First chapter of the story.
Audio at the bottom.
Chapter {1}
{Clean Porcelain Toilets}
The sad tiny little hands of Misha hurt, he's hopelessly trying to mop the wet floor with all of his strength. He's naively just trying to help Grandma however he possibly can. In reality he is not meant to be doing this, because he’s just merely five years old. At such young and tender age, he already knows the harsh and cruel truth of rock bottom poverty.
Every single day in the morning when he wakes up, he hopelessly looks at Grandma with those innocent gray eyes. His tearful sad eyes, he’s unconsciously asking her a question, “Why me?” A complicated question without a simple answer.
Grandma doesn’t really know how to respond to this precarious and silent interrogation. Deep inside her kind soul, she unquestionably understands that he doesn’t deserve this most unfortunate fate. All she really knows is that they are both survivors, life is their daily struggle and ill-fated calamity. It’s all part of their very own Greek tragedy, in the cold and harsh Motherland.
This is not a place for the weak, only the strongest have the rightful and elementary privilege to thrive. Darwin’s rules completely apply here in Mother Russia, natural selection at its best, and its worst. The stronger man will mercilessly and undoubtedly step on the weak. Puny crunchy little insects, just being crushed by someone’s boot.
This is the fate of the many, and ours as well.
Hello Motherland, fuck you but no thanks.
Grandma Mary is a low-class maid, she cleans the houses of wealthy people in Rublevka. There is nobody to take care of little Misha, for that reason he has to accompany her every day to work. She cleans the porcelain toilets of, “The filthy rich and powerful,” as she calls them. Grandma Mary is the sole guardian and protector of Misha, they only have each other in the world and nobody else.
It’s a miserable and sorrowful existence, without scape.
Their daily pitiful life is a constant battle, she’s barely able to pay the rent and to put some food on the table. Working for the, “Rich Pigs,” is just not good enough, wealthy people are usually greedy and heartless beasts. There is not one drop of compassion in their cruel and animalistic hearts.
A beast in the wilderness of the Taiga, devouring its own offspring, might have a kinder heart than these cruel and heartless, “Rich Pigs.” Tormenting the innocent, it’s their priceless hobby. To see us suffer in our endless wretchedness and despair. Curse them all to hell.
Mary’s daily routine, consist of very long workhours, sometimes without breaks. Her old back hurts so much, she secretly yearns for a peaceful death. Fortunately for Misha, she knows that she cannot die just yet. She must live for him, because he desperately needs her. A young and innocent sweet boy, with no guilt in this ongoing tragedy. His only wish, to have a place to sleep and at least some warm soup in his empty belly.
She knows that, she is his only hope and salvation in this cruel world. The mediocre salary that she earns is never enough, just the bare minimum to not be homeless. The lack of money has forced her to work at the weekends. On Saturday she bakes delicious apple and pear pies to sell on the street. Her rustic pies are absolutely delicious and they usually sell quite well, just another source of income. Still, it’s not enough.
Many of her loyal customers know about her tragic situation. Occasional pity brings her good luck, in the form of a few extra coins as tips. Raising little Misha has always been difficult. He's a growing boy, and he needs a lot of things. Particularly food, his empty stomach is always growling for food.
Regrettably, some days there is almost nothing eat, perhaps some dry and old bread. These are the leftovers from the bakery, the owner is a very kind man indeed. He’s kind enough to pity the poor and to feed them with old stale bread. Compassion for one another has never been a popular thing among humans.
Luckily there is always black tea to drink. You can actually reuse a teabag up to five times, you just need to let it dry after each use. One tea bag can last up to one week, depending on how cleverly it’s used. In some rare cases, when there is certainly nothing to eat, teabags are a savory delicacy saved as a last resource. Sprinkle some salt on them and enjoy them with gusto. There's got to be some calories in there.
Starvation and famine are not something new for Grandma Mary. This intense and painful despicable feeling inside her empty stomach has been part of her life many times before. When she was around the same age as Misha, she remembers the time after the Great Patriotic War.
The land was completely devastated, everything was dead all around. Obviously not even crumbs of bread were to be found, the people had to cleverly survive. She remembers eating this utterly disgusting soup made out of tree bark, it was bitterly repugnant. Seasoned with grass and probably dirt, who knows what else. Dead trees and dry grass were the only things left after the Great War. Pain and sorrow caused by greedy megalomaniacs, the filthy rich again. Everything is their fault, curse them all.
The second time that Mary experienced constant hunger was around the 80s. The Soviet Union was in its so called prime, a world power under constant threat from external influences. The basic survival of the nation depended on portraying a charade of what it was not, strong and stable. To the world the country looked dangerous, menacing and proud. The reality was something much more worthless and pathetic.
The totalitarian system in place combined with a lack of resources, created the perfect Petri dish for a dismal calamity in the making. Before the great and proud superpower would crumble to pieces, it all started with food rationing and queues. Grandma Mary remembers, the long endless lines outside the stores. Everybody was standing there for days, just to get a loaf of bread and some butter. This is how you bring a superpower to its knees, by starvation.
Remember The Fall of Constantinople?
The great and final seven week siege, that brought down the mightiest city on earth. Not catapults nor horses, it was starvation and isolation what brought down this great city. At the end of the siege the brave warriors inside the walls, just surrendered, because they had no more food nor will to fight.
Cowardice and hunger, can bring down the mightiest.
The Soviet Union was already an isolated territory, just add starvation and the empire starts to crumble. During this period of strict rationing in the 80s, hunger is a very familiar feeling to everybody in the country. Low morale and resent add more flavor to the boiling pot of Borsch.
Once, Mary was in line for one whole week trying to get some butter. It could rain and it could snow, nothing would stop her from getting her precious calories in the form of fatty butter. A spoon of butter a day is what stopped her from losing her mind. The thin line between death and survival, could be crossed any moment. Her fellow citizens, like always were very cruel to each other, it’s was not an uncommon sight to see them fighting on the street over an old dry loaf of bread.
Mary, would usually go without food for weeks at a time. She could only drink water, and if lucky a spoon of fatty salvation. Her daily gaze on the mirror disgusted her deeply, she looked like a skeleton. Nothing but bones and some skin hanging. Her stomach and digestive system apparently had stopped working. She could only go to the toilet once a month, it’s a miracle that she survived during this period of long famine.
The third time that Mary experienced long starvation was during the Perestroika. The soviet Empire is finally collapsing and crumbling in to pieces of nothing. The great movement of young people that want freedom and democracy is the last drop. Law and order would soon cease to exist, bringing a decade of dysfunctionality. Ironically in all this chaos, there is far more food now, than when the Soviet Union existed.
Mary doesn’t experience hunger on a daily basis, but still food is very scarce. At least now everybody is absolutely free to democratically elect the new leaders of the nation, the only price to pay is absolute chaos and hunger.
Yes indeed, delightful freedom.
“A very small price to pay for democracy.” As the fat Americans would say.
It’s very easy to watch tragedy unfold, if you’re far away not getting your hands dirty, and also personally not involved. It’s all peaches and cream while you’re sitting on your fat ass in front of the television. Splattered guts and blood don’t even leave stains, when it’s all inside the magic box. It’s all a brainless exercise.
The Perestroika brought all kinds of new opportunities for the oppressed citizens. Mostly illegal businesses, the rule of law doesn’t exist anymore. People were literally killing each other on the streets, without anyone to stop it. No police nor functional army in place, the perfect place for wild beasts to eat their guts out.
Unluckily for Mary, she is too morally righteous and honest for her own sake. She’d probably rather die than to ever commit a crime. During the harsh times in the 90s, she worked in a street market. She had her own little informal business selling second hand clothes, and also repairing them. Tailoring is always a handy skill, especially when clothes are necessary to last many years.
The market was bluntly placed in the middle of a huge avenue in the center, cars just wouldn’t go there anymore for several reasons. There was not enough gasoline to go around, the streets were too dangerous to drive, and cars were just too expensive to keep. Surprisingly, this small informal market thrived for some time. A small oasis in hell, the country was slowly rotting away in to oblivion.
Crime was rampant everywhere, someone or something had to bring order to this senseless chaos. This is where organized crime filled a vacuum left by the government. The market was managed by several street gangs, each gang owned a particular piece of the market. This was a very thriving, “Racketing Business,” for the gangs.
As absurd as this might sound, Mary had to pay her, “Protectors,” an astonishing 60% of her profits. She paid that money for her safety, and to avoid other criminals from stealing her clothes. Or even worse, her small business could suffer an attack by rival gangs, the police, competitors, or her dear protectors. It’s all just too absurdly complicated, Mary is again struggling in life, and she is hungry.
The countries, places, people, and even rules are different, but times just never change. All that Mary knows is a harsh existence where daily pain and suffering are just part of her ordinary life. The feeling of emptiness in her stomach, the pain inside her guts, they mean nothing. Not anymore, it’s all the same to her. The only good thing that she’s ever known, is Misha. Her love for Misha is her very own redemption for a sin that she never committed.
She is just a nameless victim of history that no one will ever know, nor remember. Throughout her life, she always wanted something good, something better. Cruel destiny never listened to her plea, is life really a series of worthless and merciless events? She doesn’t understand anything, all she wishes for is to die, and to end all of this.
Though she cannot.
The only truth she knows for sure is that Misha needs him, she is his only hope and savior. She cannot leave him, just not yet. Grandma Mary will protect him with all her mighty strength from this evil and cruel world.