On Tuesday, August 16th we will have a visit from Germany. Christian F. and Tobias Sch. from the University of Jena are traveling through Southeast Europe as part of Jena’s application for the Center for the Future of German Unity and European Transformation, with Czernowitz being one of the stops. We have an appointment to meet at the university. I’m happy, otherwise foreign guests from our academic partner institutions rarely come to Chernivtsi. Christian’s first question relates to the inscription on the large “banner” hanging on the gate. “Shelter” means that, I say, and first of all I lead my guests into our shelter under the main building of the university.
Then we sit down to talk, before we start I warn them both that I’m on “duty” which means that in case of an air raid alarm I have to make a phone call and then stand in front of the basement entrance to watch the people going there to steer if necessary. In addition to the employees, several high school graduates and their parents are in the building, and there are regular tours. The air alerts are no longer ignored. Since two Russian rockets hit two university buildings in Mykolayiv, our rector has ordered that you go to the shelters, otherwise you will receive a warning. The sirens actually wailed ten minutes after the start of the conversation. Let’s go. My colleague O. kindly takes over the role of driver, so the Germans and I can continue the conversation underground. The university has now set up ten shelters, which were assessed as suitable by a commission from the regional military administration – a measure required for face-to-face teaching, which is to take place again from September 1st.
Our German guests seem to be quite impressed – it was their first interview in the bunker
Our shelter sometimes looks bizarre. It consists of several rooms. In one there is a table tennis table, the range of games is used with pleasure. In one corner is a large dusty artificial houseplant. Tobias and I sit in front of it, Christian takes photos. Shabby walls complement this unique setting. In the room next door there is an old carpet on the concrete floor. Our protective basement was designed by the caretaker, who has rather peculiar ideas about the aesthetics of the room. We argue sometimes – like when he’s trying to convince me that our office would definitely benefit from a carpet he has to sell. But basically he is a friend of ours and a good caretaker. In contrast to his predecessor, who swiped a lot of things that moved, the current one hoards everything and always has an open ear for our concerns. He studied and spent much of his life in Leningrad (He does not say St. Petersburg), retired to his hometown and has been working at the university for several years. A few days after the war broke out, he stopped by to announce that he had now “unfriended” his last Russian Facebook friend. His reasoning cannot be quoted here.
After half an hour the all clear is given and we go back upstairs. Our German guests seem to be quite impressed, after all this was their first interview in the bunker. We talk for a while, also about our ideas for the future, then the guests say goodbye. And then I get a “greeting” from the past, sent to me by my friend O., who finally managed to go to the archive for her research. It is a snapshot of the life of our northern neighbor who is trying by all means to pull us back into his zone of influence. I read the story and translate for my colleagues so we can laugh together; I don’t want to withhold it from the German readers either. The text comes from the German-language newspaper Chernivtsi Deutsche Tagespost January 14, 1930: “The following nice story is told from Moscow: On the occasion of New Year’s Day, the Kremlin rulers wanted to give their subjects a little treat. They decided to give the residents of Moscow two eggs per person. After hours of queuing in endless rows, the excited one came The population also actually received this New Year’s gift. – However, their surprise was great when they discovered that each egg bore a beautiful blue stamp, the laconic inscription of which in German contained the word ‘back’. It turned out that these eggs came from Moscow at the time had been exported to Berlin, where, however, the accurate Germans had determined that the eggs were inedible. They therefore stamped the eggs with the abovementioned mark and promptly sent them back to Moscow.” A perfect illustration of the fact that the Kremlin rulers have always considered their “subjects” (what a correct word, Heinrich Mann sends greetings) for people of the second (or maybe 22nd) class. We are currently fighting against this as well. We are all happy to leave rotten eggs as a gift from those in power to our subjects and prefer to do without any gifts.
Read more episodes of this column here.