The Foreign Service Journal, April 2005

72 F O R E I G N S E R V I C E J O U R N A L / A P R I L 2 0 0 5 R EFLECTIONS Not Your Average Slide Show B Y A DRIENNE M ULLINAUX K iev in the late 1990s resembled a snapshot of post-Depression America. Amusements were simple — walks through city parks, row boating on the Dnieper River, Sunday strolls in one’s finest along Kreschatik Avenue, when traffic was blocked off and western music blared (Queen’s “We Are the Champions” comes to mind). Massive public works projects were under way, employing a lucky few to do fine mosaic-like bricklaying of streets and new plazas. Restaurants were few and expensive. The new McDonalds, however, had cheap cof- fee, spotless bathrooms and bounti- ful heat, ideal for lingering (formerly a punishable offense). Democracy and its trappings had arrived: ubiqui- tous cell phones, high prices and a lurking Mafia. It was in this landscape that I met Nadia, our building’s security guard. As I daily ushered my sons to and from school, Nadia eyed me with guarded curiosity from her dimly-lit stall in the chilly foyer. Wrapped in a holey winter coat, industrial rubber boots and an icy-blue beret, her luminous eyes perfunctorily inspect- ed our garb for winter readiness. Anyone lacking boots, gloves or hats was duly admonished in rapid Russian. Over time we exchanged smiles, hers timid and gilt-edged at first. We shared family photographs and our keen interest in art and beauty. Eventually, we made dates together, strolling arm in arm to visit her beloved national hero and poet Taras Schevchenko’s museum, or the splen- dorous St. Michael’s Cathedral, miraculously intact despite 70 years of neglect, where I’d give her hryvna (Ukrainian currency) to light candles. “Do you come here often?” she asked. “Yes, but every time I cry,” I admitted. “Me, too,” she nodded knowingly. Our dates became more frequent and important for Nadia, surprising given my toddler-level Russian. After one afternoon outing, she took my hand excitedly. “Slidee! Tonight. 7 p.m.” I smiled kindly, feigned com- prehension, repaired the 188 steps to my apartment and forgot the mat- ter. But at 7:10 p.m., I was bluntly reminded. “Slidee! Now!” she announced breathlessly from outside my front door. She’d climbed too far to be refused; I donned my winter garb and followed. In the dank foyer, Nadia had cre- ated a makeshift cinema. A sheet was duct-taped to the peeling wall, illuminated by an antique projector. She’d corralled eight seats, now occupied by several aged women, blankets in lap, all from my building. Introductions were made, gloved hands exchanged, followed by a tin of bland crackers and delicious tea served in china cups. Presently, Nadia made a short (mostly incom- prehensible) introduction, her breath a halo over her silver locks and blue beret. For 90 minutes I watched slides of Nadia’s Soviet world, the only “abroad” she or her friends were per- mitted to know. We sighed at the mystery of the Ural Mountains, the beautiful mosques and exquisite tile work of Tashkent, the majesty of Moscow’s Red Square, the aesthetics of Stalingrad, and her favorite sani- tarium in Crimea. When the show concluded, her friends sighed nostal- gically, but said little. Chilled to the bone, we rearranged the foyer. I thanked Nadia and inquired about her next adventure. “There is no money to go,” she lamented. “Before we didn’t need money.” As I reflect on Nadia’s slide show, I am reminded that crusaders for the spread of democracy are confi- dent its freedoms will ultimately benefit all. But there are the Nadias to keep in mind. Soon after we left, Nadia’s family, disillusioned, emmi- grated to Canada and she lost her job to someone better “connected.” Now Nadia’s travels are restricted to Ukraine and her encounters with those from the West, its borders ever encroaching. It is now I — we — who fill her slide shows. I remain honored to be one of the first included. ■ Adrienne Mullinaux joined her two young sons and husband Robert Liechty, a volunteer attorney for the Central Eastern European Initiative, in Kiev, between 1997 and 1998. She and her family now live in San Jose, where her husband is an FSO for the State Department. The stamp is cour- tesy of the AAFSW Bookfair “Stamp Corner.”