A sense of place
5 02 2009There’s a story I read once, although I forget now the name of the book. It’s from Russia in the early 20th century. There was a village, deep, deep in the countryside; let’s call it Porechye (though that wasn’t the name in the story – I’ve forgotten that). In Porechye there was a small church nestling in a clearing in the forest. There was a village pond, where the ducks swam. There was a girl named Masha, who had beautiful blue eyes and beautiful golden hair. In Porechye there was also a young man, who was in love with Masha. One day, recruiters from the Tsar’s army came to Porechye. They told the young man that it was his sacred duty to join the army and fight on behalf of the Tsar and Mother Russia against the Germans.
The young man loved his country, and did his duty. He joined the army, and was taken on trucks and railways to the far-away battlefront. He fought bravely against the Germans. One day, the news came that the war was over. The soldiers were happy, but they didn’t know what to do. No lorries came to take them home from the battlefront. Eventually, they threw away their rifles, and began to return to their homes as best they could.
The young man was passed by a truck, who asked him where he was going. He said, “I am going to Porechye, where the church nestles in a clearing in the forest and the ducks swim on the village pond, and there is a beautiful girl called Masha who has beautiful blue eyes and beautiful blonde hair. Do you know it?”. And the men on the truck said “Yes, yes, we know it. We are going far, and Porechye is on the way. Come with us, and we will take you there!”.
So the young man got onto the truck, and he travelled with them for many, many days, that turned into many weeks. They had many adventures together, and eventually they reached the village of Porechye. His friends cried “here you are, back at your home, but we have far to go still, and must leave you here with our best wishes!” And the young man waved farewell until the truck was a distant spek, and then he walked into Porechye.
He found that there was a church nestling in a grove in the forest, but it was a different church, and indeed a different grove. There was a village pond, but it was not the village pond of his Porechye, and the ducks were of a different kind. There was even a girl called Masha, who had beautiful blue eyes and beautiful blonde hair – but it was not his Masha. For Russia is very, very large, and there are many villages named Porechye, with churches in groves and village ponds and beautiful girls called Masha, and the young man had not thought, before he left for the army, to ask how to get back. And so he buttoned his coat and hitched up his pack, and set off to find his Porechye, wherever it was.
The book, alas, did not say whether he ever found it. Perhaps he is still searching. I’m not sure why I’m even telling you this story, but I suspect it has something to do with roots, and where we’re from, and the globalized world, and how we sustain communities when the big world outside is rocked by great change. I suspect that this is where this blog is going in future.
Categories : Communication, Culture, Globalization, Technology, society






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