Chapter 1

Warsaw Poland; May 6th through 14th, 2002

To tell the truth, at the time when all of this nonsense started, I was actually wondering about how serious I really was. I say this now not because I regret what I was trying to do but because in any serious endeavor, one has to be absolutely sure about what one is doing if there is to be any hope of success. And as my plan was to try and make a small bicycle business in Belarus, one of the poorest countries in the world and one that was headed by an overtly anti-western president with a reputation for being a totalitarian dictator (Alexander Lukashenka), obviously anyone could see that this would be sort of a steep hill to climb.

How steep? Well, as far as the business was concerned, I knew that there would be a few problems going in. Firstly, simply put, Belarusians do not have any money to pay for anything, much less new bikes. There are lots of real reasons for this. The locals like generally to put the blame directly on their president and his theories of applied economic socialism but there was also seventy-odd years of communism, lack of resources and opportunities- and of course very limited foreign investment. But regardless of what turns out to be the eventual truth behind their poverty, the amount of money that people actually had to live on was so staggeringly little that life there sometimes seemed more like a sadistic comedy than a functioning society. And it’s not even like the fallacy that the economy simply adjusted to smaller numbers; normal workers got about sixty to eighty bucks a month from their jobs and the cost of food and clothing was not so different from the west- this wasn’t a lifestyle thing but an impossible fucking cultural reality. Secondly, Mr. Lukashenka’s above mentioned reputation was made by standing firm in his desire to keep the west out. And so because I was an outsider, and an American, in addition to having to pay for visas, there would probably be a lot of “special” attention paid to me and my local partners concerning both how we ran this business and that the profits stayed in the country. So yea, the hill was pretty darned steep.

And yet, there I was, sitting in the internet room in a youth hostel in Warsaw, Poland, stuck between visas and crying my eyes out because no-one would invest a dime in my business plan. I had been in Poland a little more than a week trying unsuccessfully to find some financial support for the shop from people I knew back in the states. I would rather have done all the calling and E-mailing from Belarus, but without a visa I could not stay and whether or not I could return was based more upon my ability to fulfill some promises I had made. It had been a really bad week. Nobody was buying. In fact, nobody even seemed to understand why was I doing it and this was the cause of the tears.

Ok, so why was I doing this?

The best arguments I had for would-be money lenders was that this deal was not really about personal profits, but to invest in Belarus’ future. This was idealism. Sure they were broke now but the economy would eventually grow- it would have to because it certainly couldn’t fall any farther- and when it did, our deal would grow right along with it. That’s opportunism. And, by showing that an American was willing to throw in with them despite and perceived political differences, we would also be contributing to the betterment of local moral, which at the time was hitting what had to be rock bottom by any society’s standards. It was an open handed gesture of good will, it had to make Americans look good- maybe we could even say it was all for world peace! And that is called altruism. So, it was about helping Belarus.

My friends however were skeptical and were thinking logically enough about what the bottom line would be about getting their money back. And, wanting to be clear right from the start I told them the truth. Our best case suppositions were that we, my partners and myself, could expect perhaps a few hundred dollars a month from dollar and two dollar fixes, selling cheap parts and the occasional bike. This money would of course to be split amongst all of us; most of the income would be in the spring and summer and starvation in the winter- that is if we could get started and if we could find a way to get parts in cheap enough.

Doesn’t sound so good does it?

The most common I-won’t-give-you-any-money-but-here-is-my-opinion-anyway argument was that obviously this was my personal deal and equally as obviously it had to be about some girl I had found. And really, if this was the case, wouldn’t it be smarter to bring whoever she is back to the states and do what you want business-wise there?

OK, of that I was guilty. Of course there was a girl. Her name was Tatyana. I met her at the bookstore on Lenin Square. She was working there. I decided I needed a dictionary one day and she sold me one. Then I took her to dinner. I thought we had a good time but then she  flat out rejected me about further meals about five or six times. Very interesting start to a relationship. And then at the end of my visa and just about the time she had me convinced me that she hated me, she simply and wordlessly wouldn’t allow me to leave. And she never has. Tatyana is tall, beautiful, funny and caring and yea, she and whatever magic she had over me were why I had gone back on a second one-month visa and afterwards why I had begun to think seriously about making this small business. Of course that’s what it was about; I was trying to do something to help support her and her family.

But as far as bringing her back to the states was concerned, this was unfortunately not an option. First of all the Belarusian bureaucracy is so thick that it might be years before I could get her a visa. But more to the point, the bureaucracy would never permit Tanya’s then six-year-old son to leave because the kid wasn’t mine. He would need the real father’s consent and that was something that we were never going to get. And of course I was not about to ask Tatyana to go without her son. But then again, this would be the thinking if bringing Tatyana back to the states was what I wanted. I wanted to stay and I wanted to stay because it was not just about Tatyana.

I was also doing it for the bike school. I met these guys, a group of ten to sixteen-year-old riders who were training to be road racers at the sport school. I met them while riding around Pinsk and road with them many times on their 40 and 50 km training rides. They had heart, they were nice kids and they could really ride. But the situation for the club was outrageous. The kids were all riding on these old, heavy, outdated and falling apart bikes but there was absolutely no money for anything for them. The clubs shop itself was a joke; old and broken tools and hardly any bikes that could run. They had scavenged parts from what bikes that had so many times that they barely had enough to give the kids. The trainers, Sergei, Nicholi and Victor were to be my partners in the bike business. I loved these guys. They were busting their butts for the kids and for bikes for only about $45-50 a month. This was for them too.

And then there was the theatre. I wanted to do something for them too. I had started a Russian/Belarusian language play project specifically to try and raise the credibility of that whole group. I mean, why wouldn't a play written by an outsider specifically for the theatre that showed compassion and understanding for the situation be accepted? Why not? The whole town was falling apart and the crap that the theatre was passing out seemed to be doing nothing but contributing to the prevailing feeling of general hopelessness that was everywhere.  And so as far as that was concerned, there was Edward and Lena and all of the folks who had gotten involved with that. I mean, it was all breaking my heart. All of it. And it was personal.

Maybe I should back up a bit.

The first time I saw Belarus was in the summer of 1997. I had come the first time because my grandmother was from Pinsk and my grandfather was from Minsk. At the time I thought it was the most beautiful place I had ever seen in the world. I don’t think it anything to do with the landscape, which frankly is anything but attractive but more so because of how people interacted with each other. They had endless social graces and openness. Regardless of a ridiculous economic situation, they nevertheless made me feel welcome and relaxed and… good, if this is a good way to describe it. They made me feel as though my soul was clean and that I was needed. They were just so good with each other, they seemed so complete. Actually, if it is possible they made me feel that I was not good enough at being social. It was great and it was endless and beautiful and in the end, I guess kind of broke my heart.

I was proud that I had a connection to them. I mean, Americans are from anywhere bit I was from HERE! I swear I could feel something in my DNA humming along in consonance with the land I was standing on. The food tasted right, the air smelled like it should; I felt comfortable and clean. And what made it all even more amazing, was that nobody had anything.

And I met a girl there. A beautiful, beautiful girl. In fact she was to my eyes so beautiful that she changed my entire idea of what life could be like. I couldn't even understand how it was even possible that such a human being could come to be. Whether it was nature or nurture my thinking was that if the people in this country could make a girl like this, they must have known something.

This was the Belarus that I had found in the summer of 1997. I mean, they were simply the best people I had ever met in all my life. I had seriously considered staying then but didn’t, and that choice had haunted me ever since.

And maybe more than anything, this is why I wanted to stay now and help. And really, why exactly does following one’s heart automatically mean foolishness? Maybe it was like finding an old friend who had fallen on bad times and I just wanted to be there to help them get back on their feet. For years I had lionized the people of Belarus for their hearts and willingness to give; why not be amongst the first to say that I believed in them during their hard times. And there was Tatyana too…

So this is what I was thinking: Make a small business in my chosen field in a place where I wanted to be and where I felt I was needed. The business would be a way to help finance a new relationship, several in fact, and would stand as a gesture of good will and would give me something to do while I was there. Where is this far fetched? In fact, I thought there were quite a few signs that I was OK in my thinking and even a few signs of potential success.

I sensed that I had struck a chord with people. Everybody seemed to like me. I had no trouble finding people to help with a Russian Language theater project I had started (New ideas, new hope) and my local bike friends were very enthusiastic about the proposed business. I had confidence that my personal style of doing business would work great in Belarus and I had never had a problem making a living by putting the non-monetary aspects of biking (health, ecology, economy and the customer) first. Hell, I was even a genuine New York City bike messenger. I was the real thing in bikes; I was someone who could be believed in and that was my reputation. So between the bikes and the theatre project I figured that what I had to offer would be a perfect balm for a place which had seen better times. I was out riding with the bike club, people knew me and liked that I was fostering ideas of health and optimism- everything I did seemed to be working and getting together with Tatyana seemed to be sort of the icing on the cake. I was thinking that even Lukashenka would love me because if anything, I was an anti-carpetbagger because I was trying to be there, to be local.

Of course I was worrying a little. I mean, how smart could investing so much so quickly in an impoverished country with strong anti-American sentiments be? Not too damn smart I reckon. I was also worried because I simply didn’t have all that much money to start with. I had left New York with a few thousand dollars I had saved, but I had not worked since then. The situation was tight no matter what would happen. I was also worrying about investing in such a new relationship and one that involved a kid, no less! And even if things worked out, the three of us would all have to be living on one room of Tatyana’s family’s two bedroom flat; six of us altogether if you count Tatyana’s sister, all jammed in there taking turns using the bathroom and the kitchen. And then there was the language barrier; it was one thing to try and write a play in a language you don’t speak, that’s art, but it is quite a different thing when you are trying to yell at a six year old kid who can’t (or won’t) understand a word you are saying. An uphill climb? Maybe it was more masochism than heroism. And there in lay the question of seriousness. What a mess…

Nevertheless, I was still trying. I wrote some more letters to some bike part distributors and hit up some people in New York about money. I’ve never been afraid of a little hard work. The most important thing was that what I was doing felt really right. I wrote  and wrote some more. I had confidence; I was willing to make sacrifices. Actually, I felt what I was doing was rather beautiful all in all; a foothold investment in a new market, the money would be minimal and the shop would be shoestring but there was more room for growth than one might think at a first glance and in the end, there was great potential for good. I liked the girl, I liked the place, I liked my new friends- I liked the aesthetic. That’s got to count for something too.

But nobody bought. Nothing. The rejections were starting to get to me and my time and money time were running out.

I got to thinking that at least ought to start letting people down easily. I know that a lot of the support that I got from people in Pinsk had come because I had been so serious about doing what I said I would do. I guess I had inspired some hope in a place where it was desperately needed. But in fact I wasn’t getting anywhere and now I was in danger of letting people down.

I know I hadn’t said anything more to Tatyana and the guys than I would try. But Tatyana working for forty-five cents an hour and the guys at the bike school were making less. But now I had them out hunting places to lease!. Obviously the love that I had received there had come from a feeling of trust. What had I done? I get a bunch of people that have absolutely nothing going high by telling them there will be business- that there might be business, that I would try- and then I just drop them on their asses again. I was worse than a drug dealer.

I wrote this letter to Tatyana:

Tatyana,

I am sorry. There was a problem with the money and it is worse then I thought... I am sorry; it looks as though I must do something right now other then to come back to Belarus. I was going to be there tomorrow, but I think that I can not...I am sorry Tatyana, I only wanted to be back with you and now it looks as though I can not...things have happened...I am going to see if I can do something to change things from here in the next day or so, if I can, I will do something, but if I can not, we must try and think of other things that we must do. I do love you Tatyana, but if I do not fix this situation right now, I will have no money. And I know you love me, but I don't think you will love me so much if I am broke...

Tatyana wrote me back. The letter said that she understood what I was saying but wanted to know when I would be coming back home to her. Those were her exact words: When are you coming back home?

That had to be the bottom. Of course it was home. Of course it was not a game and of course it was true that I had meant all of the things I had said. What was taking so long? That’s all she wanted to know.

So you now I am a biker and so I have a lot of bike philosophies. One of them says that you never get off the bike while climbing steep hills- no matter how hard it gets, no matter how great the pain, you keep your ass in the saddle and your feet on the peddles and never, ever quit and walk. And so, rather then stepping off onto the pavement I did something I swore I would never do: I called my folks.  

Now this call required a bit more pride swallowing than you might think. I hated writing that first letter. I told them pretty dryly and directly what the situation was and asked if they could help. The response I got was negative but they asked me why I even came to them. So I wrote again and told them about Tatyana and Egor and Pinsk. I told them that I felt I had found a place that felt like home and that I was with a family and about how I felt in Belarus. I told them about the play and about Uladsimir and Victor and the kids in the bike club and about living with Tatyana’s family and eating grandma’s soup in the morning. Basically, I just told them it was real to me and I that I felt I needed to give it a try.

They wrote back and told me that they were no longer as well off as they used to be, that they were just starting their retirement and that they had gotten themselves into a real estate jam that was sucking them dry. However, they would see what they could do, but all things considered; I really shouldn’t count on much.

Well, this was something. It was a long night. I didn't get any sleep and was dressed and on the bike before 5:00am. The internet at the hostel was closed till 8:00 so I rode to the train station to check my e-mail there: Three spams, two bad jokes and a letter from my mom. She had talked to my dad and they would be happy to send what they could if I thought that it would really help. Wow. I was thrilled. It was like dying and then coming back to life. The next day there was an e-mail confirmation for a bank transfer of $3500- not a lot, but between that and what I had left, there was possibly enough for the basis of a shop, some tools, parts and bikes… and a little hope. And if it wasn’t enough, well, we are talking about Belarus: We would just have to make do.  

Tue, 14 May

Tatyana!

Got paid...be back Wednesday night if I can and certainly by Thursday. I miss you too, too much...Uspakoynye… Lots to do. And only love is what I have for you... I will be with you soon...

No worries and thank you for waiting,

Yours,

Adam

Now, if anyone had told me what was about to happen next… well… shit.