We travelled a route, each knowledgable foreigner tries to avoid: the one via Moscow Domodedovo Airport. An old, shabby and dreadfully smelling Tupolev air plane, its equipment and security violating the IATA regulations to the extreme. Broken seat belts, seats which cannot be put to an upright position, overhead compartments, which regularely open, when the air plane is landing.
Free seating: the fight for the seats starts already at the custom control, continues while we are boarding the bus and ends while entering the air plane at the gangway. While the atmosphere is brutal and very tense, the crowd softens quickly, when women with children wish to enter. They are definitely first. Finally we made it into the plane, squeezed tightly between young, mostly male Tajiks, leaving for work in Moscow. They do so with no proper working contract and insurance, but are happy to escape poverty and unemployment in Tajikistan.
Its definitely a men´s world we are in. I have the certain feeling that this is a transport of young soldiers heading for the fight. Tiredness, excitement, curiosity. Ready to fight it, still. Though, its another kind of war: the one on work and regular income in a world of unbalanced globalisation.
No visa needed to enter Russia. Nevertheless it takes a long, long time until these men can pass the Russian customs control. Most of them are almost illiterate (and not talking proper Russian) and they need any help the can find to fill in the registration forms. In the transit area a elderly lady in uniform bosses them around, with a sharp and violent voice.
The authors of a recent OECD study on migration in Europe (Gaining from Migration. Towards a new mobility system. OECD, 2007) recommend governments not to talk about immigration systems anymore. They should be conceptualised as an emerging system of international labour mobility (p. 12). And it states, that the relative importance of European immigration from Ukraine, China, the Russian Federation and countries in Latin America (p.27) is increasing.
Looking at these young and desperate work soldiers I hesitate to accept the euphemism of the wording labour mobility, especially if it comes to low-skilled workers. I wish the authors would have travelled with us: on this trip from Dushanbe to Moscow. And experienced for only four hours flight what it can mean to be part of this kind of mobility.
[more on migration in cis]
Nachtrag: und diese sollte mehr als ein Jahr dauern .....
everybody seems to wish to escape. paris gets rid of his overstressed citizens and is conquered by desperate tourists: vienna falls asleep and becomes even more slow; st. petersburg is 
g8 - capital.
here is photo of a friend living in piter: she will not stay there in summer but visit her famillies in austria and the ukraine. thanks a lot, m!
londonleben zur fotografierwut unserer zeit. ein schöner artikel, daher eine unbedingte leseempfehlung von sauseschritt! wer allerdings mehr zu hardcore-theorie tendiert und sich gerade in new yoork befindet, dem sei wieder einmal diese grand dame der reflexion ans herz gelegt.
it is not surprising that this week's topic on
foto friday is summer. sauseschritt is aware that his foto posting mirrors a general cliche about this time of the year, but .....
these two pics give evidence of one of sauseschritt' s many escapes from hot and polluted paris on weekends. for those who want to have the high resolution versions or wish to see more about the britanny in early summer follow me to
flickr.
raoul ruiz:
schön, wie sich ein bild ins andere gefügt hat: was will man/frau mehr vom leben ....
raconte moi ce nom étrange et difficile à prononcer
que je porte depuis que je suis née.
raconte moi le vieil empire et le trait de mes yeux bridés,
qui disent mieux que moi ce que tu n’oses dire.
je ne sais de toi que des images de la guerre,
un film de coppola, [et] des hélicoptères en colère ...
un jour, j’irai là bas, un jour dire bonjour à ton âme.
un jour, j’irai là bas [pour] te dire bonjour, Vietnam.
raconte moi ma couleur, mes cheveux et mes petits pieds,
qui me portent depuis que je suis née.
raconte moi ta maison, ta rue, raconte moi cet inconnu,
les marchés flottants et les sampans de bois.
je ne connais de mon pays que des photos de la guerre,
un film de Coppola, [et] des hélicoptères en colère ...
un jour, j’irai là bas, un jour dire bonjour à mon âme.
un jour, j’firai là bas [pour] te dire bonjour, Vietnam.
les temples et les boudhas de pierre pour mes pères,
les femmes courbées dans les rizières pour mes mères,
dans la prière, dans la lumière, revoir mes frères,
toucher mon âme, mes racines, ma terre...
un jour, j’irai là bas, un jour dire bonjour à mon âme.
un jour, j’irai là bas [pour] te dire bonjour, vietnam (2 fois).
das lied bonjour viet nam, gesungen von pham quynh anh, nicht unberührt gelassen. es scheint derzeit die hymne vieler auslandsvietnamesen zu sein: näheres darüber im forum der vietnam freunde.
