The bus taking us from Ukraine into a European Poland was half-empty, as if tighter visa restrictions have sharply cut down on the number of Ukrainians flocking westward.
All of the passengers easily fell into one of the two categories. For a few, the bus trip started off light and interesting. They were possibly upbeat head of a tourism trip abroad. Others who feed their families by working legally or illegally abroad exhibited clear and obvious fear of border guards and customs officials.
Ukrainian-Polish border
Still, many others had no obvious reason to fear, but nevertheless they feared. They feared whether they’re taking more Ukrainian alcohol than they’re allowed across the border; whether they had remembered to take out the extra packs of cigarettes; whether their visas were ok; whether the customs officers were in a good mood; whether the stars were set right above the roof of their bus; whether fate was favorable to them; and whether their luck will hold for today. In other words, as many Ukrainian citizens, they had plenty of reasons to fear border guards.
And, as it often happens at state border-crossing, someone – most likely the driver – voiced the idea that it might be good to collect a small amount of money, some pocket money, five bills from each traveler, to pay off the customs officers.
Doing so, he suggested, would make sure they don’t pay much attention to possible violations, and let us go quickly. Because if they do start searching, they’re bound to find something – it’s impossible that they would not. If you search well enough, each one of us has got to be carrying something forbidden, so it’s better to not be searched.
So, it happens that on this day we rehearsed what Ukrainians experience on a regularly, almost daily, basis. On the one hand, the pay off calms nerves and saves valuable times. But in the long term, it comes at a high price. Do we not respect ourselves enough to be able to afford it?
Back on the bus, some passengers suddenly started to protest. “What the heck? Of course, the money is nothing to speak of, but why encourage these fat bribe-takers? Why pay them for something they’re supposed to do quickly, efficiently and for free? Why feed corruption?” they asked.
And that’s when the squabble started. Those who feared the most – who had something to hide from the border guards and custom inspectors – were the first ones to get upset. They likely saw those refusing to pay up as skinflints who don’t want to spare a few coppers for the dear old customs, and warned that refusing to do so could cause all in the bus to spend the night at the checkpoint. They thought: because of this avarice and giddiness we’re running a risk of causing wrath and falling into disgrace of the customs officers.
The rest in the bus thought: Are we supposed to wait, like total goofs, for the wrath and disgrace to pass and open the gate of the Schengen zone to us? And so, the holy tremble took over their hearts, the tremble of scorn and indignation, and pumped their blood and stretched their nerves, which had already jingled in the dry border-side wings. After lengthy screams and mutual accusations, after many appeals to the conscience and experience, after a long and edgy debate, the necessary sum was collected. With a feeling of fulfilling their duty, it was passed to the drivers. After that the bus moved into the customs crossing point, and got stuck for five hours.
It’s during such hours wasted in Ukraine and by Ukrainians that these below thoughts came and continue to come to my mind.
Midnight observations
I always find it childish and infantile when my compatriots attempt to shift responsibility for their own problems on someone else, or some mythical other-worldly forces that do nothing but think how else to trip the trustful Ukrainian people. Instead, I cannot shake off the feeling that most of the problems are created by the very tireless Ukrainian people, to then heroically fight these very problems.
And who could possibly rival these people in creating everyday trouble, economic disasters and political paradoxes alike? Who can surpass Ukrainians in their effort to swindle themselves? Who can reach up to the level of social discomfort and general irrationality which is part of everyday life of the Ukrainians?
We need no outside enemy, be it the hand of Moscow or the dough of New York. All our problems naturally arise from our principles of life and moral convictions, backed up by the knowledge, skills and reflexes received throughout life.
How can one fight corruption in the country where this corruption is a standardized national feature? And the main question is: Why fight something that basically suits everyone? It’s a bit like fighting with your own snoring. Why fight something that does not hamper you?
So, why look for an outside enemy? Before doing it, try first of all to persuade your neighbors not to litter the stairwell. I think you’ll have enough work for the next couple of years. A part of the job will be to stop littering yourselves. It’s always easier to blame some zombies and traitors of everything. It sounds persuasive and you won’t have to clean your own mess, after all.
Back to reality
Back on the bus, five hours at the border crossing have passed. It’s way after midnight. All limits of time and patience have been drained. Finally the border officials switch suddenly from devil-like characters into angels by lifting their barrier, letting us proceed down a dark path that is now lit up by bright stars.
For most on the bus, there was no energy left to quarrel and prove anything to anyone. Our bus quietly rolled onto the black Polish asphalt as all of its passengers fell into a deep and exhausted sleep, hoping for better days ahead, but still deeply locked up and too tired to break old habits.
Serhiy Zhadan is a best-selling Ukrainian writer currently living in Berlin. This op-ed was first published on tsn.com and is reprinted with the author’s permission.
