Prince Lobel Partner Joe Steinfield has accepted an appointment by the Center for International Legal Studies (CILS) in Salzburg, Austria, as a visiting professor to teach law in southwest Russia in November. Through CILS, Joe will join the faculty of the Adyghe State University in Maykop, Russia from November 10-21, 2008.
Joe is one of about 60 appointees out of more than 200 applicants from around the United States who have been selected to participate in CILS's Senior Lawyer Program in 2008. The program places volunteer American lawyers with at least 25 years of legal experience at universities located throughout eastern Europe and the former USSR.
Adyghe State University is a state-owned higher education institution in the Republic of Adygheya, Russia (http://www.adygnet.ru/indexeng.shtml).
Last January, Joe attended an orientation session in Salzburg, with approximately 35 other American lawyers. These lawyers were matched up with universities located in Russia, Hungary, Poland, Ukraine, Latvia, Slovenia and several other countries.
During his stay in Maykop, Joe will give lectures on American jury trials, the Supreme Court, American constitutional law, habeas corpus and the Guantanamo Bay detainees, and First Amendment law. To keep clients and colleagues updated on his travels, Joe has created this blog.
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Introduction by Joe Steinfield
Last year I learned about a program called "Senior Lawyers Abroad," sponsored by the Center for International Legal Studies in Salzburg, Austria. I decided to apply, having no clear idea what I was getting into, and following an interview in Boston was accepted by the program. This meant that I would be assigned to teach at a university in Eastern Europe, and that I would be expected to attend an orientation session in Salzburg before carrying out my teaching assignment. Last January, my wife Virginia and I spent a week in Salzburg, learning about the legal systems of Eastern Europe. Here are two photographs taken in Salzburg.
The first photograph shows our Senior Lawyers group, which consisted of lawyers from many states, and one from Australia, as well as many spouses:
The photograph below shows Virginia and me outside the Schloss Leopoldskron:
Earlier this year, I wrote an essay for the Monadnock Ledger Transcript, a weekly in Peterborough, New Hampshire, to which I am a monthly contributor. Entitled “My Visa Application and Testing for HIV,” it explains why we did not go to Samara in April, and ultimately spent two weeks in Adygheya in November. However, I had already started making some notes when I thought we were going to Russia in April, so I begin with a few early entries, after which appear periodic contemporaneous reports starting in Moscow on November 6.
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Saturday, February 2 – Salzburg, Austria
This was our last day in Salzburg, where we spent an orientation week getting ready for our "Senior Lawyers Abroad" adventure. This is a program for American lawyers looking for something different -- a residency of two weeks or more at a university in Eastern Europe, teaching law. The program, run by the Center for International Legal Studies (CILS), is now in its third year. Lawyers with 25 years or more of experience apply to CILS, its director, Dennis Campbell, holds interviews in three American cities, and the next thing you know you are assigned to a university in any one of more than a dozen countries that used to make up the Soviet Union.
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Thursday, February 21 – Boston, Massachusetts
Sara Davis Buss was one of our "Senior Lawyers" (although she doesn't look very senior), and immediately following our orientation week she went off to her assignment in a small city in Latvia named Rezekne. During her stay there she sent regular reports recounting her experiences. Her writing is so lucid, intelligent, and interesting that I begin with a disclaimer. Sara has set the bar so high that I doubt I can even approach what she has accomplished. And for anyone who reads these lines and wants to see what I am talking about, here is the link to Sara's blog: www.hh-law.com/docs/trip.doc
I have been in contact with my contact person (Svetlana) in Samara. She is the Deputy Director of the University's Center of International Cooperation. She has told me that my students will be in their fourth and fifth year at the university. It doesn't look like I will be very busy, but when I offered to do more she politely declined: "Our students have a very tight schedule." I think that is a polite way of saying that they don't really know what they are getting into, and eight sessions with a lawyer from Boston, who doesn't know Russian, is risky enough.
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Saturday, February 23 – Boston, Massachusetts
Svetlana asked me by email whether I could prepare all of my lectures in advance and send them in a box. I assume the idea is to translate the material, but of course I am a long way from having everything written down. The advice we got in Salzburg was to remain flexible, so that's what I plan to do.
Before dealing with what to talk about, I need to focus on just getting visas. Last November I sent Svetlana the necessary details (arrival and departure dates, cities we will visit). Last week the invitations arrived, and I asked a Russian-speaking friend what they said. It turns out that the dates (and cities) are incorrect. So I have now sent two emails asking Svetlana to issue new invitations. I wonder how long it will take the Russian Consulate in New York to issue visas. My friend says they are slow and don't answer the phone.
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Wednesday, February 27 – Boston, Massachusetts
Early this week I sent visa applications to the Russian Embassy -- the invitations from Samara, passports, money order, etc. Yesterday the phone rang, and it was a lady with a Russian accent, telling me that she received my materials and they are fine but with one small problem. It seems that Virginia's specifies her purpose as "business" while mine says "study." I told the lady that was incorrect -- that I was going to be giving lectures. Maybe so, she said, but that's not what the invitation says. She then explained that for "students" there is an additional requirement -- an HIV test, properly signed and submitted to the Embassy. She apologized for the inconvenience, but rules are rules. To read the rest of this particular story, explaining how it came about that we decided not to go to Samara, click here.
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Monday, March 17 - Boston, Massachusetts
I notified CILS of our decision not to go to Samara, and in no time flat Carola Wojak, the Director's assistant, came up with Adyghe State University in the City of Maykop. I emailed the contact person in Maykop and told her we would be delighted to come, preferably in November. Later that day the lady from the Russian Consulate called and said, "The University got the dates wrong and we just used what they sent." She added, "And they also got the purpose of your visit wrong." I don't know why, but I felt vindicated. Here was someone connected to the Russian government telling me that it was Samara's fault. Then, of course, came the inevitable: "You understand, we can't do anything about it." I explained that we had decided no to go to Russia in April. "No problem" came the reply. You can apply again (with another $262!). So, with Samara out of the way, I booked a hernia operation for April instead.
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Thursday, November 6 - Moscow
My intention is to report from my teaching post in Maykop, Adegheya, not to write "travel notes" from Moscow. However, we are here staying in a hotel near the Kremlin and the Bolshoi Theatre (where we will be tomorrow night), and I decided that I should at least warm up.
One member of our Senior Lawyers group, Steve Boris, practices in Framingham but I met him for the first time last January in Salzburg. After we got back, Steve told me he was taking a Russian class at the Cambridge Center for Adult Education and asked if I like to join him. So I did, and I got to know Steve better. As for learning some conversational Russian, however, it's not as easy as it looks. I've got the alphabet under reasonable control and, as with my Hebrew School training a very long time ago, I can sound out the words but have no idea what most of them mean. I don't know how fluent I can get between now and Sunday when we fly to Maykop.
For those of you who haven't been in Moscow recently, it is quite a shock. When I was here in October 1973, the brightest color on the street was brown, and there was no traffic because no one could afford a car. Now the streets are full of women wearing bright colored outfits, and the traffic is as bad as they say. Tomorrow, November 7, is an historic date in Russia, and we have been warned not to try to go anywhere by car. They are predicting gridlock.
The GUM department store is celebrating its 100th birthday, and it seems to specialize in high end designer clothes at astronomical prices. The entire area around our hotel looks like Rodeo Drive, or Worth Avenue, squared. Not your old Moscow.
We didn't pick very wisely for dinner, although the bliny and cavier was ok. The menu included "chewing gum (your choice of Wrigleys)" for dessert. The bill came with a prize in a bag -- a single mitten!
My Barack Obama hat has produced a lot of smiles, and I brought Obama pins for my students. Dana Bash is on CNN as I write this, still reporting on the McCain campaign. I didn't bring any McCain pins.
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Friday, November 7 - Moscow
Who checks the expiration date on an ATM card? I certainly don't, assuming that the bank keeps track of these things and will send a new one at the right time. Imagine my surprise when I went to the ATM machine to get rubles and the machine responded, in perfect English, "card expired." I looked at the card -- "10/08."
The moral of the story: bring two cards! Fortunately, I did.
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Saturday, November 8 - Moscow
This was our last day in Moscow, and a full one it was! Tomorrow we fly to Krasnodar, where Susanna, our host at the University, will pick us up and drive us to Maykop. Then the work begins with our first classes on Monday.
I am scheduled to teach at least ten 90 minute classes, but I believe they will add some "discussions" to that schedule. Virginia will meet with music and foreign language students, so both of us will have the experience of spending considerable time in the classroom. Bob Stich, a member of our Senior Lawyers Salzburg "class," just returned from teaching in the Czech Republic and has already hosted one of the university professors who happened to be in Minneapolis for the weekend. They went to an NHL hockey game where four players were Czech, and the professor could pronounce their names. Somehow I doubt that anyone from Adyghe State will be in Boston so soon, but Bob's report (and the news that he has already signed up for another tour next year, this time to Albania) could not have come at a better time. As with any trip, the night before is when you wonder just what you've gotten yourself into. I just hope the translator shows up on Monday.
If anyone who reads this report is planning to visit Moscow, I have just the guide for you. We spent most of yesterday and today with Tatiana, who is nothing less than a gem. She is completely fluent in English the language and Moscow the City. So, we walked all day yesterday, mostly inside the Kremlin. One cathedral after another, with crypts, frescoes, patriarchs, and a lot of Ivan the Terrible and his many wives. We spent considerable time in the Armory Chamber, Moscow's oldest museum, looking at crafts from the 10th to the 19th centuries -- including Faberge eggs. One striking thing about Moscow is how well they have preserved the past, a quality that came through even more today when we saw a great deal of the city by car, beginning the day in Red Square. We then drove to Christ the Savior Cathedral which, although destroyed in the 1930s (intentionally), was rebuilt in the 1990s and is now a "new" old church. We went on to Novodevichiy Cemetery, where we saw the elaborate burial plots and stones of Russian leaders whose names some of you may recognize -- Mikoyan, for example, and Gromyko. When is the last time anyone thought about those ex-household names? I took pictures of a lot of headstones, including Boris Yeltsin's, which is particularly unattractive. Also buried there are many of the great Russian writers (Pushkin, Gogol, and Tolstoy for example) and composers such as Scriabin and Prokofief. I even saw the gravesite of someone I met in Puerto Rico in 1998, the year before she died -- Raisa Gorbachev.
I always thought we had interesting gravestones in Boston (Mother Goose is buried down the street from our office), but nothing compared to this. Then, walking nearby, we saw a gift from President Bush (the Elder) -- the ducks from " Make Way for Ducklings," sculpted by Boston's own Nancy Schon.
Several hours at the Tretyakov Museum are both exhausting and wonderful. It isn't simply an art museum. It is a place that depicts the history of Russia, its people and its landscapes, through the eyes of its painters. I won't bore you with the details, except to say that it includes Repin's depiction of "Ivan the Terrible and his Son Ivan on 16 November 1581" -- a day and an event that changed Russian history. If you are curious, you can get the details via google.
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Wednesday, November 12 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
I am late with this report, but first I got sick and then the internet was down. So, I have three days to catch up on.
Our trip from Moscow to Maykop began smoothly enough. After arriving at Domodedovo Airport in Moscow, I had a chance to read the New York Times and The Boston Globe on my Blackberry, and to catch up on my e-mails. Somehow, between the waiting area and security, I managed to lose my Blackberry. We looked high and low, and the security people studied videotapes of check in, all to no avail. So, my means of communicating with the world, at least easily, disappeared. They advised me, on my way back, to stop by the "Unknowing Baggage Room."
It's times like this that make you feel stupid. It could be worse, of course (see "Lost Passport"). Still, in this day and age, losing a Blackberry (with cell phone) is serious business.
We made it to Adygheya Sunday afternoon. The University's principal building is an attractive structure:
It is now Wednesday, and -- no small miracle -- we are still here. I have taught three law classes on "The Art and Science of a Jury Trial," complete with PowerPoint slides and a scene from "12 Angry Men" (scenes from "The Verdict" and "My Cousin Vinny" still to come). The students are attentive and smart, and they ask good questions. My translator, Aza, is a gem -- a woman of indeterminate age who not only makes me understood, but is, herself, totally absorbed in the subject matter. She served as a juror in a lengthy murder trial, and today (after a discussion of the O.J. Simpson case) I asked her to tell the students about her case. She was thrilled to do so, and told them that she took her role so seriously that during the trial, she could not sleep at night for fear of reaching the wrong decision. (Our problems of sleeping at night here are of a much different type -- barking dogs outside, a specialty of Maykop).
Our contact person, Susanna, is the Director of the International Program at Adyghe State University.
She and her two assistants, Nadya and Dasha, work in a small office more suitable for one person than for three. Susanna's husband, Nehad, is Adyghe (30% of the population is of that nationality), but in a very interesting way. He was born and raised in Kfar-Kama, an Adyghe village in Israel, near Haifa, one of two such Israeli villages. He grew up there and then lived for 17 years in the United States. I haven't met him yet (I did speak with him by phone yesterday), but as Susanna explains it, he longed to see the home of his grandparents, Adygheya, so he came here to visit, met her, and never left. I'll try to get his side of the story.
The University is making a concerted effort to attract foreign students, who come here to learn the Russian language. Right now, they have students from Chad, Jordan, Syria, Nigeria, Turkey, Finland and Israel. I asked "Where in Israel?" The answer: From the two Adyghe villages. "What about the United States?" The answer: Next year, we hope to have two students from Georgia.
First they have to work out the housing, because they cannot ask them to stay in the dormitory where the other foreign students are housed. Why? The answer will come in a later report, but I will just say, for now, that we spent Sunday night in that building on the 9th (top) floor - foreign students are on the lower floors -and it is the worst building I have every been in that was occupied by human beings -- no exaggeration. If we had not moved to a hotel on Monday, we would not have stayed in Maykop.
On Monday, I gave my students a questionnaire asking a few questions about themselves, including "Favorite American Actor or Actress." So far, Angelina Jolie is far ahead, although Meg Ryan, Selma Hayek and Keira Knightley all got votes, along with Keanu Reeves, Al Pacino, Robert DeNiro and Johnny Depp. So it will not come as a great surprise to hear that even here, a place that most people have never heard of located on a small speck of land in southwest Russia, north of the Caucasus Mountains, with a population of about 450,000 (160,000 in Maykop), American movie and television culture is very strong.
I have encouraged the students to ask me questions, and they are doing so. Just a couple the first day, but a lot more yesterday and today. The first questions were, "Why you did decided to go to Russia?" and "Have you got devoted friends?" I particularly liked the second question and spent some time in class today trying to answer it.
My jury trial lectures are based on a case I tried several years ago, in which a woman was stabbed in her home in Lexington, MA, and called the operator for help. The operator called the fire department, no one sent help, and the woman died with the phone at her ear. Her family sued the telephone company, which I represented at trial.
The case offers a good model for discussing civil trials in America, and we are quite far into the proceedings, including the expert testimony of forensic pathologists. Each student has a notebook containing the Massachusetts wrongful death statute, the complaint, the autopsy report, death scene photographs, parts of the testimony, and other materials including photos of the two forensic pathologists who testified at the trial, Drs. Michael Baden and Cyril Wecht. As I take them through the evidence, I ask them how they feel about the case, who should win, etc. We have spent time talking about negligence and causation, and they fully grasp the idea of liability in tort law and the difference between proximate and remote. I have asked quite a few hypothetical questions, and the students are every bit the equals of their American counterparts. The Socratic Method comes to Adygheya!
The University is a bustling place not unlike an American university. The students are extremely friendly, coming up to us to ask questions in the hallways and in the cafeteria. They dress alike, with black by far the most popular color. The women mostly wear dresses and high-heeled boots. They are, on the whole, much better dressed than American students. The facilities are modest; I don't think there is such a thing as a student lounge or other place for them to sit and talk between classes, so they tend to congregate in the halls or outside (the weather here is quite mild -- in the mid to high 40s). There is a shortage of chalk for the blackboards. They do not bring laptops to class - one boy said in class today that laptops are not good for your health.
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Thursday, November 13 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Yesterday, I taught two classes: my regular law students in the morning, and foreign language students in the afternoon. I finished at 2:30, which was when Virginia began her class with music students and faculty -- discussing and playing composers such as MacDowell, Debussy, Chopin, and various women. I wasn't there, I was hanging around Susanna's small office, hoping for a few minutes on the computer (the operative word here is "shortage").
Then Nehad, Susanna's husband, called and asked for me. "Are you free?" he asked. I didn't have to check my calendar. "Sure." "I'll be right over," he said. A few minutes later, in walked a handsome, gregarious man who, I learned later, married Susanna a year or so ago. He, as I noted in an earlier report, is from Kfar-Kama, one of the two Adyghe villages in Israel. He has five grown children and two grandchildren, in Israel.
Nehad greeted me warmly, and off we went in his new Chevrolet Trailblazer. We were not alone in the car. In the backseat were Abdella and two brothers from Israel, whose names I never did get. They are visiting from their home in Kfar-Kama (coincidentally). I had no idea where we were going, but Nehad explained that we were taking a short trip to the new Adyghe village of Mafa-Habla, a few kilometers from Maykop. Abdella, he told me, is the mayor of the village, having come here from an Adyghe village in Yugoslavia ten years ago. As I understood it, we would go to Abdella's house for a cup of tea. There was more to it, as I will explain.
But first, after a call on his cell phone, Nehad pulled into a driveway. He wanted me to meet his friend Gurevich, who greeted us at his garage door. "Shalom Alechem," said Nehad. Gurevich replied in kind. Yes, there are Jews in Maykop, about 50 families. No synagogue yet, but the President of the Republic is proposing to remedy that and build a synagogue. Interesting when you realize that the Adyghe people are virtually all Muslim. Well, I came here to learn, and things are beginning to sink in.
Gurevich’s parents came here from Poland when he was a teenager. His house is also his workplace. He makes "honey makers," which are sort of an ersatz honeycomb to help bees make honey. Adygheya is known for its horticulture, its cattle and its bees. (I mentioned that I am very allergic to bees, but fortunately they make the honey someplace else.) Gurevich invited us to come back, which I expect we will. Here are Nehad (with glasses) and Gurevich (with honey maker).
Nehad, as you may have gathered, is a man of the world. After growing up in Israel, he lived in New York, New Jersey and Texas, and he has seen most of the United States, including Boston and Cape Cod. "I love summer in Boston," he told me, "but the winters are too cold." He speaks most of the 12 Adyghe dialects, which is what they were speaking in the car. It is some sort of Indo-European language which, he says, does not resemble any other language in the world. I'll take his word for it. He is also fluent in Hebrew, Arabic, Russian and English. I asked about Spanish. Yes, he knows that too, although not as well. "I employed Spanish speaking people in my business in New York." Nehad ran a maintenance company and mentioned that Home Depot was one of his customers.
Sidebar: Gurevich decided that he wanted to have a Passover seder at his home. He invited the Jewish families of the community, and also Nehad. Nehad wasn't feeling well, but Gurevich told him it was important, there was only one night for the seder and Nehad could be sick on other days. So Nehad agreed to come. Gurevich bought haggadahs (special Passover prayer books) for the occasion. Everyone arrived, Gurevich handed out the haggadahs, but none of the Adyghe Jews could read Hebrew. Gurevich asked Nehad, "Can you read this?" "Of course I can," Nehad answered. And so, at what was apparently the first Maykop Seder, Nehad the Israeli-born Muslim, conducted the seder for the Jews of Maykop.
We left Gurevich and drove to Abdella's house in Mafa-Habla "for tea." Abdella's wife greeted us and ushered us into the dining room. "Tea" turned out to be a multi-course meal, all home-cooked. A special dipping sauce for "pasta," homemade bread, baked chicken with Adyghe spices, carrot salad, homemade grape juice, fresh peppers and more. It was only about 4:30, but I didn't want to be rude, so I ate every bite and enjoyed all of it. I started to worry -- this is really my dinner, and Virginia isn't here. Nehad knew the term "doggy bag," and Mrs. Abdella was only too happy to prepare a full meal for me to take back with me.
We adjourned to the living room, and finally the tea arrived, along with wonderful layered spice cake. Then, as I saw Abdella take papers out of his briefcase, it dawned on me. This house visit was not entirely social; the Mayor of the village was arranging a land deal for the two brothers, and here I was in the middle of a real estate closing.
Nehad explained to me that this Republic is encouraging people to return, to "make Aliyah" as he put it (using the term for Jews moving to Israel). The brothers are taking advantage of this opportunity, and I watched as they received and signed deeds for property in the village -- which they now own, a gift from the government, provided they take steps to begin construction of a house within the next year and finish within a certain time, three years I think.
At this point, I understood why we had taken a "tour" of the village before going to Abdella's house -- not on roads, which don't exist yet, but on ruts. We saw the new mosque, and a community building donated by Khadafy, and several large and attractive homes, as well as others under construction. We were making a site visit to show the brothers their property! Nehad could not tell me how much it will cost the brothers to build homes. "Joe," he said, "you have to understand. There are no rules, no requirements, no building codes. So, they will build whatever they like." My guess is that these brothers, if they come here with their families, will build something nice.
The brothers were leaving at midnight, back to Kfar-Kama via Istanbul. This, however, was their second land deal of their one-week visit. The day before, they bought land for investment. According to Nehad, property values are going up and it's a great time to buy. So, if anyone is interested in the Adyghe land boom, let me know.
As we left, me with my doggy bag, Abdella spoke to me in his halting English. He told me he came from Yugoslavia "before the war," and that his years here have been "very happy" for him, his wife, and their daughter, who now attends the university. He invited me to come back before I leave "and bring your wife." Obviously, this tall, handsome Muslim man is succeeding in his new land which is, for him, a refuge from difficult times in a war-torn country. Making Aliyah to Adygheya. I am developing respect for this place.
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Friday, November 14 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Yesterday was Virginia's birthday, and we celebrated the occasion by attending a concert with two of our prize students, Asiya and Saida.
They worry about us, especially crossing the street at intersections (it's worse here than Boston!), and they insisted on paying for the tickets. The price of admission for adults is about $3, for students about $1. For that you get to hear an excellent orchestra, the Adygheya Symphony -- no threat to the BSO, but professional musicians who play very well. The concert hall takes up a full city block and would be a credit to any American city. Comfortable, large (capacity for at least 1000), excellent acoustics.
The concert began at an odd time, 6:30 pm. First we heard Rachmaninov's 2nd Piano Concerto, played by a 19-year old pianist from Pyatagorsk. He was dressed all in black, never smiled, but played with great passion, fingers flying over the keys. "Great chops," as they say. We spoke with him after the concert and Virginia asked whether he also plays the 3rd concerto. "I am too young to play that concerto," was his answer. I asked about playing in the United States. He replied, "Yes, when I am a better pianist."
The second half was a concerto by Glazinov, not exactly a household name, even in our house, but apparently popular in Russia. It didn't go over quite as well with the sparse audience, which was actually quite tepid at the end of both concertos. I'm not sure whether they didn't love the concert or whether that's the typical response in Maykop. I, for one, was impressed and made up half of a two-person standing ovation.
Yesterday's law class continued our discussion of tort law, still discussing the case of the stabbing victim who called the operator for help. I posed some hypothetical questions to the students, which is not something they are accustomed to. They seem to enjoy it, however, and keep raising very challenging questions. I had earlier told them about the Michnik-Zilberman case. A store in Waltham sold beer to a 17-year old when the legal age was 18. The boy got drunk, drove his mother's car, and struck and killed a Brandeis professor who had emigrated from Russia a few years before. The Massachusetts court upheld a jury finding for his widow. I changed the facts -- suppose the boy gave the beer to a friend. A student asked, "How old is the friend?" I said "20." "What is the legal age,” someone asked. I told them it was 18 at the time. I then asked, "Who says the store wins?"
Sergey raised his hand, and I asked him to argue the case, which he did. I asked how much he charges. "$400 an hour." I then asked who wanted to argue the other side, and Saida did so. She charges "$150 an hour -- I do not have as much experience as Sergey," she said. We then took a vote -- I call the students "my jurors" -- and Saida's side won. Then another student said, "That is ridiculous. Of course the store wins. If a 20-year old drinks beer and kills someone, it is his fault and not the fault of the store." Without using the term, she was presenting an "intervening cause" defense. At the end of this spirited discussion, I told the students what had just happened: a discussion exactly like what we have in an American law school class. (These students, I should reiterate, are comparable to college juniors or seniors, not law students.)
I then presented another case. A doctor prescribes medicine, but doesn't warn of the side effects. The patient takes the pill, drives, becomes drowsy and hits a young boy. (This is an actual recent case.) The mother sues the doctor. Up went a student's hand: "You cannot hold the doctor liable. It is the patient's responsibility to read the warning that comes with the medicine." Another good answer, even if the Supreme Judicial Court held the other way.
In the course of all of this, I explained what a trial lawyer brings to the jury - the testimony, the exhibits, and him (or her) self. I spoke about the importance of the facts, about honesty and candor with the jury and the judge, and about ethical conduct. They were very attentive and interested in this subject, and they were nodding their heads.
Between these discussions and a review of the autopsy report and the complaint in the stabbing case, we were running out of time. I decided we should watch some cross-examination scenes from "My Cousin Vinny." That movie is not known here, so I needed to set the scene. I explained how the two boys from the North drove to Alabama, forgot to pay for a can of tuna fish at the Sac-O-Suds convenience store, and ended up charged with murdering the store clerk. The students started laughing. Then I imitated a southern drawl, giving my best Blanche Dubois accent, which they found hysterical. I then told them about Cousin Vinny, who passed the bar exam after six tries and had never been in a courtroom, about his girlfriend, Mona Lisa Vito (they laughed at the name), and about the public defender who stutters. By then, the 90 minutes allotted for the class had run out, so we put off the film scenes for today, about a half hour from now.
As anyone reading these reports can tell, our experience here has been quite remarkable so far. I wrote, earlier, that the operative word is "shortage." They need chalk for blackboards -- actually they need blackboards. They also need decent toilets at the university, and a place for students to go when not in class. Notwithstanding these problems, it is clear that a lot of learning goes on here.
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Friday night, November 14 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Last night after the concert, we ate at the cafe across the street. It was after 8:00, and they were out of almost everything, so it was easy to order -- chicken cutlets, mashed potatoes, cabbage salad and beer. Then to bed, which turned into an unwelcome further encore after the concert -- the mongrel chorus. I don't know if it's the mating season, but the dogs here are a whole separate chapter. They start around midnight and bark more or less continuously for several hours, right outside our bedroom window. This is disturbing to one's sleep.
I have held off writing about our accommodations here -- the first night at the dormitory "faculty housing," then several nights at the Hotel Adygheya, which calls itself a one-star hotel. I think it gets that rating only by comparison to the dormitory which, if it were rated, would not get any stars. After our first night here we tried to get a room at the Hotel Maykop, but they were full. Today we were successful, and we will move tomorrow morning. It is just a couple of blocks away, and they promise "no dogs." Besides, as Virginia points out, that way we will get fresh sheets and reliable hot water! And it is 200 rubles less per night. I can hardly wait, although this housing experience is further proof that I need to pack lighter.
Today's class featured scenes from "My Cousin Vinny," and I recommend it as a teaching tool for law students everywhere. The students watched three scenes -- first the cross-examination of Sam Tipton, the eyewitness who was cooking grits for breakfast, who said it took him five minutes, and claimed he saw the boys run out of the store. Vinny knew that you can't cook grits in five minutes -- "Were these miracle grits?" The second scene covered cross-examination of two witnesses: First, the man who was looking through a dirty window with his view of the store obscured by trees, leaves and bushes. "Don't be afraid," Vinny tells him, "Shout it right out when you know the answer." Then, the elderly black lady wearing thick glasses -- the scene where Vinny marks off 50 feet with his tape measure.
These 15 minutes of film took nearly an hour, what with pauses for translation and my explanation of how Vinny builds the defense step by step, controls the witness, won't let the witness evade the question, and always makes sure the jury is following the testimony. (These jurors know how long it takes to cook grits.) The students laughed at all the right places, and they couldn't get enough of it. So, I gave them the choice of one more scene -- Mona Lisa Vito, Vinny's fiancé, the expert on automobiles. The students said yes, so we watched that great scene, with further comments from me about the role of an expert and the value of forensics in criminal cases. Again, the students were completely absorbed, loved Mona Lisa's response when the prosecutor tried to trick her ("that's a bullshit question"), even more so when they heard it in Russian. I think several of the boys have developed a crush on Marisa Tomei, the actress who plays Mona Lisa.
At the end of the class, it was picture time. Many students had their cameras, as did I, so we took a group photograph. Here are my students:
After class, there was Nehad, our self-appointed host, tour guide and expert on Adyghe culture. "How about some Adyghe music?" he asked. I said sure, and a half hour later he picked us up and back we went for a concert completely different from last night's. To make this more understandable, I need to say a few words about the Adyghe culture.
The Adyghe people settled in the Caucasus region centuries ago. First came Tamerlane, and then the Russians, to take over the land. But the language, music, food, and Muslim faith never disappeared. There was a diaspora of sorts -- Nehad's family left for Palestine during the Russia-Caucasian War to avoid persecution, in 1864. Others who could afford to leave went to Turkey, Syria, Jordan and other places, taking their culture with them. Some eventually ended up in the United States, mostly in either New Jersey or California. There are about 10 million Adyghe people in the world, but here in Adygheya, the republic named after them, only about 30% of the population of a half millian are Adyghe. About 60% are Russian, and the rest are an assortment of Armenians and others. Even so, the Adyghe people wield a considerable influence. The President and principal governmental officials are Adyghe, along with about 50% of the Parliament.
Those born here grow up speaking Adyghe and Russian. Nehad grew up in Kfar-Kama, speaking Adyghe and Hebrew. So, the Adyghe people speak Adyghe to each other and Russian to the Russians. There is even a newspaper printed in both languages, one on one side of the page, the other on the opposite side.
The purpose of today's concert, held in a smaller hall in the Philharmonia Building, was to celebrate the issuance of a new CD of Adyghe music and songs. It was quite an event -- television cameras, interviews, well-dressed men and women, and nearly two hours of music with a lot of talk mixed in, all in the Adyghe language. These are not exactly pop songs, more like 600-year old traditional folk melodies, sung by seven strong male voices, some with accompaniment on a two-stringed instrument shaped like a gondola and played with a curved bow. To me it sounded like I was hearing the same song over and over, but I'm told that was not the case. Then there is this flute-like instrument that is tucked into the corner of the mouth. We can't figure out how the musician gets air into the thing, but sound does come out, some of it quite beautiful.
Of course everybody knows everybody, so there was a great deal of chatter before and after, and some during, the concert. Two woman joined the group for a couple of songs, and then, not to be outdone, a man wearing a suit and an Adyghe fur hat walked up to the stage and joined in as well. A community sing, as it were.
At the end, the Vice-Minister of Culture gave a speech and presented certificates and checks to all the musicians. Then a local businessman who funded the CD presented an award to the leader. At long last, the concert was over. "Well," I told Virginia, "you said you wanted to hear native music." On our way out they were selling the CDs, and we tried to buy one. They insisted on giving it to us, just one of countless acts of generosity we have experienced.
I mentioned in one of my earlier reports that my Senior Lawyer colleague, Steve Boris, persuaded me to join him for "Introductory Russian" at the Cambridge Adult Education Center. As I sat there this afternoon, I thought to myself, "I took the wrong language. I should have taken Adyghe." I mentioned this to Nehad, who claims there are non-Adyghe people who actually know the language, including a professor somewhere in America. I'll have to look for him.
Nehad then announced that we were now going to dinner -- him, us, his wife Susanna (my host at the University), and Gazey, the former Minister of Culture. We went to a very good restaurant, connected to the Hotel Maykop to which we move tomorrow. It was an excellent meal, but no alcohol. Our new friends and hosts are Muslims. I asked Nehad about this, and he told me he has never in his life tasted wine or beer or any alcohol (he is 58), and not just because he is Muslim. "I don't believe in it," he said. He also told me that he has visited Las Vegas, Atlantic City and Foxwoods and has never gambled. "It's stupid. Why should I give them my money?"
We talked about a lot of things over dinner, but most surprising to me was the Culture Minister's interest in American Indians. He wanted to know about life on reservations, whether they were governed by the same laws as the rest of America, and much more. I was able to answer some of his questions based on my visit to the Rosebud Reservation in South Dakota a few years ago, and on my daughter's reports from the Navaho Reservation in Arizona where she is living at the moment. He asked whether there are any books in the Russian language about American Indian life. I told him I would check.
As we were eating dessert, in walked Gurevich, the man who makes the honey makers, Nehad's "Rabbi." He greeted me with a hug, and "Shabbat Shalom."
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Saturday, November 15 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Today's move from the Hotel Adygheya to the Hotel Maykop presented a problem. Here, you don't pay at checkout, you pay at check in. When we arrived at the hotel last Monday, I paid for three nights, and at the end of the third day the lady who oversees the third floor came to us with the universal hand sign for "pay me." So, I went to the front desk and paid the clerk for another three nights. We had only used two of those nights, however, so this morning I went back to the cage (the reception area looks like a holding pen for prisoners) to negotiate a refund. The clerk had no idea what I was talking about, or if she did she was too smart to let on. So I wrote down the room rate three times, crossed off two of them, pointed to the third, and made some hand motions. Then she understood, and she gave me an immediate "Nyet" -- not possible. I kept pointing, and she kept saying "Nyet."
I wasn't about to leave, and it seemed like a standoff until she finally motioned me to sit down, a good sign I thought. Then she spent several minutes on the phone, presumably talking to her superior. She came back, smiled, and gave me a refund for the unused night. I walked outside waving my rubles at Virginia and feeling like I had just won a lawsuit in a foreign language.
Nehad arrived to pick us up and help us with the move. I started to tell him about my great victory with the hotel clerk. "I know all about it," he said. "I called and had a long talk with her. I said that you are an American lawyer and they'd better give you your money back." I thanked Nehad, but I felt a bit deflated. Here I thought the refund was due to my charm and persuasive skill!
On our way to the Hotel Maykop, we stopped at a shop that sells both Adyghe and Russian art and artifacts. We bought an Adyghe flag (it has twelve stars, like the twelve tribes of Israel, Nehad explained), and I bought an Adyghe fur hat. It makes me taller.
As arranged yesterday, our prize students, friends and guardian angels, Saida and Asiya, arrived at 1:00. We were heading to an outdoor market, but first Nehad wanted to show us the new mosque. We went in, met a few of Nehad's friends, then took off our shoes and entered the sanctuary. Nehad said it was ok not to go downstairs and wash, since we were there to look, not to pray. As we left, Nehad commented that the Hebrew and Arabic words for "charity" are the same. I put a few rubles in the "tzdakah" box.
Nehad dropped us off at the market, mostly stalls selling clothes. We didn't see anything we wanted to buy, so we hailed a cab that turned out to be a 34-year old Russian car. We struck up a conversation with the driver, who is from the same village as Asiya's family and knows them all, and he asked me how I liked his car. I said I did -- "just like a taxicab in America," I told him. I asked where was the meter. He pointed to his head.
We spent the next hour or so at the museum, which has a special exhibit of 19th century Adyghe culture. The two girls took us from one display to the next, patiently explaining everything. They have an encyclopedic knowledge of their culture and are only too happy to share it. During the tour I learned a lot about traditional Adyghe family life, much of which remains unchanged to this day. One example: After a marriage, the spouses (or at least the wife) are not allowed to talk with their in-laws -- not for some limited period of time, but for life. There may be some exceptions, for example the wife might be able to enter her father-in-law's home to bring him a meal.
As I write this entry, I am in our palatial new hotel suite -- large living room, bathroom, decent towels and clean sheets. Tomorrow, Sunday, we regroup and get ready for the second half of our stay. Nehad tells us we are going to a native Adyghe dance concert in the afternoon. I've learned better than to argue with him.
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Sunday, November 16 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
We just returned from the principal market (not the one we visited yesterday), which is enormous, much larger than a football field, with each section organized by type of product. Enormous quantities of cheese and other dairy, meat, poultry, vegetables, eggs, fruit, nuts, grains, and a lot of stuff I've never seen before. We bought three different kinds of salad for lunch and returned to our hotel. The report on our first day at Hotel Maykop is all positive. You make a request and they are happy to oblige -- extra towels and hangers, an electric pitcher to heat water ("samovar?"), a vase for the flowers we bought. Best of all, no dogs.
Instead of Nehad, Dasha (Susanna's other assistant) arrived at our hotel at 4, and we three went to the dance concert, which wasn't an Adyghe event at all. It consisted of school children from two places, here and a city "a far way off," ages 6 or 7 up to 18. You would have thought you were at a Broadway show, it was that professional. These children train every day after school, and it shows. Amazing precision, no one out of step, and strong singing voices as well. To me it appeared to be a mixture, some Adyghe music, some Russian. Philharmonia Hall was filled, certainly over 1000 people, about half adults and half children. Amazingly, the program lasted over two hours and not even the young spectators seemed to get fidgety (I did). Not only was the dancing spectacular, but the costumes, too, were professional in every way. It is astonishing to think that this goes on in many Russian cities, even small ones such as Maykop. I have never seen such talent among children in an American school show. They didn't even seem nervous.
As I sit here in Maykop at the end of the day on Sunday, halfway through our "Senior Lawyer (and Pianist) Abroad" excursion, I ask myself what would be of the most interest to those who read these reports -- family, friends, colleagues and others. One thought keeps coming back to me. Sara Davis Buss, in her reports from Latvia last February, had a sense of her roots. She, like myself and many of the Senior Lawyers, comes from Eastern European ancestry -- Jews who left the Old Country a hundred years ago. My sense is that for many of us, this departure from our normal routine was about "roots."
I knew from my online reading that Adygheya was a polyglot with a substantial Muslim influence. I did not expect, however, that I would become so immersed in a culture that I had never heard of before, one that has nothing whatsoever to do with my roots. Nor did I anticipate such warmth and generosity. The Russian writer Lermontov visited this region a century and a half ago and wrote, "It is a joy to live in a place like this." From what I can tell, that is how citizens of Adygheya feel today.
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Monday, November 17 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Featherbedding is alive and well in Adygheya. In order to enter my classroom, we must first wait for the lady with the key. This is her domain. She lets us in and sits at a table just inside the door. She remains throughout the class, and she is the last one to leave, locking the door behind her. She is my bailiff, and a very nice person.
On the other hand, the two young women who work for Susanna, Nadya and Dasha, work very hard. I asked Dasha about bringing a cup of coffee or tea to her desk. "Oh, no," she said, "if I am drinking tea at my desk, I do not get my work done."
Today we finished my lectures on "The Art and Science of a Jury Trial." I began the next lecture, which will be about the Supreme Court and constitutional law. I think it was a good idea to start with jury trials, and to give each student a notebook with exhibits. They were able to follow the case, and they asked a lot of good questions. I would definitely recommend this subject to other "Senior Lawyers" who may be planning a trip to an Eastern European university. It is clear that the students and faculty have a real hunger to know about American law and to emulate some of our methods.
My classes begin at different times, and today's was at 9:00 AM. Students here are the same as everywhere else; not everyone makes it to an early Monday class, and some arrived late. Even so, attendance has been very good, and when I enter the classroom, all of the students stand up. Here, professors are held in very high respect, and I am the beneficiary of that custom.
I have given small presents to my students -- Obama pins (thanks to my friend Rob Barber from the Obama Steering Committee), key chains with various Boston scenes or symbols (lobsters, Red Sox, etc.) and the like. Gift-giving is traditional here, and it works both ways. The law professor, Regina, presented me with several Russian law books, which will add weight to our luggage and which I cannot read. But Saida gave us a book, " Native Land in the World of English," which begins with an Adyghe folk song and then Pete Seeger's "I Can See a New Day." The book is filled with information about the region and its culture and politics. Under "Political Outlook," the book says that since 1990, "the peoples in these [ Caucasus] republics are the hive of representatives of many different nationalities with equal rights and a wonder mixture of customs and traditions." The President of Adygheya, according to the book, "is very attentive to his people ... so that everybody could feel himself a defended citizen and be sure in the future. ... [His] activity and contribution in favour of people is boundless, useful and inestimable." Let's hope we'll be able to say the same thing about Barack Obama.
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Tuesday, November 18 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya
Today's class was about the Supreme Court and the Constitution. We had a very large turnout, maybe 60 or 70 students. The school excused first and second year students from their regular classes, which I took as a compliment. I am getting pretty comfortable with PowerPoint, and I showed pictures of the Supreme Court Justices, with brief biographical comments (somewhat more detail regarding Justice Thomas, to explain the confirmation process). I showed them Chief Justice Marshall and explained Marbury v. Madison; and Chief Justice Warren, and said a few words about Brown (school desegregation), Griswold (birth control), Engel (school prayer), Gideon (right to counsel), and Miranda. They all know about Miranda warnings from watching American television shows.
I spoke about Roe v. Wade and the close connection between politics and law. And I explained the gay rights case in which the Court reversed its decision of just 20 years earlier and held that the state could not criminalize private consensual gay sex between adults. I couldn't tell just what my students were thinking -- I told them what Justice Kennedy wrote, that the earlier decision was wrong when made, and that the world community sees this as a matter of human rights. When I told them that Justices Scalia and Thomas dissented, they nodded as if to say, "we could have guessed." From what I can tell, homosexuality is not out in the open, or much discussed, in Russia, or at least not in Adygheya.
After class, Nehad showed up and said we should have lunch and go see the mountains. I said ok, but when we got outside it was overcast, not a good day for mountains. So we picked up our friend,Gazey, the former Culture Minister, and went to a restaurant (cafe) for what turned out to be another big meal of Adyghe food. Later, a member of Parliament from Krasnodar, the next republic over, just happened to join us, and then came Susanna and Virginia. Nehad, as you know if you have read my earlier reports, is a man of action. And you can't be with him without learning more about Adyghe culture.
During lunch, I learned about the Circassian Benevolent Association (the CBA), founded in the 1960s in Paterson, N.J., and now headquartered in a 22,000 square foot building in Wayne, N.J. (view photo). CBA's purpose is to promote and preserve Adyghe culture and religious education among Circassians in the United States. I asked Nehad where these immigrants came from. The answer is Syria, mostly; they formerly lived in the Golan Heights and came after the 1967 war. I asked about his hometown of Kfar-Kama. "Nobody would want to leave Kfar-Kama to live in the United States," he replied.
Like other American immigrants, these Circassian (meaning people from Adygheya and adjoining areas) wanted to preserve their heritage (the word for tradition in Adyghe is "Khabsa"), along with their Islamic faith (although Adyghe is a nationality, not a religion, and not all are Muslim). The building in Wayne, N.J. has classrooms, a mosque, a funeral parlor, function rooms, educational facilities, library, apartments, and a place to make copies and have documents notarized -- soup to nuts, so to speak. They are holding a fundraiser on November 26, but I told Nehad that's the day before Thanksgiving, and I can't make it.
Speaking of Thanksgiving, the Adyghe word for "turkey" translates as "God's chicken." They raise them in Maykop -- white birds with black spots.
The member of Parliament is serving his second five-year term. I asked him about that body. It has 54 members, 27 appointed by "the party" and 27 (including him) elected at large. They meet twice weekly, and his particular interests are education and business development. It seems he knows something about the latter. He owns 12 supermarkets and two boutiques. He visited New York City 11 years ago, walked up and down Madison Avenue, and opened a boutique in Krasnodar "just like what I saw." Members of Parliament are paid $50/month, which is better than New Hampshire legislators who, as I told him, are paid $100/year.
This evening we were scheduled to attend to the Moscow Circus, and the girls, Saida and Asiya, said they would like to go with us. We were told the time, 7:00 PM, and the location. Virginia decided not to go, so the girls and I set off for the nearest cab stand. We didn't choose the cab at the front of the line. Saida spoke to a young man on the sidewalk -- it was her cousin (these things no longer surprise me) -- and he took us in his cab. When we got there, he refused to accept any fare. "It's a tradition," I was told. "We don't have that tradition in Boston," I replied.
Well, we were in the wrong place, no circus. A few cell phone calls later, we were on the mini-bus, an old VW bus, and went to the right place, Philharmonia Hall, just a few blocks from Hotel Maykop. By now it was 7:15, and Asiya looked at the sign and groaned, "It started at six!" "Never mind," I said, "we'll go to the second half.” But the box office was closed, and the man inside said that it was almost over, only 20 minutes left. I said we should go in anyway, but the girls said, "No, they'll make you pay." "Maybe not," I said, and a red-haired woman, who apparently manages the hall, spotted us, came over, and motioned us to go in -- at no charge. As we climbed the stairs from the lobby, Saida said, "she recognized you from when you were here before." We took our seats, watched several acts, and had a full hour (not 20 minutes) of high-level circus acts, even including Cleopatra the snake charmer. She came down to the front of the hall, and all the children came running to touch the snake, which looked pretty lethal to me. Fearless people, these Russians.
One act worried me. Out came a performer, did several leaps, somersaults and the like, and then brought three boys up from the audience. He had them stand side by side, bending forward at the waist, and he did a leaping somersault over them. That didn't look too hard (for him), but then he brought up three more and I started to worry. Same jump, over their backs. "Enough," I thought, but no -- he brought up six more, so now he had 12 young boys, all bending over, and yes, he went to the other side of the stage and did the same thing, a leaping somersault that barely cleared the 12th boy. "If he had hit the boy," I asked my two students, "is the circus liable?" "Yes," they answered in unison.
In earlier reports I have mentioned our problems with accommodations and our moves, first from the "dormitory" to Hotel Adygheya and, after five days there, to Hotel Maykop. I had originally planned to write about the dormitory in my first report. I am glad that I did not do so. At the time it seemed like such a complete disaster, such an inauspicious start to our visit, that nothing could rescue this trip. It pays to get a little perspective. As those who have been following these reports undoubtedly know, we are having an incredible experience here. We may even come back!
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Wednesday, November 19 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya, Russia
Today, we spent time in class talking about important Supreme Court cases, beginning with Dred Scott in 1857 and Plessy v. Ferguson, 40 years later. If you had to pick the two worst Supreme Court decision, I told the class, these would be my choices. We moved on to the subject of stare decisis -- when should courts adhere to earlier decisions, and when should they overrule them. How do culture and social changes affect the way courts decide cases? These are weighty issues, but the students are fully able to appreciate them, and to offer insightful comments.
We also talked about the first amendment, and I explained the flag-burning case. The students were clear -- not in Russia! As for guns and the second amendment, yes for hunting here, but not for any other purpose. I told that that our Supreme Court decided otherwise earlier this year, 5 to 4. They seemed surprised. I brought up the subject of illegally obtained evidence and asked whether it could be used in a Russian court. The answer was No. "You need a warrant." So, Russian law is the same on this point as American.
I then told them about the Medford lawyer, Victor Garo, and about his client, Joe Salvati, who served 30 years in the Teddy Deegan murder case and was ultimately vindicated and freed. I gave them copies of a Readers Digest article about the case, and I explained the concept of pro bono legal services. I said that Mr. Garo has worked on the case for 30 years at no fee. I told them that Judge Gertner has awarded Salvati $34 million, a ruling now on appeal. At the end of the story, I asked how the students felt about the case. A girl responded, "It touches me to the bottom of my heart." Then Aza, my translator, offered her opinion: "Yes, but justice was done."
In the evening, we drove quite a distance with Susanna and Nehad for an excellent dinner. On the way, Nehad sang every verse of "Jerusalem of Gold," in Hebrew. He sings well, and he knows a great deal about Israel, its culture and politics. Of course it is his homeland -- he fought in its army, as did his son, who was wounded; his five grown children live there; he knows many of the leading political figures; and he has a proprietary attitude towards the country. I am reminded that Israel is not only the Jewish Homeland. For this Adyghe Muslim, it is his as well. And if ever a man was opposed to killing, over land or over religion, it is Nehad.
Susanna has been extremely gracious. With the help of her two assistants, Nadya and Dasha, she is responsible for the entire international program. They work extremely hard, and there is a constant stream of students in and out of the cramped office. Much of the communication is in English, since students from such places as Chad, Nigeria and Syria know little or no Russian -- that is why they are here, to learn the language. In addition, regular students keep coming in and out, and they even hold English classes there.
Susanna knows that we left the "dormitory" after one night, and she has been very apologetic. I have told her it's ok, don't worry about it. She has brought it up several times, however, and today she told me she has spoken to the Director of the University, who conveys his regrets and deep apology. Apparently they had requested certain repairs and maintenance, which were never done. The Director told Susanna that the University will reimburse us in full for Hotel Maykop. I protested, although not too vigorously. So, here we have another example of how much they appreciate our being here. We talked about the Senior Lawyers Program over dinner, and I had to explain that we are not being paid. She wondered whether professors from Adyghe State might be able to apply to the "organization in Salzburg" and be "Senior Professors Abroad." I told her I had my doubts.
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Thursday, November 20 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya, Russia
This is very much a gift-giving culture. Fortunately, we brought an assortment of Boston key chains, tee shirts depicting American Indians, and various other items. Each day, it seems, they give us something -- music books for Virginia, small pieces of art, the Adyghe CD, children's books for our grandchildren, and more. In an earlier report, I said that the operative word here is "shortage." I've changed my mind. It is "generosity." We are much richer for our visit here -- and I now have 10,500 unexpected rubles (26 to the dollar), reimbursing me for five nights at Hotel Maykop. They paid directly for the last two nights.
Today's class was in a room far removed from where I usually teach. My regular room is very large, with microphones, power point equipment, just a perfect teaching space. Today was much different -- up and down several flights of stairs to room 303C, a bare-bones classroom. Many of my students didn't make it, but we had a hard-core group of about 15, and in some ways it was one of my most successful classes. We talked about Lincoln, the Gettysburg Address, civil rights cases, Martin Luther King, and the 1964 Civil Rights Act. I tried to connect various pieces of American history, explaining that Barack Obama borrowed the phrase "the fierce urgency of now" from Dr. King's "I Have a Dream Speech" in Washington. I read portions of the speech, and the students were transfixed. At the end, one student said "great speech." Another commented that in Russia, "free at last" means that someone died.
I also spoke about the book "Team of Rivals" and how Lincoln brought his opponents into his administration. The students know that Hillary Clinton is being considered for Secretary of State, and they seem enthusiastic about that prospect. Many said they would like her to become President after Obama.
I explained the flag-burning case earlier this week, and today I asked whether we were all adults, grownups, and they said yes. "We can discuss anything?" I asked. Again, yes. "How about bad words." "No problem." Just to be sure, I said that if anyone would be offended by bad language, they could leave. No one did. Then I told them about the Cohen case, involving the swear word on the back of the teenager's jacket. I took off my jacket, turned it around, and told them what was on Cohen's jacket -- "Fuck the draft." This cracked them up. I asked if we could go outside in Maykop wearing "Fuck the government" on our jackets. The answer was yes, "but you will pay a fine." I told them that one Supreme Court justice wrote, "One man's vulgarity is another's lyric." They liked that.
We talked politics. They want to know what Americans think about Russia. I said we were very interested. They laughed when I told them that George Bush claimed to have looked into Putin's soul. I told them we were confused about who is in charge here, Putin or Medvedev. One boy said, "So are we." Another asked, "Who is in charge in America, Bush or Cheney?"
In the afternoon, we went to Saida's school, which she attended for 11 years (now it is 12 years -- Asiya says they should have gone the other way, to 10 years, because they keep repeating the same lessons). From the outside, it doesn't look like much. The playground is rundown, no hoops on the backboards, and old ping-pong tables outside. This is School No. 8, over 100 years old and looking its age. It reminded me of Way School in Claremont, N.H., which was old and rundown when I went there as a boy. Inside is another matter entirely. The school is very well-equipped, in some ways better than the university, with many computers, a small TV studio, and well-lit classrooms.
The school has another name. It is the Popov School, named for a Russian war hero who attended the school and won Russia's equivalent of the Medal of Honor. He went behind enemy lines every day for a month, cutting the Nazis' communication lines. Then he was captured and killed. He died on January 17, also his birthday, and it is a very special day at the school every year.
We spent over an hour with students from ages 12 to 16. They all know English, some quite well. Saida's 12-year old sister, Nazima, is virtually fluent. For many, perhaps all, of the students, we were their first Americans. We brought pictures of our families, and they had many questions about life in America and about our teenagers. One student wanted to know what languages I speak. Embarrassing question. I tried to redeem myself by telling them that I had attended six Russian language classes, and I wrote some Russian letters on the blackboard, which they actually recognized. I practiced some of my Russian words with them. They were very polite.
Six of the students proudly performed for us, an English song. Then out came a huge cake, something like a coffee cake with a plum jam filling, straight from the school kitchen. There was more than enough, so we took a few pieces with us for Friday's breakfast.
Tomorrow, Friday, is our last day in Maykop -- we leave early Saturday. I teach in the morning and meet with the law faculty at noon. Virginia is giving a concert in the University's auditorium in the afternoon, and that is our last scheduled activity. I will finish my report from Adygheya next week, from Boston, with pictures I hope. Meanwhile, to everyone who reads this, dasvedanya.
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Friday, November 21 - Maykop, Republic of Adygheya, Russia
Today was my last class. We talked briefly about constitutional law, and then I showed two scenes from "The Verdict." I explained the movie first, including the fact that it is based on a real Boston case. We all watched Frank Galvin (Paul Newman) call his rebuttal witness, the nurse Caitlin Costello, who wrote a "1" next to "time since last meal" but changed it to a "9" at the doctor's orders after the young woman patient went into a permanent coma. When she said, on cross-examination by Ed Concannon (James Mason) that she had kept a copy of the original form, several students let out a gasp. When she testified, "Who were these men? I wanted to be a nurse!", several students lowered their heads. They not only liked the movie, but they appreciated its significance. Like "My Cousin Vinny," this movie works very well as a teaching device in the classroom.
I had prepared "certificates of completion" for each student, in both English and Russian, with pictures of the American, Russian and Adyghe flags. We had a presentation ceremony, each student (and my translator, Aza, and the lady with the key, my "bailiff") coming forward to receive his or her certificate. Cameras flashed for each one, and the students were thrilled. I had left space for them to fill in their names, but they wouldn't accept that -- they wanted their names in my handwriting. Otherwise, someone might say, "It's not real, he didn't sign your name." So, they all came up again, one by one with their names written in English, and we had what amounted to a second ceremony. I thought we were done, but no, there was more -- pictures, handshakes, hugs, and gifts for me. The students gave me a Maykop pin, an Adygheya pin, and a carving of an Adyghe man wearing an Adyghe hat exactly like the one I had bought several days earlier.
The students finally left, and then came the faculty. One law professor had attended all my classes, but otherwise I had not met any of the law faculty. Five professors showed up, and we talked for a half hour or so. It seems that the students had kept them informed about my jury trial and constitutional law lectures, and they asked me many questions. One even said, "I wish I had come to your classes." I don't know why I did not have more interaction with the professors -- either they are too busy or not interested.
Virginia's classes, with foreign language and music students, were a great hit. At one of them, a student got up and the two of them did a dance. (Aza, my translator, is wearing the pink sweater).
After my class, I went to the bank to exchange rubles for dollars, but they didn't have any, so I ended up with Euros. The language barrier with the teller wasn't a problem. Currency, it seems, is its own language. Then I returned to the university for Virginia's concert in the school auditorium. For a Friday afternoon, the turnout was quite good, about 100 students and faculty, and Nehad too. (Susanna had left on Thursday for a conference in Moscow.) The audience was very appreciative, presented a large bouquet of flowers and, of course, took a lot of pictures.
By now it was late afternoon. I told Nehad about my banking experience, and the next thing I knew he and I were talking to a man on a street corner. "Don't worry," said Nehad, "it's all regulated." Trusting soul that I am, I gave the man 3000 rubles, and he gave me a $100 bill and some change, in rubles. "I think he made a profit," I said to Nehad. "Well of course," my self-appointed banking consultant replied, "that's his business."
After stops at a souvenir shop and an art gallery, we went to see Gazey (the former Minister of Culture). "He has gifts ready for you," Nehad explained. Gazey gave us more books (you can guess on what subject), and an Adyghe carved dish made of wood. I promised him, once again, that I would look for articles in Russian about American Indians.
Next stop, Nehad's house. It is quite a place -- parquet floors, large rooms, ultra-modern kitchen and bathrooms (one with a gigantic jacuzzi), lavish window treatments specially made in Krasnodar, and large flat-screen TVs. Nehad has done well in business, and he lives well in Maykop. There is obviously more to it -- "If you knew what I have been through in my life…," he said without finishing the sentence. Nehad cooked us a delicious dinner -- beef, rice, Adyghe spices -- followed by videos showing him being interviewed on television, festivals in Kfar-Kama, music, dancing, and "The Lion King" in Adyghe.
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Saturday, November 22 - Maykop, Republic of Adeygheya, and Krasnodar Airport, Russia
The plan for today was to be picked up at the hotel at 7:00, with my student Sacha accompanying us to the airport, 120 kilometers from Maykop. I have written about Saida and Asiya, and I should also say a few words about this remarkable young man, whose grandparents came to Adygheya from Uzbekistan and Iran. He is majoring in languages (English, German and Spanish) and law, and he always seems to be there when you need him. Whenever I needed to find something or someplace, Sacha would mysteriously materialize at my side, always with a smile. This morning, he knocked on our hotel room door promptly at 7:00, and the first thing he did was give us gifts, including a handsome piece of art depicting a fish, which he made the night before, and a DVD about the region. I gave him my DVD of "The Verdict." He helped us with our baggage, and off we went in the "route bus."
When we got to the airport, I tried to tip the driver, but, like Saida’s cabdriver cousin, he wouldn't accept anything. Sacha explained, "It's an Adyghe tradition. He is being paid, and he won't accept money from a visitor to Adygheya." We walked into one of the several airport buildings and checked the flight monitor for S-7 (Siberian) flight 1148, scheduled to depart at 10:20. It said "16:40." I thought to myself, "That must be a mistake. Our connecting Swissair flight from Moscow leaves at 14:20." Thus began our latest travel adventure. We waited patiently in line to enter a small room where two S-7 agents were seated (more like hidden) behind a counter. We tried to figure out how to make our Moscow connection. Krasnodar is located on the Kuban River, and we saw a lot of AK (Air Kuban) flights. The agent told Sacha, "That's not our airline." In other words, pound sand.
While Virginia stood guard over the luggage, Sacha and I trekked back and forth to at least three different buildings, throwing ourselves on the mercy of various airline personnel, including Air Kuban. We had no luck trying to change our route, either by way of Vienna or Frankfurt. The flights were full, there was no connection to Boston, or we would lose a day anyway -- not to mention having to buy new tickets. You can imagine what that would cost. Poor Sacha -- he felt personally responsible and did everything he could to help including cell phone calls to Nadya in Maykop. Finally we found friendly English-speaking agents at Austrian Air, which seemed fitting since the Center for International Legal Studies is headquartered in Salzburg. They came up with the only solution -- "Take your delayed flight, and we will re-book you on Swissair for tomorrow." So, that is what we decided to do, and they confirmed seats on tomorrow's flight and got us a room for tonight at Hotel Aton, near Domodedovo Airport. By now it was 11:00, and we told Sacha that he (and, of course, the poor route-bus driver) could leave. "We're grown-ups," I reassured him. "We'll be fine." He looked skeptical but agreed, handing us several tangerines to help get us through the day.
We finally left Krasnodar late in the afternoon and arrived in Moscow around 20:00. As you proceed to the baggage claim, you see many signs warning you to avoid gypsy cab drivers -- "beware of fraud." Then you see them, swarming like mosquitoes. We managed to get around them and found the "Unknowing Baggage" room, hoping to find my lost blackberry (see November 12 report). No luck. We found a "Taxi" counter, and I asked the woman for a cab to "Hotel Aton." Blank look. I repeated myself, even using the word for hotel " гостиница”(gasteeneetza)," just to show off my Russian. She looked in her book, made a call, and then gestured to me, "there is no such hotel." Sleeping at the airport wasn't very appealing, but we were rescued yet again, this time by a somewhat English-speaking woman behind another counter, who booked us a room at the Airport Hotel and told us to wait for the shuttle driver. He arrived shortly, and we followed him outside, into snow and sleet, and checked into a perfect place for two weary travelers, complete with restaurant, internet and billiards room. I wonder if S-7 Airlines will reimburse us for the hotel.
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Sunday, November 23 - Domodedovo Airport, Moscow, Russia
Check-in at Swissair was at 12:45. The line had formed when we got there, but Swiss being Swiss, they say 12:45 and they mean it. When we reached the check-in counter, me wearing my Adyghe hat, we had a "Hotel Adygheya" moment (see my November 15 report). The woman behind the counter (in plain view, unlike the S-7 agent in Krasnodar) took some time looking at the tickets bearing yesterday's date, made a phone call, and kept tapping on her computer. "There will be a penalty," she informed me. I explained that it was Siberian Airlines' fault -- they were eight hours late, and the kind people at Austria Air had helped us rebook for today. At this point, she called over her supervisor who said she was sorry but we would have to pay a penalty. "That's not fair," I repeated. "Call Siberian and tell them to pay." "They won't," she said. "Neither will I," I told her. Seeing that I was serious, the supervisor asked me to follow her to the Swissair service desk, where she and two official-looking people discussed the matter. "It is our policy," she finally said,, "but we understand how you feel. Here are your boarding passes." I thanked her, wondering whether it was the Adyghe hat that made the difference. I know that this time, unlike the Hotel Adygheya, Nehad can't claim the credit. He's in Maykop.
Those who have read my reports from Adygheya know that we got off to a rocky start when we arrived in Maykop and were taken to the "dormitory," 20 minutes from the school by bus. When I saw the entrance to that building, my heart sank. It looked like a condemned building, with a dilapidated door leading into an ill-lit foyer. We walked down a hallway to the "elevator," which runs when it feels like it and only goes half way up to the ninth floor, where visiting faculty are housed. Oddly enough, it does go all the way down. It is about six by six, moves at a snail's pace, and has no call button. If you got stuck between floors, not knowing Russian wouldn't matter -- no one would hear you anyway. When you reach the fifth, or maybe it's the sixth, floor, you get off and enter Dante's world. Dark floor landings, uneven cement stairs with no railings, and practically no light. I don't scare easily, but this was scary.
Then, at the ninth floor, you confront three locked doors, the last one leading into the "apartment," which consists of a small living room with a couch and a chair, and a bedroom with twin beds -- not exactly beds, more like mattresses on raised platforms. Down a hallway is the kitchen, shared we were told with other apartments, with overhead lighting that doesn't work, and no provisions. As for the shared bathroom, the less said the better, although I spent most of that first night there, throwing up. This is how it started.
The next day, we moved to Hotel Adygheya, just a few blocks from the University, and a few days later to Hotel Maykop, even closer. What started out as negatively as I can imagine took an immediate turn for the better once we saw the University and met some students. It got better every day. And, as earlier reported, the University went out of its way to make up for our initial housing problem, reimbursing us for Hotel Maykop.
I don't suppose Tony Bennett ever sang, "I Left My Heart in Adygheya," but I have done so, at least a piece of it. We in the United States often say how lucky we are and how we don't really appreciate our good fortune until we have spent time elsewhere. I return home with a somewhat different view. The people we met in Maykop are also extremely lucky, even blessed, by what they have. Not so much material goods or modern conveniences, although they have those to some degree, but deeply rooted values, closeness with family, and traditions that have survived wars, czars, Nazis, communism and more. Few have travelled outside Russia, even fewer to the United States. Most will probably live out their lives in Adygheya. I leave that faraway republic, a place I never heard of before, with a profound respect for who they are, and with great confidence that they will lead happy and fulfilling lives in their homeland. I wish the same for us.
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