rice, are you listening?] The United States is a democracy and a democracy only works if the citizens are informed and exercise their faculties of critical reason. .... I sometimes get messages from readers who are excited by all the rebuilding work the US has done in Iraq and think it is unfair for it to be overlooked. This way of thinking is just wrong. The British in India built railroads and lots of infrastructure. By the 1940s, no Indians were grateful, and they just wanted the British out so that they could have their independent country. The railroads, they said, were after all mainly built to transport British troops and merchandise. When you mess with a people's independence, they stop being grateful for infrastructure. Ask King George III.

he also notes that American opinion is beginning to turn: only 39% believe a war against Iraq was warranted. maybe Bush will take notice and see that he doesn't have a mandate for his Iraq policies?

funny, i was just reading about the inauguration ceremonies. it sounded like a description of the way western administrators travel outside the Green Zone in Baghdad. here's an amusing snippet from the NYT article i was reading:

"It's overkill to the extreme," he [man holding a "War Mongers" sign] said. "I think it was designed specifically to suppress dissent and keep out protesters. They want to control the visual image, it's part of a coordinated effort to mislead the American people about the level of opposition to this administration. They're trying to make it a coronation and it's not."

In contrast, supporters of the president at a $50 a plate prayer breakfast at the Omni Shoreham Hotel, said they were grateful for Mr. Bush' victory.

"We have been praying for the election since July," said Heather Harris, 32, of Colorado Springs, Colo. "We really felt the Lord was putting on our hearts that the issues of the election were going to be moral issues, specifically abortion and gay marriage."

one of these spectators heard in Bush's inaugural address the ugliest and most aggravating hypocracy and lies, spoken as if quoting a new translation of the old testament. the other spectator understood deeply the president's words and was maybe even moved to tears.

root

2005-01-18T03:38:00.000+02:00

i received an e-mail from my Mom the other day. i'd asked her to please explain again where her mother was born. (my memory had been telling me "Austria.") her mother was born in a town called Kalush, in the Austro-Hungarian empire. after World War I she and a sister came to America, to North Dakota. the rest of her family remained in Kalush, which after WWI was within the new borders of Poland. during World War II her family was forced from their Kalush home by the Germans. her father died while fleeing and other family members were put in concentration camps. (they were released after the war and took up residence in Germany before coming to America.) after WWII Kalush came to reside within the borders of Ukraine and the Soviet Union. the town is still in Ukraine, in the Ivano-Frankivsk region.

weather report

2005-01-16T11:40:00.000+02:00

the phone rings in the apartment. Ilya picks it up. it's Sasha calling from the Russian far east. (he's there on business for two weeks.) Ilya listens for a few moments, then says "weather? it's warm." Sasha says something that i infer is about his return to Kyiv, and something about the sauna. when Ilya hangs up the phone i ask if Sasha wants to go to the sauna. Ilya says "yes, it's 30 below there."

election observing, epilogue

2005-01-12T23:22:00.000+02:00

the day after the election (27 december) i woke up not knowing where i was. the phone was ringing. i answered it and Victoria was on the line, calling from her room upstairs. "i need you guys to give me your forms and tapes by 4:30." i asked her what time it was. "3:00. i need that stuff, okay??" "right. we just need to polish them up and you'll have them."

thankfully Toralph was awake and in a better state than i, but not much better. i took a shower and we went downstairs to the cafe to order a late lunch of soup and bread. Toralph asked for "oranjahvee sok" rather than "appelcynahvee sok" (the first, a popular brand of juices; the second, the term for orange juice) and the bartender brought him red juice. Toralph said he wanted orange juice. the bartender said matter-of-factly that "this is red juice" and walked away. Victoria rushed into the cafe and asked just what the fuck we were doing. there were no documents or notebooks on the table. "this isn't funny, i need to give this stuff to Victor at 4:30! you've got to be joking with me." we weren't joking and it wasn't very funny (we hadn't even begun getting our paperwork together, not to mention our swollen brains) but we assured her that we'd get her what she needed.

i'm not sure how we did it but Toralph and i got the stuff to Victoria around 5:00. then we all relaxed in her hotel room and organized the team's receipts. Victoria had been trying to get everything together without help from Andrika and Craig (who'd flown back to Kyiv earlier in the day) and without (much) help from Toralph and i. but everything turned out fine -- Victor got what he needed before his flight (which was delayed 12 hours by fog anyway).

Toralph told Victoria about the "red juice" incident downstairs and she said yeah, she'd also ordered "oranjahvee sok" that morning and the bartender had said "cheeVO??" (whaaaat??) but he'd brought her the orange juice. apparently his patience had run out by the time Toralph ordered his juice-the-color-of-the-revolution.

while organizing our checklists and videotapes i had looked at the final numbers from polling station #95. the polling station had received 2,284 blank ballots from the territorial commission (TVK). voters had cast 1,634 ballots -- 1,543 for Yanukovitch and 50 for Yushchenko. the commissioners destroyed the 650 unused ballots. i looked up the final numbers submitted by polling station #95 for the 21 november vote: voters had cast 2,375 ballots -- 2,291 for Yanukovitch and 53 for Yushchenko. the voter lists had not changed substantially since, therefore the polling station most likely received a similar number of blank ballots from the TVK for both votes. it appeared that during the 21 november ballot count the commissioners simply counted all unused ballots as if they had been cast for Yanukovitch. this was common in many areas of eastern Ukraine, a near 100% voter turnout. (to their credit, it appears the commissioners didn't take any votes away from Yushchenko during that count.) on 26 december, 100% of the voters were "unable" to get to polling station #95, mainly because the commission was balanced between the two candidates (per the new election law) and maybe partly because there were foreigners present with video cameras.

Victoria asked how things had gone at our polling station. we explained that everything had gone smoothly and that everyone was quite pleasant. Toralph told her how the head commissioner had said "spasibki" when we left (a way of expressing thanks in a very friendly and informal way). Victoria couldn't believe it. "he said spasibki??" she said she'd simply gotten the hell out of her station after recording all the numbers from the ballot count. her commissioners had been unhelpful and difficult.

head of polling station #95 signing and stamping the final protocols

Victor had asked for each pair of observers to write a short summary stating the major violations they'd seen. Victoria relayed his request to Toralph and i. we stated that we had seen no violations, that we had nothing to report. all the little details were in our checklists and tapes if anyone wanted to dig for something. (unfortunately, i don't remember what Victoria and Andrika reported.) the same day, the Ukrainian Canadian Congress (UCC), for whom we were working, released a preliminary report stating that the "election met essential democratic norms and that the will of the people was expressed."

that night we saw Yura for the last time. he drove us to a restaurant for dinner. we gave him gracious thank-yous. he calmly said good-bye to us, smiling. this man, who'd cast his vote for Yanukovitch, had been an essential member of our observation team. we were grateful and indebted to him. and it was sad to say the first of our good-byes.

at the restaurant (Don Quixote again, at Victor's suggestion) we were joined by another observer whose name i've forgotten. he was Ukrainian and his flight back to Kyiv had also been delayed by fog. he'd been observing in a small town to the north of Donetsk. his experience had been like Victoria and Andrika's. the commission at his polling station had been imbalanced, possibly with impostors. he'd also seen Kozaks in uniform, but having studied the military while at university he recognized the uniforms -- some of the men were dressed as colonels. he said the men were too young to be colonels and probably dressed-up their fathers' old uniforms. this observer also told an amusing story about the Canadian Television cameraman who'd been on our bus to Donetsk: at a tiny polling station the guy had had to share a single plug-in with another cameraman, and the electrical current was so minimal that they'd had to unscrew the nearby light-bulb in order to charge their camera batteries.

relief sculpture in Donetsk airport. want to offer an interpretation?

the next morning (28 december) we checked out of our hotel. thankfully the UCC had purchased everyone an airplane ticket back to Kyiv. we were relieved not to face another 12-hour bus ride. the flight took 80 minutes. after landing at Borispol everyone claimed their luggage and gathered outside to wait for two small buses to take us downtown. it was announced that a party would be thrown that night for UCC observers from all the oblasts. everyone became excited -- we wouldn't have to say good-bye just yet.

Victoria and Toralph outside Borispol airport

it was a beautiful gesture, the party, and announced to us at a moment when everyone's emotions were heightened. we'd just been through an intense experience together. and it wasn't going to end without a party. while riding through the twilight back to the city i felt tears in my eyes. it was the closest i'd ever been to the feeling that a soldier must feel upon returning home from battle. (that might sound ridiculous, but bear with me...) maybe i had begun to get outside myself or simply relax after 5 days of tension and the fear that we might be perceived as the enemy. i suspected that i'd been through something incredible. i'd worked with some incredible people. i was very grateful to the organizers of the mission. the people we'd met in Donetsk had been good to us. it felt relieved to be back in Kyiv. i realized that most of the people on the buses would be leaving Ukraine within a few days. there would be a big party. and i understood that Yushchenko had finally won, that Ukraine was a new country. Oksana, one of the Canadian observers, moved to the seat next to me on the bus. she looked at my lapel. "where is your Canadian flag pin?" i said i didn't have one. "oh, how could that have happened? here, have mine." and she tacked a little maple leaf flag on my collar.

when the buses reached Kyiv, Toralph and i walked to the Metro, each heading home to freshen up for the party. while riding the train i realized and said to him that "this is the first time i feel that Kyiv is home." he said he felt it, too, and i was surprised when he said that it was only the second time he'd felt this; he had lived in Kyiv for many years. for me the feeling was unexpected and a little unsettling. i'd been living in Kyiv for 3 months. it didn't really look like home. so where was my home? most expats will probably remember this feeling.

the party that night was crowded and celebratory. i arrived at the hotel a little late and found Toralph and his wife Alya standing in the lobby. "they aren't letting us in. we aren't on the guest list." i went upstairs and i wasn't on the list either (apparently only Canadians were on the list) but one of the UCC organizers recognized me and gave the guards permission to let me in. our main Donetsk organizer brought Toralph and Alya upstairs but he couldn't get them past the guards. "security issue, sorry." suddenly Victor appeared in the doorway and gave the guards what-for, sparing them little, and pulled us into the party. the crowd of hundreds was just breaking into the Canadian national anthem, after which they sang the Ukrainian national anthem. it was a lavish party, with free drinks and food for everyone. lots of group photos made, stories told, goodbyes said. a few people had managed to enter wearing something orange -- Victoria wore an orange skirt -- despite the protests of the guards, who'd probably been instructed by the UCC to ensure a nonpartisan-looking party. but only the winners celebrate the way we were celebrating.

Alya said that in the past two days she'd heard more Ukrainian being spoken than ever before. Toralph and i lifted a shot of vodka to Ukraine. then we lifted one last shot to each other. i left with the party still in full swing.

~~ well, if you read all the way to the end, i commend you. it was a long (winded) narration. i had hoped to include more political speculation but realized along the way that if i did this then things would surely get out of hand. probably soon i'll post some thoughts about the talk of secession in the east and other such topics. ~~ thanks for reading ~~

election observing, part 5

2005-01-10T22:33:00.000+02:00

at 8:00 p.m. sharp the voting ended and the doors of PS #95 were locked. at 8:05 the head of the commission appeared and took control of the proceedings. the commissioners worked quickly to determine the total number of voters who'd cast ballots, based on the signatures on all of the voter lists. they tallied the number of ballot stubs and, to everyone's relief, this number matched the number of signatures. the unused ballots (650 of them) were brought from the safe and destroyed. around 10:00 p.m. the voting tables were pushed together, the ballot boxes opened, and the ballots dumped on the tables.

a young commissioner and the head of the commission empty a ballot box

the pile of ballots (1,634 total) was counted one by one. each ballot was held up to the commission members (seated around the tables) and the name of the candidate receiving that vote was announced. it was a surreal experience hearing the name "Yanukovitch" read 1,543 times. true, there were 50 ballots for Yushchenko sprinkled throughout (and 16 people supported neither candidate) but by midnight they all blended into a monotonous chant for the candidate from Donetsk. Toralph and i took turns hanging out in the back room.

the ballots were sorted into piles and counted. this took some time and, unfortunately, the count was one less than the number of signatures on the voter list. everyone sighed -- the ballots would have to be recounted. the head and secretary stepped aside and talked quietly. the head gave a look to Toralph, who nodded and turned off his camera, and then he announced that the missing ballot was to be accounted for by referencing a problem resolved earlier (something about a person being added to the voter list). no recount necessary. we all smiled in relief, and we all knew it was just a way of saying "it's close enough."

taking a break from the ballot count -- Toralph and two politsia watch election news in the back room

a handful of ballots (24) were found to have extra pen marks on them. the ballots showed exclamation marks next to the candidate chosen, or one candidate's name was crossed out, or someone circled a candidate's name in addition to putting an X in the box next to it. most of these ballots showed the clear intention of the voter (and all but one were votes for Yanukovitch). the commissioners thought that the ballots should be counted because the voter's intention was clear. the head said that they were all spoiled. i pulled out a copy of the full election law, in Ukrainian, and Toralph referenced the appropriate section. the head called a halt in the middle of the count and read the section aloud. i'd understood the law to say that if the voter's intention was clear the ballot should be counted. it turned out that the law was vague on this point. it said that if there was "more than one mark on the ballot" it must be considered spoiled. whether it meant "more than one box checked" or "more than one pen mark anywhere on the ballot" was not clear. the head interpreted the law literally and stated that the ballots would be considered spoiled. everyone accepted this, again happy to get on with the count. it was interesting to see a man who was clearly an old supporter of Yanukovitch insisting on throwing away ballots cast for his man. maybe it was our presence that prompted it, maybe not.

the head of the commission ran everything according to the regulations, with calm authority. given his demeanor (and suit and buzzcut) it was clear he also took pride in his polling station. i had judged him incorrectly earlier in the day -- i'd expected him to be involved in some sort of falsification. he seemed shady. by the end of the day we'd seen nothing to suggest he'd done anything wrong, in fact we'd come to respect the way he worked. all of his ballots were accounted for and he'd guided the entire process smoothly to the end.

we noticed a difference between the middle-aged Yanukovitch commissioners and the younger Yushchenko commissioners. during the count approximately one out of every 30 ballots would be announced "Yushchenko." two of the young commissioners would pump a fist or smile or wink at each other. by the end of the count, as everyone was starting to lose their minds, these two became even more animated. a middle-aged commissioner at the other end of the table said to her neighbor "how can they get so excited about one vote?" she was implying that such a display of emotions was inappropriate. maybe this was a little of the old Soviet mentality. change comes difficultly in the east.

signing the final protocols

at 1:30 a.m. all the ballots and voter lists were wrapped in bundles and prepared for transport to the TVK. the final numbers were determined and the official protocols were drawn up -- 16 copies. everything was done by hand. (there were no computers used at any of the polling stations.) everyone present signed each copy of the protocol. Toralph accidentally signed next to my name on one of them, so i signed next to his. "nasha nimnoshka falsifikatsia," he said quietly ("our little falsification"), just loud enough for a few commissioners to overhear. they laughed in admiration and camaraderie.

we called Yura, packed up our things, and prepared to leave. everyone was happy and tired. (the Yanukovitch folks were also a bit pensive.) many of the commission members gathered around to thank us and shake our hands. even the head of the commission smiled and thanked us, looking us in the eyes and saying "spasibki."

if things had not gone so smoothly we would have stayed and accompanied the final protocols and bundled documents to the TVK. given the way things went, though, we trusted that all of the items would reach the TVK and be recorded properly, with no foul play during the transport. i can't remember who mentioned it first, but either Toralph or i had earlier fantasized aloud about the beer we would drink when we got back to the hotel. we were too thirsty to drive to the TVK at 2:00 a.m. Yura arrived with the car and drove us back at the hotel.

never had a beer tasted so good at 2:30 in the morning. then a funny thing happened, as funny things do to delirious people in the middle of the night. somehow, during the second pint of beer in Toralph's little room, we opened a bottle of vodka. "a German and an American working together in Donetsk! who would have thought??" "communicating with the wink of an eye!" "i don't like to pat myself on the back but we did a good job!" some time later we lifted the bottle to pour "one last round" and noticed that it had not enough vodka for "one last round." and we noticed that we were nearly too drunk to stand. we had celebrated well. i staggered back to my room and passed out.

the bite, or sharing a tootsie roll

2005-01-09T02:31:00.000+02:00

it was dark. the light was red. but it was a one-way street and a left turn at this time of night seemed perfectly safe. Sasha made the turn, heading us back towards Kreshchatyk Street. immediately he swerved to the right shoulder and stopped the car. "what happened?" he didn't respond. he turned off the engine and stepped out.

a police officer had been standing in the dark next to the road. he'd seen the illegal left turn and waved us over. Ilya and i sat quietly as Sasha and the officer spoke behind the car. two minutes later Sasha returned. silently, grinning, he started the car and we drove on. the officer had given no ticket. a discreet payment of 20 hryvnias (about $4) had sent us on our way.

the law had been enforced. the solution benefitted both men. there was no reason to get The Man involved, was there?

election observing, part 4

2005-01-08T09:40:00.000+02:00

Toralph was on the cellphone with Victoria. he listened for a couple minutes -- something about more Donbaski Kozaki and some problem polling stations -- then he asked her to repeat everything to me. Toralph would get frustrated with Victoria because she spoke to him only in English, rather than Russian in which he and she were both fluent. he handed me the phone. Victoria had received a tip. she'd been told of two polling stations where the serious stuff was going down. one of the stations was in her and Andrika's neighborhood and the other was only a few kilometers from polling station #25, in front of which we were standing. i wrote down the number (PS #97) and said we would check it out.

we entered PS #25. it was still cold and badly lit. in the dark hallway at the top of the stairs were more men dressed in the local costume (black jacket, black pants, black shoes, and a sloping cap). we stepped past them into the voting room. i felt tense. it was a threatening environment. many voters at the voting tables, men in black sitting on chairs behind the voting boxes, many people dressed in heavy, Soviet-era clothes. we talked with the head and secretary. the secretary was relaxed and open. the head was a little more defensive, but helpful nonetheless.

we stood around for awhile. one of the men-in-black approached us, a short young guy with vodka on his breath. he asked where we were from, what we were doing. he told us there would be a revolt if Yanukovitch lost, and maybe the east would separate and join Russia. he said this with a grin and squinted eyes, as one does when sharing the secret plans of his boss. he had faith in his superiors. while he spoke i had the sense he was trying to provoke us, but as he went on i realized he simply wanted to talk and brag a little bit. he was proud and confident in the way an uneducated but loyal man can be.

suddenly two men were helping an large old woman stoop through the door into the voting room. i don't know how she reached the second floor. i got the sense it was another demonstration so i got close and filmed her. a wooden chair was just inside the door; it looked like she might take a break and sit down, but instead she grabbed the back of the chair and used it as a walker. with four extra legs she made quick time getting to the voting table. she sat down on the chair. the short young guy gestured with his arms to say "can you believe this?" i filmed him as well and gave him a nod of understanding.

Toralph and i met eyes and agreed it was time to go. i took one more look around and noticed that Yura was sitting on a chair against one wall. he'd done this occasionally during the day, entering a polling station with us. in this particular station i was glad to see that he was watching our backs. he got up slowly and we left together.

back in the car Toralph and i agreed that we'd felt an air of tension at this polling station. we couldn't put our finger on what it was but figured it had something to do with all the men hanging around. i explained that it was fear that i felt but that i had no context for it -- i had no choice but to put it to one side of my mind and go about doing what we were there to do. Toralph said he was doing something similar. he asked Yura about it. Yura explained that the men in black outside the polling station, the men in the hallway, and the men guarding the polling boxes were locals who'd been asked to ensure the voting process operated smoothly. they were there to make sure nobody got out of hand or got too drunk. Yura explained that we were in the poorest area of Donetsk and that Toralph and i should be careful not to judge the people based on how threatened we felt. he implied politely that we could not truly understand these people, as we were foreigners and not poor miners. he said nothing was out of the ordinary at the polling station. hearing Yura tell us this was one of the more interesting moments of the day.

we looked up the address for polling station #97 and drove to the neighborhood, a sort of wide peninsula of apartment blocks surrounded by open fields. it was dark outside and a ground fog was obscuring visibility. the time was 5:00 and we figured we'd storm into this place with our cameras rolling, get out quickly, and get on our way back to #95 where we'd spend the night. well, we couldn't find #97. there were four roads leading into the peninsula but none of them seemed to reach the street we needed. we consulted the map and tried each of the four roads at least twice. Yura rolled down his window numerous times and asked kindly for directions to the street; some people pointed that we were going in the right direction, others didn't know where it was. for 75 minutes we searched this area that couldn't have been more than a square kilometer. Toralph theorized that if he were going to make massive falsifications of the vote he would do it at this polling station, as nobody would be able to find him. even a local driver with a good map couldn't find the place.

it was amazing, the calm determination of Yura and Toralph. no one mentioned giving up. i caught a short nap in the back seat. at one of many dead ends we got out of the car. there was supposedly a school a couple blocks away. Toralph and i walked there and the building was dark. on the way back to the car Yura called us and said that the school had to be the place. we turned around and circled the school -- indeed the entrance was in the back underneath a single light bulb. there was no one around. we started our cameras and walked in.

it was the calmest polling station we'd seen. a few voters were at the table and most of the commissioners were chatting with each other. the young secretary (the Yushchenko rep) was arguing with a commissioner about a validity of a voter's ID. this secretary was a hard-ass and when she told us everything was normal we understood that Victoria had been given bad information. the head of the commission was polite to us. a white-haired man in a military uniform began joking with Toralph -- something about the camera. Toralph asked if he'd like his picture taken. "yes! here, i'll sit between these beautiful ladies." and he sat down between two commissioners, putting his arm around one. i don't know what Toralph said to loosen this guy up but the man was really enjoying himself. Toralph took his picture. in my memory, the scene reminds me of a David Lynch set. we'd been ready for a horrible situation and it was like walking into The Wizard of Oz. weird carpet, overly-appropriate wall decorations, even the lighting seemed perfect. we laughed when we left. Toralph called Victoria and told her she owed us each a beer.

Yura was waiting for us at the car. we drove to polling station #95, where we'd started our day 12 hours earlier. when we walked into the station there were only two voters inside. the commissioners were still in their chairs behind the voting table. unexpectedly, most of them greeted us as we entered, smiling and asking how was our day. they were relaxed, relieved that the day was almost over. a woman who'd just voted, who was also a friend of one of the commissioners, began talking with Toralph and before i knew it she was inviting us to her house for tea. a German and an American! "oh, we are so sorry but we have to decline. we have to be here ready for the count. it begins very soon." she was disappointed but it wasn't long before she returned (from i don't know where) with two cups of tea.

Toralph and i went into the back room, drank the tea, and ate the lunch Victoria had packed for us. we relaxed, joked around, charged our camera batteries, and prepared for the vote count.

doctor says i'm in good health

2005-01-07T03:57:00.000+02:00

a few weeks ago my swimming regimen was interrupted. Andrei, with whom i swim laps, said that i would now need a certificate stating that i am in good health. my first feeling was resignation. how would i prove this? Andrei asked if i had any documents. i produced a wallet card from a previous health insurer in the states. it showed no expiration date and it had some unidentifiable numbers on it. it appeared official but it said nothing about the state of my health. Andrei was skeptical. he took the card and said he would see what he could do.

two weeks later Ilya handed me a small piece of paper and my insurance card. on the paper a doctor had handwritten his name, address, and a statement that i may enter the pool. he had signed it and stamped it with three different stamps -- a very official-looking document. Ilya said i must give Andrei 35 hryvnias (about $7).

when Andrei dropped by later, on his way out of town for new year celebrations, i thanked him and gave him 35 hryvnias. he asked if i knew what the money was for. i said i didn't. smiling, he said he'd bought a bottle of champaign and a box of chocolates for the doctor.

election observing, part 3

2005-01-06T02:24:00.000+02:00

"so do we all look like bandits?" it was a rude introduction. the woman was a "local journalist" and, i found out later, an observer like ourselves. she'd approached me as the first big wave of voters entered polling station #95. i was annoyed at her implication, said "the people are normal," and ended the conversation. not that we could have had much of a conversation -- my Russian is not good.

the opening meeting of the polling station commission had taken 45 minutes: 7:15 until 8:00 am. the ballot boxes were prepared, final instructions were given to the 12 commissioners who'd be distributing the ballots, and the ballots themselves were brought from the safe to the voting tables. Toralph and i filmed everything. the meeting was run well by the head commissioner and nothing seemed out of the ordinary. the commission members were of all ages and seemed to be balanced, half Yanukovitch reps and half Yushchenko. at 8:00 the front doors of the school were opened and the voters started crowding in. it was a sunny morning and the voting room was bright.

the opening meeting -- head of the commission is on the left

around 8:30 Toralph went outside to look around. he'd noticed men carrying plastic bags in and out of the voting room. a number of people were eyeing us from afar, including the journalist with a concerned look on her face. a small man kept approaching us and insisting that we film the invalids as they made their way slowly to the building. it seemed that maybe there was an attempt to distract us or keep us from witnessing something.

the one thing we encountered everywhere was a serious concern for the old people who could not get to the polling stations. the new election law, in order to reduce the possibility of fraud, had taken away the right to vote at home of a group of people categorized as "invalids of the 2nd group." two days before the vote Yanukovitch's appeal to allow this group to vote at home was upheld and the law changed -- but there was little time for these people to register to vote at home. we filmed them whenever asked, just to appease the aggravated and concerned. the implication was that our video would be evidence that the Central Election Commission was against Yanukovitch and good invalids in the east.

Toralph didn't find much outside, though a lot of people were hanging around. he overheard an old woman tell a man to keep his money, which sounded like she'd been paid to come vote. i remained inside and marked off items on our long checklist. when Toralph returned we stood near the ballot boxes for awhile. many eyes were on us -- not the eyes of the voters but of the loiterers. such loitering was of course not allowed at polling stations but we were not enforcers of the law, simply observers of the process and occasional advisors. not speaking Russian well i was on edge much of that morning. there was a sense that something was going to happen, either to the ballots despite our presence or to us to spite our presence. Toralph was more relaxed, thankfully, and engaging a lot of people in an easy way. one old voter dropped his ballot in the box and, walking past us to the stairs, said something to the effect of "go the fuck back to America." Toralph didn't hesitate to respond with an equally cutting and personal remark. the man heard it clearly but he kept walking.

voting at PS #95

Toralph is a professor of human nature. that is, he's attained the level of doctorate through personal study. he was engaged in everything going on around us. he would communicate with a small movement of the head, a wiggle of a couple fingers, a flick of his eyes. he understood that we were on stage. without words he let people know that we knew things.

the next morning, as we drank a bottle of vodka in his hotel room, Toralph philosophized. he explained that being born in Dresden in the 60s gave him insight into the minds of the people we'd met. he understood the Soviet way of thinking. he'd gone to university in Kyiv from 1987 to 1992 and met his wife, a Ukrainian who's now a strong supporter of Tymoshenko. he explained to me that when engaging someone you might use 7 questions, but for the sake of brevity he would shorten the list to 5. when approaching a person, as he had done dozens of times the day before, he would begin by asking a question the answer to which he had no interest in. his second question would be a small joke to make the person laugh and establish a little human connection. the third question would come quickly after, like a fist catching them off balance, probing for the information he wanted or for the action he hoped they would perform. it always worked; they were happy to oblige. a fourth question would also hit hard but not quite as hard as the third. and the fifth would be another joke. he explained that after the fifth there was no way to predict the direction of the encounter. (i forgot to ask what were the 2 questions he left out...) Toralph is a humanist and i never had the sense that he was taking advantage of anyone, in fact many people gave him a gracious farewell.

we hung around at polling station #95 until 10:00 am and then drove with Yura to the stations we'd visited the day before. the first was a school, polling station #75. the director of the school greeted us as we entered -- a Yanukovitch man whom we'd met the day before -- and steered us directly to the voting hallway. it was crowded but everything was working smoothly.

i was immediately approached by two very friendly English teachers, probably waiting for me at the request of the director. "can we help you with anything at all?" i said that they could, that i'd like to talk to the head and the secretary of the commission and would they please translate for me? "of course! please, come with us and have some tea!" we went to a back classroom where the commissioners took their breaks. these two ladies wanted to speak about anything but the polling process, and when i steered the conversation in that direction their faces would tense up. but they were very nice, and curious about my life and what an American thought of Donetsk. i eventually spoke with the head and two members of the commission (one from each party) -- "everything is normal, no problems." the commission head added that there were problems with the voter lists and with the invalids reaching the polling station. the Yushchenko rep knew that he was sitting with two teachers who were of the opposite party, and i suspected this kept him from speaking his mind. but maybe there was nothing on his mind, i don't know. "another cup of tea??" i was trying to politely take my leave of the two teachers and the other commissioners in the room. the two ladies increased their compliments ("you are so handsome") and tried to keep me there longer. i thanked them and returned to the voting hall.

Toralph, Yura, and a commission member outside PS #75

meanwhile Toralph was looking around. he'd been outside listening to music, he said. there were two speakers in the front window of the school blaring a pop radio station so loud the sound distorted. we returned to the front steps of the school and a commissioner on a smoke break directed us to an old lady. she said that her husband was just now exiting the polling station and that he was too tired to get home. we looked and indeed he was being helped slowly down the stairs. Toralph asked Yura to bring the car around. in a very public gesture right in front of the polling station Toralph helped the man into our car and Yura drove him three blocks to his apartment.

Victoria called. she was at a polling station on the other side of Donetsk. "you won't believe it! there are Kozaks in uniform everywhere! Andrika and Craig are freaked out!" Victoria was freaked out, too. a few of the Donbaski Kozaki had taken a liking to her, posed for a picture with her, and one asked for her number. some were drunk. now, you should know that Victoria can handle herself very well, but this situation seemed on the verge of getting ugly. Toralph rolled his eyes. "do you need our help? what can we do." she said it would be okay, that they were leaving the polling station. and everything was okay -- we all laughed about it later.

Victoria took a different approach to the invalid issue. when commissioners or voters complained to her about this, she confronted them and asked why they had not registered these voters. "you had time. didn't you see the announcement on TV?" the answer was an indignant "no" followed many times by an inquiry into where she was born. people recognized her accent in Russian -- western Ukraine. things slid from there, sometimes into accusation of "traitor," etc. Toralph and i, being true outsiders (and taking a softer approach) found things a bit easier. also working in our favor was the fact that Toralph was German. for instance, on occasion he strategically dropped the "born in Dresden in 66" fact which would create a tiny idea in the back of the person's mind: comrade. also, maybe most important, we were two men and Victoria and Andrika were definitely not.

Yura returned with the car. we left the school and drove to three polling stations nearby: the clinic, the public hall, and the toy factory. the only major violation we saw were some check marks in the margin of the voter lists at the public hall. i took pictures amid mild protests from the commissioners. marks such as these were used in the previous rounds to let commissioners know that a substitute voter would cast a ballot for the person, who many times was dead but still on the list. the commission head at that station was very nervous. we agreed it would be a good idea to return to the station if we had time. at the toy factory an old man with an ancient Soviet passport had some difficulty with his name & birthdate on the voter list. we filmed the discussion between him, the young commissioner, and the head of the commission. they corrected his name and birthdate (this was allowed by law) though it was unclear whether his ID was valid. he didn't appear to be trying to dupe anyone. we observed many such "possibly suspicious" things and made note of them, though as the day went on we happily realized that we weren't seeing anything really reportable.

at 3:30, as the sun was setting, we drove to the cold polling station #25. probably our last stop before returning to #95 for the evening. #25 station was in the poorest area we'd seen in Donetsk. outside the station were a few men dressed all in black. as we got out of the car we received another semi-frantic call from Victoria.

news update (shotgun approach)

2005-01-04T02:48:00.000+02:00

Yulia Tymoshenko was also in Donetsk last week. saw a videotape today of a call-in show she did there. she wore an orange Shaktar Donetsk jersey, spoke eloquently despite the inhospitable hosts and callers. my first thought was that it was not a good idea for her to be there, that Yushchenko himself should have gone. people there probably dislike her more than they do Yushchenko. but i changed my opinion after watching for awhile -- she is perfect for the job of talking the hard truth in the east. it doesn't mean people will listen, but at least they will have heard what she said. unite the country and spread information.

Tymoshenko may also be reaching out in her hope to be prime minister. she doesn't have near the support in parliament that she would need (250+ votes) but if she manages to convince the Party of Regions to back her she might have a chance. ironically, these parliamentarians are 61 of Yanukovitch's main supporters. so her "campaigning" in the east might serve two functions.

the call-in show flashed a short clip of an English-speaking guy (a professor?) who stated that what has happened in Ukraine is not a revolution. "a revolution happens when the people rise up against their government." in Ukraine, he said, what is happening is separatism. most of the eastern half of the country still believes that Yanukovitch won the election. they do not see themselves as part of any revolution. it is an interesting point of view, the idea this guy put forth. in some ways it is true. i believe, though, that the ousting of the corrupt gov't was on behalf of all Ukrainians and that in the east the people are suffering much more from propaganda and a withholding of information. a free media will help immensely with the future of the, um, revolution.

i don't think we've heard the last of the separatist threats. Moldova might serve as an example. but if the next year passes with no serious separation issues i think the country will be on its way to healing the gash. i still believe Ukraine is in a better place to do this than the US.

in addition to a free media it will be very important to be clear about the future of the industrial east, in particular the mining towns like Donetsk. many people there believe that Yushchenko will close the mines (or sell them to the US). i've heard that in fact the mines should be closed as they are outdated and not competitive on the market. i can't confirm this. regardless, Yushchenko will need to guarantee that the poorest people, the miners and their families in the east, will not lose what little they have.

the CEC and the Supreme Court both rejected Yanukovitch's four accusations of election fraud, saying that either they were insignificant or fraudulent in and of themselves. Yushchenko received 52% of the vote to Yanukovitch's 44%, making any small violations (for instance, the possible disenfranchisement of the class 2 invalids) moot.

on 31 december Yanukovitch finally resigned as prime minister. he'd been canned weeks ago. he stated that he would not be part of the new leadership, as if there had been a chance that he might be appointed to some post or another. he said some more things about going into opposition. probably he will prepare for the 2006 parliamentary elections. some writers have said he will fade away, though i'm not so sure as he's supported by 44% of voters.

maybe Yanukovitch looked in the mirror and said "my work here is done." the same day he resigned, this was posted by Ukrainian News Agency:

Yuschenko said that he receives daily complaints from citizens that Yanukovych's government is engaging in illegal activities instead of acting professionally during the current transition period. According to Yuschenko, these complaints involve mutual settlements on the energy market, refund of value-added tax to enterprises having close links to people within President Leonid Kuchma's circle, distribution of licenses to such enterprises, and creation of fictitious joint enterprises for the purpose of performing dubious financial operations.

there have been two "suicides" (Kirpa, Lyakh) and two of the old guard are still missing (Tyhpko, Satskovo).

it will be very interesting to watch Russia-Ukraine relations over the coming months. Yushchenko says his first foreign visit as president will be to the Kremlin. Turkmenistan cut their natural gas supplies to both Russia and Ukraine -- Ukraine agreed to a 1-yr contract at a 30% higher price. Russia is still in negotiations. possibly an ice-breaker topic when Putin and Yushchenko meet!

i read in a celebratory article (there are many of these out there) that Ukraine "sees itself as a democratic, European nation-state." there was no real context for the statement, though i suppose on the whole the article was implying that Ukraine is (or rather, has been) an equal European nation. i have to disagree with the statement. only half of Ukraine currently sees itself this way.

found a very good review of the 8 december "package" changes to the constitution. it's a sober and interesting article if you are interested. "Have you read the bill 4180?"

Yushchenko's presidential inauguration is set for 13 january. it will take place, of course, on Maidan Nezalezhnasty.

watch out!

2005-01-03T01:44:00.000+02:00

large holes appear overnight. in the sidewalk, in the road, in an open space. if you spot one of these holes before the green fence is erected around it, it sometimes looks like a crater. deep in the hole you may see pipes or wires or tree roots. or maybe you will see nothing in the hole. if you live near one of these holes you can monitor it. if you are lucky there will be no green fence, or only part of a green fence and some re-bar. the first few days you may see two men working at the hole. they seem to know what they are doing. after that, the hole may disappear. more likely, though, you will later see four men working at the hole: one deep in the hole, another standing at the edge of the hole gesturing, another sitting in a back-hoe, and a fourth standing nearby smoking a cigarette. this scenario may continue for a few more days. rough wood planks will appear in and around the hole, and maybe chains attached to the back-hoe. you may hear shouting and witness what appear to be preparations for a circus act. then one day the ground will be flat again with only a discoloration to mark what occurred.

election observer narration, part 2

2005-01-02T02:44:00.000+02:00

the perimeter of Donetsk is mountainous. though many of them are covered in stunted deciduous trees, they are not real mountains. they look like cinder cones. they are manmade. Donetsk is a mining town and these hills were made by scooping out what was beneath the ground. the downtown, with all its nice big buildings, cannot expand -- the majority of Donetsk is built on swiss cheese.

once the earth has been shown the light of day it takes a liking to it. it lays itself on everything. the sidewalks, the buildings, the cars, the clothes, the breeze. Yura, our driver, stopped twice to refill his windshield soap reservoir. being winter, every bit of cement was covered in a thin layer of mud. it moved quickly to the vehicles. shutting the car door left one with muddy fingertips.

the region Toralph and i were assigned to was on the south edge of town. we spent Saturday (christmas) afternoon talking to polling station commission members. the polling stations were in schools, a hospital, a public hall, a toy factory. one was in a building in the poorest area and it had no heat; the three people there were dressed in heavy coats and fingerless gloves. most of the commissions were in session counting the ballots and stamping them in preparation for the following morning. most were busy. some were polite. some anxious, some relaxed. a couple were clearly disappointed that we had chosen to visit them. and a couple more were gracious in a way that made us suspicious. interestingly, many times i could not determine who were the Yanukovitch reps and who were the Yushchenko reps.

we registered at 8 polling stations. though official registration was not required it was an excuse for us to visit, talk to folks, and look around. when we showed our IDs there was a shuffling and a reaching for a notebook and someone would write down our information in a handmade ledger. no one refused, everyone seemed to expect it, and only one tried to say we could not.

while we were visiting the polling stations, Craig, the CBC filmmaker, had stayed behind at the hotel. he had press credentials but not an official observer ID, which allowed him to film outside polling stations but not register to film inside. Saturday morning he'd gone out of the hotel, camera on his shoulder, to make some footage of the market and whatever else he might find in Donetsk. within a few minutes a group of women had gathered around him to ask what he was doing. he explained that he was making a documentary for the CBC. we came to understand that, in Donetsk, Canada is synonymous with America, which itself is not in good standing. these women began yelling at him, telling him to go home. he said later: "i know that when women start yelling, the men are not far behind." as he began walking away towards the hotel, over his shoulder he heard a deep voice shout "come back here." he kept going, quickly, and returned to the hotel to edit film for the rest of the day.

that evening Toralph and i hoped to decide which of the polling stations we would spend the majority of our time at. our schedule on election day was to arrive at our chosen station at 7:00 am (in time for the morning meeting of the commission -- polls opened at 8:00) and stay until 10:00 am or so. after that we would visit the other 7 polling stations, spending an hour or two at each, and return to the morning station by 6:30 pm. the polls would close at 8:00 pm, at which time the doors would be locked and the ballot counting begun.

we had some advance info about a couple of the polling stations we'd visited that day. they were the worst offenders in the previous elections. we combined this info with our observations but could not decide which polling station would "benefit" most from our closest scrutiny. we ate dinner with Yura at a Ukrainian diner and deliberately didn't talk about the election. we slept on it. neither of us slept well that night. in the morning we agreed that it would be polling station #95. i knew/feared it was the right one because it was the one that had kept me awake.

just before sunrise Yura was driving us across town to #95. heading east we crested a small hill. across an empty valley on a higher ridge we could see silhouetted a giant coal coking factory, beautiful and bleak amidst the lifting fog. when we reached the polling station at sunrise there were two commission members standing outside. we joined them, waiting for the head of the commission to arrive with the keys.

new year

2005-01-01T13:15:00.000+02:00

yesterday afternoon we went downtown to shop. this year my entire holiday gift shopping took 35 minutes. sweet. at new year, gifts are expected for your closest friends and family only. like i mentioned in the Irony of Fate post, the new year here is celebrated with a feast and a tree and gifts. we celebrated with 6 of us: Ilya, his girlfriend Lena, her younger sister Yula, Lena's best friend Alyona, and her boyfriend Abdel, a great futbolist from Tunis. there were no gifts under the tree from people not present -- except fantastic hand-knit scarves from my Mom, one for Ilya and one for me. the opening of gifts took about 4 minutes.

we listened to Czech christmas music and prepared the feast. we finished eating at 3 minutes to midnight and poured the champaign. an annoying (to me) version of Ali Baba & the 40 Thieves had just finished on channel 1+1 and Kuchma had appeared on the screen, looking presidential and not quite as depressed as he usually does. he spoke for a couple minutes and then held up a champaign glass to toast us all. the screen showed a 7-second countdown -- loud explosions outside -- fireworks! (imported from China -- you can buy most of the stuff that got kids excited back in the 1970s, all in your local grocery store!) new year here is a melange of the american christmas, new year, and july 4th.

on Maidan Nezalezhnasty Yushchenko had spoken at 8:40 pm. Saakashvili took the stage just before him. very inspiring to have the president of Georgia spend new year in Kyiv, on the eve of the (probable) announcement of the new president. Saakashvili spoke in Ukrainian, smiling, to a humungous crowd -- on TV it was unbelievable. at the end of his speech he began speaking passionately, switching to Russian, and he and Yushchenko clasped each others hand and held them high. Yushchenko then told the crowd that Ukraine, on this new year, was celebrating its true independence.

when we arrived at Maidan at 1:00 am it was still jammed with people, a festive and rowdy crowd. there was a lot of movement, hundreds of people leaving as hundreds more arriving. there was no focus for everyone's energy -- it was almost chaotic. Kreshchatyk was crowded as well. fireworks going off all around in the crowd. orange everywhere. flags brushing your face wherever you walked.

Lena's mom Irina, Lena, and Alyona

in the Metro tunnel on the way home, chants of Yushchenko Yushchenko! then Yulia Yulia! (Tymoshenko) then Z'novim Rokum! (happy new year!) once on the train, half the people in the car sang old Ukrainian songs, led by a couple of old sailors.

home again we made spiced wine and ate pie and smoked the kalians and watched a movie until everyone fell asleep. this morning everyone has eaten again and prepared the kalians and now we're watching what appears to be a crappy sequel to National Lampoon's Christmas Vacation.

Abdel, Alyona, Ilya, and Lena

tonight we'll go to Lena's folks' flat for dinner. they are wild Yushchenko supporters, spending many days at Maidan over the last month. they were there last night, of course, waving a big orange flag.

i'd been feeling a bit depressed since returning from Donetsk. haven't put my finger on why exactly -- might write about it later. anyway, being in the crowd and chaos and energy at Maidan last night cleared my head and i've felt much better since.

happy new year!

election observer narration, part 1

2004-12-31T01:51:00.000+02:00

after our arrival in Donetsk last Friday we had a strategy meeting. we received a lot of paper handouts. we each paired up with another observer and then were organized into small groups. each small group would cover a TEK (voting territory containing 80 to 150 polling stations).

i paired up with Andrika and Craig. they were the two filming the documentary for the Canadian Broadcasting Corporation. Andrika was young, outspoken, cute, fluent in Ukrainian. she had to step out during the session for a telephone interview. Craig was tall, unshaven, thoughtful, always moving around borrowing a phone or filming something or talking to someone or setting up his Mac to import video clips. his camera was top of the line digital video -- a big camera! the day before, in Kyiv, these two had met with Mrs. Yushchenko, the soon-to-be first lady. and of course they toured the tent city on Kreshchatyk.

we were grouped together with another pair and assigned TEK #44 on the outskirts of Donetsk. there were 98 polling stations in this TEK, each with 2,000 to 3,000 voters. the two people we joined were Victoria and Toralph. Victoria was born in Lviv. she has lived all over the world including Canada, Azerbaijan, Germany, America. a passionate woman, beautiful and stylish, about my age. Toralph was a German man in his late thirties who lives in Kyiv with his wife and son; a scribble in my notebook after meeting him suggested that he might be brilliant, and it turned out i was right. both Victoria and Toralph spoke Russian and Ukrainian fluently, as well as English. Victoria would be our group leader. i was happy to be sitting with these 4 people, organized deep in what we expected was enemy territory.

we checked into our hotel, the Rubicon, abutting train tracks near the train station. the hotel was new and clean. its brochure showed a picture of the building surrounded by nothing but green grass with blue sky above -- the only thing missing was an angel or two. in reality the building was enclosed on three sides by muddy streets and a lively daily market. that day there was no blue sky but directly in front of the hotel was a building marked CBET.

after we all checked in and slept a little, Victor, the father of the two main organizers and also a group leader like Victoria, took his group and ours out to dinner at his favorite restaurant: Don Quixote. (not sure how it had come to be his favorite.) we squished into two cabs. the restaurant was empty except for the staff and a classical guitarist. we were shown to the private dining room. the walls were covered in swords, knives, shields and spears. the guitarist strummed quickly, a flamenco. the appetizers were pure Ukrainian, the entrees "Spanish". we ate and drank well. (weapons remained on the walls.) it was what Victor called "team building", i think in part to justify how much he spent inviting us all there.

the next morning, 25 december, the day before the vote, our small group of 5 met in the hotel cafe. over a horrible complimentary breakfast we discussed strategy. first we would visit the TVK (territorial election commission), introduce ourselves and register as observers. then we'd split up and drive to as many polling stations as we could. for reasons of language it was decided that Toralph and i would be one team and Victoria, Andrika, and Craig would be another.

Victoria had connections. she knew someone at the Yushchenko headquarters in Donetsk and this person had recommended two drivers for us. Toralph and i got Yura. he drove a 4-door subcompact japanese deal. he took us to the TVK.

it was chaotic there. first of all the front door was locked, which it shouldn't have been. ok, use the back? ah! yes, of course, look for the police and other shady characters hanging around. we entered through the back courtyard/parking lot. many voters crowded the lobby near the stairs, on which a few policemen stood guard. we pushed our way through, flashing our observer IDs, and climbed to the second floor. the hallway was crowded there too but when we reached the TVK-room proper there was relative calm. it was organized well and people were entering one at a time to pick up ballots and docs for their polling stations. the young secretary approached us immediately and introduced himself -- he was the Yushchenko representative.

the new commission structure mandated by the Supreme Court ruling had a good effect on the election process. each territorial commission (TVK) and each polling station commission was required to have a head and a secretary. one was a rep for Yanukovitch and the other was a rep for Yushchenko. the rest of the commission (10 or 14 people) were also split half and half. all an attempt to reduce falsification. in small towns in the east there were simply not enough Yushchenko people (or they had been intimidated) and some commissions were imbalanced. probably something similar occurred in the west. there were many reports of "Yushchenko" reps in the east that were indeed for Yanukovitch. but for the most part, wherever we went, we met at least a couple of orange reps.

though Toralph and i, in our minds, supported one candidate, we maintained a stance that reflected our intention to defend the election law and not one candidate or the other. we were adamant about this. we were questioned about it wherever we went.

after registering at the TVK we stepped out into the parking lot. many of the people had disappeared. a long black Mercedes pulled up and parked in the back corner. there were vehicles from other oblasts, police cars, and vans that appeared to be marked Red Cross -- clearly not Red Cross. we recorded a couple license plate numbers and shot some video, making sure not to film the Mercedes...

as we returned to the street, four buses drove past displaying license plates from Kyiv oblast. very curious. the buses stopped a block away near another building. people got off, milled around, chatted, smoked. we walked there to investigate. the people were of all ages but the majority were under 30. Toralph said to me "turn on the camera" and asked one of the men if he could interview him. the guy said sure. none of these people seemed too nervous, just waiting for instructions. the guy said he was from a town near Kyiv and they were there to register. at that moment a man yelled to everyone to get in line for their absentee voter cards. end of interview.

(this is not a picture of the buses i just mentioned. it's a picture of a local Donetsk bus, though, taken from the window of polling station #95.)

this smelled fishy, and after seeing all the police and vehicles outside the TVK we were thinking this would be a very interesting weekend. but we had witnessed nothing necessarily illegal yet. we returned to our car and consulted the map with Yura. time to hit our assigned region at the edge of town and register at as many polling stations as we could before the election the next day.

Yushchenko wins!

2004-12-30T01:21:00.000+02:00

well, that's old news. the assassinations have begun! well, that was expected. hmm. hey, it will be a special new years celebration this weekend! the revolution was a success.

i returned to Kyiv from Donetsk yesterday. it was a Christmas to remember, that's for sure. i don't really know how to report on it yet. starting at the beginning seems too long-winded but there are a ton of stories. mainly i wanted to post something tonight and just say that i'm back home and all in one piece.

so here's something from my notebook. it's from near the beginning... after our 12-hour bus ride. the picture above was taken just before we reached Donetsk.

Fri 12/24 11:45 am. entering Donetsk city limits, announced by an old sign atop a 40 ft metal post. first three things noticed: rusting coal factory, a mosque with two minarets, and three dogs eating a dead cat. feels like Ovruch here in the outskirts (traditional houses, above-ground gas pipes) except that across the street may be a brick mansion surrounded by a high fence. sun is shining from low in the sky. the city appears perfectly normal. Yuri is surprised to see so much Ukrainian written everywhere -- he expected none. the city is pretty as we approach the center: a wide blvd, lots of trees, icy sidewalks, people going about their business. so far it could pass for the outskirts of Kyiv, only smaller and slower. a statue of a miner (dressed like a soldier, trimly) holding out a large piece of coal with one hand. behind him a small but tall brick church being built. down the road, a Honda dealership, clothing stores, a restaurant, a Skoda dealership, all with apartments above. the tax administration building. all in very good condition. maybe we are on the best street? Olymp stadium on the left...shiny, new - probably Shaktar plays there. statue of Artem on the right. big new cathedral on the left. Lenin on the right, finally, then a gold statue of a young man (poet?) in a park. and then on the left a BIG Lenin, classic design. Adidas store. many of the buildings have fresh paint and look quite lovely. better than Kyiv buildings. not sure i've seen anyone yet on a cell phone-- odd. Yuri just saw a poster/advertisement: "let's revive spirituality!" with a picture of a church -- some sort of public announcement.

at 12:30 pm we were standing in the lobby of Hotel Central, waiting for our next instructions.

to Donetsk

2004-12-23T14:37:00.000+02:00

Ilya and i went to Maidan last night with two of his friends. the crowd was huge again. we heard Yushchenko's final address before the election on the 26th. it was a grateful speech. everyone was as happy and buoyant as they were a month ago when the demonstration began. incredible, really. they know they are righteous and they are hopeful of a final victory come new year.

one of the friends asked me what i thought about the election. i said it looked promising, that probably Yushchenko would rightly win. and i said that afterwards it would be difficult for the country. he said that it would not be so difficult, that in comparison to 1992-93 nothing could be so difficult.

on Sunday i attended an all-day training session for international election observers. tonight i leave on a bus for Donetsk, video camera in hand. this has raised all sorts of questions in my mind that i've not made sense of yet. maybe when i return i'll be able to report with some of the answers. probably i'll be back in Kyiv on the 28th.

happy holidays~

Irony of Fate

2004-12-23T11:34:00.000+02:00

this old Russian movie is shown every new years eve. it appeared repeatedly on multiple (Russian) channels before the 21 november run-off vote, to the confusion of most people i spoke to. "this movie is a classic. but it isn't supposed to be on now! only at the new year!" its appearance then was probably an attempt to create a sense of nostalgia for Soviet times, in support of the status quo. but maybe that's just more of my conspiratorial thinking. anyway, my point here is to tell about the movie, not the politics. it's a sweet 1975 film that combines comedy and drama to great effect. written and directed by Eldar Ryazanov.

the story begins with four men, all good friends, who go to the public banya (Russian sauna) in Moscow. they're celebrating December 31st, the new year. (imagine an evening that combines a westerner's celebration of Christmas eve and new years eve.) while relaxing and enjoying themselves at the banya they end up consuming way too much vodka. they are smashed. one of the men is soon to be married there in Moscow and another has some business to take care of in Leningrad. it is decided that the fiance should be the one to fly to Leningrad, not the businessman, so they put their extremely drunk friend onto an airplane.

after the short flight he arrives in Leningrad, barely walking, and manages to communicate his address to a cabdriver. his street address in Moscow also exists in Leningrad, so the cabbie takes him there without question. in a snowstorm he stumbles up to the apartment, lets himself in, and falls asleep under a blanket. (in Moscow, in preparation for marriage, he'd recently moved into a new apartment -- this apartment in Leningrad happens to be exactly the same, which is not too farfetched.) soon the owner of the apartment returns, gifts and groceries in hand, preparing for the arrival of her own fiance for new years celebrations. you can imagine the conversation that occurs when she finds a strange man asleep in her apartment, a man who wonders what in hell this strange woman is doing in HIS apartment. after much argument (he's still slightly drunk) they come to understand this unbelievable situation after showing each other their passports. they laugh. she feeds him. he sobers up.

he calls his fiance to apologize and explain what has happened. she doesn't believe him, becomes angry, hangs up on him.

the woman's fiance, a tall businessman in a fur hat, arrives at the apartment. he finds a strange man there. his fiance defends the strange man. he becomes jealous. he leaves.

the remainder of the long film takes place in the Leningrad apartment as our two heros, making repeated attempts to appease their fiances, each discover that their fiance is distrustful and jealous -- not bad people, simply unpleasant. her fiance returns repeatedly, to great humorous effect. his fiance in Moscow telephones, argues, then refuses to speak to him. of course, these two people with the same address, who've come to like one other quite a lot, in the end fall in love and get married.

debate!

2004-12-21T15:36:00.000+02:00

Ilya prepared for last night's televised debate as he would for a soccer match, setting himself up comfortably in the armchair with a beer and chips. i would have done the same but i'm still nursing a cold. the debate started at 7:00 pm. Yushchenko introduced himself, speaking in Ukrainian. Yanukovitch did the same, this time without cue cards and speaking in Russian. it would be a 90-minute debate and everyone expected it would be painful to watch. here are a couple of the amusing highlights:

1. Yanukovitch said that Kuchma is a rat, that he and Yushchenko are both opposition candidates -- "what should we do about this situation, Mr Yushchenko?" it was an attempt, it appeared, to form some sort of twisted alliance. Yushchenko responded by saying "what are you talking about? you're Kuchma's man. he picked you to be the next president."

2. Yushchenko asks Yanukovitch to explain why he stole a factory from the Ukrainian people. Yanukovitch begins his response by accusing Yushchenko of not answering his previous question. he then rambles about various unrelated topics for 8 minutes. Yushchenko gets the floor again and says "i asked you about the factory and you're telling me about the weather."

3. Yushchenko asks: "tell me, please, Mr Yanukovitch, why do you call the opposition supporters "orange goats"?" Yanukovitch responds: "goat is a word from the bible. you understand that it is from the bible. have you read the bible?" Yanukovitch then stated that he'd recently been to church and asked God's forgiveness for anything he might have said about the people of the opposition. (in addition, at a rally last week, Yanukovitch reached out to "the people wearing orange ribbons" by stating that he too was against the powers-that-be and that he hoped when he became president to work with all Ukrainians.)

these three exchanges happened in the first 30 minutes. after that, Ilya became quiet and watched the rest in near silence. afterwards he was depressed and said he couldn't believe that this man Yanukovitch might actually become president -- if he wins it will be a nightmare. we know he's a longshot but even longshots have a chance.

short news update

2004-12-21T10:21:00.000+02:00

Yanukovitch is still voicing his theories about the conspiracy against him. he's calling for a mass protest in Kyiv after the election, assuming there will be what he calls a "coup d'etat". apparently he remains under the delusion that he was victorious in the previous vote and that "the rights of 15 million voters" were violated. he also believes that his supporters in western Ukraine are being persecuted and forced to flee from their homes. 170,000 politsia are to be stationed in Kyiv for the 26 december election, hopefully for use only in the case that what Yanukovitch calls a "people's movement" decides to rally unpeacefully.

Yushchenko's poison was 6,000 times above the acceptable level. 2nd highest ever seen in a human. criminal investigation reopened.

the Rada wants former CEC head Kivalov investigated. new CEC Chairman is Yaroslav Davydovych. it's been reported that fake passport inserts are being printed for Yanukovitch supporters. apparently they will use these to be added to multiple voter lists.

it's been reported that Yanukovitch and Medvedchuk (head of administration) encouraged Kuchma to impose a state of emergency and use force against the protesters in the days following the announcement of a Yanukovitch victory (late november). Javier Solana was to arrive for mediation talks but all gov't buildings in Kyiv were surrounded by protesters. separatist threats came from eastern Ukraine. but Kuchma refused to use force and the danger passed. turns out Kuchma did do something for the people, and i was previously wrong in stating that he'd done absolutely nothing during the crisis.

it remains to be seen if Kuchma will allow the 26 december vote to happen on the schedule set by the Rada, the Supreme Court, and the newly constructed CEC. Yushchenko has warned that Kuchma and/or Yanukovitch may obstruct the vote.

debates are expected in the spring on the subject of decentralization of Kyiv's power, of establishing locally elected officials. until now all governors and high officials were appointed by the president and prime minister.

next 10 years

2004-12-20T23:50:00.000+02:00

EU membership for Ukraine is still 10 years away, realistically. NATO membership could be much sooner -- possibly 2 years after the Dec 2005 ministerial. Russia's Black Sea fleet remains, per agreement, in Sebastopol in southern Ukraine. maybe NATO would ask for its removal if Ukraine were to join but nobody knows for sure. US has already offered to train Ukrainian sailors there. Yushchenko says he will not break Russia's lease of the harbor space (130 ships, through 2017). the majority of residents in Sebastopol (and Crimea, for that matter) are ethnic Russians and very pro-Russia.

Peter Lavelle for UPI, Moscow:

"At present, Ukraine does not have a strong trade relationship with the European Union. That cannot be said of trade with Russia. It is expected that this year Ukraine-Russia trade turnover will be $20 billion. Trade turnover with the EU is estimated to be only a fifth of this sum. Importantly, the trading relationship Ukraine has with Russia amounts to half of Ukraine's annual gross national product."

Putin has plenty of leverage over Ukraine. once the election crisis settles he'll again exert his influence.

probably you've read about the pro-democracy victory in Romania. Basescu's party may enter talks with the Social Democrats which would dilute many of the gains, as happened to some extent in Ukraine. but unlike Ukraine there isn't a split in the country -- Romania is quite clearly anti-Russia. main problem: Basescu (and his opponents, for that matter) have no parliamentary majority. he won running the anti-corruption ticket, but there are other major issues in Romania: high inflation, poverty, tax evasion, etc.

the next few months will be critical in determining Ukraine's next decade or two. Yushchenko, if he wins, will have 8 months with strong presidential powers. also, his faction's support in the Rada should grow -- many defections and shifts are now happening. Tymoshenko is gaining popularity and her faction in the Rada will likely expand in the 2006 elections. but besides what faction/party has the most power, and maybe more importantly, will be overcoming the inevitable depression and disorganization that follows a revolution. in addition, as in the US, Ukraine appears to be a nation divided. unlike the US, however, i believe that here there is a chance for true reconciliation.

not your customer

2004-12-17T15:37:00.000+02:00

while riding in the Metro yesterday it occurred to me that i am not a customer. dozens of advertisements, taped to the walls of the car, made their pitch. most were in Ukrainian, of which i can make out only a little, and some were in Russian, of which i can make out a little more. most suggest i buy housewares, herbs and vitamins, electronics, clothes, magazines, yogurt. but i keep no home here. and i hardly read the advertisements, not to mention missing most of their references. more importantly, i do not feel that the advertisements are telling me something. they are not telling me to improve my health, to buy this for my kid, to shop here, to read this. i am not their customer. they are not speaking to me. they are not trying to define me. i do not feel the need to argue with them. i do not get upset. i laugh.

in capitalist countries there's a sense of dialogue with the world of commerce. each company is selling me something, is telling me that i need this or that. the implication is that it knows me, that it is my friend. i previously spent a lot of mental energy conversing with these false friends, of doing my best not to listen but always unable not to stop the dialogue. there was always some new argument to confront, some new topic to ponder. i threw out my television. i stopped going to the movies. i let my magazine subscriptions run out. i stopped reading books. now, years later, i've moved to Ukraine. these deliberate changes were not all in response to the dialogue, of course, but it is interesting from one point of view.

and now, the friends are everywhere here, too. capitalism spreads and brings its diseases. thankfully, for awhile anyway, this potential friend will be looking past me like i don't exist.

maybe it's time for me to grow up and accept commerce and its public face for what it is: an uninspiring visage. it's not something to argue with, this visage, it's rather the make-up hiding what's beneath. it talks incessantly, hoping i'll have little time to think. it will talk about anything, any topic. nothing is out of bounds. but it will not talk about itself. how boring.

while thinking about this last night i ran across this interesting bit by Ali Rizvi in his Foucauldian Reflections blog.

One of the main ingredients of the capitalist strategy of governing positively through enhancement rather through repression is the production of discourses about the truth of individual, society and state. Capitalist strategy of governance consists in producing, reproducing and multiplying discourses rather than curtailing and inhibiting or repressing discourses. There are various functions of this constant multiplication of truth:

a) One of the main functions of the capitalist governance is to normalise the ideas, to neutralise them, take the sting out of them etc. through placing them within the discourse and then constantly multiplying the discourses rather than repressing them. Repression is not a chosen strategy because it is not effective in the long run among other things.

b) In order to be normalised through discourse it is important that one speaks, expresses and produces a discourse. Capitalism cannot manage somebody who refuses to speak, refuses to produce a discourse and refuses to ‘come out.’ [It can only elimanate him] Silence is what terrorises capitalism and not the discourse. The horror that haunts capitalism is the horror of the unknown, that which cannot be situated in and explained within the discourse. Thus capitalism is the only ‘civilisation’ we know of that is compelled to produce and reproduce and multiply discourses about its real and imaginary enemies on such a large scale. It is important in order to normalise, ‘explain away’ and trivialise, that the ‘other’ is brought in to discourse.

Thus in a capitalist system one is instigated to speak. Foucault talks about the obligation to speak in this context. Foucault’s also emphasises on the importance of silence and speaks of the need to develop the culture and ethos of silence. It is interesting to note that Habermas on the contrary to Foucault characterises silence as a sign of fascism. In this context it is also worth remembering Heidegger’s silence and how it, to this day, scandalises the bearers of normal discourse.

from my experiences as a former silent-type, i can confirm that such types appear threatening to many people who see themselves as an authority (any kind of authority). on the contrary, as Seva had warned me and as i've experienced, silence here in Ukraine (as in the FSU) is looked upon as a strength, as a respectable trait. i might suggest that this is partly why the revolution was such a shock to everyone. and i also might suggest, as per Habermas's fascist argument, that this is why in the FSU an encouraged culture of silence had developed and come to be acceptable. silence is not inherently a sign of dissent. it can, of course, be seen as fear, or taken as assent by those in authority.

i was going to say something about identity politics, as there is a lot of talk about identity these days. Ukrainians are on the verge of finally ridding themselves of the "little brother" status. but i am far from understanding this complex topic.

propagandichki

2004-12-15T01:53:00.000+02:00

yesterday Ilya brought home a bunch of anti-Yushchenko propaganda and translated it all for me. i uploaded a lot of it here. the main concern in eastern Ukraine seems to be foreign investment and the anxiety that such involvement will demand reforms in the way business is done. the US is set up as the primary enemy. you can see the theme.

unfortunately i don't have much good anti-Yanukovitch propaganda. there's a lot to be found on the internet in the form of cartoons, songs, and animation. here's a sticker i found last month, made by Pora.

"criminal past: prisoner
...to be continued..."

another sticker appears on Metro windows occasionally. it imitates the original Yanukovitch card/calendar but instead shows a picture of Putin in military fatigues pointing his finger at you: "Are you ready to go to Chechnya?"