"Very Domestic And Loving, And Such Good Fun To Live With"

New Zealand Listener, Volume 6, Issue 139, 20 February 1942, Page 18

"Very Domestic And Loving, And Such Good

Fun To Live With"

In this article, adapted from "London Calling," PEARL BINDER, a well-known artist, recalls a happy holiday in Moscow when she stayed with an ordinary working-class family

SHOULD like to tell you about the Russian family I lived with at one time when I was in Moscow. I can only give you my personal impression, but they were, I think, typical of ordinary working-class families. Anyhow, this family wasn’t famous and distinguished in any way, but very domestic and loving and such good fun to live with. They lived in a small flat on Pokrovka, a lively and popular main street of Moscow. Like so many other Moscow families they had come to the capital from the provinces, in their case from Odessa, and they clung stubbornly to their own local dishes. Just as a Lancashire woman will insist on hot-pot when she lives in London so my family served

salt herring, boiled potatoes, and cranberry salad for breakfast every day. They Were Six There were six in the family, seven with me. First of all grandma (or babushka as they called her) who had lost her husband in the civil war. She was still in her forties, and full of vigour, a tiny rosy creature with sparkling dark eyes and a smile fuil of cunning. She did most of the cooking (and what a lot there was with those terrific Russian appetites to satisfy) and ruled everybody. Then there was her elder son, Michael, or Misha, who was my special friend because he knew a little English. Misha was a tremendous fellow, blond and brawny and very proud of ‘his biceps. He was a sailor in the Red Fleet, and a specialist in searchlights. He was twentyfive years old. The second son, Brosi, was

a shy quiet lad of eighteen. He was a chauffeur by trade and loved his lorry passionately, especially when there was engine trouble and he had to get underneath and tinker about with the machinery. But he also loved books and ways often to be found in a corner, oblivious of everybody, deep in a volume of Chekhov or Dostoevsky. He had read what English books he could in translation and spoke enthusiastically of Jack London and Charles Dickens. An Air-Minded Family The third of the family was the only daughter, Irina, a strapping handsome girl of twenty-two, always gay as a bird and quite able to hold her own physically with her tough brothers. Irina loved sports and had passed her final tests for sharpshooting with a rifle, swimming and jumping. She was learning parachute jumping and hoped presently to start learning to fly. Actually her husband, whose name was Alexander and whose pet name was-Sasha, was a pilot in the Red Air Force. He was intelligent and hard-

working and was making rapid progress. Misha regarded him with pride and longed to emulate him, but he wasn’t clever enough and couldn’t bear to sit studying all the evening when the snow was crisp for ski-ing or thé ice perfect for skating. Last of all came Irina’s little son, the idol of the family, Leonid or Leonka. He had golden curls, and the face of a cherub, but he was very tough and as naughty as all healthy boys of two and a-half. His mother and father were already making him air-minded by teaching him to jump into their arms from chairs, then tables, then quite high cupboards, He loved this and shrieked with delight as he took a header in the air; whilst grandma of course looked on in a panic and said what was this generation coming to, and that her adored husband had only once travelled in a train and then he hadn’t liked it much. lrina’s Birthday Party Russians are very sociable and very fond of parties. The happiest day I (Continued on next page)

HOLIDAY WITH A RUSSIAN FAMILY

(Continued from previous page) spent in the family was the day Irina was twenty-three. She had a lovely birthday party and twelve special friends came tramping up the winding stairs, each in best clothes, and each bearing a bouquet of flowers. There was the most tremendous buffet handsomely set out on the big table, for Russians don’t consider a@ party a success unless their guests eat:

far too much, Let me tell you what we had: there was caviare | (which isn’t a luxury in_ the land of the sturgeon), black caviare, and red caviare, lots of different cold meats and sausages, smoked salmon. and |

various other smoked fishes, great bowls of green salads, cucumbers in sweet pickle, cranberry jellies, mountains of sugary confectionery of the sort Mrs. Beaton set such emphasis upon in her earlier editions, candies of all kinds, and to drink there was red wine from the Caucasus and a very nice light lager beer brewed locally. This party was a success. After everything was eaten, Sasha brought out his guitar and Boris his accordion, and everyone began to sing, together and separately, and then went on singing for hours. Each person had to sing something, so I sang them one of our English songs, " Black-eyed Susan." They liked this so much that they at once adopted it into their own repertoire. "Chornushka Sussannah " they called it, and I have no doubt it is still being sung to this day, modified by being passed on and altered and added to as it circulates. They All Worked What fun we used to have in that flat. Every meal time turned itself into a party. Everyone talked and laughed and told his day’s adventures when we met for the big meal of the day, at about four-thirty, work usually finishing at four. CC |

They all worked-lIrina worked in a rope factory nearby, dropping Leonka at the local nursing school on her way to work -and earned good wages, and were constantly buying oddments for themselves and their flat. Grandma kept the flat scrupulously clean, and took a great pride in her starched white linen covers. It reminded me of home sometimes. They ate the mid-day meal in their factory canteen. After work and our big meal, we all went out together (Russians love being in a group), skating at the local rink at the corner of the boulevard, which had fairy-lights and a good brass band, or dancing at the Park of Rest and Culture. Often we went to the cinema, or better still to the theatre of ballet. Once Sasha took us to the Red Army’s own special theatre where his fellow aviators put on a charmingly produced operetta. But Sasha was studying French and trigonometry and all sorts or difficult subjects for his examinations, so often just Misha and Boris and Irina and I went out. They took me to all the art galleries and the museums too, as I am an artist

by trade, and they were interested in pictures, too, like all Russians. Rest days were apt to be an exhausting business for me, because the whole family, except grandma, was mad about sport. Sport, as we know it, is comparatively new in Russia, but young and old of both sexes have taken to it with enthusiasm. The Russians now play football very well; only in summer, however, as the bitter climate and deep snow make it impossible during the winter months. They also play netball, volleyball and tennis. The Red Army now plays polo; I believe it was the American Ambassador who suggested it to Marshal Voroshilov some years ago, and the idea

was taken up with great success. There are lots of gymnasia where instructors will help you to qualify for ‘a badge in swimming, running, jumping, and sharpshooting with a rifle. In summer time you can swim, climb mountains, go boating and yachting on the wide rivers and round the coast: In the winter you can skate, ski, or play ice-hockey. One of the most popular sports in Russia is parachutejumping. This was really meant as a first exercise in learning to fly, but it has developed into quite a separate branch of aeronautics, and when IL was last in Russia the newspapers were full of thrilling stories of delayed parachute descents and jumps from almost incredible heights (in oxygen masks). The girls came out every bit as creditably as the boys in these feats of endurance and skill.