Voices from Russia

Saturday, 5 March 2016

5 March 2016. A Blast From the Past… Black Russians… NOT an Oxymoron!

01d Black Russians Lyukman Rasakovich Adams

Lyukman Rasakovich Adams (1988- ), European Champion triple jumper, Russian Army officer, Master of Sport International Class

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One of the Cabinet asked me about “black Russians”… I’ve posted on them in the past. Read this on black Russians and this on the famous poet James Lloydovich Patterson. Remember this… Russia has a “one drop” rule… one drop of Russian blood makes you Russian… if you shed one drop of your blood for Russia, you’re Russian… if you join your life to ours, you’re Russian… full stop.

For instance, there were 16 American agronomists who revolutionised the cotton industry in Central Asia in the 1930s… why didn’t they work in America? It’s because they had black skin… the USSR welcomed them as competent experts and equal men, unlike the USA of its day. Negro intellectuals became Communists for the very same reason… the Soviets treated them like normal human beings. Paul Robeson found this out, too… which led to his persecution by the McCarthyite scum (do note that William F Buckley was a DEFENDER of that scumbag and his evil doings).

If you support Donald Trump, you support the kind of racism that led black people to embrace the Soviet Ideal. If you support Chilly Hilly, you support the same thing (with the difference that she showers favours on the black pols who pander to her and deliver black votes). If you want to embrace the vision of an America that’s fair to all people of all races, all creeds, and all national origins, you’ll “feel the Bern”… he’s the closest to the Soviet Ideal, in a good way.

Socialism is good… don’t listen to the naysayers… they’re either paid by the greedsters or are greedsters themselves… that is, they “have dogs in this fight”. Have a care… the times are evil…

BMD

Saturday, 7 June 2014

Pushkin’s Spiritual Dialogue with Metropolitan St Filaret Drozdov of Moscow: A Birthday Meditation

00 Poetic Dialouge of A S Pushkin and St Filaret Drozdov of Moscow. 07.06.14

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Editor:

Every so often, I do my best to translate poetry. It reminds me that it’s MUCH harder than doing straight prose. I’ve done my best to render the spirit of the poetry below. Excuse any infelicities, please…

BMD

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Pushkin:

Дар напрасный, дар случайный,
Жизнь, зачем ты мне дана?
Иль зачем судьбою тайной
Ты на казнь осуждена?

Кто меня враждебной властью
Из ничтожества воззвал,
Душу мне наполнил страстью,
Ум сомненьем взволновал?

Цели нет передо мною:
Сердце пусто, празден ум,
И томит меня тоскою
Однозвучный жизни шум.

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A chance gift, a vain gift,
Life… why art thou given me?
Why did mysterious fate
Condemn me to this penalty?

What pitiless power called me
From profound nothingness?
What filled my soul with longing,
Upsetting me with doubt?

For me, there’s no point:
With empty heart, with idle mind;
With weary melancholy
From life’s monotonous noise.

1828

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Philaret:

Не напрасно, не случайно
Жизнь от Бога нам дана,
Не без воли Бога тайной
И на казнь осуждена.

Сам я своенравной властью
Зло из темных бездн воззвал,
Сам наполнил душу страстью,
Ум сомненьем взволновал.

Вспомнись мне, забвенный мною!
Просияй сквозь сумрак дум,
И созиждется Тобою
Сердце чисто, светел ум.

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Not in vain, not by accident,
Did God give me life;
Nor will I be condemned to death
Without God’s mysterious Will.

I myself through wilful power
Called evil from its dark abyss,
Filling my soul with passion,
Troubling my mind with doubt.

I should remember what I’d forgot!
Pierce through my gloomy dark thoughts,
So that Thou canst give me
A mind that’s clear and a heart that’s pure.

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Pushkin:

В часы забав иль праздной скуки,
Бывало, лире я моей
Вверял изнеженные звуки
Безумства, лени и страстей.

Но и тогда струны лукавой
Невольно звон я прерывал,
Когда твой голос величавый
Меня внезапно поражал.

Я лил потоки слез нежданных,
И ранам совести моей
Твоих речей благоуханных
Отраден чистый был елей.

И ныне с высоты духовной
Мне руку простираешь ты,
И силой кроткой и любовной
Смиряешь буйные мечты.

Твоим огнем душа согрета
Отвергла мрак земных сует,
И внемлет арфе Филарета
В священном ужасе поэт.

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In hours of amusement or idle boredom,
Once upon a time, I used to strum
Upon my lyre the soft sounds
Of foolishness, indolence, and passion.

Then, without volition, the crafty strings
Stopped me in my tracks
When your majestic voice
Suddenly struck me.

I poured forth streams of unwilled tears,
It struck my conscience to the quick.
The balsam of your fragrant words
Was as welcome as the resin’s savour.

Now from a spiritual height
You hold out your hand to me
With meek and loving strength
To still my restless dreams.

Your soul’s fire warms my soul,
Rejecting gloomy earthly vanities,
The poet listens to Filaret’s harp
In a state of holy awe.

1830

Friday, 6 June 2014

6 June 2014. Hey, Hey, Hey, It’s Pushkin’s Birthday! 215 Years Ago Today!

vasili-tropinin-portrait-of-aleksandr-pushkin-1827

A Portrait of Aleksandr Pushkin

Vasili Tropinin

1827

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Aleksandr Sergeyevich Pushkin… what can one say? He’s the father of the Modern Russian Literary language… he was the pioneer, the trailblazer. What more can one say? He’s THE towering figure in Russian poetry, and few match him in Russian literature. His matrilineal great-grandfather, Abram Gannibal, came to Russia as a slave from Africa, but rose to be an aristocrat. That means that he had African blood in his veins… what’s wrong with that? According to the American “one drop” rule, that made him a “nigger”… according to our Russian “one drop” rule, it made him one of us, and honoured at that. I seem to notice a difference (and Anglo Americans look down their noses at us and call us “inferiors”, fancy that). However, A S Pushkin was a poet… let’s have some poetry…

BMD

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Awakening

O dreams, O dreams,
Where are your delights?
Oh, where are you,
The joys of night?
The joyous dream
Is vanished,
And in a deep darkness
I woke up
Alone.
The deathly-still night
Surrounds my bed.
The dreams of love
Grew cold in a moment,
And flew away
As a flock of birds.
But my soul
Is still full of desires,
And catches
The memories of a dream.
O love, O love,
Listen to my prayers,
Send me again
Yours sweet visions,
And in the morning
Let me die
In ecstasy
With no awakening.

1816

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The Prophet

I dragged my flesh through desert gloom,
Tormented by the spirit’s yearning,
And saw a six-winged Seraph loom
Upon the footpath’s barren turning.
And as a dream in slumber lies
So light his finger on my eyes,—
My wizard eyes grew wide and wary:
An eagle’s, startled from her eyrie.
He touched my ears, and lo! a sea
Of storming voices burst on me.
I heard the whirling heavens’ tremor,
The angels’ flight and soaring sweep,
The sea-snakes coiling in the deep,
The sap the vine’s green tendrils carry.
And to my lips the Seraph clung
And tore from me my sinful tongue,
My cunning tongue and idle-worded;
The subtle serpent’s sting he set
Between my lips—his hand was wet,
His bloody hand my mouth begirded.
And with a sword he cleft my breast
And took the heart with terror turning,
And in my gaping bosom pressed
A coal that throbbed there, black and burning.
Upon the wastes, a lifeless clod,
I lay, and heard the voice of God:

“Arise, oh prophet, watch and hearken,
And with my Will thy soul engird,
Through lands that dim and seas that darken,
Burn thou men’s hearts with this, my Word”.

1826

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Remembrance

When the loud day for men who sow and reap
Grows still, and on the silence of the town
The insubstantial veils of night and sleep,
The meed of the day’s labour, settle down,
Then for me in the stillness of the night
The wasting, watchful hours drag on their course,
And in the idle darkness comes the bite
Of all the burning serpents of remorse;
Dreams seethe; and fretful infelicities
Are swarming in my over-burdened soul,
And Memory before my wakeful eyes
With noiseless hand unwinds her lengthy scroll.
Then, as with loathing I peruse the years,
I tremble, and I curse my natal day,
Wail bitterly, and bitterly shed tears,
But cannot wash the woeful script away.

1828

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Monday, 10 February 2014

A Multimedia Presentation. Being Black in Moscow… And More… It’s Black History Month

pushkin

It’s Black History Month… here’s a gallery of REAL Black Russians… don’t forget, Pushkin had African blood in his veins (racist American Southerners would’ve considered him “black” for that reason, according to their “one drop” rule)! All Russians know that (and we DON’T hold such against him, no siree… the Church and the Party both FIGHT racism and bigotry, unlike American Radical Sectarianism and the Republican Party). Pushkin was the greatest poet in the Russian language and the Father of Literary Russian… that’s all that one can say…

Black Russians enriched and enrich our people… they’re blood of our blood, bone of our bone, soul of our soul… as it was, as it is, may it always be so…

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01 Vasili Ivanovich Krima

Vasili Ivanovich Krima (1972- ), a native of Guinea-Bissau, settled in Russia after earning a degree from Volgograd State Pedagogical University. He and his wife, Anait, who is of Armenian descent, have a son. He ran for local office in Volgograd Oblast

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01b Black Russians Yelena Khanga

Yelena Abdulyaevna Khanga (1962- ), television presenter and journalist

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01c Black Russians Jean Gregoire Sagbo

Jean Gregoire Sagbo (1962- ) (left), Bénin-born Russian local official in Novozavidovsk (Tver Oblast)

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One of the most classic films of Soviet cinema,  Цирк (Tsirk: Circus) was about an American circus performer who went to the USSR because Americans treated her badly because she had bore a mixed-race child out-of-wedlock. The above scene is the most famous. Clearly, this is one of the masterpieces of world cinema; it remains popular and well-known in Russia to this day. If you’d like to see the whole movie, click here

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00 Ermengeld Konovalov. 10.02.14

Ermengeld Nikolaevich Konovalov (1937-94), Soviet cinema and theatre actor, mime, playwright, and director 

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01d Black Russians Lyukman Rasakovich Adams

Lyukman Rasakovich Adams (1988- ), European Champion triple jumper, Russian Army officer, Master of Sport International Class

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President Vladimir Putin gives a short (but real) speech outlining our Russian Spirit (with English subtitles)… it’s why Black Russians are OF our people… not with our people. All races, all religions, that’s Russia for us! It’s why Russia will prevail over the greedster Americans…

Multiculturalism is a GOOD thing… mistrust all who hate it…

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01e Black Russians Viktoria Pierre-Marie

Viktoriya Pierre-Marie (1979- ), jazz singer and professor of the fine arts

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00 Grigori Siyatvinda. 10.02.14

Grigori Devidovich Siyatvinda (1970- ), cinema and theatre actor, Honoured Artist of Russia, winner of the State Prize of the Russian Federation

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Here’s the full version of How Wide is My Motherland (Широка страна моя родная: Shiroka strana moya rodina) (with English subtitles)… Russia’s for ALL of us… or it’s for none of us. No one is forgotten… Nothing is forgotten…

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01f Black Russians Nkeirouka Ezekh

Nkeiruka (Kira) Khilarievna Ezekh (1983- ), International Master of Sport in curling and Software Engineer 

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01g Black Russians Emilia Turey

Emilia Khalsberievna Turey (1984- ), silver medallist at the 2008 Beijing Olympics in handball, Honoured Master of Sport…

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00e James Patterson. Moscow. 13.06

James Lloydovich Patterson (1933- ) signing autographs at a Moscow literary party in 1975 (he was the child actor in the clip from Tsirk above)

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01 Gamover Zaitsev

Anton “Gamover” Zaitsev (1969- ) (left) with his sidekick Boris “Bonus” Repetur (1958- ). They’re two of the most popular game-show hosts on Russian TV

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Original Author’s Foreword:

Now, don’t get me wrong, I’m as white as a fine line of Siberian cocaine. However, I do have a swole black friend who’s living the “Moscow dream” too. I decided to ask him to do a guest post on what it’s like for him in Moscow. So, big thanks to R and enjoy the post.

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Well, obviously, I can’t speak for everyone who’s dark-skinned (and by “dark-skinned” I don’t mean people from the Caucasus, commonly called “dark”, I mean people of African descent) in Russia. Anyway, here’s some feedback from my point of view on what it’s been like so far. Overall, Russia’s been good to me, Moscow more specifically. I’ve been here for over two years and had my share of odd situations. I guess, to be black in Russia is no more different from being a midget, in the sense that you stand out somewhat. When I walk down the street or am out and about, I get looks, but not all bad. In fact, most of them are not. For example, when I ride the metro, I can generally tell what type of looks I’m getting from people. You can easily stare down or ignore the occasional person who projects hatred, you can answer the standard questions asked by elderly folks or youth with courtesy and sometimes humour, and the pretty girl smiling at you gets one right back if she isn’t with a big Russian guy.

I’ve had people who openly refused to rent me a flat because I was black, but I’ve also had jobs offered to me specifically for the same reason, so… it balances out. My experience with the ladies has been the same… 50-50. I understand it’s really all about likes and dislikes, opinions, and the stereotypes that help form, shape, or influence them. I’ve met girls that associated their favourite music television hip-hop R&B songs or artists and the American black guy they just met. Sometimes, it’s funny because they think that I’ll talk, walk, or act a certain way based on the music videos they’ve seen. They sometimes refer to blacks as “exotic”. I’ve gotten the notorious “face control” at clubs and restaurants, but on the other hand, I’ve been pulled onstage, given recognition from Russian Disc Jockeys and given VIP passes, all for the same reason. Speaking the language helps, as most people who approach me, be it at the gym or in the street, are generally just curious and tend to ask similar questions, such as:

  • “How long have you lived in Russia?”
  • “Are you an African student going to University here?” (I’m American, but almost no one ever guesses that unless I’m talking English)
  • “Do you like Russian women?”
  • “Do you have a Russian girlfriend?”

After learning that I’m American, I get the other standard questions. You know them, “Do all Americans like McDonald’s?” and others along those lines. I can get into more details about a range of things, but I just wanted to give a little feedback about what it’s been like for me. Personally, I love it.

2009

England-Moscow.com

http://www.england-moscow.com/2009/10/being-black-in-moscow.html

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