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Colours of the Wind

The Visitor

RUSSIAN FEDERATION | Friday, 29 March 2013 | Views [402]

At about 1am or something someone started banging on the door- it was a neighbour complaining about the noise. In the end she just wanted us to move the music into another room, as directly above her son was asleep. I’m not sure if she arrived intoxicated, but it became very clear that it was her intention. Elated with birthday cheer I greeted her with one of the very few Russian phrases I know, ‘nice to meet you’ and consequently she began following me around. And not just following- pulling, hugging, squeezing and generally being very forcefully affectionate. She kept calling for me, wanted to speak with me and dragged me back to the dancefloor anytime I departed. Our new friendship quickly spiralled into a pursuit and of course finding it very funny Dimi encouraged her in Russian.

At some time in the morning, three Russian men were pounding against the door. In her element Marija flung her body against it, preventing anyone from leaving, convinced it was an angry husband coming to fetch his vegabound wife. There was a whole uproar, Rufus wrapped his chain around his fist determined for a fight.

Eventually Ivan went out to speak with them and discovered that really it was just a few middle aged men who had been drinking outside, who wanted to join the party and even offered him vodka. However Masha- who had previously told Magda that she didn’t want to go home because her boyfriend beat her, was hiding behind the bed. Despite everyone else’s demands that we just boot her out to ‘deal with her own problems', my heart had already melted.

Attempting to put her to sleep I dragged her to bed, and sat on the floor repeating ‘sleep’ and ‘goodnight’ in Russian. Understanding that she wanted a kiss I gave her a goodnight peck on the cheek, but when it only seemed to inflame her I immediately declared ‘Net. Ya lublu muchena’; ‘no. I love men’, which she then also repeated. I tried again, pretending to sleep, until she started whispering fiercely and licked my hands and face! And she bit my arm!

Eventually at 5am in the morning, when she woke and Ivan finally forced her to leave, having sobered up, she was a different person. With make-up smudged all down her face of stone, sitting in the kitchen demanding a cigarette, totally changed from the carefree oblivious drunkard of the night before.

Suddenly it occurred to me that upstairs there was a child that would have to deal with this grim, hung over woman.

Tags: alcoholic, birthday, domestic abuse, party, russia

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