Newspapers / Saint Mary’s School Student … / Feb. 1, 1982, edition 1 / Page 3
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FEBRUARY 1, 1982 THE BELLES PAGE 3 BEHIND THE DESK These are dark days in So- viet-American relationships, as leaders of both countries, old and backward-looking, cling to cherished notions about each country being “enemy” to the other. Re cently, I find that I spend per haps too much time thinking about my experiences in the USSR and what I learned about the people and their way of life. These reflections are intensely personal, re flecting perhaps more of my philosophy than the “real” world- of the USSR. Indulge me, as I remember. A TRAIN JOURNEY In my travels through the USSR, no trip taught me more about the country or the people than the one from Moscow to the Far East via the TransSiberian Railroad, as the Russians say, the “Sib erian Iron Road,” the longest train journey in the world. The train leaves daily during the summer months from the Yaroslavl Station in Moscow, a perfect copy of a huge gin gerbread house, complete with the incing. The friends who saw me off on August 19, 1975, were not Russian. Rather they were from Moldavia, one of the 14 Republics which the Rus sians have “liberated” to be come part of the Soviet Union, a country now with two and one-half times the land area of the USA. No one who travels to these Repub lics and talks with the people can ever confuse them with “Russia,” the main part of the USSR, called the Russian Federated Republic (RSFSR). The people ofthese Republics represent nation alities ranging as greatly in ethnic variety as Eskimos and Andean Indians. How Russianized my friends were! They spoke Russian, not their native Moldavian, followed the Russian custom of giving me flowers as a go- ing-away gift, and wished me well with typical Russian ex pressions. As a foreigner, I was able to buy a ticket for a two-place compartment although most cars contain compartments for four and even six persons. I was a bit apprehensive be cause compartments are as signed without regard to sex and I couldn’t really see shar ing a compartment with a strange man for the eight days that are required to complete the trip. I felt lucky when a Swedish girl 3P peared: however, an English girl near us was not so fortu nate. She stayed in our com partment most of the time. As the train pulled away from the station, I re^'zed that I felt some relief to be starting my n that country which Churchill described as an enigma wrapped in a PUZ^le inside a riddle (or some combinatio of those three terms!). I won dered if I would ever se these friends again. Many things are said so easi y partings: “See you again, o “Come to visit me m the USA.” These I had said, and they had played the word game with me, replying, “We’ll surely come to see you.” Although we all knew that they would not. This was not an occasion to speak of things we all knew but did not admit aloud, though inside I found myself shouting, “Don’t play the game, DO SOMETHING!” The train passes through the crowded suburbs of the great capital city of Moscow, to the forests beyond and climbs over the Ural Moun tains, where Siberia stretches over an area as large as the United States. The meadows, prairies, forests, bogs, cultivated areas, small villages and towns passed by to the con stant hum of the train as we passed swiftly over the well- maintained tracks. Complet ed the early part of this cen tury, during the reign of the last tsar, Nicholas II. the rail road provided then, and now, virtually the only link be tween Siberian settlements and the rest of the country. Siberia lies wholly within the RSFSR. The problems of governing such a vast ex panse of largely undeve loped country are over whelming. Indeed, Siberians live pretty much as they please, unhampered by many of the contraints that make life difficult for citizens in the more western parts of Russia. Life goes on here much as it has for hundreds of years. The people have lit tle and live simple and hard lives, working constantly to earn a living in the factories or on the harsh land. A look at a map of the Soviet Union shows the reason for many of their agricultural problems — the southernmost part of the country lies north of the 35th parallel. Most of Siberia is north of the 50th parallel. This explains, for example why fields of corn are culti vated in Siberia although most people have never seen an ear of corn — the growing season is too short for corn to mature. The plants are used as silage. Watching the scenes of dai ly life unfold as the days pass ed, I thought of the country side of the United States. How different it is! We do not see people carrying buckets of water on wooden supports held across the back, nor do we see people walking to work in large numbers. We do not see large numbers of peo ple, many of them old women, with baskets going into the woods to hunt mushrooms and berries for preserving against a shortage of winter food supplies. Though their decorative windows, vary, es pecially the wooden houses of Siberia have a remarkable sameness. To eyes accus tomed to the great variety of American houses, they can become quite boring. Several great hydroelect ric plants rise along the rail road, producing abundant electricity, though little is used by residential custo- Many thousands of logs can be seen moving down the riv ers, a natural form of trans portation for carrying them to the mills where they will be processed. One night I saw a disturb ing sight — the train schedule is calculated so that such areas are not passed in the daylight — many small huts, each with a light burning at the door, forming a com pound with a fenced area containing scattered towers along its expanse. I saw only this one example of what is referred to by the Russians as the “Gulag Archipelago,” a play on words that conjures up the idea of a string of pri son islands stretching throughout the land. How many stories had I heard about these? Could I believe my eyes? I wondered then, as I still do today, if I saw this with my own eyes or through those of the numerous ac counts I had read. I still ques tion my reliability as a wit ness of this place. The train, heavily loaded at the outset, was gradually relieved of its burden of equipment, mail, medical supplies, etc., as many stops were made. These are short stops, many of them as little as three minutes; indeed, the longest is only 20 minutes. They are all given on the schedule which is posted in certain areas of the cars and one of the pastimes of our group of three was to plan how we would use those pre cious minutes at the next sta tion. Would there be some food available to buy? (The greasy soup became thinner as the variety diminished alarmingly in the one restau rant car as the days passed. About half-way through the trip the supplies of spirits had been completely ex hausted!) What would these people look like? (We had seen Russian faces, round yellow Mongolian faces, dark faces — enchanting variety). What would the Soviet pass engers buy and do during the stop? (Mostly clad in the typi cal blue warm-up suits that they wear for all leisure ac tivities, they often did mild exercises on the platform. Most of them needed title food for they had brought al most everything with them. They knew some things that we didn’t!) There was never enough time to take every thing in. Pictures are forbid den in train stations and from train windows, so we were li mited to mental pictures. The peasants at the sta tions were friendly, as were the passengers, who re garded us as mild curiosities, since we seemed always to be walking from car to car, ask ing questions, commenting on the scenery, and in gener al getting into everything. The Soviets were much more reserved. I was somewhat calm after entering the last car on the train and finding it filled with military men who demanded to know why I was there. I simply pretended that I did not understand Russian and made a very fast retreat. At one point, in the Far East, the railroad is so near the Chinese border that the countryside can be seen in the distance. This region is heavily guarded and car after car is sidetracked, filled with the material of war. Seventy-nine stops after the ride began to Moscow, the train arrived, on time, in the city of Khabarovsk, where ev eryone must spend the night and take a guided tour. Here, foreigners are placed on a train bound for the port city of Nokhodka, on the Pacific, whilqrSoviets leave for Vladi vostok, which is closed to for eigners. When we reached Nakhodka, we had traveled approximately 9,000 kilome ters and crossed eight of the eleven time zones in this country where the sun liter ally never sets. All clocks in all stations throughout the country are set on Moscow time and all forms of inter city transportation run ac cording to this time. A travel er scarcely cares about the local time, but must know what the hour is in Moscow. This reminded me that there are local TV and radio sta tions in most parts of the USSR; however, all parts of the country receive Moscow TV and radio. The hotel room wherever one stays is tuned to Moscow. This is the only major pow er in the world that has kept its territory substantially in tact for centuries, and in the last 40 or so years, made addi tions. The vast natural re sources of the country are even now hardly imaginable. Great strides have been made in this century toward upgrading the lives of the people, although shortages of everything are a way of life. Yet, a great price has been paid — the lack of opportu nity for Soviet citizens to ex ercise personal freedom. This fact of life in the USSR is so evident to an American living there that it becomes overwhelming, almost con suming at times. The “aver age” Russian is like the “av erage” American — (s)he loves, worries about the fu ture, fears war, wants more material goods, cares for the children, and loves the coun try. But these are the power less, the great mass who live out their day-to-day lives without an opportunity to af fect governmental policy. Americans who refuse to be come involved in governmen tal decision-making might just as well be Siberian pea sants, deprived of this oppor tunity! From Nakhodka, travelers take a Soviet ship to Japan. When I arrived in Yokohama and got into a cab, I felt cool air although the day was rath er hot. I noticed this with somp amazement until I sud denly remembered that it is possible to air-condition cars. So began the process of my re-entry into the the high ly technological world of the most “developed” countries. Janice C. Coffey
Saint Mary’s School Student Newspaper
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Feb. 1, 1982, edition 1
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