#6405
#13 - JRL 6404
From: "Peter Calder" <petercalder@mtu-net.ru>
Subject: Remont
Date: Wed, 14 Aug 2002
My Dear Girls,
In your recent letters you asked about the meaning of this 'REMONT' word and sought further explanation of what was involved.
So this is the story.
'Remont,' in Russian, means 'repairs' and it is an extremely useful word and has wide and constant application.
It can be used flexibly as either a verb or a noun. Mostly it is used as an excuse. It can explain away all manner of mishaps, misadventures and miscellany. It is as easily applied to a trolley bus as to a leaking tap.
It explains the reason for arriving late or failing to arrive at all. Mention the word in a variety of circumstances and it is sufficient to say no more, all will be understood or, if necessary, forgiven.
Here they are presently remonting all over the place with a surprising degree of diligence. Roads, bridges, buildings and similar classes of assets are all receiving attention. Perhaps at last some of those IMF millions have inadvertently found their way into the correct bank account.
I can quote you a very local practical instance of what the actual process can entail and the manner in which it is executed.
About 4 weeks ago painters suddenly appeared at the entrance hall of our apartment building. Some said this was a good sign and was a promise of better things to come. Christ knows, the painting was badly needed. Others said it was an omen for the worse and predicted that if the painting went ahead then some major or minor disaster would befall our collective residential lot and it would far overshadow any benefits derived from stray visitors in painter's garb.
On the benches outside our entrance, there is an ever-present panel of grandmothers who sit in judgement of the world and all who occupy it. Here in this court, all nature of things are debated, discussed and deliberated upon. Reputations are destroyed or enhanced, plans and promises are made and broken, but mainly the time of day is passed in a geriatric and relatively harmless sort of way. The opinion of this forum was that if the distant authorities had selected our building for a turn of unsought remonting, then at some future date, for example in the middle of winter, we would be remembered. We would be remembered when load shedding was needed or when the central supply of water was failing, and then we would be called upon to pay our dues. Then all those who had welcomed this gratuitous remont would have cause for regret and review. There would be no grounds for formal complaint as it would be there on the record that we were the earlier beneficiaries of a generous remont. Complaints would be futile and even considered as a demonstration of ingratitude. This is the Russian mind at work in its most sober and historic way.
On day one they did a casual survey of the vestibule and the walls of the stairwells. Their passage was marked by apparently random applications of plaster to areas of their professional interest. The main result of this preliminary intrusion was to leave a large amount of plaster on the stairs and passageways. This material evidence of their labours readily adhered to footwear and was walked into flats up and down the building, blending into the warp and weave of many carpets with disagreeable ease.
A lapse in activity then followed and it appeared that the project had been shelved for want of perseverance. Suddenly they were back and applied themselves to the ceiling, this time with a full application of a lean mixture of white wash. This dilute covering was inclined to gravitate down the walls and drip all over the floors and those who were applying it. The net effect was worthy of some surrealist landscaper's experimentation.
I imagine that many an unsuspecting homecoming drunk from our lot, ended up wearing clothes of a different colour after clinging to the walls for upward support. Again all and sundry walked the mixture throughout the building. From our entrance, down the path and to the street, you could track the comings and goings of many pairs of white painted soles. This earthly procession of prints remained for days until a moderate fall of rain erased the various trails from view.
Here a digression is called for, as the painters themselves deserve a mention in the interest of temporary posterity.
I chanced upon these artisans early in the programme's course and was duly impressed. It appeared to me that it was a mother and daughter combination, perhaps as master and apprentice, never mind, just the two of them. Although the outside temperature was an even zero, they were lightly clad in rough working clothes. Perhaps the layers of paint that were adsorbed to their working apparel had some special insulating effect and they were thus impervious to the cold. I felt slightly ashamed of my various layers of woollens as I passed them by. This pair, even clothed as they were, faces and hands covered in whitewash, held a strange attraction for me. They reminded me of a pair of made up actors from some strange and primitive stage production. Faces ghastly white, but looks and features unmarred by their accidental makeup.
The mother was comfortably in the mid forties, slim and graceful, with easy, casual movements. Her hair was gathered under a rough scarf and not even the industrial cosmetics could detract from her attractive Slavic features. A cigarette hung casually from her mouth as she wielded her long handled brush, which was more broom like than brush like. Her strokes were long and even but lacking of some respect for precision, as the paint was generously applied. The daughter was of similar build and perhaps half her age, but her features were more finely cast She had an impish air that invited challenge but I offered none other than a formal greeting. They surveyed me with a bemused condensation that made me feel a slight inadequacy of presence. They had about them a sort of appealing nonchalance that did not affect their proficiency with their crude implements of trade. Their manner was light and carefree and their casual chatter had a sort melodic touch that put me in mind of some forgotten scene from a gypsy musical.
It is of interest to note, that here in Russia, this type of work is frequently done by women. Perhaps the Russian male lacks the finer touch for this sort of employment. Perhaps it is below his dignity or maybe beyond his competence. The point is that these labouring women bring to these manual jobs a certain dignity, which cannot fail to impress. To me they invariably hold the same appeal and I could well imagine these poorly paid and crudely dressed women, strutting the catwalks in finer fabrics and better surroundings.
Over the course of the next several days the speed of the work seemed to increase and each day more progress was made until the time of the final application to the walls. Here the civic custodians of our block, untroubled by any consultations with the inhabitants, had chosen a shade of green that is more commonly found upon the walls of railway toilets or perhaps the restraining rooms of pschyiatric hospitals. This paint was notable, not only for its depressing hue, but additionally, for its pungency of odour. It smelt as though it was a by product of some illicit still and the fumes that it emitted could well have induced intoxication of a pathological kind. You could detect the whiff of it from out in the street and the hallways and stairs were redolent with it.
An additional feature of this green stuff for walls, was the drying time involved. It seemed to remain wet and sticky to the touch for days. Again I have a mental image of the homecoming drunks and the observations of their wives.
It is not exactly clear when and where this remonting business will end. Perhaps it is already completed, even though the project appears to need more time. Certain of the finer details are yet to receive attention. For example, the iron railings up the stairs, remain mostly in their original colour of Soviet grey but now they are partly striped with green and white. The areas that require closer attention and more skillful handling, like widow frames, sills and doors, remain untouched. Perhaps their time will come next week, next year. The usual thing is to paint right over small impediments to progress, like locks, doorbells, light switches and handles. The main aim appears to be to achieve as much big picture progress as possible and leave the finer details till later. Who knows what will happen. No one can give a definite forecast in such matters. Somethings here remain closely guarded secrets invested only in the mind of some distant and remote administrator. One thing that must be done before the completion of this process is the restoration of light and brightness. As the progress has advanced, so has the visiblity upon the stairs diminished. In their haste to improve our lot, there has been no consideration given for the various lights that throw their impoverished rays upon the landings of each floor.
In addition, the windows have fared badly from misapplied paint, and during these foreshortened, late autumn days, the stairwells are dim and darkish. All of the light covers are now liberally masked with whitewash and the general effect is to impart an errie glow, not dissimilar to the bridge of an ocean going cruiser during hostile night manoevours. Outlines and silhouettes, rather than visible shapes of people, grope their way up and down the stairs. Once the dullest rays of light came from the low wattage bulbs in the lifts, safely protected from opportunitistic theives by heavy opaque shades. Now these lamps in contrast, shine like beacons whenever a lift door groans open upon a landing. Progress upon the stairs is fraught with danger under such conditions, and geriatric and juvenile alike, needs to practice extreme caution, for the chance of an accidental fracture is high. Here the concept of public liability remains unknown in post Soviet Russia. Survival is a matter of personal responsibility and the State is not to be held liable for its citizens' mishaps upon the stair or in the passage. When western type litigation gets a foothold and begins to flourish, the state coffers will be in for some savage depletion, even without the added burden or retrospective claims.
Maybe the lights and their restoration is the work of a more specialised team who are yet to appear. Another specialised mother and daughter team who will remove stray splashes of paint from the shades and globes. The windows and door handles may also receive their attention. It may even be possible that the floors and steps may be included in this after phase, but I would not hold much optimism for this. Floors and stairs are public thoroughfares and the average Russian cares little for the preservation of either asset.
It seems to me that our particular experience of the remont has come to an end. There has been no further appearance of any mother and daughter combinations. Perhaps they have been transported to some new site more deserving of attention, never to return to this job. As the Russians are fond of saying 'Who knows?' It is more than usual that the remont never actually achieves a formal completion. There is always a bit of the undertaking left undone. It may involve just a few of the minor items of lesser importance being overlooked, like the replacement of the windows broken during the actual remont itself. It may be that scarce funds and resources are redirected to another quarter, like for example towards the outer suburbs, closer to where the administrator has his new dacha being constructed. In any case, if the remont is actually and precisely finished then it would, of necessity, no longer be a remont at all. Then there would be something vaguely missing from the big picture.
Well, I hope the above jottings help explain a few things for you and now you have a clearer idea of how things are done or undone, hereabouts.
Much Love
Dad
PS. There has been one final curtain call upon our stairs and I must report, that our personal remont has transformed our immediate surroundings into a far more pleasant place to live. Now we must wait for the not too distant winter months, to see what toll may be levied upon us from elsewhere.
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