Lidya

Lidya tiene 92. Cuando nació, Lenin predicaba comunismo entre balas y haciendo disparar alguna que otra. Pero esos primeros años de vida son idílicos en su memoria. Después llegó Stalin, se lamenta con un chasquido, y con él el hambre. La gente se caía muerta por la calle y ni si quiera había quien los recogiera. Su madre sacó adelante a Lidya, su única hija, limpiando en casa de un judío. Esos no pasaron hambre.

Me la encontré leyendo revistas viejas, sentada frente a un atardecer de sueño. Está en el lago Baikal, a 6.000 kilómetros de casa, en Ucrania, donde su hijo, dueño de un pequeño hotel a la orilla, la trajo hace un par de años para tenerla cerca. El negocio familiar no es problema para que me ofrezca su propia casa para pasar la noche, sabedora de que mi presupuesto es limitado. Resulta que esos días también acoge a un inquilino israelita. Esta perestroika, dice, no sé yo si va por buen camino…

Lidya is 92. She was born in 1917, in Ukraine, while Lenin preached hope to the crowd surrounded by bullets coming from all sides. For her, these early years are idyllic on her memory. Then came Stalin, and her look turns hollow, and with him, hunger too. Starved people just fell dead on the street and nobody took them away. His mother managed to raise Lidya, her only daughter, by cleaning the house of a Jew. Those were not hungry at all. It seems that she forgot about the wars.

I found her reading old magazines, sitting in front of a magic sunset. It's Lake Baikal, 6,000 miles from home, where his son, who owns a small hotel on the beach, brought her a couple of years ago to keep her close. The family business is not a problem for her to offer me her own house to spend the night; she knows my budget is limited. These days there is also Israeli traveler home. This perestroika says I do not know if it is in a good way...

Leonid

Leonid tiene 61. Se jubiló el año pasado y vendió la casa que años atrás le había adjudicado el Estado en Yaroslavl para comprar un terreno en Krasnoe, un pueblecito de caminos de tierra y casas de colores que echan humo por las chimeneas. Allí ha construido, en sólo un año y con sus propias manos, una casa de troncos de madera y se alimentan él y su mujer de lo que sacan del campo. Nunca ha salido de la zona en la que nació, pero sabe decir en perfecto español el pueblo unido jamás será vencido mientras levanta la cabeza y, con ella, la insignia de Lenin que siempre lleva en su gorro. Pasea por el pueblo con sus perros y una botella de vodka en el abrigo, y aprovecha cualquier ocasión para enseñar su casa a quien se encuentra por allí y de paso brindar por el encuentro. Se despide con pena, como si nada fuese a volver a ocurrir por allí en una buena temporada y entonces entiendes que, de verdad, su casa es tu casa.

Leonid is 61 years old. He retired last year and sold the house the State had awarded him years ago in Yaroslavl, a town 250 kilometers from Moscow, in order to buy a little land in Krasnoe, a village of dirt tracks and colored houses with smoking chimneys. There, with his own hands, he has built just in one year a solid house of logs. He and his wife feed themselves with what they get from their field. He has never left the area in which he was born, but he is able to say without any accent "the people united will never be defeated", while raising his head, and the banner of Lenin which he always carries in his hat. He strolls through the town all the time with their dogs and a bottle of vodka in his coat, and takes every opportunity to show his house to who is over there. He bids farewell with regret, as if nothing was to happen there in long time. Then you understand that his house, really, is also yours.

Alexei

Alexei tiene 82 años. Es difícil encontrar gente de su edad en Rusia. Sentado en el banco que hay en frente de su casa, su aspecto y pose dan un aire de lo más rural a este masivo barrio residencial de Moscú; la sonrisa que parece que vive en su cara invita a pasar un rato con él. Nació en 1927. Le gusta Medvedev y la boca se le llena de rabia al hablar de Lenin y Stalin, del miedo y las miserias que le hicieron pasar. Es veterano de la Segunda Guerra Mundial y muestra, por supuesto, orgulloso su carnet que le acredita como tal. La sonrisa sólo desaparece cuando se lamenta de que se me pasó la vida, y la gasté entera trabajando por un sistema en el que no creía.

Alexei is 82 years old, but he seems to be at his best. It’s difficult to find men on his age in Russia. Sitting for a while with him on the bench in the park which is in front of his house, in a massive residential suburb of Moscow, the atmosphere gets like in a village. From there, he manages to speak to children, young ones and old people. A sincere smile like installed on his face invites you to spend the morning in his land. He was born in 1927. He likes and trusts on Medvedev and his mouth is full of anger when talking about Lenin and Stalin, about the fear and the misery they brought to Russia. Still he proudly shows his Veteran of WWII card. The smile just disappears when he claims life passed and I just spent my entire time working for a system in which I did not believe.