Sex & economics

This global economic melt-down that we're in must be really helping the sex industry.There are certainly alot more sex service ads in the back of the Moscow News and The Moscow Times these days. When i first came over in September there might be one or two ads which were often a source of comment and laughter for the young ones at language school.They looked sad amongst the adverts for taxis and business services.

Now, my word . Ladies and gents i give you the Karma Bar .Cut out the picture of Miss Bust in their ad and you get 50% off your entrance fee. If that doesn't float your boat how about the 911 mens club ... yep 911 that's what it's called . 911 ...emergency sex...... correct me if I'm wrong but has anyone ever died from not having sex ? That aside, quite frankly there's so much freeness on offer at 911 i do wonder how long they'll stay in business. At said club there is a 'totally nude free lap dance twice a night'.Between 6-9pm there a 'free gourmet buffet'... i wonder if food is the only thing on the menu ?!Wednesdays you can get a '2for1 couch dance' AND there's 'a SEXY DANCE PARTY' their capitals not mine. Then there are the women - sadly some students among them- offering their services with the usual promises of instant unforgettable ecstasy.Then one guy I've seen advertise simply says 'Sexy boy 28 for girls'.Just goes to show that even when we are selling what our mothers and fathers gave us , we women still don't cut out the hyperbole. Through checking out a couple of the websites these women have set up I'm amazed to find out that there's a service called PunterLink which basically an info site if you have an itch you don't mind paying someone to scratch.

There's one who has her own website and she somewhat dubiously claims that 'nothing implied or inferred within these pages is not to be taken as an inducement for payment anything other than time and companionship'.This 'claim' is somewhat at odds coming straight after the fact that she states that if anything happens 'it is a matter of coincidence and between consenting adults'. She must have alot of coincidences .A 'deluxe 2 hour date' with this woman is 200euros. Looking at her rates it seems the longer you keep her the cheaper the rate.She wants 400euros for an overnight, 600 euros for a day + overnight and 500 euros for each additional day.Now maybe it's just me, but, if your rate for 2 deluxe hours is 200 euros, how come a full day plus an overnight is 600euros ? Maybe after the first 2 deluxe hours she gets a deluxe headache !

As far I'm concerned there are alot of products that you can offer a discount on but as a woman your woohah shouldn't be one of them. In fact I've just made up a little mantra lets call it the 'Hookers Gospel'


If i should lay me down and you fall sleep , it ain't my problem , i checked... your pockets run deep.

If i should lay me down and you come so quickly you weep, it ain't my problem.. i checked... your pockets run deep.

My body, my temple.

You get laid,

I get paid.

The equation , my dear, is that simple'


In any event in this global downturn it seems to me that Fannie Mae & Freddie Mac along with Northern Rock aren't the only ones whose maths is a bit off point .

Hitlers birthday

It's Russian Orthodox Easter on Sunday. I haven't been out today but S tells me that when she went out earlier the queues around the churches stretched for miles mainly babushkas waiting to get their Kulich,Pashka and painted eggs blessed. It's an ordinary day for us Ganna doesn't do religion so we're having a peaceful Saturday in.

I have another reason to stay in.Hitlers birthday is on Monday so it's best to stay close to home this weekend . I'll definitely be staying in on Monday .It is an obscenity that fascist thugs manage to terrorise foreigners like this. Just as frightening is the fact that it's well known that worrying numbers of Russian police force share their views about foreigners in general and immigrants in particular. Therefore ,if anything happened you have to hope and pray that the policeman who comes to your aid is one of the few good ones. That said, even if the others did begrudgingly come to your aid you might have to wait a while. I've never been anywhere with more seriously overweight police than there are here in Moscow. I don't know what the application policy is for the police is here but i seriously doubt that fitness is a criterion given some of the evidence that I've seen.Add to that the fact the smoking is still a big thing here and you've got Keystone cops Russian style.

I feel really sad. This is a country whose language i fell in love with when i was 11 years old. I never dreamed that i would ever get the chance to study not only the language but it's history and culture. Sometimes as i go about my daily business here i almost want to pinch myself because i can't believe that I'm here..in Russia. It's easy to forget that there is tremendous beauty in this country when when your eyes are assaulted by industrial grime and filth everyday.It would be too easy to write off Russia as a nation of fascist thugs but i refuse to because, setting aside the amoebas, i believe that underneath the fear there are essentially good people here. Russia has long been and will always be a country of anomalies. Explain a country where you have amoebas and yet within the Russian education no child will ever leave school without having studied something by Pushkin.A man whose maternal great-grand-father was a black man.He is considered to have been Russia's greatest poet and the founder of modern Russian literature.

The first 'Russian' to write using the language of the mass of Russian people and not the elite.The need by the elite to base their cultural aspirations in Europe meant that many spoke French and to a lesser extent German better than Russian. Therefore, what Pushkin achieved in using the language of the 'people' is an achievement ,researched ,discussed and written about by literary scholars the world over then as now. Alexander Pushkin has iconic status here and abroad and not just for students of Russian.

His family were minor nobility but that didn't always protect him from the obvious slings and arrows of racism because of his heritage. He was well aware of what some in Russian society thought of 'blackness. Read his , unfinished but beautifully poignant story,'Peter the Greats Negro'.However, he never denied his blood .His literary legacy has been too powerful to erase.Goodness knows, how often his name has been used in officialdom .Trust in good people, such is the nature of Russian history that I'm sure had there been command to do so his legacy could have been 'erased'.It wasn't , it hasn't been and will never be because good people somewhere made sure of it. Theirs is the energy we must all help build on when the fear stops.

Anyway, i been spending sometime today reading across the blogosphere.I been reading some 'big people' blogs.It'sgood to go outside your norm.Setting aside the big people stories I read a whole new youth vocabulary that has emerged Stateside. You have to keep upwith these things. On the plus side i thought that i lead a very sheltered life until i read one blog where with a blogger with a superstud size size ego was telling his 'homeboys' to google to find out where out where a womans c**t***s is !!!!! Well us grown folks can find it without googles help. My street-cred is in tact !

Obama Love

Like millions of people around the world i followed Obamas' campaign and subsequent inauguration . More specifically at the outset of the campaign i watched with interest (as the mother of mixed heritage children) as to how some in the black community would perceive his 'blackness' since he has never hidden the fact that he is dual heritage.This notion of who has the right to be called 'black' is vividly displayed in Marshall Currys excellent Academy Award nominated documentary 'StreetFight' about the 2002 mayoral campaign in Newark ,New Jersey between the incubent mayor Sharpe James and the then pretender to the throne Cory Booker.There is some interesting commentary on the documentary from Sekou, Dickerson and Cose with the opposing view on Afronetizen. Do make sure that you read the comments that follow the article.

I mention Obama now because I'm often asked about him and until thursday the deep significance of his election for all people worldwide and not just black people had never struck me as fully as it did on then.I was in a 'gypsy' cab and a more busted beaten up car you couldn't imagine. I thought that the taxis that i had used in Freetown were awful but looking back now they were a luxury compared to what i sometimes travel in now. I go to the same Metro station regularly and all the drivers there know me now and I'm safe.

Anyway, thursdays journey was in a rust bucket Lada, covered in mud and with a beautiful crack across the windscreen . Inside thick dust covers every available surface and there are some cords
wrapped worryingly around paces you'd rather not see them ! My driver scoots along ,swerving in and out of driving lanes i assume he finds an inconvenience. So does the rest of Moscow. I have my foot on the imaginary foot brake more or less permanently. When he takes a break form cursing everybody else's driving , he suddenly says 'And what about Obama then ?He's a good man isn't he?'

'I hope so.Alot of people believe in him .'

'Oh yes don't you worry about him. He's at the G-20 summit now and then he's going to Turkey.'

I couldn't help but smile . I hadn't checked up on the news for a couple of days and i had no idea Obama was due to go to Turkey and there i was being told by someone who looked the antithesis
of a newshound.

'Yes Obama is a good man. He's земляк (zyemlyak)'

I recognised the origin of the word- земля (zyemlya)- which means earth, land, so i had a vague idea of what he meant but i asked him to explain.

'He's one of us. Imagine a black man ,the President of USA sitting at the table with all those whites. '
He laughed out loud and said joyfully 'Now those whites will listen to us.'

He used the word черный ( chornii) which means 'black' and i have translated it as such.However, in today's Russian society it is a very loaded word because out on the streets and in the homes of the amoebas -and lets face it Russia has some magnificent examples- the word черный,черная ( chornaya) for a female means 'nigger'.

It is a offensive word used to describe people from the Caucasus and indeed the CIS- who, if we believe some of the remarkable right -wingers that are allowed on to Russian TV-are no better than animals, who have taken all the jobs from Russians and should be forced back home.The fact that the men and women from the Caucasus are generally doing jobs that no Russian would dream of doing in the boom years seems to pass them by.This is a story that has played out in the history every 'first' world country and still does so Russia is now different . However, you'd have to go a long way to match the venom here .

So,in Russia, you won't see 'Caucasian' being used by 'white' people to describe their ethnic identity because over here the word is so loaded with historic tensions that go back years and also because that would mean being a identified as a 'nigger' and you can't get any lower than that.

My taxi driver is from Azerbaijan.I have been asked about Obama by Azeris, Georgians,Uzbeks, Dagestanis, and a rather lovely stately looking Moldovan gentleman on the Metro.No Russian ever asks me about him and i realize (admittedly somewhat belatedly) now that for all those who ask me Obama is земляк.... a fellow country-man.. he's family. His victory is theirs and when he sits in the big house and at big tables around the world so do they, they couldn't be prouder.This is Obama love.

Love and kholodets

It was Gannas' birthday on thursday. I had asked her ages ago when it was and forgotten. Hearing the phone ring non-stop the cobwebs started to clear. I've been giving her some space these last few days because she's been really down.My gentle efforts to get her back to her old self just seemed to irritate her so i decided to give her some space , even though I've been worried about her.As one of life's paid up interventionists its has been hard for me to leave her alone but i just decided to let her roll with her feelings while i kept a watchful eye in the background.Anyway friday morning came and as i was leaving for school i asked her when her birthday is.

'It was yesterday' she said diffidently

'I thought so .. and you didn't say a word to me about it'

'What for.. there's nothing to celebrate.It's not like it was before... now it's just misery'


'But it was your birthday..'

'Don't worry about it.Anyway, we've got guests coming at the weekend'

I'd vaguely heard about this russian tradition of having guests over for your birthday. I was running late for school so i just said 'Ok' , gave her a peck on the cheek as i normally do and darted out of the door.



Later that evening on the way home i bought her a big bouquet of russet coloured roses and tiger lillies.She wasn't home when i got in so i just put them in some water . When she got back i lead her to the kitchen and showed her the flowers .


She looked at me in disbelief , 'This is exactly why didn't tell you it was my birthday.How much did you pay for these?' Flowers aren't cheap here.


'I've forgotten'

'You've forgotten ?!'

'Yep, I've forgotten'

She looked at me, started laughing and came over and kissed me on the cheek 'Thank you darling... and what have you eaten today... all you ever do is drink , drink , drink . Did you eat the cutlets that i made you?' She walked out of the kitchen to look for a couple of vases , asking herself aloud what she is going to do with this crazy woman she has in her house. I knew then that my russian mother of old was on her way back.


In the wee small hours of the morning she's in the kitchen and i walk in and notice a a pot with a pigs foot and a piece of meat in it. I know instantly that we're going to have the dreaded kholodets .It's apparently a Ukrainian dish and probably the only thing Russia loves about the Ukraine right now. However, i eat it only to make Ganna happy but this chopped meat and vegetables in jelly dish is never going to make it into my culinary repertoire unless by some quirk of fate i marry a Russian man.

'I'll put the meat on to boil now. It needs at least 6 hours boiling for the meat to be really tender'

Naturally i get a little concerned at having to go to sleep with a boiling pot of pig foot and beef on the fire.

Ganna laughs at my consternation. 'Don't worry, this isn't the first time I've done it you know and as you can see I'm still alive !'

I laugh with her but i can't help remembering the times that I've told her something she was cooking was burning.I'm really tired. In my head I'm thinking 'Do not go to sleep, don't go to sleep' .As if making those words a mantra rather than a command would save me from 1st degree burns caused by boiling pig foot.

I get into bed and I'm awake for about 5 minutes before i decide i can't keep my eyes open anymore. I turn out the light and fall asleep holding onto my little bag of worry people under my pillow.

I wake up saturday morning and trust me i bless the day. Immediately as i reflect on how great it was to be alive the smell of boiling pig foot and beef assaults my senses.Then I'm reminded of mum boiling cow-heel to make Guyanese Pepper Pot. It tastes really really good but boiling cow heel (or indeed the pig foot that gives it that sticky consistency) definitely ain't a perfume that will rock your world anytime soon. Isn't it funny how strong the link is between smell and memory ? Dried fish and palm oil reminds me of Sierra Leone . Strangely, it soothes me , mainly because i love eating with my hands. Eating with my hands reminds me of dad.Remembering dad reminds me Nigeria. Remembering Nigeria reminds me of the Ibo-Guyanese blood that is my life.And so it goes on.

Sunday morning we start the food preparation. I make my first Olivier salad (Russian salad).Another much loved russian dish that has many variations so take your pick and then go on and make your own variant , everybody here seems to.We chop and prep for ages .Table linen out , table dressed, plates set, platters of food out. We wait for the guests.They start to come and it is immediately obvious that this tradition is about bringing love in abundance to a home. It's not about how much you spent on your outfit, how much drink you bring, who's going to play the music, wanting to know know who'll be at the party so that you can decide whether it is worthy of your presence or making foul comments about how much someone didn't spend on a gift. This beautiful tradition is about focusing attention and love on the person whos' birthday you are celebrating a and nothing should distract from that.

It was a real test of my russian to so totally immersed in family life.Ganna and Ira (her daughter) speak to me in russian so everybody took their cue from that. Of course it immediately obvious to anyone that i am not biological family but i am accepted as such .So, on sunday in many respects the love wasn't only given to Ganna it was given to me too. It was truly a joyful day. I will take and keep this tradition with me always.Back home i think that we have forgotten that the best celebrations are not the ones based on consumerist principles. True love and coming together to celebrate someone or each other are things that we can do and give in abundance for free.

Jowls

I've decided to add another colour to the thousands that there are already on the colour charts that you get from the DIY store.You know the ones . Those charts that you spend ages over ,then you buy every sample pot within a whisper of the colour that you like. You take said pots home and paint patches at every conceivable angle because you could not conceivably buy said paint without seriously scrutinising its refractive qualities.So, paint on the wall , refaction under scrutiny , you ask your bambinos for their opinions which inevitably and absolutely do not converge with yours.You stand in the middle of the room for some time reflecting on why as USUAL you have to make all important decisions by yourself. Somehow ignoring the fact that apart from when you want them to agree with you ,you have always been proud of the fact that you have created and raised 3 beautiful individuals fully capable of independent thought and judgement .

Anyway,off you go to the DIY and spend a stupid amount on 3 huge tins of'Calico Bliss'.In the middle of painting the room you decide to pop in see a friend . You admire the colour on her walls It looks remarkably like what you've chosen ... great friends think alike etc,etc .Then you ask her what the colour it is and without any thought for your feelings she you quite blithely tells you that its MAGNOLIA!!!!Fucking magnolia ... no 'Smetana in the sunlight' no 'Yogic Transition' just frigging MAGNOLIA. She notices the change in your features and asks whats wrong and while thinking that you could have saved yourself £20 a tin you resist the temptation to tell her that you want to graffiti her walls.

I've called this new colour, that should be in all the shops soon , Moscow Grey.White with huge accents of charcoal , royal blue and sludge.Refracts no light and is probably why one the classic features of Russian womens faces as they age are jowls.This Moscow Grey, added to the fact that this is not a smiling culture are a perfect recipe for jowls. If you stay here long enough you too will get them. I come home and deliberately exercise my smile muscles.I'm not taking all these trace elements, and slathering my skin with all my home made lotions only to have all my efforts lost in two huge ellipses of skin hanging of my cheekbones .

Light snow has fallen again. The sun doesn't seem to stay long here and any thoughts that you have that at last spring might be around the corner are always based on false hope.This city is unbelievably grimy.The filth on the cars is of the type you would only see back home in the winter on cars that have been taking part in a forest rally or have been doing some serious off-roading.If you ask where all this dirt comes from ,every person that you ask here will give you a different answer. Ho hum, i suppose at least when snow falls you can't see one of my pet peeves over here... spit gobs .

I was hoping that the snow would hold off today for totally vain reasons.I'm going out to salsa this evening and i wanted to wear the rather fab boots that J bought me for my birthday. I carry a rucksack all the time and i thought that it would be rather nice and grown up not go out with it as per. I'll have to take it now just to carry my boots.No matter, I'll go out into yet another grimy Moscow evening and in the ambiance of a salsa evening I'll dance like a feisty Latina and not give a fuck who's watching . I'll be smiling... so should you. Happy Saturday :)

Hold your head up

Happy days .I have the internet at home now. Ganna took pity on me and got a TV and Internet package. So, no more trying to find a quiet spot in an internet cafe and furtively go into my bank account. In Russia you have to really worry about doing that publicly but, until last week, i didn't have a choice.

Yesterday, i asked Ganna to go with me to Ismailova. A friend of mine is going to be in England at the end of the month and i want her take a couple of things over for me .... a birthday present and some things things for the kids. Usual stuff .Part of Ismailova is a huge tourist market with seemingly every matroshka ( the famous dolls within dolls) ever made on sale. There's also an interesting antique section there too which is great if military medals are your thing.

I asked Ganna to go with me because the couple of times that i have been on my own have at times been unpleasant.There are men there from the Caucasus and it's the young ones who are the problem. I don't know which country they are from but they aren't the oriental side of the Causasus. The Oriental Caucasians will stare but they are essentially gentle people.This lot in the market are different altogether.The young men are filthy vulgar louts who give muslims a bad name. I took Ganna there are my minder !

It's surprising the effect that she had on stall holders especially the Russian ones. They heard her chatting away to me in Russian and occasionally having our little 'mother -daughter' disputes ..in Russian of course. The effect on them was noticeable .I got what i wanted at 'Russian' and not 'tourist' price.Even got some extras thrown in with the stuff i bought the kids. Ganna's price negotiating skills were quite straight -forward. She'd find out the price and then when they told her she told them not to be ridiculous !I bought a jewellery box ..the tourist price -1700 rubles. Gannas 'negotiated 'deal for me 1000 rubles.. it took her about 30 seconds !! At todays exchange rate that was a saving to me of about £14.

Anyway, shopping done as she usually does if she's out with me , she linked her arm in mine. that's when the comments from the louts started. She was oblivious to it all. I muttered something under my breath and she asked me what was wrong. I told her and i also told her about the first time i went there as i walked out of the market one of the louts thought it would be a good idea to give make pig noises as i walked past. She told me that i mustn't let it bother me, that i had met other people in the market who weren't bothered by what i look like, that there will always be people like those louts but I'm to keep on going and not let them stop me doing anything. Then she said' It's sad .It never used to be like this. We have a saying here... we say that there are many good people but the bad ones are better organised !' I couldn't help but laugh if we look back in history and at the world around us we can see how depressingly true that saying is.

You know if you ever want to ponder the meaning of existence come to Russia.If it does nothing else it makes you think.

On lighter note my russian has improved so much.When i first came over i really didn't think that it ever would but I'm having so many moments of total understanding of what I'm hearing that i surprise myself.I'm not consciously translating every word anymore. It's hard to describe whats happening but now rather than hearing , consciously thinking and consciously translating. now I'm beginning to hear and understand. I know that I'm still doing the thinking and translating but it's happening somewhere in the back of my consciousness. It doesn't sound like much but after a year without ANY language lessons at all and then having to study with people in their early twenties , it took more than a leap of faith to ever believe that i could make up ground and have the understanding that i now have. After all the sacrifice ,all i can say is how sweet it is.

Learning

Separation from the kids is a rollercoaster ride . Some days i long for their bickering and other days i thinks how nice it is have break from being the all seeing eye always needing to anticipate , facilitate, negotiate, be a referee, chaffeuse, coach, cheerleader and that age old clairvoyant that is generally known as parent and more specifically as mother. Truth is i love all that stuff and much more in-between. An old fashioned thing to say but there is , before anything else i'm a mother and now grand-mother.



My grand-baby is 7 months old now and i missing all the changes she's going through. I saw her at Christmas and New Year and thankfully she remembered grandma. I'll be back home in the summer so there's alot of time to make up. I miss our nonsense conversations and the sound of her asleep in my arms.



I'm not the first nor will i be the last parent experiencing separation form the kids in an effort to give them a better life. I'm just doing it for a year. My hat is off to parents (especially women) who have to accept separation as a long term-solution.Heroes and heroines one and all.



Anyway, yesterday my friend B invited me to a meet and greet for some of the social / voluntary sector projects at the residence of the Ambassador to the European Union over here.



I went dressed in my muddy snow splattered boots , jeans and a fleece and felt quite under-dressed . B looked lovely and very diplomatically told me to get a life when i started whining. She was right . I just put on some fresh lipstick and had another spritz of my lovely Jo Malone perfume and i was good to go .The Ambassador (her boss) was/is a lovely down to earth guy and i met some really interesting people.



I got home late-ish .. about 11pm. Ganna wasn't impressed she'd been phoning me to see where i was and i didn't answer my phone.



I try to phone Ganna's twin- mum -in London if not everyday then every other day. I didn't fancy another lecture on my lateness so i didn't phone. I've been invited to a 50th birthday party next week given current form it would probably be wise to start the psychological preparations for both of them now or I'll never have any peace !

Good morning Mrs Obama !!

That was my welcome back to Moscow as i walked across the courtyard to begin my first day back at language school.Shaftaq was his name and in my walk across the courtyard and up the stairs to the entrance door to school i went from being the Presidents wife to being given inducements for me to give him my phone number and become his private plaything . Oh how the mighty fall ! Good thing I'm not one of the thousands of blondinki who sashay across this city on their imaginary catwalks. I would have needed therapy to help me accommodate my fall from fleeting greatness!

I flew back into Domodedovo airport to be greeted by -21degree weather.As i inhaled i could feel the icicles forming on the hairs in my nose . Everyone kept telling me that it was unusual even for Moscow. It has snowed constantly since I've been here . Everyday and night the valiant Kazakh and Kirghiz men and women are here shovelling and shovelling side streets ,paths and pavements. Snow falls again and they shovel all over again. I think that they are magnificent but typical Russian style nobody acknowledges their valiance mainly because they are considered a lowly migrant people.

I rarely see 'Russian' dvorniks (roadsweepers/cleaners) on the roads. They're in or near the Metro. On the streets it's our valiant Kazakh or Kirghiz. As i trudged to the shops a couple of days ago to buy food ( Ganna's constant moan is that i don't eat enough) passing mounds of snow near waist high. I saw a mini snow plough and breathed a little sigh of relief. Then i noticed that the man sitting in the snow plough was a 'Russian' and the guy outside with the snow shovel was a Kazakh. I wished i had my camera at that moment. There wouldn't have been any need to comment.

Anyway , Ganna and i have fallen back into our usual playful ' have you eaten? No, i haven't' routine.
She's an absolute star and i love her to pieces. Her sense of humour is fabulous as his her comic timing. Slowly, slowly I'm getting to know more of her past. As always this knowledge brings with it a need to acknowledge the scars of suffering.Ganna is Jewish. Her father was a Latvian Jew. On the invasion and occupation of Latvia all Jews were made herded into a Jewish ghetto. Eleven members of her Latvian family dug their own graves and were then murdered by the German soldiers. She has no connection with Latvia anymore.

One of the research projects that I'm going to do for university is on the media presentation ( in the Ukraine and in Russia) of the famine the 1930. I was showing her one of the books that I'd bought while i was in the UK on holiday. It had the word 'holocaust ' in the title . She got very agitated which is very unlike her.She wouldn't even look at the book and told me quite emphatically what happened in Ukraine wasn't a holocaust. For her a holocaust is when 6 millions people were deliberately murdered and no one cared. For some reason i chose that moment to ask her whether she goes to the synagogue. Without hesitation she replied ' I don't believe in God. Tell me, where was God when millions of people facing death called his name and begged for life?' No , i don't believe in God'.

As part of my reading for my project I'm reading about other unheard cries..... 800,000 of them in Rwanda. I remember my fathers people in Biafra . In these and all the other killing fields that humanity has created where was/is God ? I must ask my great friend and liberation theologian Delroy about this and see what his answer is.