From Riga to Kiev

THEATRE: Before I proceed to Kiev, the capital city of Ukraine, I would like to record a very interesting and rather endearing incident that happened in Riga. It was the last night before we left Riga, Saturday, 27 March (1965) to be exact. We had, as usual gone to see a play, which was rather long and came back to the hotel, quite hungry and eager for dinner.

We were a little late than usual because we had gone backstage after the performance to congratulate and talk with some of the cast, which took a little more time.

It was the play called 'Let Him Go', about which I wrote last week. I must say I enjoyed this privilege of being allowed backstage, after a show, which I seldom had in Moscow or Leningard. People, including the actors and actresses, were much more 'homely' and amenable here in Riga and I was happy to take full advantage of the privilege.

Strangely enough, or perhaps it is not so strange, the actors and actresses were also very happy to be congratulated (especially by a visitor to their region) and they even hugged me and insisted on knowing more about Ceylon. All this took time.

So, when we got back we found that the restaurant doors were being closed and the staff were seen putting things away. My heart sank. I was really hungry. Here in Riga, one did not come across those rather elaborate food and beverages outlets that the Moscow theatres never failed to have.

So, there was no possibility of tucking something in during the intervals too, except an ice cream or a chocolate perhaps, if one was lucky to get to the booth early.

I simply accepted the fact that the hotel restaurant was being closed and suggested to Valya that we have a couple of biscuits and make ourselves a cup of tea and call it a day. Valya simply asked me to sit outside the restaurant and walked up to the door.

She tapped at the door and a waiter came up and peeped at the intruder with a frown. I could observe all this from my chair in the half light. Valya was standing very erect, totally unbowed by the displeasure of the liveried man and I could see her talking quietly and gesturing. Soon I could see one of the panels of the glass door open and Valya walked in.

She was standing very erect in the middle of the restaurant hall most of which had been cleared by now. She was obviously waiting for someone, most likely the manager of the restaurant.

I could see the pantomime quite clearly through the glass panels and I was rather enjoying this. I knew Valya would not give in easily. As I said at the very beginning, Valya was the modern Russian girl, absolutely sure of her rights.

She must have told the restaurant manager that we would be coming back for dinner and that perhaps we would be a little late. She knew her job well. She would never have overlooked such a detail.

Formidable

Sure enough, a heavily built man with a formidable moustache appeared and was seen gesticulating with his arms going up every now and then, but tiny little Valentina Yarmolova was not to be cowed down. She stood her ground, straight and firm ! Soon the glass doors were flung open and Valya walked up to me, unhurriedly.

She had that smirk of a smile in the corner of her mouth. "Come Gynery, let's go in and sit down for dinner...." was all she said. The lights in the restaurant - I mean all the lights - came on as we entered and the highly liveried, moustached man, obviously the manager or the chief chef of the hotel, himself showed us to a nice little corner table and bowed.

"I am the very sorry, Gaspadin from Tsylon..." he said apologetically, in his own English. "The lady from the Ministry nevvver tell me that you are verrry special guest from Tsylon. Please to wait a momenth Sir, and dinner will be sooon ready....!" I looked at Valya rather incredulously for that bit of 'verrry special guest', and all I got was a very telling wink !

That night we were served with the best dinner I had in the whole of the Soviet Union, with even a bottle of 'shampansky' thrown in -courtesy of the Chief Chef who also joined us in the table. We ate sparingly though, and drank even more sparingly, because early next morning we had to leave for Kiev.

And that was Valentina Yermolova, my new interpreter, of whom I will have much more to tell, later. Diary entry - Sunday, 28, March - "Left for Kiev by 9.45 Aeroflot plane. Our friend (by now) Dagmar Kimel accompanied us to the airport. Arrived in Kiev by 11.30. Two persons met us at the airport. Igor Shvedov, a playwright and another, a Director of plays. They brought us to the city. It is a beautiful city - sunny and hilly.

The river 'Dnipro' is even more beautiful. It seems to encircle the entire city. The bridge built over the river is a marvel to see. They say that this city was completely destroyed during the war and I am told that all the buildings are new. From their architecture they don't look new - perhaps they have retained some of the old architectural styles. We stay at the Dnipro Hotel situated in the centre of the city.

Permission

Discussed my program with Igor - I have his permission to call him by his first name. Saw a play called 'Pleton Crechet' at the Kiev Dramatic Theatre in the evening. A play about a doctor, his fellow doctors, patients and his girl friend. Well and quietly acted.

Went backstage after the performance. The players were as happy to meet and talk to a man from so far away, as I was, to talk to them and congratulate them. These are extremely polite, nice people...."

Diary entry - Mon. March 29 - "Our friend Igor is a playwright of seven plays. He is very proud about the fact but assumes a nonchalant manner when he speaks about it.

Over lunch he told us about his experiences in the war. Once, in Poland, he had been left for dead in a battlefield and awoken early in the morning, with the cold. In fact, says Igor, he has a grave with his name, in Poland which he had seen two years ago.

He is an interesting chap who likes to talk about himself and his work. (When we mention some other writer's name in his region he looks at us through his bushy eyebrows and says "Oh.... his talent is very little!) His moustache, long hair and his prominent nose help him to look rather like Maxim Gorky. Wen I mentioned this fact, he was very pleased but shrugged it away as if it meant nothing to him.

We saw one of his plays that night. It is about a Russian Agronomist going to America to study American methods and what transpires. The situations in the play are obvious though cleverly written and acted well. Here too we were allowed to go backstage and meet the players."

Diary entry - Wed. 31, March - "Visited the Central Palace of Culture in the morning.

A vast building with classrooms for ballet, singing etc. There are special halls for exhibitions and provision for indoor games.

The place was full of children participating in various competitions. Saw a children's ballet - 'The Kingdom of Wrong Mirrors'. The children danced with almost professional accuracy and confidence. The ballet itself was extremely entertaining. In the evening, another ballet - 'Spartak' at the Ballet and Opera Theatre.

As Valya said she was not too well, Igor and his daughter, Maika, accompanied me to the ballet. Maika speaks a little English and she explained the ballet to me as best as she could. It is a vast production with about 200 in the cast. For me the dancing and the whole effect was certainly as good as anything I had seen in Moscow."

Controversy

Diary entry - Thur. 1, April - "We were to be taken around the city, but the official car being under repairs, it was rather late when a whole bus arrived. Igor and his daughter joined us. We did see a little of the city with Igor saying at every turn that all these buildings were new and that the city was devastated during the war.

We were taken to a sort of 'Cave Museum' where several preserved mummies could be seen. Visited the Writers Union and met some playwrights and writers. It appears that here too there is a good deal of controversy and difference of opinion among writers. Some of these writers had met our greatest novelist, Martin Wickramasinghe, when he visited Kiev a few years ago."

"Ukraine is famous for her ceramics. In the morning I went out and bought a whole lot of ceramic souvenirs."

Diary entry - Fri. 2, April - "A long interview with a correspondent of a local newspaper and a magazine called 'The World'. He took pictures of the 1964 Times of Ceylon Annual special feature on Kuveni written by Ehsan Sourjah which, fortunately, I had with me. After lunch there was a meeting with the Ukrainian Republic Theatre Union.

Its president is a famous Ukrainian stage and film actress by the name of Natalia Usheviex - now an old lady. As usual they asked a lot of questions about theatre and allied arts in Ceylon. They gave me a present of a docket book of pictures of Ukrainian national dresses (they have a Victorian touch about them) and two little volumes of poems - in their language of course. Also a miniature ceramic tea pot.

Today, for the first time in my life I saw a snow storm. It is a wonderful sight - flecks of snow wheezing round in circles. The road was empty of people while it lasted."

Thought of the week

Gone are the days when Parliamentarians considered it is their duty to attend Parliament regularly. In the good old (not so past) days it was seldom that a minister or even an MP missed the sittings of Parliament.

I was not surprised at all to see that the President has warned his men and women that he would take serious action about MPs and Ministers who miss sittings. He has the right to do so because he was a regular attendee of Parliament during his time as MP, Minister and Prime Minister.

According to the President's findings some MPs have not attended sittings for weeks on end while some have spoken hardly a word even when they did. Perhaps some of them have hardly anything to say. This is like a principal of a school having to remind his students that they must attend school regularly! Of course, they are all there when there is a vote on a salary increase or some other perk like duty free luxury vehicles.

Talking of salaries some MPs had complained that some of their drivers carry home a bigger pay packet than theirs. In the next elections, they could of course opt to switch roles! The drivers and similar staff earn overtime, which MPs do not for attending weddings, functions, receptions and funerals etc. Perhaps our parliamentarians should claim overtime for such activities.

I remember with nostalgia figures such as D. S. Senanayake, Sir John Kotelawala, M. D. H. Jayawardhana, J. R. Jayewardene, Dr. N. M. Perera, Dr. Colvin R. de Silva, Pieter Kueneman, W. Dahanayake, T. B. Illangaratne, M. D. Banda, R. Premadasa and a host of other parliamentarians who considered attending parliamentary sessions as their bounden duty and never missed a session unless they were very ill or absent from the country. One could argue of course that nowadays most of the Ministers and MPs are 'out of the country' most of the time...

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