One of the most difficult things about being in Russia at the moment is seeing people with whom you never had a problem – even liked – jumping on the war-bandwagon. A secretary at work where I lived in a city in the south of the country – we’ll call her Svetlana, she was probably my favourite person there until this started – has suddenly become a war-fanatic. ‘Ya za Rossii!’ she proclaims: ‘I’m for Russia!’. It’s said so chirpily it’s as if she’s discussing an election or a football match.
Seeing my dismay at her war-talk, she misinterprets it. ‘Oh come on!’ she trills. ‘You’re such a pessimist. Everything will be all right! You’ll see!’
The assumption that I’m blindly supporting Russia in this conflict is probably that which our friendship rests on. I’ve made no secret, throughout life, of my Russophilia. But the love isn’t unconditional.
We are, I realise, living in completely different – even enemy – worlds now.
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