A City of Cupcakes



By Lubomyr Luciuk
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Kyiv is a city of cupcakes. Not the baked kind. These morsels jiggle about like the eye candy that contaminates trashy music videos, the probable source of the floozies’ sense of what is in vogue.
Now, I’m no prude. At first blush all these promenading pseudo-strumpets are titillating. They are particularly evident in Kyiv’s Independence Square, the Maidan, lurching about on stilettos in the shadow of a 64-metre granite column, atop which stands a gilded female figure holding a guelder rose, a kalyna. With much fanfare Ukraine’s Lady Liberty was unveiled in 2001, on the 10th anniversary of the country’s independence. Now the thrill is gone. The locals call her “Chick On A Stick.” Likewise, their libertine pageant soon becomes pedestrian, if you’re not on the prowl. I wasn’t. Others were.
You find them wherever you detect desperation. Just as I started lunch in a cafe off Khreshchatyk Street, the city’s grand boulevard, the next table over filled up. I immediately recognized the type. They all look like me: middle-aged, pot-bellied white men. Two locals fluttered over: not particularly pretty, but compensating by being pretty revealing. Even so stimulated, their table-talk was stilted, more barter than banter, which happens when flab finds flesh.
I ate quickly and moved on, seeking sanctuary in the 11th-century St. Sophia Sobor, the legacy of a Kyivan prince, Yaroslav the Wise. Ahead in line, stood a mother and daughter. Just as they reached the Cathedral’s entrance, their escort butted in, brusquely ordering them not to “waste” too much time inside - “30 minutes, okay!” Thinking he might not know what he was missing I suggested that this balding Brit join them, mentioning the Virgin Orans—her pensive face and outstretched arms reflecting her role as an intercessor between humanity and Christ — an icon crafted by masters working in malto, an alloy of glass, salts and oxidized metals, one of the most remarkable Byzantine mosaics of its kind, at least in this world.
He laughed in my face. He couldn’t care less. This man came to Ukraine to find a woman, and not a Virgin Mary, being the kind of bloke who would not have much chance of finding either back home. As for a mother’s desire to teach her child something about her culture, that was of no account. So, I watched over them as they moved through the Sobor, witnessed careful explanations of the history of this holy place, overheard how intent this good woman was on ensuring her daughter would, at least this once, connect with their ancestors. Of course, I could not divine how she felt about the man she was giving herself away to, but I admit to being pleased when I realized she had taken more than a half hour before exiting. Much more.
Not every man arriving in Ukraine from the West is trawling for a tart, and most Ukrainian women, thankfully, aren’t interested in those who are. But arriving at Borispil Airport you might think otherwise. Being a geographer I look at maps. You can get a free one of Kyiv, just past Customs and Immigration. It’s a good map too, save for being festooned with advertisements flogging “dream wives,” “beautiful and real women,” “fantasy socials” and strip clubs.
I saw no public health service announcements warning that Ukraine suffers from the highest rate of HIV / AIDS in Europe, with at least 1.4 percent of the adult population aged 15-49 infected, compared to 0.1 percent rates in neighbouring Poland and Turkey. While, in 1997, 11 percent of Ukraine’s afflicted were women, that had increased to 42 percent by 2004. So this plague has moved well beyond a drug-addled underclass and into the mainstream, meaning that some sex-starved sex tourists are going home with more than they bargained for. Given that chain-smoking seems to be the second-most passionately pursued indulgence over there, venture capitalists should consider opening a chain of funeral parlours across Ukraine. Business will be good. They can bank on it. Perhaps they already are.
The Orange Revolution generated lots of chaff, and still does. Perhaps that’s why Ukraine’s government seems more intent on preening than performing. I went over thinking I would find a freer Ukraine. And, most certainly, I did. It’s also fouler. Too many post-Soviet Ukrainians–and here to my shame I will steal a line from Stalin–are dizzy with success. Purblind to how they were once victims of genocide they are being victimized again, catastrophically, as they will soon find out. Ukraine’s orange blossoms have started to wilt.
Lubomyr Luciuk is a professor of political geography at The Royal Military College of Canada.