Forgive me Father, for I have sinned. It has been seven months since my last post. I have had plenty of things to post on, but the mood just hasn’t pushed me into writing anything. Most of my posting ideas have had to do with what I believe is a tragic direction our country has taken since last February, and I just can’t bear to write about it or even use up badly needed brain cells on something I can do nothing about save expressing my complaints into the thin air of nothingness.
As most of my very few readers know, I have been behind the Iron Curtain for much of the year. A few things happened that are worth at least a small post, so here goes:
I was in Kiev recently and saw several small groups of protestors carrying Ukrainian flags with hand-written signs. There was even one group camped out in tents surrounding by flags and banners just across the street from the presidential administration building. So, finally, I asked my translator what they were protesting. He told me, “Whatever they are paid to protest for the day.”
Well, this was a surprise. Paid protestors who, if asked, don’t know why they are protesting other than earning the equivalent of $12 per day. Even the supposed Orange Revolution that swept the current president into office was, for the most part, a huge rent-a-mob project. Sure, there were some true believers, but most were there for the money along with a free pass to litter and add to the Ukrainian population nine months later.
As disillusioning as this was, it made me wonder if any of this takes place in the U.S. Are all our protests legitimate, or are they paid for? We know that, despite accusations of the opposite, supporters of Obama’s health care reform have been paid to attend Town Hall meetings to demonstrate support. What else has been paid for? Makes you wonder.
The other disillusioning event took place in Moscow. There are these underground walkways that go under major streets in Moscow. Some are so big that there are literally mall-like shops that sell almost anything you can think of. These underground walkways are also a good place to keep out of the weather and, as a result, attract people with their hats out for a donation. Some sing (often poorly) for a payment, others sell flowers and still more, mostly the elderly, just have a can out, hoping for any charity.
There is a woman I have passed by many times who looks at least 80 years old. She always has her eyes closed with a small can partially filled with change. Since the largest denomination of change is 5 rubles (approximately 17 cents), it seems she really doesn’t do very well.
The other day I was walking by her and was thinking of my daughter. I know, as the weather is beginning to turn cold here, Em would be sick over the prospect of this poor old woman fighting the weather and hoping to raise enough money for a loaf of bread. I had just gone to the ATM and so, in the spirit of my daughter, gave her 500 rubles (about $17). She was very surprised to feel something other than the metal of coin and looked down at the paper bill placed in her can. She opened her eyes, looked at me and said a prayer (for me, I suspect).
I felt good for the entire day and decided to share my charitable moment with some locals. They laughed at my naïveté. I wondered why these Muscovites were being so unkind about my act of kindness. Then they told me that nearly all these little old ladies stationed around the city work for an organized crime ring that takes the majority of the money from we foreign knaves who think we’re helping the elderly. In fact, I was told most of the money goes to the criminals and the old ladies get virtually nothing. Sort of takes the fun out of charity to know this.
OK, so life is a fulltime classroom and we get to learn something new everyday. Just wish the lifetime class syllabus didn’t come with more cynicism, because I’m pretty filled up with cynicism.
