Hard Times

CHAUVINISM

CHAUVINISM

They say there once lived this Frenchman in France. Called Chauvin he was, and he proved his love toward his native land, his fatherland, by some amazingly patriotic deed. After this deed of his, every time someone in France proved their love toward their native land, whether a single citizen or a whole group of citizens, this was dubbed chauvinism. And the people who deserved this label—that is, the chauvinists—bore it with pride.

And everyone loved them!

And everyone respected them!

* * *

I first heard this word used quite some time ago.

This is how it happened.

A concert was organized in the school which I attended. We were also allowed to recite ‘Little Russian’ works. I was one of the performers of these ‘Little Russian’ poems, fables and so on. I was still a teenager then. I recall that I recited one of Hlibov’s fables called Musicians.

And so, at the rehearsal I marched out and trumpeted:

“Musicians. A Ukrainian fable by Leonid Hlibov!”

The principal came up to me, eyed me closely, smiled, shook his head and said in Russian:

“My, what a chauvinist!”

At the concert, I now introduced the poem thus:

“Musicians! A translation of Krylov’s fable Quartet into the Little Russian language.”

And after that I thought for a long time: what is it, this chauvinism? And why am I a chauvinist?

Back then, I didn’t find out:

“Did the principal ever tell me off?”

“Did he ever make fun of me?”

For he never uttered a single word in reference to this again.

* * *

But now I know what chauvinism is!

I’ve really felt its effect!

I heard about this chauvinism everywhere, and the words they used! The tone of their voices! And the accompanying gestures!

Whenever anyone mentions this word, I grab at my cheeks and jump back a dozen steps, and I feel as if they’re going to splash sulphuric acid in my eyes or shoot me dead on the spot!

But Chauvin, God rest his soul, was revered for this very thing.

Obviously, we are not in France!

* * *

I remember this now, after listening to an interview with the eternally aged and eternally new guardians of our Ukraine: Rakovsky, Manuyilsky, Zatonsky…

They’re carrying on about that same old chauvinism again:

“We,” supposedly, “recognize Ukraine as an independent unit, but we will crush chauvinism, and we will hang chauvinists, including those that are communists…!”

So, take it however you like!

You can be a Ukrainian, but forget about loving Ukraine!

They’ll hang you for that!

And the devil knows why this is the case.

If I say, for example: “My regards” in Russian, I love cabbage soup, sour cabbage, Pushkin, bast shoes, piles of rubbish in a Russian izba, calves and lice, and I love singing Vanka Got it On With Tanka, and in defence of all this I am prepared to go and pillage, kill, hang, shoot, grab people by the throat, forcing them to sing the same ditties and love the same things as me – then that’s not chauvinism?

But if I say “Good-day” in Ukrainian, and I love borshch, Shevchenko, a whitewashed peasant house, and sing Dear Pale-Faced Moon, without the need to kill anyone as a result, merely asking them to buzz off to their Iveron icon of the Mother of God – then that’s considered chauvinism?

And they curse me for this, and beat me up, and maybe even they’ll hang me for this!

They’re talking about me!

You can wear those bast shoes on your head, for all I care, and you can not only eat your cabbage soup, you can wash in it as well – it’s no skin off my nose. The devil take you! You’ll all die russkies anyway! And I won’t be going to join you! Because I need you like I need a hole in the head!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Yes, I’m a chauvinist!

Let them hang me!

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

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