Home Again . . . and Thoughts on Russia

After beginning Sunday having breakfast at the Savoy in Moscow, I put my head down to sleep back in Massachusetts. It's a surreal experience to travel nearly 5,000 miles in half-a-day. Being back in familiar surroundings makes the past two weeks seem an extended, pleasant dream. 

As it turns out, I also had to return home in order to find out why there was such an abundance of police in Moscow on Saturday. My friend Virginia emailed me to say that she'd been thinking of me when she heard the news about the protests in Moscow on Saturday. I had to google to find out that a year after the massive protests staged following last year's parliamentary elections, a new protest day was held on Saturday. A significantly smaller protest than a year before. Based on the numbers of police that I saw on every street I wandered down, I would imagine that police may have outnumbered protestors. 

From my hotel room, I could see the police helicopter hovering overhead of the protest, which was literally a block away from where I was staying. 

It's such an interesting time for Russia and its citizens. As I've noted before, the abrupt shift to an economy based on capitalism has been jarring. The attempt to establish a democracy in concert with the new economic model has been challenging. No one can do this for Russia, of course. It's a bit like watching a friend who decides it's time to make some changes in his or her life. 

Evil Amidst Beauty

I visited the Gulag Museum this afternoon in Moscow, a day after the horrific and incomprehensible tragedy in Connecticut . . . the brutal slaughter of innocents, including twenty children. No matter what scale, when evil manifests itself in our world, it is impossible to reconcile. 

Clearly something goes terribly wrong within the perpetrator's being. Whether it is a physiological malfunction or a defect in character doesn't really matter to the stunned and saddened families of the victims. For those not directly affected, we shudder and then, on some fundamental level (perhaps due to the instinct to defend and survive), we quickly turn the page. It is not that we lack sympathy or compassion. It is just that there is nothing we can do to change what has happened. 

That's a brutal fact. We want to support the survivors and the loved ones of those lost, but the work of doing so is necessarily left to those who know these people. The rest of us . . . the larger society . . . goes on with living. Albeit with a sense of melancholy and a more tangible foreboding. But, the impact on any of us not directly involved fades quickly in the wash of all that comes next. 

Though imagine if homicidal brutality began to become more prevalent. It would be not unlike those eras when the plague decimated whole societies, taking people from almost every family. As awful and indiscriminate as disease can be, at least it's not mindful of its actions and effects. When Stalin was able to extend his own paranoia to Russian society, ordinary people became both perpetrators and victims on a massive scale. 

Millions died. Starvation, torture, and literally being worked to death became commonplace. One man drove the madness. He was able to extend the heinousness exhibited in the Connecticut massacre to a societal level. Finally, after decades, Stalin is being held to account more regularly and openly.

If you can look at this photo closely enough, you will find that Stalin's portrait is made up of human skulls. What a horrible man. And, his ability to lead Russians to join in such slaughter is what is harder to understand . . . and more frightening. 

The act of one person taking the lives of innocents is unforgivable and incomprehensible. That Stalin took the lives of millions of his fellow countrymen evokes a similar bewilderment. And, both this week's and the events from the long decades when Stalin ruled, raise the specter of a society that no longer condemns, but rather, tacitly condones slaughter. That's a very disturbing legacy that we must guard against, at all levels where it appears.

I Love These People!

Once in a rare while, what we hope for in an experience is surpassed. I was very fortunate to have that be the case with my time in Yaroslavl with the CCS family. What a great and caring group of people. And, what great work they've done in the community. I will miss them each and all, but I will never forget my fantastic two weeks making new friends in Russia. 

From left to right:   

Victor, Driver Extraordinaire and Top Hockey Fan in Yaroslavl! 

Asya, Interpreter for All, Friend to All, and the person to see if you need tickets to Six Flags in Illinois! 

Sveta, Interpreter for All, Friend to All, and proud owner of a new kitchen, soon to be installed in her new apartment!

Natalyia, Enthusiastic Leader of the Team, Friend to All, and willing to go every extra mile to help make Russia a fantastic place to visit!

Olga, Friendliest Accountant in all Russia, and who was a good sport about being in this photo!

And, let's certainly not forget Galina (below), who kept the place humming and homey for us all!

And, one of the two people who ensured that I left Yaroslavl with more pounds than when I arrived is in the midst of the scene below, having prepared another phenomenal meal for us . . . Ludmilla (sorry, I didn't get a snap of Elena). 

Finally, my fellow volunteers made this whole experience a communal one. I feel so lucky to have participated with such a caring and fun group of individuals. 

Clockwise from the left:

Dorothy, Justine, Sally, Natasha, Raya, Christina, and Rachel (hand with fork . . . nice job by the photographer!). And, of course, absent friends who had to leave last week: Tom, Marilyn, and Rebecca. 

What a great, great couple of weeks! Thanks to all for everything! 

Last Evening in Yaroslavl

Took a hike into town after dinner this evening, about 3 miles round trip. It was немного холодно . . . 13 degrees (or -11 C), with a breeze out of the east. Siberia is pushing some of it's 40 below weather our way! 

While in the downtown area, I noticed some municipal workers putting up holiday decorations. Now that's a cold job! The exterior walls of the Kremlin are festively lit. Though not as extremely lit as we'd likely do in the U.S.A.

Another interesting difference in the holiday season is that in Russia the focal point is on New Years, not Christmas. Since the country was officially atheist for 70+ years, there was no such thing as Christmas. And, now that Christmas has returned, the Russian Orthodox event occurs in January . . . not December 25th. 

So, the party really doesn't start until New Years. When we had kids make Christmas cards at the Boarding School, almost every one made a card that read: С Новые годы! Or, Happy New Year! Nevertheless, at the Boarding School this afternoon, the kids were quizzing Raya on whether or not she'd seen Santa Claus and his reindeer. Raya said she had indeed seen Santa, but that in Australia his sleigh is pulled by kangaroos rather than reindeer. 

There didn't seem to be a lot of partying tonight in the old city. Yaroslav the Wise stood on his pedestal watching chilly citizens wait for the bus or hurry past to get to someplace warm. And, for a few last moments, I was among them.

Melancholy Parting

This morning was my last time at the Hospital for Kids. It was hard to say good-bye to so many sweet souls. We had fun this week. Lots of games, laughs, and crafts. I hope they will remember Peter Parker (aka, SpiderMan) fondly. I will remember each of them very fondly. 

Today we did paper lanterns, thanks to Raya's creative inspiration. The kids seemed to really enjoy creating and customizing their lanterns. Afterwards, there were unique versions of War, Uno, and Jenga. The one game where the rules seem to be followed as intended is Chutes and Ladders. It is a universally classic game, where the rules are intuitive in any language.

It's so unfortunate to realize that these kids will be losing Asya and Sveta after next week, as well. The kids clearly adore both, and are always eager to show them what they've created. And, of course, to try to get help getting through to the not-so-fluent Peter Parker!

Fruit of Our Labors (and the kids at the Hospital for Kids)

After three intensive days of crafting, here is the result of all the work done with the children at the Hospital for Kids this week. There are some creative souls here clearly. And, some very sweet and enthusiastic ones, as well. It's been really engaging to work with them. Even though I am not very crafty, I am eager to lend a hand . . . to tape others' creative productions to the wall, to applaud their efforts and results, to pass along the beads and puffs.

What If

I've been thinking more about what 1991 meant to the people of Russia, largely because I continue to hear what it meant. Irina, who has taken us on two enjoyable and informative excursions, to Uglich last week and to Velikoye today, described the impact when we visited a small, three-room museum this afternoon. One of the rooms had several items related to Lenin and his legacy.

Irina told us about her experiences passing through the various Soviet youth organizations, with the culmination being admittance to the Communist Party upon reaching adulthood. Imagine, if you were raised to believe and trust in these principles, and then suddenly they vanished into a puff of history. I think Russians are doing remarkably well adjusting to this latest wrench thrown into the gears of their national and personal identities. 

By the way, the young boy in the second photo above is, I understand, Lenin himself. What a cute kid. Aren't they all? It's interesting what we become and do as adults. There are, no doubt, intimations of our future selves and actions present in our early selves. I've seen this, it seems, in one young man in particular this week. He seems sweet and creative, and also threatening. I wonder what environment he has come from and its influence. I can imagine him growing up to be a gangster. I could see him as an artist. I wonder which path he will follow. And why.

Why did the man below become one of history's heinous, paranoid mass murderers?  

While the man who painted the picture in the second photo above, spent 95 years in his village creating art and apparently harming no one irreparably. Looking at his self-portrait below, there's nothing that indicates why he wasn't also a monster. Maybe someone provided an example or some influence that encouraged a path away from the potential for evil that is harbored in each of us. Maybe we are providing something similar for the creative, sweet, threatening young man who I met this week in Yaroslavl?