Saturday, April 28, 2012

Day in the life of an exiled Cossack

Acrylic painting from my Fragments of memory series.

I first meet Sasha in one of those old converted Sydney wine bars in the 1950's. They were the sort of establishments much despised by the local Sydney population, but were much sort after by newly arrived migrants from Italy. These early post-war settlers, would turn them into successful wine bars come coffee shops, with the odd plate of pasta thrown in. At the time they reflected an Australian version of a Parisian street cafe, attracting a rebellious crowd of writers, artist, musicians, and anyone else who felt dissatisfied with colonial life. It seemed at the time, that turn of the century Paris had arrived in Australia. This was the age of Sarte, the dawn of the postwar age, when it seemed anything was possble.

Sasha, had fled China, as did many Russians after Mao's victory in 1949. He always described himself as a displaced Shanghai Cossack, and  could best  be described as a lively eccentric. We both got along famously from our first meeting,  no doubt as he saw me as someone from his part of the world. I had quite recently "come ashore", after several years of seafaring, and spent many long hours in these wine bars drinking coffee or red wine, after spending the day drawing plaster casts at Julian Ashton Art School. Later we shared a house together for a few months in Balmain, with other "displaced individuals". Sydney at this time viewed most non locals with considerable disdain, any one wearing suede shoes or corduroy was suspect. One could be abused on the bus or train for not speaking English. One of his greatest delights was to get out his saber, and after wavering it around for a few minutes would depart to buy cigarettes. This task seemed to consist of visiting the local garage and smashing the window with his saber to obtain his "free cigarettes". On his return, he would give us a demonstration of how you use a saber. As some of you may know, it is worn upside down, that is the cutting blade is facing up, this weapon has a round nob at the handle end, so that the user could hit the nob with the side of their hand, thus drawing out the blade with one movement, followed by one downward movement presumably removing any heads that were in the way. Cossacks he told, could by this system simply turn their wrist and do further damage on the way up as well.

But, Sasha most outrages exploits, was what he referred to as his Carpet Gang. This involved himself, and one other person dressed in workman's overalls, calling on up market hotels and offices. According to him, it was a fairly simple operation, they would drive up to their targeted site, and claim to had come to collect the rugs and carpets for dry cleaning. Nine times out of ten apparently, the person on duty accepted the request, and they were allowed to role up expensive rugs and casually walk out the door, never to be seen again. How they were able to get away with this I never found out. Luckily, I departed shortly afterwards for Italy and never saw them again. Whether they eventually met the arm of the law, I have no idea.

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