Posts

I want to “return” to the story about Mama in this one-room apartment. All the same it was hardest for her. I have already written that she finished the technical school of light industry in Moscow, she sewed excellently, but, arriving in Kiev, she did not at once find work in her specialty and, of course, she had to earn extra, take orders and not only orders! She completely “clothed” us, two girls! After all in Soviet shops there was practically nothing! But there were fabrics. Mama knew how to buy and measure so much fabric that there would be no leftovers and it turned out, of course, housewifely, profitable. ...

So I decided to write a diary. I think I will write in parallel with the “khrushchoba,” that is with past life. As they sing in the song “the very best day dropped in yesterday…” What strange scales in our shower, combined with the toilet! For some reason they first show me the air temperature outside (I have already determined myself that it is hot), then a diagram of who knows what, suddenly the mysterious for me CO 2 lights up, then the percentage content of fats (whose? perhaps of those products that are in the refrigerator?). So what is this? Psychological preparation for my weight? Nothing of the sort! I think they determine the mood of the one being weighed and decide…. not to show the weight at all! “Well, to what lengths technology has gone!”

Of course I don’t remember in what year the World Cup was held in Brazil. The “Golden Goddess” cup was being contested. Our beloved KVN television, first issue, was set in the hallway on a high nightstand right opposite the door to the toilet combined with the bath, at a distance of half a metre (the width of the corridor was 1 m). This was the only place where one could watch television, sitting on a little homemade stool, with one’s head thrown back. ...

“Summer, summer, summer….” Hot summer in Kiev. I remember only hot summer. And…., of course, guests from the capital of “our Motherland.” Papa’s cousin Aunt Zina with a child of 6 and with her husband Misha. They came for a whole month on holiday to us in the one-room apartment. They announced by telegram: “meet the first Moscow–Kiev train, carriage …., 9 in the morning.” They announced their arrival “categorically”: We will come to you! That is, they “did not require” an invitation from us. Simply, we will come to you on holiday to rest. They did not worry much about how they would fit! “Let the hosts think!” And what will they eat? — “Well, in Kiev there’s plenty of fruit! — “For fruit you have to walk to the market or ride, not in empty public transport.” Now I think, how did my mama endure all this? ...

We moved into the khrushchoba in the summer of 1962. That khrushchoba house still stands there and I think a few old-timers still live there. It is located right opposite Glory Park in Kiev, where the obelisk to the Unknown Soldier stands. At that time the park was very cosy, “homelike,” and in their free time the inhabitants of our house could walk in the park. I remember one propaganda stand that stood at a side entrance to this park. Now they have put a little monument there of an exhausted hungry girl… so on this stand a diagram was drawn of the planned growth of the well-being of a Soviet family, starting from 1961–1962 and ending (graphically a family of three was drawn) ….. with 1980, the complete building of communist society! ...

My memories sometimes intertwine now with life in the apartment, now in the barracks. I think in the early 60s that generation of people who had survived after the war strove with all their strength for a peaceful, cosy life, and the piano, I would now call it, became a symbol of that peaceful life and of introducing the rising generation to art. After all they said so: if the child does not become a musician, at least he will play “for himself”! ...

Having moved into the apartment, I for a time dropped playing the piano. At that time neighbours were closely bound to one another, since they worked and served at one plant. Well, and of course the children were friends and were not friends. Following the example of my parents, some neighbours also bought pianos for their children (the Chernigov factory of musical instruments had begun to produce them). The plant club was next to our house, and I got the chance to learn to dance. The accompanist was an elderly man. His name was Karl Konstantinovich. ...

In this chapter I shall have to “return” to the barracks, because from there comes the beginning of my musical life. I was about 5 when my parents, and also Grandmother and Grandfather who lived in the Moscow region and relatives in Moscow, applying incredible efforts, bought a piano and sent it to Kiev. I remember well how I met, by the barracks, a truck in whose body stood an enormous wooden crate…. Can I now describe what I felt then? Joy, excitement, happiness, shock?! ...

Still, why did I end up in the kitchen? Most likely because in the room the place of honour was occupied by my beloved piano — the most valuable possession of our family! I think, by the chronology of events, this was the second valuable, naturally scarce, acquisition still when we lived in the officers’ barracks. “First place” among valuable acquisitions was occupied by a carpet! Mama called it Festival, since it was bought in 1957 in Moscow after the first Moscow International Festival of Youth and Students. ...

With what incredible force they pull me into that “happy far-off.” Of course happy! There was nothing to compare with, only with that barracks in which my early childhood passed. How was I to know that somewhere someone nearby lived better than we. And yet there were such people! Next to our plant house there were also “departmental,” as they were then called, houses of the Council of Ministers and the Central Committee of the Communist Party. With improved layout: dining room, bedroom, children’s room… And I knew only “my kitchen, which only at night turned into my personal room.” ...