Thursday, April 3, 2014

Ukraine Shuffles The Deck


To Kiev, where my plantation manager, Bohdan, had arranged a number of meetings with Ukrainian officials. My object was to ensure that my sugar beet operation could continue as before, although I was not averse to a slight rise in corporation taxes. Putin would be putting the screws to Ukraine, and they would need all the capital they could get.

I first met with the Prime Minister, Arseniy Yatsenyuk, who was fresh from a meeting with Canada's Prime Minister and was rapidly becoming a big fan of Canada. It helped that (a) he spoke good English, that (b) he really liked sugar beets and that (c) he was a big hockey fan.

Things proceeded well, and the meeting went a great deal more smoothly that my encounters with the previous Prime Minister, Viktor Yanukovych. I also invited him to the Manor should he travel to Canada in the future, something I would never have offered Viktor. I honour people, not puppets.

My next meeting was a bit unexpected.

In the corridor just outside Mr. Yatsenyuk' office I was buttonholed by Yulia Tymoshenko. Now while I was glad that she had escaped the clutches of Yanukovych, I nevertheless would have preferred not to get involved with the woman, given her rather chequered history. Corruption and Yulia were no strangers.

I decided to take the bull by the horns. I am, as I knew she was, fluent in Russian, so language would be no barrier. After minimal pleasantries, I stated, "So I understand you would be supporting others in the upcoming election. This, Yulia, is wise on your part, and the Ukrainian public will be grateful. You'll be a kind of heroine -- "

She interrupted me at his point. "Oh no, Simone, I intend to run. I still have much to offer."

And much to take, I thought.

"Oh, well, just my advice to you. I always find it better to be thought well of, than have to suffer the vicious slings and arrows of politics."

"What are 'slings and arrows'?" she asked. Shakespeare was not her strong suit.

I saw this was going nowhere fast, wished her well, and said goodbye. I will give her this, however. She had removed that irritating peasant braid from her head, a wise move. Yulia Tymoshenko was about as far away from a peasant as you could get. It would be like saying John of Gaunt was actually some kind of serf.* Not on, but even braidless, I doubt Yulia will succeed.

After all, one's past is, in a certain context, one's future.

Isn't it?

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* The Lady's reference here recalls that excellent text, 1066 And All That, and the "exam" question, "What makes you picture John of Gaunt as a rather emaciated grandee?" Priceless, that. -- Ed.


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