Communism, Sex and Lies

by Maria Genova

  Andropov was a secret agent through and through. He was ex-chief of the KGB and you could tell from his working methods. There was even a joke circulating that he owed his election to his gun. He walked to the room where the senior party members were discussing the successor and shouted: ‘Hands up!’. When they did that, he asked them to lower one hand and had his assistant note: Andropov was chosen unanimously.

  We didn’t expect his KGB methods to make much difference, because the situation in our country was not the same. If you didn’t go shopping during working hours, then many products would be sold out by the end of the day and people already snitched on people they didn’t like anyway.

  Andropov didn’t have much time to check if his snitch system worked. At his election, it seemed he was already gravely ill. Of course, this was not communicated and when he was at death’s door nearly one year later the media only reported that the general secretary had a cold. It was already clear to us what this meant, because usually the Russian party leader’s cold would not have made front page news.

  Tsjernenko succeeded Andropov and drew his last breath thirteen months later. The Bulgarian people were ready to join in with another mourning circus. When Gorbachev came to power in 1985 we had some hope, because he was only 54 years old and looked healthy and energetic.

  The new party leader slowly opened the channels to criticism, but only a few dared to sail through them after having lived in an unquestioning society for years.

  The unexpected introduction of glasnost was experienced like a roller coaster in Bulgaria: we didn’t know which way we would be thrown with this new openness. Gorbachev himself seemed uncertain. His speeches were full of euphemisms and double meanings. We felt that he was trying to reckon with the past, but didn’t quite have the courage. Gorbachev didn’t criticize Lenin’s acts of terror or the violent appropriation of farming land. He blamed Stalin for all deviations of party principles. His desire for reformation went hand-in-hand with unambiguous remarks: ‘We are on our way to a new world, the world of communism. We will never deviate from this path.’

  This was a sign that we had to be careful with interpreting the new openness. Everyone assumed that the communist system would last for centuries, but there was little left of the enthusiasm that the first generation had shown when building the most perfect society. We didn’t know what to believe, but we knew it was better not to believe what the papers printed or what we saw on television. There was AIDS in the West, airplanes fell out of the skies, there were storms and floods, the economy wasn’t doing well…this didn’t happen in our country. Sporadic incidents were quoted as small news items on the back pages. In 1986 the communist party even managed to cover up the gigantic nuclear disaster in Chernobyl for days on end. An inquiry showed that the reactor had displayed severe problems back in 1979. Seven years later a steam explosion blew away the 1 million kilo lid from the reactor. A radioactive cloud spread over Europe, but the Russians continued to deny that a major disaster had taken place.

  The radiation was that bad that we admired mutated crops in Bulgaria, while the media continued to claim that there was nothing wrong. At school, we would regularly watch films about nuclear bombs exploding and read about the dangers of radiation, but following the disaster in Chernobyl we were told that a raised radiation level in the atmosphere was actually good for us. ‘It will make boys grow taller,’ the comrades said. They didn’t add that it could give you cancer, never mind it being the largest nuclear disaster in human history. Almost 9.000 tons of radioactive material had been released, ninety times more than the atom bomb that exploded in Hiroshima.

  The party tried its best to serve us ready-made interpretations of reality through guidelines, propaganda and even art. All paintings and statues had to be realistic. Abstract works of art were seen as an attempt to overthrow the communist rule. We were raised with absolute truths and we truly believed in some of the lies because they were more plausible than the truth. The reality we lived in, with all its secret rules and codes, was too complicated to comprehend. When senior party members went somewhere, trees without roots, which were cut down in other unimportant places, were planted along their routes. Our party leader wanted to be immortalized with a monument in his birth place before his death. Foreigners didn’t understand: they put down flowers for him, because they though he was a fallen hero. The police kept on removing the flowers. In the end two soldiers were stationed to prevent these ‘flower’ incidents.

  Gorbachev tried to sort out the privileges and misuse of power by the party officials: thousands of bureaucrats were sent home or disappeared in prisons for corruption. The West placed ‘Gorby’ on a pedestal and according to American polls he was more popular than the President of the United States. We wondered if Gorbachev laughed at the jokes that were told at his expense. For example that he was not aware that he has a red coloured birthmark on his forehead, before he saw a picture of himself in a Western paper. The Russian media had always Photoshopped his birthmark.

  The photo editors could not grow more hair on his head. This was a shame of course, because hair was extremely important in communist society. Too much hair was not a good thing for any citizen and neither was too little. This was also the case for Gorbachev, who had been turned down in the past for the position of First Secretary to the Alliance of Young Communists. The reason: for a leader of young communists he had too little hair. For the leader of the Soviet Union it seemed he had just enough, even though many people didn’t think he was representative. Some critics even claimed the birthmark on his forehead looked like the contours of the arch-rival America.

  Although the Russian leader had no intention of bringing communism to an end, he had involuntarily become the initiator of a rotting process. With glasnost came the striptease of the system. It was carried out by a shy naïve prostitute that only dared to take off one or two items of clothing to start off with and then later show the naked truth.

  With all the revelations of cruelty in the camps, the party lost her grip on the past. We wakened from the mass hypnosis. Not that Gorbachev had envisaged this. He hadn’t established glasnost to give the people freedom of speech, but by creating more openness stimulating the economic development. In answer to questions where it was not time to denounce the present system he replied: ‘Why should I? Socialism is my conviction and I will promote this for as long as I can talk and work.’

  We hung on his every word and we concluded that he would never change his mind.

  Surprise attack

  Glasnost changed little to nothing at our school. We learned that the Soviet Union covered one-sixth of the earth and that no one dared to go against this powerful empire. We learned to be proud of all that was Russian, even the fact that Gorbachev had worked his way up from inhabitant of a farming village to the leader of a world power. This was the land of unlimited opportunities and not America.

  The teachers always used a tried and tested method. Their questions steered us to the only right answer. No one tried to defend an original theory, since that was not appreciated. In fact: if your opinion deviated too much from the teacher’s then you were downgraded. We therefore tried to predict what kind of answer a teacher wanted to hear to keep them happy.

  The school system flowed seamlessly into the social life that was expected of us. In the communist society, self-initiative was not appreciated. Of course, we all had our own opinions, but we pretended we didn’t. We could only be ourselves in our love lives. I only allowed myself to be guided by someone else once. As a result, I met my match. Dimitar was a real ‘ladies man’ and dumped girls with as much ease as I did with boys. I often saw him at school, walking arm-in-arm with the prettiest girls. Milena was his latest conquest and she was very proud of this fact, despite my vocal objections. When Dimitar dumped her after one month for someone else, she was inconsolable.

  ‘Someone has to make him experience what it feels like to walk around with a broken heart,’ I told her.

  �
��If you’re planning on trying that, watch out that you don’t fall in love with him, because Dimitar is a real charmer,’ Milena warned me. ‘And how do you know he’s attracted to you?’

  ‘I don’t. It’s possible I’m not his type, but I don’t think that most men are attracted to me by my appearance. Men are able to resist a beautiful woman, but never an intriguing one. This brings out their primeval hunting instinct. ‘

  Milena listened attentively. Her lips betrayed the start of a smile.

  I wasn’t sure what would be the subtlest way to show Dimitar that I found him attractive. Olga wasn’t known for her subtlety, but against better judgement I decided to ask for her advice.

  ‘You show up a few times in his vicinity, you walk sexily, smile and pretend you’re a friendly saleswoman,’ Olga advised.

  ‘A saleswoman? What am I supposed to sell him?’

  ‘The illusion that he has just bumped into the most perfect woman,’ Olga replied self-assured. ‘If you can do that convincingly, any man will fall for it. It doesn’t have to be true, because most men turn blind once they get led by their emotions. Don’t think about what you are selling, but what the men want to buy. The sooner you figure that out, the sooner they give in. One man might want a sweet woman, another an ambitious and intelligent chick and the third a sex kitten. As you as you think you know what their dream woman is, then they are willing to do anything to get you. I don’t know Dimitar, but if he is truly a lady killer, then he shouldn’t be that difficult to conquer. Flirting is a promise of intimacy. The art is to make him wonder if you’ll fulfil the promise right to the end. That makes you intriguing and attractive. If you show you are interested straight away, then the magic of the flirting will disappear,’

  Getting Dimitar hooked, turned out to be easier than I had thought. Not long after our arranged acquaintance he suggested to go on a date at the weekend.

  ‘Fine, but I want to warn you that I play hard to get,’ I smiled with a smug expression. ’Besides, playboys are not my favourite type.’

  He seemed surprised by this sarcastic remark. ‘Do you really think I am the playboy everyone makes me to be?’

  ‘Honestly, yes.’

  ‘And who do you want me to be? Let me guess: you’re looking for a knight in shining armour?’

  ‘I’m not going to try to change you. There are more boys waiting in line.’

  I suddenly realized how coarse my words sounded, but Dimitar didn’t seem offended.

  ‘Okay, unbeliever, I will show you my true nature.’

  ‘Great, but I’m not available this weekend, because I am going with my parents to our villa in the mountains.’

  ‘Then we’ll meet there. My best friend has a hut there, somewhere high in the village.’

  We agreed to meet on the village square at 11.00 the next morning. At 11.30 I felt I had kept him waiting long enough. I thought Dimitar would be angry, but he seemed to admire me.

  ‘This is the first time that I have waited so long for someone. Normally I would have been long gone by now, but for some reason I didn’t mind waiting for you.’

  ‘That’s sweet,’ I said, while I thought: ‘Great, 1-0 in my favour.’

  After a walk in the mountains I was a little unsure about my victory. I found Dimitar more attractive than I had thought. He wasn’t an arrogant playboy. He just couldn’t resist all those girls who threw themselves in his lap.

  ‘I jump from girl to girl in the hope that someday I will meet my true love,’ Dimitar said apologetically.

  ‘And you never consider all those broken hearts you leave behind you?’

  ‘Oh, stop reprimanding me. One of my friends told me that you have the exact same reputation.’

  ‘When I turn someone down, I at least try to be as subtle as possible. The same can’t be said about you.’

  ‘Do you think I’m playing a game and trying to get as many girls as possible into bed only for me to dump them afterwards? I could be very happy with just one girl, only I haven’t met her yet. I was hoping that you would be that girl, but it seems you’re playing with me.’

  I stared at him dumbfounded. Men usually don’t have such a strong intuition, but Dimitar had apparently learned a lot about girls. I suddenly found him dangerously attractive, so innocent and tempting at the same time. His blue eyes and long eyelashes were the prettiest I had ever seen. It was the first time I had played with such an experienced ladies’ man and just the thought that he might not want to be captured by just one woman, made him irresistible. The woods were prettier than ever that day, as if they wanted to show me that this was the best place for romance. The sun lit up the green curls of the oak trees and the pointy branches of the pines. The shadows of the branches danced on the ground on the multiple melodies of the birds. This was the moment to convince Dimitar that I was not playing games, that my interest in him was real.

  I bowed my head towards him. Our lips touched gently. I asked myself what I was doing, but he didn’t give me any time to think. Our kisses became more passionate and I lost track of where one kiss ended and the other started. Funnily enough my mind was still clear enough to realise the score was now 1-1. I let myself be guided by my heart, by someone who was collecting hearts.

  Where every man would try his luck in a similar situation, Dimitar proposed to go back. ‘Let’s meet up in my hut tonight. I have a surprise for you.’

  I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. He just broke off our warming up and left me with my body tingling. Was he made of steel or was this part of the game? I appreciated the interruption, because now I could get my thoughts in order. When I went to his place in the evening, I was once again determined to win the game.

  I had put on the perfect dress to conquer a man. It emphasized my female curves and the décolleté was just deep enough to be sexy without looking cheap. The rustic house in the mountains smelled of chocolate. It was as if my senses had started to fantasize on their own, but suddenly I really saw a pan of melting chocolate on the stove.

  Dimitar followed my questioning stare: ‘I made it for you.’

  Before I knew what was happening, he kissed me, unbuttoned my blouse, pulled it over my head and turned the sleeves into a knot around my wrists. It happened so fast that I was taken by surprise. Dimitar tasted the chocolate to check that it was not too hot and spread it over my bare breasts. I didn’t understand why I did not protest. He whispered tender words in my ear, which built up the tension and ensured my body tingled in anticipation of what was to come. His words conjured up nice images, dreams which could not be equalled even through the most passionate merging of bodies. I fantasized about sheets which stuck out like ice bergs and melted to a pile of white dust through the warmth of our bodies.

  I wanted to shout out in pleasure. How was I supposed to end this game, if his touch made me weak at the knees?

  I let myself be carried away by a wave of pleasure, unbuttoned his shirt and teased him with my tongue over his chest. He groaned softly as encouragement to go lower. I’m going to make you suffer, I thought to myself. This was an adventure based on a pre-determined plan. He had mercilessly broken Milena’s heart and now it was my turn to put this self-obsessed playboy in his place.

  The hard proof of his desire pressed against my underbelly. I enjoyed the thought that he had lost his self-control, but at the same time I wanted to leave little to chance.

  ‘I’m still a virgin,’ I whispered.

  He looked at me like I was a rare antique.

  ‘That’s unexpected.’

  ‘I know. Everyone thinks that I’ve had men by the dozen.’

  ‘How do you get that reputation if you haven’t done that?’

  ‘That’s what I ask myself also. Probably because of too many insignificant dates and a few boys who have publicly congratulated themselves on sleeping with me so as not to lose face.

  Dimitar seemed shocked at this unexpected revelation. He had misjudged me and felt tricked.

  ‘So, you
don’t want to have sex with me?’ he asked to be sure.

  ‘I certainly won’t lose my virginity to a playboy,’ I smiled innocently.

  ‘Then I can’t have a relationship with you.’

  ‘As if I would want that. It was all a game from the start. A kind of bet with not too high a stake,’ I blurted out.

  ‘Did you bet on whether you could chat me up?’ he asked with a wave of disbelief in his voice.

  ‘Something like that.’

  ‘With whom?’

  ‘With myself.’

  ‘And who else?’

  ‘With one of the girls whose heart you broke.’

  ‘And now?’

  ‘The game is up.’

  I put my clothes back on and blew him a kiss. Dimitar was glued to the ground. He could not believe that I would just leave him there. I could hardly believe it myself, because if anyone turned me on, it was him.

  ‘2-1. Mission accomplished,’ I mumbled to myself, while I walked home. I had given him a taste of his own medicine, but I did not get much joy from my victory. Dimitar was cute, sweet and romantic and I had turned him down. My body still trilled from excitement, it was as if it was also protesting.

  Lies

  My father travelled through America, Germany, Colombia, Argentina and the rest of the world to promote the rich Bulgarian culture through communist plays. Every time he would come back with interesting stories and presents.

  A video recorder was so unique that some ´friends´ only came around to watch Western movies and illegal MTV clips. Zapping through Bulgarian channels was a disappointing pastime: you could only choose from two Bulgarian and one Russian station, which were all rather similar. Friends joked that if you tried to zap further, the head of the secret service would appear on the screen warning: ‘Stop zapping. It is a criminal offence to search for Western channels.’

  There was no clear line between what was forbidden and what was allowed. We often knew instinctively what went against party expectations, even though that was not written down anywhere. Everything that was not explicitly allowed, was forbidden. However, nothing was impossible, you just had to find a way to reach your target without taking too much risk.