Newsletter 2009 - Francis Holland School

escape to at every opportunity). I willingly went on a day long trek, knee deep in glitteringslush across miles of field and forest, to build a camp fire and learn how to survive “in thewild”. When spring finally arrived, I and other volunteers began exploring the countryside,and even turned some lessons into walks.Every few weeks or so there was a Yarmarka, a sort of village fete, where the childrencould use the “currency” they earned by being good to purchase things such as school books,haircuts (one of the community members is a very skilled, “80s style” hairdresser), bakedgoods and anything else that people think might be fun to try and sell. While I was therethese included a twister game, a Tarot booth; a stall where things from the junk room of oneof the houses were exuberantly touted as wonderful treasure; and a man who charged peopleto have their picture taken with his pet snake and/ or the albino cockroaches he bred to feedit. One Yarmarka, two of us volunteers baked cakes to sell which went down very well andmeant that I could buy a much needed exercise book and some pens.Before I left, I was also able to experience a scaled down version of a huge, communitywide Role Playing Game that had become a summer tradition. Every year, children fromorphanages were invited to join in and inhabit fantastical roles for up to two weeks. This isone way in which new children are selected, as it is thought that the absorbing context ofthe game allows the true qualities and potential of a traumatised child shine through their“negative programming.”The week long Easter “Game” was based on a computer game called “Mass Effect” andus foreign volunteers were given cameo roles as baddies. Accordingly, half way through theweek I found myself in full terrorist garb standing in the middle of the forest listening to aspeech delivered from the top of a rusting oil drum by a boy wearing bizarre face paint andbunches. On the way there we had come across a real police car and had had to take off ourmasks and hide our very realistic replica guns. As I listened uncomprehendingly to “ourleader’s” charismatic tirade, responding every now and again with a chant when everyoneelse did, we were suddenly ambushed by twelve year old warriors. I spent the next twentyminutes face down in the melting snow, pretending to have been killed in the attack, as the“goodies” stepped around our corpses looking for clues to advance to the next level.Russia is a place of extremes, of climate and people, wealth and poverty. As is befittingof a country which borders both Western Europe and China, it is also a strange mix of eastand west, which can make it difficult to understand. In Kitezh this is perhaps more truethan elsewhere as it has strong links with the west but is heavily influenced by the founder’senthusiasm for Eastern Philosophy. One resident, who had lived all over the world, hadthe interesting view that Russia in fact doesn’t have its own culture, but instead steals allthe good bits from other countries. Its love affair with the guitar is a good example of this.The community itself is constantly growing and changing, experimenting as the childrencarry on being prepared for the harsh reality that is today’s Russia. Inspiringly, many ofthe adults who live in Kitezh are highly qualified professionals who have made a consciouschoice to abandon the rat race and dedicate their lives to raising children in this small,rural, remarkable community.New visa restrictions meant that it was not possible to stay longer than three months, sothat just as I was beginning to feel really comfortable with life there, and even to scratch thesurface of the famous “enigmatic Russian soul”, it was time to leave.