Dumb American

Our Russian literature professor, Igor, loves to shock us. Well, not really, but he likes to think he is. It should be noted that I think Igor is a wonderful professor, and I enjoy lovingly doing my impression of his classic, “Is it okay what I am telling you? Does it shock you? You are okay with hearing this?” Usually “this” refers to his tales of Catherine the Great’s sex chair or Pushkin and his wife’s adulterous lifestyles. But today was the first time I actually was shocked—only this time there was no checking in from Igor with his sneaky smile.

This week Igor showed us part of a documentary made by Sergei Loznitsa on the Siege of Leningrad. Only I barely knew anything about it, other than at some point in history there was this thing called the Siege of Leningrad. My father the history major is thinking woefully right now about how I should have taken history classes in college, and I wholeheartedly agree. But in case you’re like me, in 1941 the Germans blockaded Leningrad (now St. Petersburg) for three years. While many Russians left the city that first winter because they were starving, there were thousands of deaths from starvation.

Throughout that day and much later as I write this, the documentary’s images still haunt me. Corpses dragged through the streets, people digging through the ice on the sidewalks to get water, mothers crying over their bundled, dead children. Igor told us that Loznitsa wasn’t allowed to include the really shocking footage. What we saw was considered normal for the time.

There’s such a disconnect when you watch films. Whenever I see something horrifying or heartbreaking, I can always remind myself that it’s not real. But that’s not the case with a documentary. Those may have been images from the past, part of history. But they were very much so real. I saw a real corpse dragged through the street, real people scrounging for water in dirty conditions, and real mothers sobbing over frozen, starved sons and daughters. I feel like such a stereotypically dumb American for not knowing about this atrocity.

I’ve reached a point in my time here when things are not as exciting anymore, and in fact, they are often annoying. The honeymoon is over (even though I’m still having a great time and can’t complain). But now whenever something little annoys me and I start to whine, I have to remind myself: it’s no Siege of Leningrad.