Detention Blues

Yes, I got arrested, for real.

So I’ve been on the move quite a bit over the last couple of weeks. Was in Moscow a month ago, decided to go back to do some more interviews, meet up with some friends and so on.

I didn’t expect to be caught up in a special sweep and hauled off to a cell as a suspected Ukie spy at the border, but then these things are usually unexpected. I spent 2 days in a stuffy holding cell where the secret police cordially asked me to recount my life story several times. I’ve already mentioned that I’m a Kievan and because me English be so good, the astute reader could have guessed that I spent some significant time in the Anglosphere. I’ve never hidden that. It be what it be.

Their main concern was whether or not I was an Azov saboteur. Apparently, Ukraine had been sending in people to blow up bridges and oil refineries in Russia, in the south. I wasn’t far from that area (but I wasn’t really that close either, to be fair). Bad place, bad time, I suppose. The Russians have a saying: “Nothing can save you from unexpected destitution or an unexpected prison sentence.” Well, I can confirm that the saying is 50% correct at least. But at least they can only hold you for 48 hours nowadays, so there’s at least some saving grace in modernity, at least.

By the way, my cell neighbor was a raving African who absolutely reeked because the sweet masking fragrance of the cocoa butter smear had worn off by then. He claimed that he was the leader of some rebel brigade in Nigeria that was pro-Putin and wanted to request a direct audience with Vlad.

The guards had a good time laughing at his ravings to his face and if I’m honest, I managed a chuckle here and there as well. They even asked me to translate his Africanese, but started cracking up when I did, which only agitated him even further. Unfortunately, his nonstop screeching made it hard to sleep. I immediately asked to be moved away from him and the regular conscript guard asked back, “do you prefer the company of slavic prisoners instead?” To which I replied in the affirmative. “Fair enough,” he said and I got a cell all to myself. It would have been nice to have a buddy to chat with in retrospect. They didn’t even let me smoke, which I thought was cruel and unusual.

Funny story: I was taken out of the holding cell and given a ride by some regular border guards to freedom. I had already met them earlier when I was first detained. Some context - the date was 4/20, Uncle Addy’s birthday. One of them clicks his heels and throws his arm out and cries out “Sieg Heil!” in heavily accented Russian, to which the other lads chuckle. Both me and the African look up, and I try to keep the corners of my mouth from curling up into a grin. Seeing as I’m suspected of being Azov, I try to play dumb that I don’t know that it’s Hitler’s birthday, but then the young man tries to explain the joke to me and I whisper to him, “c’mon man, I get it, just chill,” to which he grins to his friends and thankfully shuts up.

I should probably reiterate that I am NOT Azov. Don’t like ‘em. Simple as. Just clarifying.

But, see, the younger generations have generally been exposed to something called “memes” and ironic internet racism because that’s the undisputed best thing on the internet.

This is an example of what is generally referred to as internet humor...

The young border guards also have smartphones and access to Telegram meme channels as well. How else would they have know about 4/20?

Anyways, the higher-ups may or may not have believed my story - random ronin hippy writer who likes Russia, ‘ates globohomos and so on, but quotas have to be filled, boxes checked, protocol observed, the law is the law and so on. God save us from the faceless bureaucracy Leviathan. It doesn’t seem to matter whether they call themselves Fascists, Communists, Liberals or Xenos, the secret police and their notebooks never seem to go out of style.

I am given a lecture in my holding cell on the evils of nationalism by a boomer secret police officer in civilian clothes with a gold chain around his thick neck and a notebook in his hand into which he is constantly scribbling. I ask him if patriotism is OK, to which he enthusiastically bobs his head, “yes, of course.” I ask him what the difference is. He replies, “Azov are nationalists, we are patriots.” I made a mental note to adjust my political lexicon in the near future. Patriotism - YES. Nationalism - NO. Got it.

Some FSB people come in and repeat the same questions. These guys were very young - definitely still in their 20s. We immediately slip into modern Russian/internet slang as we converse. While we’re alone, they’re relaxed and forget to scribble in their notebook. One cracks a joke about Biden and we all have a chuckle. UH-OH. A knock on the door and the older supervisor comes in, corona cuck-muzzle stapled firmly to his bloated face. He waddles over to the bench and plops down as the the lads stiffen up, their grins vanish and the notebook comes flapping back out.

Fun times over. Back to the routine.

- So you were born in Ukraine? Yes.

- So you lived in the West? Yes.

*Ominous silence.*

Oh and the food. They gave me soldier rations and you know what that means… CARBS. I flat out refused the kasha and the bread and the sweet tea. This concerned them.

- Are you refusing to eat out of principle?

I briefly flirted with the idea of explaining to them what “keto” is, but then I remembered how such conversations usually go with the Soviet generation whether it be my grandparents or anyone over 50, generally. They treat refusal of carbs as the equivalent of a slap across the face. I decided not to try it.

Besides, they had already found the Ayurvedic herbs in my bag so I was on thin ice indeed.

- Are you sick? The greying guard asked, genuine bafflement on his face. - Why do you have all these… is this cinnamon and clove? Why do you have this??

- Well, *uh* I make my own toothpaste, I replied.

..

WHAT! Don’t you start looking at me weird too, anonymous reader. You do know that fluoride is toxic, right? Calcification of the pineal gland? Irritation of the intestines? The frogs turning gay? Keep up. You do what you want, but I’m not putting that poison into MY body. Yeah, I make my own toothpaste, so what? We all need hobbies.

Anyways, there was plenty of time to chat with the regular border guards from before. We hit it off. Its easy when you follow the same Telegram channels.

- You lads know about WarGonzo? Me and one of their guys go way back…

- No way, really?

They were eager to hear my take on the state of affairs in America.

• Biden stole the election - They agreed.

• Tolerance is killing the West - Obviously.

• Jews run the world - Ain’t that the truth.

They didn’t seem to like the ideological police in the civilian clothes.

- Oh them… yeah. Hey, don’t worry about it man. This shit happens. It’ll be OK. The war is going on now so…

Well they’re right about that. Lots of shit is going down all over Eastern Europe. I fervently hope that the military comes out on top in Russia and the power of the oligarchs and the secret police is curbed. People generally like the lads serving in the military - who wouldn’t? They’re us. Some might even say that they have the best qualities of us. The super sekrit clubs of ideological enforcers and private robber baron crime syndicates though?

Not so much, man. Not so much.