Notes from the underground

So unlike the title of a great Dostoevsky work, this will not be about loathing, or even about human character…but maybe.
I wanted to write about my interviews. There have been some great ones that stand out in my mind, there have been the ones when I felt like I was pulling teeth, each word being a struggle. Every woman had a similar story, really, a similar reason for doing what she did: everyone needed a job, couldn’t find one, wouldn’t get hired, and had babies/siblings/parents at home to feed. Some spoke of their work openly, knowing that what they do is not spectacular, but it is a way to make a living, the only way they can. Others, were deeply troubled and shamed for turning to this kind of work. Everyone liked their clients, had their regulars, but there was a great diversity of who was better. some disliked tajiks for the rough ways, others spoke of them as gentle and tender and attentive (I’m sure these are details no one really wants to read about J ) many had men, pimps, that they worked for. Maybe not directly, but somehow they were sharing their profits with some dudes that were finding them clients or acting as their bodyguards. It really bothered me how everyone talked about these guys: there is no other way, it is totally normal that I am paying him half of what I get, and after all he is a nice guy, really nice guy. Why? I don’t know. Some of the stories I heard are completely messed up, of women being raped, kept prisoner, or tricked and coaxed into becoming sex workers. All of these have been tajik men, which makes me sort of dislike them a whole lot.
There is a general sense of dislike of tajiks in Moscow. Here, they are migrant workers, ‘gastarbeiters’ as they use the german word, and people ignore them, make fun of them, and think they are dirty. Kind of like Mexicans in lawn services and in kitchens. What bothers me is that listening to these ladies, seeing creepy tajik men squat on trains (no one squats on trains, that is not considered proper), having them stare at you and try to talk to you in the poorest Russian grammar ever, makes me dislike tajik men as well. not as people, of course, but you slowly start wondering where the line from dislike and creeped out feeling becomes more, becomes ethnic dislike. Maybe I’m just tired of dysfunctional work. Trying to make plans with tajiks is ridiculous and takes 10 min. instead of just telling you what they want and where and when they are going ot meet you, you end up answering all kinds of questions like: “how are things there?” (where is there, I’m not in Chicago, I’m in Moscow) and fishing for clues because ‘we’ve got, you know, there, well, later’ is in no way a descriptive complete sentence. Added is the fact that even after living in Russia for several years, no one seems to grasp the concept of adjective endings appropriate to gender of the noun, or that tenses in verbs are actually useful in making things more understandable, and I get completely and totally frustrated talking to my own team. For no reason, I know. But I lack patience, I think. Now I’m angry again L….i’m going to drink my second cup of coffee and stare out the window, it’s raining cats and dogs in Moscow, literally, since the stray dogs are all wet.