Val Karren - The Deceit of Riches

“Peter, we really need to leave now!” Yulia stood up quickly to gather her coat and handbag.

“Why? What’s the matter!” I whispered with some irritation.

“You shouldn’t be here. I shouldn’t be here. We could be expelled from school for being here and taking part in this,” she answered with a flash of fear in her eyes.

“Yulia, I was invited by my professor. Of course I should be here,” I stammered in confusion.

“What’s just happened here is very dangerous. Remember Peter, that it never is what it seems.” Yulia sat down again, but only on the edge of her chair ready still to leave without me if I wouldn’t go with her, “The party was allowed to organise but not for this reason. Didn’t you hear him say that? Look at him shaking there in his chair. He knows he’s in trouble. Russia may have elected a president, but the rest of the system is still rigged, Peter. Opposition is a sanctioned position in Russia. Opposition party leaders are hand picked to be irrelevant. Its a show, a production. Look what Yeltsin did to his challengers when they really decided to be an opposition.”

“I think you’re going a bit far, Yulia. Please, you’re just still shook up from Bolshkova’s murder.” I tried to reason with her. She stood up and looked at me with daggers in her eyes and stormed out of the hall slamming the door behind her.

I found Yulia outside on Minin Square alone at the bus stop in the snow but she would not speak to me.

“What did I do to make you so mad at me?” I pleaded for an explanation. She would not reply. Her bus pulled up the curb but she didn’t board it. She stood frozen as the bus pulled away toward the train station.

We stood silent for a few moments and then she began a tirade that stung like a hot poker. “Do you think this is some sort of fun spectacle, Peter? Something for you to digest after dinner and something to write about for people back in America? This is the real thing, Peter. People are dying everyday while trying to live with dignity. What are you doing to help this besides watching with amusement? Why are you even here? What do you think you can do about it, or are you even going to try? You go back to your meeting of intellectuals and academics and go write your thesis about how horrible Russia is. Then you’ll disappear back to America like the dog who has eaten his fill and what good will it do us here? Nothing!”

I stood shocked and speechless. A retort was pointless. She was beyond reasoning. Another bus heading someplace pulled up and she climbed on board and turned her back to me as she sat against the frosty window. I watched helplessly as the bus pulled away.

Els greeted me at the door excusing her husband who could be overheard in his study talking animatedly on the telephone. Els discreetly pulled his door closed to prevent any eves dropping of a curious student’s ears and showed me into the living room. I took a seat on the couch and felt the weight of the world fall on my shoulders.

“Well, you look like you need a week on the Black Sea!” Els began.

“Oh, anyplace I could see the sun would be welcome at this point,” I said with a disheartened sigh.

“Are you finding the studies to more difficult than you thought it would be in Russian?” she suggested.

“No, actually. The language is not a problem. What is really tough is an article I’ve committed to with the Dean of the department.” I sat up straight in the prospect of having a sympathetic ear listen to my problems.

Els sympathized, “I was a bit sceptical, when you first mentioned it, that you wouldn’t find the needed materials here in Nizhniy. It may only be three hundred kilometers from Moscow, but it’s the provinces, it’s out of center, and as we all have come to learn, everything, and I mean everything and all power in this country comes from Moscow.”

“Oh no, finding material is not my problem! What’s discouraging is what I am learning about Russia and the corruption that goes so high and so deep. The entire country is being hoodwinked by the politicians and the nouveau riche that there is going to be nothing left in ten more years. The party apparatchiks just changed the color of their ties from red to blue and now are rolling in the money, and making themselves and their new friends richer than yours and my wildest dreams!” I was a bit worked up now especially after Yulia’s damning accusations about me doing nothing and also just profiteering from the situation in my own way.

“One of the most frustrating things that Del and I came up against working in Moscow for a few years was that the people in public service who were supposed to be neutral, those supposed to be there for helping to support the transition and development were the first with their hands in the cookie jar. Everybody had a hidden agenda. We didn’t know who we could trust,” Els was calm and philosophical about it, tempered by experience and exposure.

“Yes! Every decision made on the national level about the privatization process has a back alley pay-off for a bureaucrat who is just in it for himself. There is no transparency… no justice…” I was feeling even more discouraged than when I started.

“Peter, why did you come here? You’re not here to have fun as a student are you? It seems to me that you are on a quest, like some sort of modern Don Quixote quest, to protect the Russians from themselves. Where does that come from?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

Just then Del, in all his bravado burst from his study with a bow-legged gate, stepped into the living room interrupting the train of discussion and thought.

“Peter, welcome! How the hell are ya?” His cheerfulness was amusing and lightened the mood in the room. “It’s been a few weeks, huh? What have you been keeping busy with?” Sitting down in a chair opposite me he continued without pausing. “We had a great visit in Germany last week and I think we’ll be able to break through some red tape and get the project moving forward again.”

Dinner with Del and Els was a welcome distraction from the unpleasant exchange with Yulia earlier. As every trip abroad means moving through Moscow, Del made it a point to bully the little hooligans that hang around in hotel lobbies, looking tough but are toothless. His stories not only entertained but left me more and more curious about the man. He is either fearless or is able to discern who is truly dangerous and then is not afraid too and has no problem letting another alpha-male, who is lower on the pecking list, know where he stands in Del’s rankings.

“…and then the punk nearly swallowed his cigarette right there in the elevator of the hotel, still lit!” Del rehearsed in his cowboy drawl. I couldn’t help but lighten up a bit.

After we wiped away the tears of laughter and the crumbs from the table Del went on to tell me about the problems that he experienced in his last project in Moscow, also a hotel, as the local politicians began to interfere to try to control the hotel.

“Even though we had all the needed permits and permissions and had greased the right hands at the time, somebody else wanted to muscle in on the operation as everybody began to see that we were going to make it! It was a miracle… but we had turned the corner and as Moscow was opening up more and more to foreigners and more importantly foreign investors and businessmen, they needed a trusted name and a trusted hotel to meet in where they would not have hookers sent to their rooms in the middle of the night and then have compromising photos presented to them the next morning, or pretty girls letting themselves into their rooms. We provided security and privacy for negotiations. So anyway, some mafia goons wanted in on it and we wouldn’t sell them any share of the operation. No way! So what happens, the mayor starts getting involved and is demanding that we take on a local partner. We already had a local partner in the joint venture. None of it made sense. Anyhow that turned into quite a stand-off which the US Embassy got involved with. The whole thing is frozen now with little change… but, yeah, you just never know from which direction these things will come from in this crazy country. People’s intentions are hidden and their actions even more unpredictable when money is dangled in their faces. You’ve got to be very careful here not to get too deep into it that you can’t walk away at the last minute. You just never know when it’s going to go south on you!”