Friday, June 1, 2012

365- 9th of May Part 1

{{{This post is almost a month late. (I know,I know, I'm working on it).
I have good reasons (<<excuses) for being late, 
those will come later. And yes, part one, 2 will come later}}}




141. 9th of May

The 9th of May, Victory Day, is the day marking Russia's independence from Nazi Germany 
a day commemorating the estimated 28,000,000 people who died in the Soviet Union during  II World War. 



 

142. 28,000,000

I can't even begin to imagine that many people. I can't even imagine half of that. That's a big number. There are so many individual names wrapped up in that number. So many. So many persons who never even made it to their 10th birthday.
So many....

 143. 65,000

That is the number of women from the Krasnodar Krai who fought in II World War. That isn't counting the nurses. These 65,000 were really soldiers, standing up with their brothers and fathers to save their families and homeland.
 





144. With Hushed Voices

What is it that makes those eyes so sad? We may here of what, we may talk of it with heads hung and voices hushed. But we don't know. We'll never understand.
God forbid we ever do.


 145. She's Someones Grandma

One day I was walking back from Church to the Wilson's home (we hadn't found one yet). It had just rained so everything was muddy, and mixed with the fresh smells of spring and wet garbage. From across the street I saw a babushka shuffling along the school gates. I caught her eye and she called over to me. Sloshing in my church shoes through the grass, something that had seemed like a silly idea  moment earlier, it became irrelevant as I approached her. She asked me if I had any bread for a poor grandmother. 
And the truth is, she was poor. Hunched over so far she was no more than 3 feet tall, shuffling along using a stool about a foot high and as wide as a dvd case. I know it's not even her fault that she is out here like this, I know.  I didn't have any bread but I offered her some money, enough to buy eggs,bread and milk. Asked her if I could help get her home, but she just kept thanking me and in God's name blessing me. Is this what every day is like for her? I asked her again if I could take her home, but she said she was fine, she had her stool. I wished more than anything that I had a real home, somewhere I could invite her into out of the drizzle, give her a cup of tea, something warm to eat.
Because that women,
She's someone's Grandma.




146. Stories

Sometimes I wish, so badly to be that little girl. Imagine the things he would have to say. I wish I could live a thousand years. Not for fear of dying, but for the chance to learn a 100 languages. And with that 100, I would learn a thousand stories. 





147. Facade 

I'm not sure what it is, but I love his face, his mask of flesh and hair, deep set eyes, slight smile coming on, or maybe a smirk. I don't know.


I believe Alice said that those were Russian Nazis (up above, not the train thing...I just thought that was random)




 
Cotton Candy, Michael Jackson dancer candyman dude....




 

148. As I rode home...
He was playing his accordion and singing on the bus as I rode home. I wanted to get a picture of him in there, but it was too crowded. Wouldn't you know, we got off on the same stop. When I asked if I could take his picture he was all smiles, his curly mustache nearly touched his eyes. .

149. Knew one.

65,000 women. 
They each, 
at least,
knew 1.





150. Thank You

Thank you. 


3 comments:

  1. Oh my friend, these images are beautifully haunting. I can't fathom those numbers either. It's just gutting to think of it.

    ReplyDelete
  2. That woman . . . she's someone's grandma. Tremendously moving post. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete

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