Andrei's cell was raided again yesterday. And the worst part is not what they take, which is sometimes down to a pack of biscuits, but the humiliation. His resolve to stay above it is strong but it still feels disgusting. Like all the good people disappeared from the face of the planet.

I am in a bit of a bad emotional shape right now. But it is true that Andrei won't deal with it well if i break. So, i can't.

You will never be forgotten.

Oleg Yankovsky...

One of the greatest Actors of our times, a Great and Wise Man and a friend Oleg Yankovsky has died this morning. A man so noble and dignified at all times. A man who didn't look for riches and stayed out of politics, even though he status allowed him to do whatever he wanted. A unique actor, a kind and generous man. It hurts too much right now to even be able to phrase anything that could remotely do him justice. Thank you, for everything... I love you Oleg and i will for the rest of my life.

Anniversary

It's a cold and rainy day today in London. Exactly 20 Years ago, on the 19th of May 1989, which happened to be a warm and sunny day, we left Soviet Union to come to Great Britain. We travelled to the airport in a cortege of 4 cars-all my grandparents and uncles and my best friend came to see us off. A dozen suitcases, everyone crying and my 3-year-old kid sister not understanding what was going on. 'Try to stay strong', one of my uncles said to me. We weren't leaving for good, at least we didn't think we were. I remember just feeling that something big was happening and being excited that i will finally have a taste of and maybe even get to know the whole other world, i've heard so much about. And i was scared, a little bit, because i didn't know how that world would react to me. I am crying right now. Why am i crying? Some sort of sadness I guess, that i can't even explain. 2 years later Soviet Union collapsed and we didn't go back. The country began to mutate and still hasn't stopped. These tears are for grandparents that are gone, for the friends i never see, for the chances this country and I have lost and wasted. But i will try to stay strong......

When Radio Liberty was interviewing me after the article in The Independent, i should have just said, look, i am not too concerned for my own life but i am about his and so my answers will not be what you would like to hear.

Again, would appreciate comments.

Another part of the book

The optimistic tone of the evening news was just what the doctor ordered. The war was too far away for most to really relate to or care. Many did however make sure their own sons skip the army duty. Overall, there was much for the Russian people to look forward to. Little did they know what preparations were being made while they sat around their kitchen tables, having their evening meal.


Moscow, Russia, 23rd of October 2002.
Day 1

A typical mid-show interval: one is in line for wine and snacks at the bar, while another is in line for the bathroom. Since in musicals there are often many children in the audience in the bathroom queue once can hear dialogues such as ‘You can’t have ice-cream, you won’t finish it in time’. Or ‘I’ll explain what happened in that bit later’.
A similar scene was taking place during the intermission in the foyer and the hallways of the vast building of the house of culture, in the heart of Moscow, which housed the musical Nord Ost.

At that time musicals were a relatively new concept in Russia.Unlike Western exports like Chicago and 42nd Street, this was the first original Russian musical. Nord Ost (North East) is based on a WW2 themed 1944 novel by Veniamin Kaverin, ‘The Two Captains’. With 32 actors in the cast, including 11 children, a live orchestra of 30 and a number of special effects, it was by all standards a major production. By October 2002 it’s been running for over a year and still gathered full houses. It was very well advertised and talked about.

House of Culture on Moscow’s Dubrovka street, only four miles away from the Kremlin, is a typical Soviet town hall build in the 1970s. It is a solid, concrete building with not much architectural value, made up of three floors and a mezzanine, with a set of glass entrance doors and full size glass windows on the second floor. It has a large inclined auditorium, which seats around 1500, and dozens of rehearsal and office spaces, as well as storage and basement areas. From the fall of 2001 it has been a home to the musical Nord Ost.
On a rainy October evening about 810 people came to see the show, looking to have a good time

8.40pm
Svetlana Gubareva, Small Business manager, Row 17, Seats 24-26:
We were in a celebratory mood. On that day we found out that my fiancé’s visa application was approved. This meant we could all go to America. My fiancé Sandy, my daughter from a previous marriage Sasha and I. We could all finally be together. As we were passing by the store that sells theatre tickets we decided to treat ourselves and see some musical to celebrate. Since at the time there were billboards everywhere advertising Nord Ost, that’s the one we chose. Mentality of an average consumer, I guess.

Only a few miles away, in one of Moscow’s backstreets, men in heavy overcoats were loading large bags into a black VW minivan. They spoke in an unfamiliar language. A rare passer-by did not pay much attention or chose to stay out of trouble. Similar scene was taking place in two other locations.

Irina Fadeeva, Single Mother, Row 11, Seats 48-50:
The four of us, my sister, her daughter, my son and myself had some snacks during the intermission and went back to our seats before the bell rang. I was feeling gloomy that day and wished we hadn’t gone to the show but didn’t want to spoil the mood for the others.

Just before 9pm a red Volkswagen Caravella microbus pulled up on the parking plaza in front of the theatre. There were many parked cars otherwise the plaza was empty. About a dozen men jumped out and headed towards the main entrance of the theatre.
At the same time a Jeep Dodge and a Ford Transit stopped on the street leading up to the parking plaza. More men got out, moving fast. They also headed towards the house of culture.

In the meantime, during the intermission, behind the firmly shut doors of the toilet cubicles, young Chechen women were pulling black dresses over their jeans and colourful jumpers. They sat through the first half of the show as audience members.


Svetlana Gubareva:
We were back in our seats and the second half of the show started. The lights went down and I switched off my phone again. One of the first numbers of the second act was the dance of the pilots. It was a rather lively and uplifting tune.

Two dozen men in camouflage, with AKs in their hands and in facemasks marched into the empty theatre foyer. Seeing this harrowing sight the security guard escaped on foot.

8.55 pm
Marina Krylova, Floor manager:
As the floor manager of the musical, during the intermission I always do some work in my office. Almost right after the bell rang and the second half started, I heard an unusual amount of noise in the foyer. When I come out of my office I froze. Scores of men in face masks and camouflage, heavily armed were heading towards the auditorium.

Terrorists were moving in a quick, controlled manner. One group took the stairs to the second floor, while another proceeded towards the auditorium doors on the first floor.

Svetlana Gubareva:
I happened to turn my head and saw men in fatigues and with machine guns followed by women dressed all in black coming down the left aisle. Women had hand grenades and pistols. I only knew what a hand grenade looked like from war movies. Then I looked to my right and saw the same sight. As they moved down the aisle, women stopped at regular intervals. I counted nine on each side.

When terrorists appeared in the auditorium the orchestra was still playing. They couldn’t see anything down from the orchestra pit.
As the terrorists marched down the aisles one of them appeared on stage from the left wing. He held his machinegun high up in the air. When no reaction came from the stunned actors he yelled ‘Davai, Davai! ’ and fired a few shots into the ceiling, forcing bits of plaster fall onto the stage.

A very funny saying in Russia: If you have paranoia it doesn't mean that you're not being watched. I find it very amusing.

Cheesy, i know. )))

Would love some feedback on the book idea. I posted a bit of it.

Were Soviet people better than the people living in this country now, i sometimes wonder. They were more pure and kind perhaps, and had a certain set of morals that is absent now. They weren't so corrupted when it comes to the delicate issue of a human soul. Ideology was like a glue that held everything together, including spirituality (if i may) of the people. On the other hand the very same people turned a blind eye when a next door neighbor they celebrated birthdays with was taken away in the middle of the night and no one would have even went to comfort his fainting wife and crying children. If the soul wasn't corrupted, the mind was. Trying to go back to sleep the 'good' neighbor was probably thinking 'can't believe we though he was a decent guy'. Or might have been concerned that he'll be next. And one by one they went, men and women disappearing into the night, while the country applauded its own new achievements. The higher ideological, mythical even reality was more important than a human life. The image was all-marching and reporting on a daily basis about the harvest and a 'hero' who milked more cows that the others.
In 2009, the souls, at closer examination, are so empty there is an echo. And the minds are corrupted just the same. People, often innocent, are rotting in jail in preliminary custody; political assassinations are commonplace; old women are begging on the streets or selling the last they have-books and ceramic figurines. But what's really important to the Russian people is that Eurovision song contest is held in Moscow (and cost 40 million dollars that could have been much better spent) and everyone wants to make sure that the show is the most impressive (and expensive) in history. With Russians it's about ego and pride.
It has never been about anything more than an empty shell.

From my new book

***
Moscow 2007
Next time I came to Moscow I called Andrei and he asked if he could take me to dinner the same night. The puzzle of a man that he still was to me I knew by this point that he could never plan too far ahead. A day ahead even.
He picked me up around 9pm on his black BMW, in a grey suit and no tie. What bothered me was the Stechkin gun in a holster hanging off his belt. When he came out of the car to greet me I kept thinking ‘My god, people can see he has a gun’.
Over dinner at a fancy Moscow restaurant we talked about London and some other insignificancies, when he got a call.
‘Still at work?’ I asked, but he was already in a middle of a conversation, which I couldn’t hear a word of, even though I was sitting right next to him.
‘We have to go’, Andrei said putting the phone in his pocket. ‘Shall I take you home…or do you want to wait’.
‘I’ll wait’, I said, simply not wanting to let it end like this.

I sat on a top floor of some restaurant, not far from Lubyanka, having one coffee after another and a little wine, to numb the stupidity I felt. For three hours.
‘I’m outside’, I finally heard his voice on my phone.
A gang of stray dogs walked me to his car.

‘Can we now please go to your place?’ insistence in my voice more than a question. Damn, he will think I am a whore, went though my head. Or a spy.
He paused for a moment and started driving, in silence.
The elevator in the apartment block we arrived at was akin a swear word dictionary. When the elevator doors opened, leaving the gentleman manners aside, Andrei walked out before me. I was soon to get used to this since he always walked in and out of places first, few steps before me.
The apartment consisted of a room, a kitchen and a toilet.
A pile of training shoes in the hallway, a large bed and a TV in the bedroom/living room area was all there was. Empty fridge and a book on a toilet floor.

‘I have to fly out in three hours’ he said flatly.
An hour later he was packing, throwing things into a green sack. He pulled out a knife, of very light metal.
I took into my hands and before he swiftly grabbed it from my hands it left a thin red mark in the middle of my palm.
‘This was a gift from the Delta guys while I was out there. It’s made out of the meteor metal’.
We left his place around 1am.
‘Shall I take a cab’, I asked.
‘No. It’s on the way.’
The military airbase I learned later was only a few miles east from where I was staying.

***
Tambov prison. 2008.
Andrei was put in the cell with the former officers. The law forbids to put former officers in the cell with the suspected criminals. The mobile phones are sneaked in by the prison wards for an x amount of cash. The same wards would then raid the cells a few days later so that they can get poor relatives to pay up again. This, as well as other similar tricks, substituted their miniscule salaries. The food is miserable and towards late spring it became unbearably hot. But, at least we are able to communicate.

Sitting in a (surprise surprise) Starbucks on the upper west side. Noise. Verbal dust. Another coffee. How many have I consumed over the last 23 years? Well not exactly 23 because about 9 of those years were apple juice cartons and 4 were cans of coke and 3 were bottles of water as I was at the popular anorexic stage. So that totals 7 years of pure caffeine. I'll leave it at that.
There's a magazine on the rack called "Modern Dog". Is the owner supposed to read that to ensure they're dog is as modern as they are...or is the "modern" dog supposed to read it over doggy milk and doggy muffins to get the latest tips on designer collars and the lastest anti-flee spray? To be honest, I'd rather not know the answer to that question.
On my way to this three-billionth Starbucks, I was walking across the Lincoln Square plaza, armored in my shimmering bride-esque raincoat, my red curls (well not exactly curls but wanna-be ones) twirling in the breeze. A perfect Sex and the City portrait. And all the while all I could think was "I want my toothbrush back" from that man. Not because of heartbreak and the idea that if I come pick it up he might take me in his yoga arms and proclaim how much he's missed me. NO. I want it back for the simple reason that at this time I cant AFFORD another pink radius toothbrush like that. SO I deserve custody of the traumatized brush that has refreshed my teeth in this 7 week RELATION-SHIT. Allow me to be spiteful-I've just spent the last hour in the diamond district selling all the gold I own. Its a good time for gold. At least gold is having a good fucking time.

I will also make an appeal to both president Medvedev and president Obama, which for me might be that much easier. Formally.

I think Human Rights Organizations will have to get involved, because the way Andrei has been treated since a piece in The Independent came out about his/our story is despicable.