19.01.09

Vladimir just phoned, i have the day off. well until 5pm when i should teach. so, lets have the pointless weekly rundown of my weekend. i spent most of yesterday at Fantastika, almost sure, as my steps began to drag and muscles became weaker and weaker that i would never escape. i can spend literally a day on my feet. Once David and his roommate had finally bought their microwave and groceries we left, however, going elsewhere i got on a different bus. it was the right bus- as it usually is, but yet again, i got off at the wrong stop. resulting in something like an hours walk to Takondwa's hostel. i was going there to pick up my lap top. they had invited me around to hang out the night before, and i was carrying my lap top as i spent most of saturday teaching; except for hot chocolate with David. so thats the only new development; ive been to Hostel "Africa". In this particular area there is something like three or four buildings of students, and in each usually a floor of foreigners; who are generaly all coloured. the foreigners and russians dont mix; and it really is becoming something like tribal warfare. In fact Takondwa told me about one incident that happened this week; two africans were walking in a nearby park when a gang of russians surrounded them, demanding money; someone called someone, and suddenly every single african male in the area appeared at their side. Terrifying the bullies of course, who apologised and fled. TK marvelled at the 'brotherhood' of it all.

but sometimes i wonder if this tight community is a good thing, or just creates a power centre that attracts even more suspicion. Elsewhere, in the linguistic university hostel- where of course, there are different tongues being practised in almost every room and students from all over the world studying russian- there is a similiar chinese stronghold. Typically chinese people will keep to themselves, in belfast, in bangor, in nizhny novgorod; but it just creates resentment (i've said that many of my friends have asian faces, but i mean malaysian, korean etc. not a single chinese). one russian student, an open minded individual from the Ural Mountains, studying german- who has attended many of our parties, told me, upon discovering that i was half chinese, and with a sort of confused expression, 'you are not like the other chinese'. he shares a room with two chinese students, in what has been dubbed 'china town' of the hostel, in an area where the chinese wont mix and always occupy the kitchen. even at New Years the party seemed to divide into racial floors; with all the asians downstairs in the disco, and africans upstairs in the dancehall. Of course there are cultural preferences about music, and especially dancing (i.e. africans are usually dancing on someone whereas asians will jump and down gleefully), and before Jehnya left he told me about some in fight at the linguistic hostel between a chinese girl and her austrian roommate which resulted in a sort of european vs. asian clash for a month. the racial divides are just confounding- especially when you'd think everyone would have had enough of it on the streets.

and on saturday night, as Mary (who has returned from her european tour), Takondwa, Carlos, Kampilla and I stood waiting for my bus, a drunk young man shouldered into Takondwa. Before id even noticed, his friend returned to apologize; slurring 'excuse my friend' with as sincere an apology as he could muster in his drunken state and limited english. it was heart warming though. he continued to ask us where we were all from and what Takondwa was studying, before another friend dragged him away. another minute passed and suddenly the perpetrator came over to also apologize. Standing on the street, aware that people were staring at us, and i would probably be safer alone, their drunken friendly antics seemed to just disperse all the hostility. and it even seemed to make an impression on the people surrounding us; that they had a choice. they dont need to just be mean and glare, they can be open and friendly- and take this example. looks became curious rather then condemning, and suddenly the boys were returning again and again to apologize or just be drunken fools; miming irishdance when they heard where i was from, and at one point running around friends trying to get to us. i thought it was quite sweet, and so heartening. but Takondwa, who- dont get me wrong; i really like, just became more and more offended. he scoffed as i pointed out that they were only being friendly, saying that i didnt know what it feels like to be completely out of place. it was humilating, rather then endearing for him. Carlos asked if he would prefer that they were racist, and he replied that he would prefer they treat him like a human. i could say i understand this attitude- the dignity and pride; but how can i condescend to 'understand' when, as he challenged me, I dont know what if feels like to feel "completely out of place". but is that the attitude which only encourages racism by responding with a fist rather then an open hand?

of course, its easy to write and think about 'open hands'; when in reality there is a daily and frighteningly real threat for them, that cant be overcome with abstract ideas of 'love' and 'humility'; but really maybe those are the only things that could change it. to suffer, until people see that youre not going to fight back, and that you just want to be friends. rather then joining these racial gangs and ghettos, where entrance depends on colour so really you are just as bad as your oppressors. the racism just seems to bring out more racism in people, not less. even with me, my view of russians is becoming so coloured by the few dogs i have only heard about; i dont see individuals i see this mass of supposedly hostile and very fierce blank faces. i dont see people, i just see something to be scared of.

but to love is so difficult. even more when you are hated. i mean really, how was Jesus ever human? it really requires such a superhuman strength and courage, more then being enraged and jumping into the thick of it with a gun and war cry. it depends on such an unworldy wisdom. its properly the hardest thing to do. i know im a relatively 'strong person', strong enough to come to russia alone for six months. but this is like a whole other concept of strength. like a completely transcendent idea, from another world where rules are gaged by some other obscure eternal purpose. and so obscure you dont even really know if you can trust in it enough to be so strong that you let go of that anchor onto earth, so that you rise up, completely uncertain if you will be sucked into a death vacumn, plummet back onto earth to have your head split open and brains spilled out, or be rescued by some benevolent cloud. i mean, could i really be strong and faithful and hopeful and trusting enough, to be the african in that park who made that call, and decide instead to hang up, and attempt to love the people persecuting me? and would such a wonderful act of daring and courage, change something around you; and make it better? Invite God into it? i couldnt believe enough even as i am, and yet i told Takondwa he was unlucky for being black, and being a man, in this city. what if i was him? i would probably just plant myself right in the middle of that african community and never even leave the hostel. seriously there is so much beauty missing here. we really need a miracle. and not a miraculous act of i dunno, flying or raising from the dead or curing pneumonia or God's booming voice speaking out from Heaven, but transformation. before they become so 'tough'; so hard and numb they are incapable of hopefulness, and naivety. before they hate the people around them. i love them; kampilla, takondwa, carlos and mo- we sat and chilled, and listenedto music, and on Sunday night they cooked me dinner. i wish i knew how to make it better.