The red tea lights are the same: outside Kunming railway
station; inside the Maidan (square)
in Kiev.
Lights lit in memory of 29 knifed to death on Saturday by Uighur separatists in south west China, and 77 killed during successful demonstrations
against pro-Russian President Victor Yanukovych, who fled the Ukrainian capital
on 21st February.
Lively little lights to take away the stillness; unholy stillness
which otherwise outlives removal of human remains.
Meanwhile in the Crimea, an Orthodox priest (just don’t say ‘Russian Orthodox’
to the wrong person) uses what looks like a washing-up brush to spray holy water
on soldiers from both sides – Ukrainian security forces and troops from the
Russian Federation.
The diplomatic situation seems too big for them; absurdly
large like the hats on the heads of Black Sea sailors. While Russian infantry with
chins tucked into dust masks are perhaps trying to hide their tender years; kissable
mouths would give them away as conscripts.
Yet any Ivan can easily become Terrible, should the situation
demand it. Terrible as the knife-wielding posse which ran riot – slitting and stabbing
– through Kunming station, Yunnan province.
On the periphery of the world economy, in far-flung provinces
and narrow peninsulas, the slow pace of development can turn into its opposite
at almost any moment; outrunning the most mercurial diplomat, turning gunboats
and sabre-rattling into live ammunition and thousands of little red candles.
Beautiful. Spare, deliberate, and accurate prose, yet with humour. Vivid images which carry the message and make it memorable. And tenderness.
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