A story on Russia's political youth movements in this week's Ogoniok (in Russian).

Here's the beginning of the segment on the National Bolshevik Party (NBP):

Formally, the age of the party's leader is not that of a child, but Limonov will forever remain "the adolescent Savenko" and NBP - the party of the young.

On the photo, however, Eduard Limonov, 63, is posing underneath a portrait of Stalin - and looks like nothing but an old fart.


Photo: Sergei Leontiev

***

More on NBP - here.

Another option for those willing to support earthquake victims and the relief effort in Pakistan: donate online to the Human Development Foundation (HDF).

More on the HDF at 3 Quarks Daily.

***

More info and links in an earlier entry, here.

A friend has forwarded me a link to the Russian Chronicles, a travel blog by Lisa Dickey and photographer David Hillegas (the archive is here). They are moving from Vladivostok to St. Petersburg, re-visiting places and people that Lisa and another photographer, Gary Matoso, encountered on their trip across Russia ten years ago, in 1995. That journey has been documented here.

A truly exciting project. I've read only one entry so far, and already I wish I could do something similar as well. (When I think more about it, though, I'm beginning to feel claustrophobic: if all goes well - inshaallah - there's no way I'll be able to accomplish anything like this anytime soon...)

Peter Byrne wrote this past Monday that Svyatoslav Piskun would be dismissed very soon:

prosecutor general svyatoslav pyskun is on his way out the door, according to bob, who thinks pizza face will jettison the clown in the upcoming couple of weeks.

good riddance!

It happened much sooner, though: today.

According to Ukrainska Pravda (in Ukrainian), Oleg Rybachuk, head of the presidential secretariat, had this comment on Yushchenko's decision:

Svyatoslav Mykhailovych [Piskun] has been so hyper lately, he's opened so many cases... We've made sure he doesn't accidentally open a case against himself.

***

On a different note, Peter Byrne has just been denied a Russian entry visa.

Some background is here.

March 19, 2004

Rest in peace, Oleg Lundstrem...

He died today, at the age of 89. His bio is here, at his legendaty orchestra's homepage.

A couple more 2004 photos of Oleg Lundstrem at his dacha are on my photo page, here.

***

Update: NTV has just said that Oleg Lundstrem's father was a Swede - and his mother a descendant of Taras Shevchenko!

Disclaimer: This entry contains generalizations, is actually full of them.

The morning rush hour crowd on Moscow subway is different from the daytime crowd: at 8:30 am, people are tougher, more determined to sleep through the ride, totally oblivious to anyone else's presence.

It's a funny feeling to be standing over a young man, squeezed from three sides and with my belly almost touching him on the fourth, trying not to look him in the eye, as he sits there, looking sideways, too, until it's time for him to get out.

'A girly man' is the kindest name I have for someone like that.

In this part of the world, men often act as if they've got no wives, sisters, daughters and/or mothers - but, of course, they do, and then they're upset when other men treat their female relatives like shit.

On Moscow subway, young women offer me a seat more often than men do. It does feel embarrassing (or did, when my belly was smaller), but it's healthier to sit than to stand, so in order not to depend on the kindness of strangers, I always try to be the first one to enter the car and head for what may be the only vacant seat as if my life depended on it.

It's a reflex already. Once, a few months ago, I had to stand, waiting for my turn at the clinic; when a man got up to get himself a glass of water from the cooler a meter away, I made a couple of wide steps and took his chair within seconds. He didn't say a word, just stood there, drinking his water, and, after a minute or so, I suddenly realized I'd just done something totally inappropriate. I got up and apologized, explaining this was how I usually acted on the subway and that it all just got mixed up in my head somehow. The man smiled and told me not to worry.

***

Not as many generalizations as I expected I'd have when I returned from the clinic this morning, mad as hell.

So here's one more, by way of compensation, irrelevant to the beginning of this post: maternity hospitals in this part of the world are so gloomy, it's not surprising every second person here looks clinically depressed. The way we're born isn't too different from the way we live.

Something not pretty is going on in Nalchik, the capital of Kabardino-Balkaria. A BBC story is here, and I hope it'll be over with as few casualties as possible before I find it in me to figure out who's fighting who beyond the usual "bandits vs the federal forces."

Roddom #25 (6 Fotievoy St., m. Leninsky Prospekt) - a scary place, squeezed behind a huge construction site; two very tall buildings are being erected right next to the hospital, 50 or so meters away from it - 47 photos:



***

Some more Armenian writing on the wall, this time both in Armenian and Russian, and a drawing of Mount Ararat, next to the little girl's name, Meline! (And while I was walking around, taking pictures, a serious-looking Armenian man stood by the hospital building, talking to his wife (or sister) up on the third floor. I even recognized a few Armenian words I used to know a long, long time ago!)



***

Stuff that covers the roddom walls reminds me a little of the post office building in Kyiv a year ago, which, in its turn, used to remind us all of Reichstag in May 1945.

Joy that has to be documented somehow.

***

Smog has gotten really bad and I can't write anymore now.

I've just posted 36 photos from the two Moscow maternity hospitals I've visited so far. I hope to have more notes and some translations later.

- Roddom #10
22 Azovskaya St., m. Kakhovskaya - 12 photos:




- Roddom of the Clinical Hospital #29
2 Gospitalnaya Sq., m. Aviamotornaya - 24 photos:



***

Both series end with greeting messages that happy fathers, other relatives and friends leave on the roddom walls and on the ground beneath the new mamas' windows. My favorite is by some Armenian guy who was so overjoyed he was climbing the walls, scribbling his son's name, Ashot, everywhere he could: "Kristina gave birth to Ashot, 2000" ('gave birth' is misspelled - radila instead of rodila)...

I've been preoccupied with my pregnancy for the past few days, and that kept me from writing.

The third trimester is tougher than I could imagine; the toughest moments include trying to decide where to deliver the baby; keeping myself from reading too many horror stories about giving birth; trying not to whine to anyone who'd listen, thus directing most of it at poor Mishah; being exhausted and restless at once; growing heavier and heavier; being insomniac again. Oh, and living in Moscow through it all.

Yesterday, I got stuck in a terrible traffic jam - just because some inner devil forced me to buy six overripe hurma (persimmon) fruits. I was on my way from the second maternity hospital I'd chosen to inspect, and I was almost by the subway when I saw a market. I stopped and bought hurma, joyfully, for the first time this year. Then I realized it was 6 p.m., the rush hour. With the very soft hurma in a plastic bag and with my belly, it would've been problematic to squeeze inside the station, let alone the train. So I got myself a cab and spent the next hour and a half in it. Could have taken a plane and flown to Kyiv instead. There's a good Ukrainian proverb: Za durnoyu golovoyu i nogam nema pokoyu - 'Because of the silly head, the legs don't get any rest.' It's about me.

Today, Moscow's air has been replaced with smog. It's not as bad as in 2002, but I wasn't 33 weeks pregnant then, either.

To make things even worse, folks at the synagogue across the street have been slaughtering chickens and God knows what else for Yom Kippur all day today. That's unbearable. They've built something of a shed outside, which probably prevents people walking down the street from seeing it - but the sounds coming from over there are horrible. For me to feel traumatized, it's enough to see a dozen or so stray dogs running around our neighborhood - and now this. I love to watch rooftop weddings at the synagogue, I don't find them intrusive at all; I also love the sound of church bells and the Muslim azan - but hearing poor animals scream all day long really, really hurts.

***

To end this on a very happy note, the ultrasound doctor has finally been able to determine the baby's sex: it's a girl!!! The name we'd chosen long before I got pregnant is Marta - Marta Smetana. (She's in a breech position, though, and that's not good, but I do hope she'll turn around when it's time for her to be born, inshaallah.)

***

Later today, I'll post photos of the Moscow maternity hospitals I've checked out already, two of them. I haven't been inside, but some stuff outdoors seemed pretty vivid, too.

Some resources and ways to help South Asian earthquake victims:

- Donate online via the Association for the Development of Pakistan (ADP). So far, ADP seems to offer the only way to make an online donation to Edhi Foundation:

ADP has selected the Edhi Foundation to receive funds because of its long history as a reputable, transparent organization, as well as its strong network in the Northern Areas and current mobilization. "Edhi Foundation is providing food, coffins and blankets to the affected people through its centers in Muzaffarabad, Mansehra and Rawalkot . We ask you to please give generously to ADP's online collection effort in this time of need." - Edhi New York Office.

Among other options listed on the ADP site are Oxfam and The International Federation of Red Cross and Red Crescent Societies.

- A lot more information is here, at InsanityWorks.org: ways to donate money, goods and blood, as well as news and resources on the earthquake-affected areas and the relief effort.

- A very comprehensive resource on relief organizations accepting donations online - Network for Good.

- BBC has a regularly updated page on the earthquake - South Asia Quake - with eyewitness and survivor accounts, photos and news.

- Earthquake updates at Dawn.com; here's one of the latest items:

Pakistan battling huge odds to deliver quake aid MUZAFFARABAD, Azad Kashmir, Oct 11 (AFP) - Pakistan was Tuesday battling huge odds to deliver aid to hungry and traumatised people marooned in the northeastern mountains after the weekend earthquake which killed up to 40,000 people. The authorities estimate over two million people were made homeless by Saturday's 7.6 magnitude quake which obliterated whole towns and villages in Azad Kashmir. Over 60,000 were injured, many seriously. Sporadic looting broke out in the main Kashmiri town of Muzaffarabad as anger over the slow delivery of aid boiled over, but the overwhelmed government insisted it was moving as fast as possible. Military spokesman Major General Shaukat Sultan said late Monday the roads into the two worst-hit towns -- Muzzafarabad and Balakot -- had finally been cleared of landslides and relief trucks could begin arriving in numbers. Survivors were facing an array of problems -- freezing overnight temperatures, rain, landslides, scarce food, little shelter, no communications networks and almost non-existent healthcare. (Posted @ 09:20 PST)

- Blogs:

South Asia Quake Help

Pakistan Earthquake 2005

Chapati Mystery

Avari-Nameh

Serhiy Holovaty has been appointed minister of justice of Ukraine.

Just as with Yekhanurov, I remember a tiny little bit about Holovaty from his first term as justice minister (1995-1997). It's sort of untranslatable, though.

He once announced on TV, very seriously, that he was going to rename the ministry of justice into something that sounded very much like the Ministry of Truth: instead of Ministerstvo Yustytsii Ukraine would get Ministerstvo Spravedlyvosti.

(To me, both words - yustytsiya and spravedlyvist' - mean 'justice' in English, but I'm sure there's a way to somehow distinguish between the two. The former is a legal term, while the latter has, in this context, little but emotive connotation.)

Anyway, this is the only relevant thing I remember about Holovaty - and it is hard for me to take him too seriously because of that.

Last month, when they were voting for Yekhanurov as prime minister, Holovaty dissented from the rest of his faction, Yulia Tymoshenko Bloc, and voted for, not against, Yushchenko's candidate. I've really no idea what to make of him - but I do hope he won't act as notoriously silly as Roman Zvarych did.

So I keep thinking about that New York Times text by Nicholas Kulish, and here's why:

[...] But I grasped its meaning a few months later as I sat at a Ukrainian border station in a beat-up Volkswagen Golf, trying to cross into Moldova.

"Present? Present?" the border guard asked, holding up my CD player. His comrades were inside our car, searching every nook and cranny. I smiled and told the guard I didn't understand. He smiled back, gave the player a whack with his billy club and permitted me to keep my broken Discman. Then we were inexplicably told we couldn't leave the country. In retrospect, I might as well have given it to him. It could have saved me 30 hours of desperate searching, through the night and into the following day, for a station where the border police would let us pass without stealing our car or demanding a bribe higher than we were willing to pay. The asking price at the next stop was $200, a lot more than I paid for the CD player.

[...]

All this corruption is really maddening, yes, but one thing I'd really like to know is the name and title of the border guy who broke that CD player and prohibited a foreign citizen from leaving Ukraine. Also, names and titles of the guys who pocketed Mr. Kulish's money 30 hours later.

I want the whole world to know their names and the names of the border stations they serve: I do feel shamed for my country, and I want them to feel as lousy - and maybe to lose their jobs as well.

Getting their names might have been difficult, but not impossible. Moreover, a mere attempt could've helped Mr. Kulish to get the hell out of Ukraine.

I assume he was traveling without a fixer, translator or anyone else who knew how to speak with the border guys in the language and manner they understood, someone who knew how to remind the assholes that they were not irreplaceable in the country full of unemployed people. This may be tough to accomplish even for the locals, and much more so for a foreigner.

But I also assume that Mr. Kulish is a U.S. citizen (despite his Ukrainian last name). Imagine a truly ridiculous situation in which a U.S. citizen is doomed to spend the rest of his life in the middle of nowhere just because a Ukrainian border guard wouldn't let him out. Imagine that this U.S. citizen is not aware of any other border station nearby - or that he's out of gas and money, unable or unwilling to drive around like an idiot for the next 30 hours. Imagine this U.S. citizen's next step: he'd probably want to call the U.S. embassy and ask the folks over there about his options. In the course of his conversation with the embassy, he'd probably want to name the Ukrainian official who was basically keeping him hostage at the border. Maybe the embassy people would like to speak with the corrupt sonuvabitch themselves and explain to him a few things about norms of international law - or remind him of the existence of his superiors.

Who knows, maybe the border control guy would suddenly realize just how vulnerable he is - and then he'd apologize and let Mr. Kulish drive on into Moldova.

I don't want to appear arrogant or imply that this scenario is absolutely realistic: in this situation, I'd probably be too frustrated, shocked or scared myself to think clearly.

But I really feel that we could use some help in fighting our famous corruption - and getting the bastards' names, titles and locations into the New York Times and the International Herald Tribune would have taught them something.

It hurts to read stuff like this, but the more of it, the better. What's important is that it's common sense, reality - not ill-wishing. For things to begin changing, the whole country has to be in the spotlight, not just its "heroes," Yushchenko and Tymoshenko.

Driving the Scenic Route to European Union Membership, by Nicholas Kulish, in the New York Times:

[...]

We cheered out loud, in an almost tearful swell of relief, as we re-entered civilization, crossing the border into Romania. Romania, another former Communist dictatorship is my idea of civilization? The answer is absolutely, because of that tiny little blue flag with yellow stars - the banner of the European Union - at the crossing point. Let me be clear: Romania is not yet a member, and still the contrast with a country like Ukraine was night and day. What had been an hourly ritual of bribes, doling out the three C's - cash, Coke and cigarettes - to machine pistol-wielding cops, abruptly ended.

[...]

(This reminds me of the end of 2000, when we were Luhansk: quite a number of local business people complained about how fucked-up their region was, how difficult it was to do business there. "Everyone's calling [the neighboring] Donetsk region [run by Yanukovych then] the most corrupt in Ukraine - but no, compared to us here, it's like paradise over there, like a foreign country!" Judging by some of the most bizarre obstacles that we ran into during that Luhansk trip, I am still inclined to believe what those people said.)

Way too many people are coming here looking for the Oct. 2 wedding of Evgenia Tymoshenko and Sean Carr - but all they're getting is a three-month-old Times piece about it...

So here's more stuff:

- from the Guardian - Ukraine's wedding of the year;

- from the Times - Bells, bagpipes and a bit of a do . . . Ukrainian style;

- from the Independent - Ukrainian love story pairs a billionaire's daughter with a Leeds rocker;

- from the BBC News - Ex-Ukraine PM's daughter marries;

- from CNN.com - Tymoshenko's daughter weds rocker;

- some AP photos at Maidan.org.ua;

- a story and some photos in Ukrainska Pravda (in Ukrainian)...

Too bad Ukrainska Pravda very promptly took down the photo of Oleksandr Volkov and his female companion marching to the evening celebration: some people are concerned about Sean Carr's temperament and his criminal record, but you know it's no longer relevant when you see tough guys like Volkov and Mykhaylo Brodsky as wedding guests. No one would want to mess with them, not even a crazy-looking fellow like Carr. (Another photo that Ukrainska Pravda got rid of was of Mykola Tomenko, and it probably happened because his female companion looked like a cow.)

***

What I really like about it all is the eccentricity of Evgenia Tymoshenko: the air of eccentricity around her that does not diminish even in the presence of men like Volkov and Brodsky.

What I hated about the wedding is this little episode involving Paraska Korolyuk, an elderly woman who became one of the symbols of Maidan last year. According to Komsomolskaya Pravda (in Russian), baba Paraska arrived in Kyiv on a train Friday morning to attend Evgenia's wedding, bringing a beautiful wedding gift with her, a Ukrainian traditional towel, rushnyk, that her daughters had spent three days embroidering:

"I want to lay it underneath my grandkids' feet in the church. Why are you surprised? Yulia is like a daughter to me, and that means that Zhenya [Evgenia] is my granddaughter. Yulia has personally invited me to the wedding."

Someone from Tymoshenko's Batkivshchyna party picked baba Paraska up at the train station and drove her to the party headquarters, where she spent about an hour and then emerged, no longer looking boisterous and happy, and without her rushnyk. She'd been told that the wedding was in three days and that no one was invited to the church ceremony, and since she had nowhere to stay in Kyiv, she intended to take the train back home that same day.

Silly old fool, a heartbreaking silly old fool.



And - so much for the "I've come here as if to my own family, to my mama, my daughter" kind of blah-blah-blah from Tymoshenko...