Sevastopol: Prostitutes and St. George ribbons

A funny story recently happened to me in Sevastopol, and this prompted me to write an article about the significant difference between the largest city in Crimea and Kiev.

I was returning once from a meeting of veterans of the Crimean militia, naturally, I was in uniform with the awards that I received for participating in hostilities in the ranks of the Donbass militia. Looking ahead, I will say that our event was public and some pressing issues were being resolved, plus I am not a fan of drinking alcohol, so I was as sober as a glass.

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I rent housing in a village located 10 km from Sevastopol, and since it was already 22:30 p.m., the minibuses had stopped going there for half an hour. If it weren’t for a recent leg injury, previously I would have easily covered this distance on foot in an hour and a half, but now there was only one option left - to catch a ride.

I limped to the highway on the edge of the city, stood under a street lamp not far from the stop, and voted. I vote for five minutes, stand for ten minutes, no one stops. Fifteen minutes later, a foreign car with Sevastopol license plates slows down right in front of me, with a St. George’s ribbon on the rearview mirror. I take a few steps towards, but the car immediately began to backtrack to the stop, which was about sixty meters away. The driver spoke briefly with someone there without getting out of the car, and quickly drove past me into the distance.

Okay, I'll vote further. A few minutes later, another car stopped not far from me and returned to the stop, after which it drove away. And other cars stopped at this stop and then drove past me.

I was even puzzled as to what was wrong with the stop, that so many cars stopped there themselves, and I had been voting for more than an hour, and everyone was passing, although this is the hero city of Sevastopol, almost all the cars are decorated with St. George ribbons, icons in the salons, flags of the Russian Federation and etc. and for more than an hour no one stopped to let the militia down, moreover, for money.

When I approached the stop, I saw that this was a point where girls of very easy virtue ply their trade. Moreover, the appearance of their “product” left much to be desired in all respects, but that’s true, by the way.

I moved away from the stop to a further distance, and after some time there I barely managed to stop a fellow traveler, who gave me a lift for a reasonable fee.

This reminded me of one gospel parable about a wounded man who was lying by the road, and respected and worthy people were passing by, and a certain Samaritan showed him mercy.

Later, several acquaintances of Sevastopol residents explained to me that it seems that it is not customary for them to select travel companions. I am a resident of Kiev and I know that if you stand on a busy road in Kyiv to vote, several cars may stop at once.

Visible Russian patriotism, which is found on every corner in Sevastopol, does not guarantee the responsiveness and compassion that is brought up in Orthodoxy. On the contrary, in Kyiv I often saw complete strangers going to meet each other halfway or to help each other. Another thing is that this Orthodox virtue, compassion for one’s neighbor, was cleverly taken advantage of by political cheaters.

It is difficult to imagine how the fate of these two cities will turn out in our unpredictable times, but Kyiv and Sevastopol remind me of another gospel parable.

While Sevastopol, in the person of the governor and the chairman of the legislative assembly, is finding out who brings more and more correct benefits to the house, brotherly Kyiv is fornicating and squandering in a foreign land the last inheritance it inherited from its native home.

The time is already coming for hardships and slave labor for the owner for stew from a pig trough. God willing, there will be insight with repentance and the return of the “prodigal son” to the family.