Two Worlds. Rosie, ‘a forgotten child of England’

Eight o’clock in the morning. Mary’s cry woke me up. She always cries and screams when she’s hungry. Mom came back home late at night completely drunk, she couldn’t hear her daughter cry. I had to get up and feed my sister. The kitchen looked like a dustbin: leftovers and stubs on the table, empty bottles of cheap wine and beer all over the place, stinking clothes on chairs. I felt the sticky, dirty floor under my bare feet. The refrigerator was almost empty except for a bottle of milk, gone off cheese and rotten vegetables. Thank God the milk wasn’t sour, we could have cornflakes for breakfast. When I entered mom’s room she was lying on the bed, sleeping. I heard her heavy breathing. She hadn’t even taken her shoes and clothes off. I wasn’t surprised, I saw her like that many times. Mary stopped crying and started to play with her undressed dirty doll. She loved that toy, it was the only one she had.
Suddenly I heard somebody knock at the door. I realised they came to make a documentary about me. I jumped into pants and ran to open the door. I saw a young woman and a man standing behind her. The man kept a heavy camera in his hand. They looked so nice and fresh. Sometimes I saw people like them in that posh part of Docklands. I smelled expensive perfume on the woman. My mother never had any perfume.
We gaped at each other for a while. I felt strange and embarrassed. I invited them inside, although I was ashamed of that mess and afraid that my mother would wake up. I ran and closed the bedroom door. They looked around strangely and then suggested that we go outside. Karen offered the zoo, a river trip or going to a museum or gallery. Then she promised to buy me something to eat. I wasn’t sure if I should go with them and leave my sister at home. She was just a little girl and something bad could happen to her. I thought for a while and then decided to go to the gallery. Many times I tried to get there without a ticket, but the staff didn’t let me in. Now I had a real chance to know what people were enchanted with. The curiosity to see the place and a chance of getting food were stronger.

Two Worlds. John, a cameraman

When we came into the building we expected to meet a parent or carer of the child in the flat. When the door opened we saw a girl. In my opinion she was over ten years old. She was dressed in simple clothes but she looked neat. Karen introduced us and said that we were from television and came to interview Rosie. The girl told us she was Rosie and agreed to let us in.
At first we walked along the corridor with a few doors. It was half-dark there, but some sunlight got through the doors of other rooms. I noticed the peeling paint and under it a few previous layers, where the oldest could remember the times of World War Two. We entered the kitchen. On the table there was some food – slices of pizza, cans of drinks, an English textbook and a notebook. I realised that the table was the place for both learning and eating. Rosie asked us if we wanted to sit down and have some tea. She put on a brave face to turn our attention away from her difficult situation. It was behaviour typical of the English, or people who experienced a lot hardship in their lives. Among the opened empty tins lying in the basket and in the sink, some had images of cats and dogs, but I didn’t notice if there were any animals in the flat.
At some point we heard a cry coming from the neighbouring room. When we got in there I saw a three-year-old girl standing and crying in the middle of the room. I suspected that she had been hungry. I didn’t know how I could help her, but Rosie knew. She simply gave her a slice of pizza. It helped. I looked around and saw in my camera lens the mother of the children. She lay drunk on the sofa, covered with the curtain which she had pulled from the window. When we asked Rosie what had happened, she explained that her mum was given the benefit money yesterday and got herself drunk on that occasion.
(jj)

Two Worlds. Karen, a TV director

I work for a big TV company in Canary Wharf – the symbol of wealth. When I finish work, quite often late in the evening, other people are at their homes. Before returning to my elegant apartment I stop in the bar on the ground floor. I have whisky and coke and for a moment I’d like to forget about my job and career. Then I go to the empty place of my own and turn TV on. After all, ‘someone’ should talk to me if no one awaits me. I feel lonely and tired. I take a shower and go to sleep. The next day is going to be similar.
Perhaps at the weekend I’ll go out of town. I’ll walk through the fields among wild flowers and feel that I’m alive. Perhaps I’ll take a book and spend all day in the park.
On the one hand, I have a comfortable, well-paid job and should be happy. On the other hand, I have no time for my friends, family and pets. My life tastes bitter-sweet.

Two Worlds. What a day!

It was a beautiful Wednesday morning. I was hanging around in my neighbourhood having nothing to do and nowhere to go. I was bored as always, even Chuck, my buddy, had nothing to say. Suddenly a fancy car pulled over next to the building where Rosie and her mother lived. I glanced into the car; there were two persons – a man and woman. Nevertheless, the car was most important for me. It was a van with nice wheel covers worth at least 10 pound each. At that moment I saw the man and woman leaving the car, her with some papers and him with a big bag and some cables. It was really nice of them to leave the car alone in my neighbourhood, and none of the other, older guys around to take away my luck. They were heading towards Rosie’s building. Suddenly the man stopped and turned round. He approached us and asked to keep an eye on his car. He gave us 20 pounds for that! What a dumbhead! He gave the money before the job was done. And our job was to take the wheel covers off the van and sell them for a good price. As soon as they disappeared in Rosie’s building we jumped onto the car. It was a piece of cake to lift the covers. There was that beautiful smell the woman must have left.

Winter holiday diary

Day 1
We left Białystok at 4 am and were in Warsaw at 7.30. We departed from Warsaw at 9.30 am. I was surprised that on the plane I did not get anything to eat. I had to drink my whisky from the duty free shop. We arrived in Egypt at 13.30. We drove about 20 minutes from airport to Laguna Vista Hotel. I got one of the best bungalows in the hotel, because I gave 20 dollars to the receptionist. The room was located just near the Red Sea.

Day 2
Today the weather was sunny. After breakfast we had coffee on the terrace with a beautiful view. Than we walked around the hotel area. It has several hectares. While I was playing tennis with my son I got my hand injured and I could not play any more. What a pity. In the afternoon we drove to Naama Bay. It is a centre of entertainment. I went to a duty free shop and bought a bottle of French champagne for my wife. It was a very good day.

Day 3, 4 and 5
These days I went sunbathing. I swam in the pool and in the sea. I enjoyed drinks and spent some time with the family, especially with my daughter. In the evening I went shopping.

Day 6
I woke up early and we went together by bus to the Egyptian-Israeli-Jordanian border. We passed through and then we had a safari, driving across the desert. I saw beautiful hills, mountains, Beduin villages and also some other nice views. In the evening I came to Petra and went to sleep there.

Day 7
I went sightseeing in Petra and saw one of the seven World’s Wonders – The Ancient Petra. There I found a Nabataean castle and old tombs in red rock. Then I went to the capital of Jordan – Amman. In the meantime we saw Mount Nebo (the place of Moses’s death) and Madaba city with the excellent mosaic which shows a map of the Holy Land.

Day 8
This day welcomed us with snowy weather which is something unusual here. We went through Jordanian-Israeli border and came to Jericho. There I saw Mount Quarantania. Then we moved to Bethlehem where I saw The Church of the Nativity and St Jerome’s grotto and I met one of the Polish priests there.

Day 9
We drove from Bethlehem to Jerusalem and then went sightseeing there: Garden of Gethsemane, The Old City of Jerusalem. We went through Via Dolorosa, The Church of the Holy Sepulchre. I was surprised that it snowed. It rarely happens there. In Jerusalem I had unusual spiritual feelings because of this holy place.

Day 10
Today I came to Haifa – one of the most beautiful Mediterranean cities with very nice views. Then I went to Cana – the place of Jesus’s first miracle and to Nazareth, Mount Sion and The Western Wall. We slept in Jerusalem.

Day 11
Today I swam in Dead Sea which has a very high concentration of salt. Then I had a long trip through Sinai to Sharm el Sheikh where our hotel was.

Could Saint Sebastian have really survived?

Saint Sebastian was a man sentenced to death and executed by Roman archers in the 2nd century. His whole body was pierced by soldiers’ arrows. He survived and became the martyr and Christian saint. This incident was captured by many artists in pictures, sculptures or other forms (genres) of art. I had a chance to see Carlo Crivelli’s magnum opus ‘The Virgin and Child with Saints Francis and Sebastian’ painted in 1491 and I was given an opportunity to be a kind of ‘expert’ and decide if it was possible for Sebastian to survive after being pierced with so many arrows.
Having a bit of knowledge of human anatomy and physiology I first looked carefully if any of the arrows pierced a vital organ, the heart, brain or lungs. The injury of these normally result in a sudden death. The Saint had three arrows which in my opinion could have caused his sudden death, two were in the lungs and one was in the throat. The latter could have caused suffocation by destruction of the airway tract.
My second step was concerned with the arrows and wounds which could be the cause of an internal bleeding resulting in death. In this case I would consider the piercing of the thorax cavity and abdomen. At the end of my examining the saint’s wounds I checked the injuries that could be the cause of an external bleeding as a result of a puncture of veins and arteries – vessels carrying blood. And the lapse into death depends on the size of an injured vessel and follows the rule: the bigger the vessel the faster the death.
In my opinion, the injuries of Saint Sebastian done with so many arrows should have resulted in his death. But that was not the case, so either I’m not ‘an expert’, or he was not an ordinary man.

What is magical about snow

The Earth, by now, is the only known place in the Universe where some regions have a chance to get snowfall. Snowing as the natural phenomenon may carry either joy or sorrow. It’s better when snow brings joy.
In some parts of Europe, Australasia and America before winter comes with snowing, people have to deal with nasty scenarios in which the first roles are played by Mr Grey, Mr Dirty Brown and Mr Heavy-Stormy-Blue. Having these heroes as daily friends people’s souls and minds soak with grey and become blue. Their lives turn into routines, everyday tasks and chores are seen as a burden. The whole world is flooded with greyish monotony.
But with the first flakes of snow all suddenly changes. The sceneries change from greyish into white. Everything becomes brighter and light permeates people’s souls and minds, making their lives and daily scheduled tasks clear. As a result of this people smile more often, having the inner and outer worlds brighter.
These brighter worlds, in my opinion, is what is magical about snow.

Wierszalin review

One evening, while visiting my family in Poland, I was taken on a surprise visit to the theatre. I’d not been to a theatre in Poland and was slightly apprehensive to begin with, as I’d been told the play we were going to see had caused controversy, particularly within the Church and definitely wasn’t for the faint-hearted.
We arrived in the small town where the theatre was supposed to be, but with no typical theatre in sight, only a small hut with crowds of people surrounding it. Seeing the only building in the vicinity with people around it, we went towards it and found that what we thought was just a small hut, was in fact the world renowned “Theatre Wierszalin”, our destination for the night.
Wierszalin is a small theatre company, based in an old Communist headquarters in Supraśl, North Eastern Poland. Their success in Poland hasn’t been as big as it ought to have been because of strong opposition form the Church who find their productions offensive and insensitive. This, however, has not stopped them. Wierszalin have taken their work to numerous theatres around the world, including Broadway, where one director was so impressed by their work he made a documentary about them.
The play I went to see was about a true story that happened in a village not far from Supraśl. Rumours of a new prophet called Iliah were spread around in the Russian Orthodox Church. This was at the time when the Russian Communists had invaded Poland. The play was all about how this prophet came about and how he came to not be, and portrayed the dangers of religion through the maniacal obsession and dangerous fixation some of the ‘believers’ came to have with this prophet, but also of the terrible and heartless destruction of anything religious by the Russians.
Right from the start, the production was terrific to watch. It attacked all of the senses with astonishing intensity and really gripped the audience for the whole duration of the play. Although the theatre is in a tiny space (there can’t have been more than 100 people in the audience) the sound they produced was really astounding, making it probably one of the most powerful pieces of drama I’ve ever seen.
Polish theatre is traditionally very symbolic and Wierszalin was no exception. Everything that they presented was a symbol for something, nothing was simply as it was presented. Visual symbols were used throughout, such as the cross for the dominance of religion, the actors’ white faces and black lips were a symbol for the inevitability of death (the whole play was about the end of the world), the character who turned into a Russian at the end wiped the crosses with blood after having murdered all of the other characters, symbolising the abolishment of religion and the Church by the Russians.
There were certain parts of the play that I couldn’t quite grasp because the language that the actors used was quite dated to be appropriated to the time period, and occasionally they spoke in Belarusian, which really confused me. However, the actors’ meaning was always clear through the way that they visualised everything.
The actors switched between characters quite often and I sometimes found it difficult to grasp who each actor was presenting. Although gestures, expression, movement and speech were used to perfection and everything from facial expression to their tone of voice presented the characters they were playing with exceptional clarity, it was again the language barrier that prevented me from understanding everything. However, I don’t think that mattered in the end as I understood most of it and the main themes. Being an abstract play, it was more important for the actors to impress upon the audience the meaning of what they were presenting rather than the story itself.
I’d say there were some Artaudian elements to the play, although mostly it was a narration and definitely was not as a mad as Artaud, but some of the techniques were put in there to frighten the audience, such as a metal spade being thrown onto the floor, the lights and the extraordinary music. The actors broke into song so often it could have almost been called a musical, however I think that in this case the music was again used as a symbol. It was always sombre and in a minor key, very similar to Church hymns, again emphasising the dominance of religion within the society.
The play exceeded all of my expectations and as soon as I left the room I was plunged deep into thought, which I think is exactly what the actors wanted to happen after having watched their brutal yet fantastically moving play about religion, the end of the world and death. Maybe it wasn’t the brightest of plays I’ve ever seen, but it was definitely one of the most thought provoking and awe inspiring. If you ever happen to be in Poland I highly recommend going to see one of Wierszalin’s productions, even if you don’t understand Polish it is worth going just to see the visual masterpiece that they create on stage.

If …

I hate the winter. I wouldn’t like to have lived in those times. What would have been a technical problem? There was no electricity then, that’s why I would have had to use simple tools. I would have had problems heating my house. I suppose mobility could have been a problem. I wouldn’t have been able to travel. If I were a person from the picture I wouldn’t have been able to communicate with people from other places.
There would have been some benefits too. My body would have been in good shape because I wouldn’t have had a possibility to drive a car. I would have had plenty of venison for my meals. I would have had a lot of spare time and my life would have gone slowly. If I were a person in those times I wouldn’t have seen any problems I see now.

On the bridge

It’s a frosty winter morning. I’m on the bridge joining two parts of the mountain village. I’m carrying some brushwood on my back to heat the house. There are two frozen ponds on my right-hand side. I see kids glide and play on the ice and a group of man fishing from under the ice. There are steep slopes of mountains in the distance. I see the grey sky and birds perched on bare trees. The valley is covered with a thick layer of snow. On my left-hand side I see three hunters with a pack of dogs, returning from the hunt. Near them, some people are moving around a bonfire. I don’t know what exactly they’re doing because they’re too far away.

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