Marjorie Farquharson - Moscow Diary

I went round to Polubinskaya’s and enjoyed myself very much, hearing their slant on the political scene, both of them gradualists, totally immersed in psychiatric issues. Polubinskaya co-drafted the new law on psychiatry and since October has been sitting on the Supreme Soviet committee which is slowly pulling it to pieces. They’ve only covered six articles so far, mostly preamble. I was struck by the fact that she does all this basically from the bedroom in her flat. She offered me her washing machine and will also get me on her hairdresser’s list.

I had a very lucky escape tonight. On the way home I heard steps behind me in the snow, turned round and saw a man in a blue anorak gaining on me. I then changed my direction and realised he was aiming for me. We stopped and faced each other out and I screamed. No one came and he started saying, “Go on, louder. That’s better. No one will come. You’ll damage your throat.” I screamed five times and each time he looked round, then stepped closer. I had my eyes absolutely fixed on his and eventually said, “Leave me alone.” As I dreaded, he said, “Are you not Russian? Where are you from?” When I told him, he said, “Excuse me”, and walked away. I thought he would have gone for my money too. My throat is sore as I write this.

Friday 15 February

I had difficulty getting the man out of my head for the first part of the day. When I was looking him in the eye I kept trying to see him as a whole person. I slept late, slept in the afternoon, and went to bed early.

In the morning I stitched number tags on eleven sheets and towels, conscious that I was probably doing it wrong for the laundry woman. Sure enough, there on the laundry wall was a large chart showing you how it had to be done, but mine were alright. In the afternoon I popped into the post office, to hear my lady of the PO box explaining to some disgruntled customers that they keep getting contradictory instructions from on high and “we don’t know which God to pray to”. Maybe that’s why the door keeps opening and shutting like a fridge.

Because Saddam Hussein made a peace proposal, Hella had to write an article about it for her newspaper and so cancelled dinner. To its credit, the USSR Committee for Constitutional Supervision has pointed out three major illegalities in the presidential decrees on joint army and police patrols, according to Izvestiya .

Saturday 16 February

I was invited to a grand lunch at Viktor’s, where I would meet Anna Yevgenievna Bochko, a new defence lawyer who is appealing against the death sentence passed on Andrey Zapevalov. She is a specialist in murder cases, in her late twenties, and apparently very clear thinking.

By the time I arrived, Viktor’s mother and Mrs Zapevalova were driving each other mad in the kitchen. It was a huge five-hour lunch with salads, homemade mushroom pirozhki , fish, homemade pelmeni and sour cream homemade tort, and tea made from handpicked and dried grasses. Lia Davidovna described how she’d swapped some potatoes for some meat and a teapot for some flour etc., and they all said they do the same thing. Everyone was very nice to the children there, particularly Viktor and his mother, who have a real talent. Lia Davidovna explained to them that if it hadn’t been for the Germans they wouldn’t have their crystal light fixture. The Germans invaded Kharkov, built a casino with chandeliers, destroyed it when they left, and Lia Davidovna’s grandmother salvaged one remaining light shade.

Lydia Zapevalova got very tearful as the afternoon wore on. I suddenly saw for myself what an agony the death penalty is for all the relatives concerned. It had been two years for her.

I came home with half a pig.

Sunday 17 February

I was waiting for a UK friend outside the House of Shoes at 3.00pm when a taxi mounted the pavement and drove into a blind man’s leg. The poor old guy was shocked and could hardly walk because his leg was so sore, but the driver got out and shouted at him. We got his number and someone went for the police. Jane arrived in a bad way, having just had an obscene phone call. We had a very pleasant stroll in the Sparrow Hills then tea at her house. On my way back I heard three or four dull explosions in the distance. Everyone in the street looked round.

In the underpass at Oktyabrskaya I passed an accordionist standing by petitions to save Ilya Zaslavsky as the chief of the local soviet. The music was wistful and people were signing by lamplight, as though they were in some film. I’m getting a bit sceptical about these petition drives. It seems his council, including many ex-supporters, are wanting him out. Isn’t that democracy?

In the evening I went to an Amnesty meeting with Nikolay and Aleksandr, to discuss the Women’s Campaign. When I got home I was moved by a note which Lydia Zapevalova had left in my door. She had had difficulty finding my address, and wanted me to forgive her for not turning up in time. She had also left some dried mushrooms for me and gave a recipe for making soup, which ended, “At least, that’s how I do it. You may know a better way.” It was kind and dignified and humble, and quite upset me.

Monday 18 February

I have to devise a way of getting rid of the half side of pig given to me on Saturday.

A big box arrived for me today from London with a lot of stuff in it, but still no January newsletter. I was almost apoplectic all morning. I felt my blood pressure was just about up near the ceiling and I couldn’t get it down. I couldn’t do the mailing I want and I couldn’t get through to the Foreign Ministry, the computer firm, Komsomolskaya Pravda or Stolitsa .

However, I picked myself up, brushed myself off and in the afternoon went to Prospekt Mira, where Maria Esmont has an association of independent women artists. I met her at the Moscow Book Fair in 1989 – a middle-aged woman, very interested in our work. The association has just been given permanent exhibition space in a veterans’ club – rather a seedy room, but some nice paintings. They owed it to a hearty woman on the local soviet. The administrative-command system is not dead, because she came in and told them how they should rehang their paintings.

Maria invited me to talk to their committee at 5.00pm and explain our Women’s Campaign, which I was glad to do. There was a nice laid-back, women’s-group atmosphere. Maria is quiet with a firm voice, and although people kept making comments out of the corner of their mouths (“What about the veterans?”, “What will the woman from the District Soviet think?”), she kept dismissing each objection and committing them to helping. She said she had kept the Amnesty leaflets from 1989 and had made up her mind then that she wanted to help us. This is what I really like about Amnesty: chance encounters with people who are thinking the same way, and who can really make a difference.

So it looks like we may be able to sell our publications at the exhibition, collect signatures and possibly get some coverage in the women’s press. By the end of the day I had got through to the computer people, to the Foreign Ministry and to Komsomolskaya Pravda , so it wasn’t such a bad day after all.

IRA bombs went off today at Victoria and Paddington. One person killed.

Tuesday 19 February

An engineer came and mended the TV for 50 roubles (£5). Nikolay popped by and stayed for four hours, partly to help with the truculent engineer. His English is extremely good and he is a nice person. We had an extremely Russian tea-drinking session at 11.00am, discussing the relationship of the Turin Shroud to belief and if we see Christ as a literary hero etc.