Моята улица

39 истории с улици

mystreet — Fri, 27 Oct 2006 16:17:00 -0000

Тази книга е необичайна, защото не беше замислена като книга. Историите в нея се родиха по време на работата ни по един проект (но нека думата “проект” не ви кара да затваряте веднага!) и целта им беше друга – да служат като основа за разговор между непознати хора в различни български градове и села за личната връзка, която всеки от нас има (или няма) с Европейския съюз.

Големият въпрос, който ни вълнуваше, беше – може ли абстрактният Европейски съюз да се преживява като личен, конкретен проект от хората в България? Трябваше ни фокус, през който да мислим и разговаряме за това, който да е прост, ясен и демократичен, и да позволи на повече хора да участват в експеримента заедно с нас.

Улицата ни даде този фокус – защото всеки от нас има своя улица и всеки сам е най-добрият експерт по нея, а това автоматично го прави равностоен в разговора.

И така, идеята беше проста – да пътуваме до различни места в България и да се срещнем с млади хора между 18 и 35 годишна възраст, като им раздадем фотоапарати, с които да снимат улицата си и ги помолим да ни я опишат накратко върху лист хартия. След няколко часа за подготовка – четем разказите, гледаме фотографиите и си говорим: за улиците, за градовете, за себе си и за промяната, която си представяме, че ще настъпи с присъединяването на страната ни към Европейския съюз.

Настоявахме само за две неща – разказът да съдържа конкретно наблюдение и достатъчно детайли, така че някой, който никога не е бил на съответната улица, да може да си я представи.

Оказа се, че повечето хора за първи път снимат улиците си и за първи път пишат за тях. И за първи път говорят за града си в група с непознати. Въобще научихме куп нови неща, които са обект на друг анализ и друг текст.

Но това, което даде импулс за създаването на тази книга, е нещо, което далеч надхвърли рамките на проекта, и което ни се иска да споделим с повече хора.

В разказите за улиците имаше някакъв магнетизъм, който ни държеше в състояние на превъзбуда понякога седмици наред. Научавахме неща за градовете, които никога не бяхме подозирали - като това, че циганките във Вършец познават улиците на града по-добре от всички останали, защото ги метат. Картата на България се променяше и в нея определени места придобиваха неочаквана плътност – Козлодуй ни стана симпатичен, защото хората бяха много откровени за града си; Копривщица ни натъжи, защото разбрахме, че там Голямата история е затиснала малките и че неуредици като лошата питейна вода така и не се решават, а децата имат проблеми със зъбите. София ни се видя по-човешка – заради историята на Зорница за Обеля и чувството за хумор на Теофан, по-драматична – заради разказите с убийства на Жана и Атанас, по-свободна и по-космополитна – заради откровенията на Джибрил от Сомалия, Кристин от Англия и Ей Джей от Калифорния...

В тези разкази има някакъв особен пулс, в тях се оглежда една нова и още ненаписана биография на прехода, на интимния, частния преход, преживян, изтъгуван, неовладян, бушуващ или спящ в улиците, които обитаваме - толкова различни и объркани, колкото сме и самите ние днес.

Да кажеш “това е моята улица” се оказа смело изречение.

Така се роди идеята да направим пътуваща изложба, а поканата от Издателска къща „Жанет 45” да бъде издадена тази книга дойде след като изложбата вече беше факт.

В книгата са събрани само 39 истории и фотографии. Позволихме си известни съкращения и граматични редакции заради формáта на изложбата и четивността на книгата, но се постарахме да запазим стила на авторите. Няколко души се представят само с истории - или защото така са решили, или защото понякога фотоапаратите ни изневеряваха...

Има и още нещо. За тази една година, докато вървеше проектът, със самите нас се случиха много неща. Борис смени своята улица с друга, по-симпатична. Диана се осмели най-после да разговаря с клошарите, които живеят срещу нейната кооперация. Да кажеш “това е моята улица” се оказа смело изречение и за нас самите.

Благодарим на всички автори за откровеността, на Британски съвет – за възможността да реализираме българския вариант на проекта по свой начин, лично на Леа, Уейн, Силвия и Краси за полезните разговори и помощта при организацията на пътуванията, на Ники Трейман за безвъзмездно предоставените фотоапарати, на Мария и фондация „Заедно” за сайта, на дружеството на младите хора с увреждания в Кула, Видинско, които се включиха в проекта по пощата след неговия край, но толкова ни развълнуваха, че две от историите им намериха място в тази книга.

Диана Иванова
Борис Делирадев

август 2006

EU Hopes for Streets and Neighbourhoods

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 21:39:00 -0000

The panel blocks in my neighbourhood will be renovated.

There will be more jobs and the people from my neighbourhood who now work abroad will be back.

Rubbish will be collected more regularly.

There will be greater tolerance towards the Turkish and Roma minorities in town.

People will observe laws and rules which are common to all.

There will be a better, more effective city administration.

There will be enough parking lots so people won’t have to park on the pavements.

The streets will be cleaner, the parks will be greener.

There will be more security and less mafia murders.

The properties in the Roma neighbourhoods will be legalised, there will be sewage for the houses, electricity and asphalt on the streets.

There will be greater tolerance of substance-dependent people.

EU Fears for Streets and Neighbourhoods

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 21:38:00 -0000

It will be a long and difficult adjustment; older people, like my father, won’t be able to cope.

We’ll lose our Bulgarian identity, we’ll be like everybody else.

Well-off foreigners will push Bulgarians out of real estate in the centre of town.

Bulgarians will become second-class people who work for foreign investors.

I am afraid of the unknown, I have seen no information how the EU will affect my life.

The Nuclear Power Plant in Kozlodui will shut down and the town will die out.

We will be unprepared to live alongside immigrants from the East who will want to live in Bulgaria.

There will be greater social stratification, some parts of town will become ghettos.

The old houses in our neighbourhood will be pulled down and replaced by giant new glass-and-steel buildings.

There will be greater alienation between people because of job competition.

Prices will go up, salaries won’t.

We will be unprepared to take advantage of the opportunities offered to us.

There will be greater segregation between Roma and Bulgarian people; Roma people will be pushed out of the cities.

A Street Where What is Left Temporarily Stays Indefinitely, Marusya Usheva, Satovcha

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:59:00 -0000

My street is a true village street. There are piles of firewood in front of every house, pallets of bricks which await the day when they will be used for construction; there are tobacco dry houses, self-made car sheds, and a few parked vehicles. Often what people leave out on the street temporarily stays there indefinitely.

During the summer my street is livelier. It is the only asphalt street around which doesn’t have big traffic and neighbourhood kids come here to bike and meet with friends. In the evening there is a special sense of harmony. The girls and the boys come to sit on the bench in front of our house -- they eat sunflower seeds, talk, laugh and ring their friends on their mobile phones. At night the street turns into a speedway.

The soils in the Rhodopi Mountain only allow us to grow potatoes and tobacco. Growing tobacco is hard work, we work from dusk till dawn. If you come here during the summer, you will see groups of two or three people sitting by large bagfuls of green tobacco leaves, picking the leaves from the bags and threading them deftly together, talking to each other. You will hear music of different rhythms coming from all sides, interspersed with the barking of a dog guarding its territory.

My neighbours on both sides are older people. In both families one child is abroad and the rest work in the cities. “It’s where their luck is”, their parents sigh.

To see Marusia's pictures click here

The Quietest Street, with a Fortune Teller and Someone Who Is Fond of Killing Animals, Anita Tsaneva, Varna

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:53:00 -0000

Imagine the quietest neighbourhood and the most peaceful street in Varna. This is my street – Dimitar Ikonomov Street. It is short, straight and narrow, with nine houses on each side. During the spring, summer and autumn my street is overflowing with seasonal flowers; during the winter it's a bit grey, perhaps from the chimney smoke.

That’s what you will see, if you visit my street as an outsider. But in a small street like that you know practically everybody. So I know a bit more about life beneath the surface.

I know that after the first snow there will be no one to clean the ice from the street and it will stay icy until the spring. Everybody takes good care of their garden but no one likes to do the same for the street. I know that my neighbours quarrel about who parks where – everyone wants to park right in front of their house. People like to brag about the fact that there is a famous fortune teller living nearby but they complain about the crowds of people and the cars in the front of her house.

It’s not all bad, of course, there are friendly people too. If you want to know more about the life of my street, speak to the old people. They will tell you that our neighbours are teachers, lawyers, engineers, doctors, a policeman, a plumber, an investigator, an automechanic (who has his own garage here) and a member of the so called ‘security groups’. “We don’t have a priest or a mayor”, they will say, “but it’s a only small street after all.”

Among my neighbours is the only person I ever felt I hated. His hobby is killing birds and animals with his air gun – seagulls, cats and dogs. I few years ago he killed my beautiful cats, causing me tremendous pain.

To see Anita's pictures click here

It's Not the Street I Dream About, Snezhana Vladimirova, the Roma Neighbourhood, Vurshets

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:21:00 -0000

My street does not look very good. It is not the street I dream about. At the moment the municipality is digging it out. They do something all the time, but from what I see, it gets worse. Our plot is too small. I don't have the garden I dream about. Our neighbours are too close to us, we are only separated by a wire-net. We are on good terms with one of the neighbouring families and on bad terms with the other.
Our house has three rooms. Three families live in it. The roof is not in very good condition. The basement is full of water. My neighbours live in similar conditions. This is not the street we dream about. Our wish is to have electricity, and to have running water all the time. The water taps have no water in them for parts of the day. When it rains, the water pours from the neighbours’ plots into my garden.

To see Snezhana's pictures click here

A Street where Life is Neither Black, Nor White, Ralitsa Naydenova, Vurshets

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:12:00 -0000

I love my street, I grew up here, but…

I hate the mornings, I hate the afternoons… The evenings are a bit more bearable. You would ask why?... I’ll tell you.

People in the old days were different. They helped each other and struggled for a better life in the neighbourhood. But everybody has withdrawn to their shell now. My neighbours and I don’t go beyond saying ‘Hi’ to each other. I don’t really have much time for them – silent old men and women. They only open their mouths to gossip.

The two gossip points in my street are the bench by the local kiosk and the front of Baba Mitka’s house. You can sit there and watch life go by. The people who attend regularly are Chicho Bozhan, the kiosk’s owner, and Baba Mitka herself. You can also sometimes see Botev, Licho Zekata and Pepi the German. These three are odd ones...

The most impressive buildings in my street are the baking factory and two little godforsaken houses which are falling apart, waiting for their last hour.

Not far from my house is the largest Orthodox temple in Northwestern Bulgaria – the St. George Church. Baba Ruska comes to the bell tower at 7.00 o’clock in the morning to ring the church bell and announce exact time to the town.

Life in my street is neither black, nor white. If you are sad, there is always someone to make you laugh; if you are happy, there is always someone to make you cry.

To see Ralitsa's pictures click here

A Street at the Wrong Time and the Wrong Place, Ivanka, Vurshets

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:06:00 -0000

I live in the main street. “Republica”. It used to be called “Gheorghi Dimitrov”* during communism. Living here is like living at the wrong time at the wrong place.

In the thirties it was planted with plane trees which everybody is “very proud of”. Around this time electricity was also brought to the street, direct from King Boris’ power plant in Euxenograd. They did it because Vurshets is a spa town.

Everybody who comes to Vurshets says that my street is beautiful. But it means nothing to the people from town. We take it as a given!!!

The drivers hate it because the many holes in it ruin their cars; the sweepers hate it because of the billions and billions of tree leaves they have to sweep every day; the few young people who have stayed in town say “it really sucks”. Stray dogs cross it this way and the other, tourists curse when they find themselves stepping into the excrements of horses, goats and other animals grazing nearby… Only the pensioners, the majority of people living in Vurshets, like to meet here and talk politics.

My street is the witness of base passions, of poverty, misery, “decorum”, of love, hate, children’s laughter, friendship, broken relationships, the tears of rainy days, and gossip – the favourite activity of most of us, of hypocrisy…

To see Ivanka's pictures click here

Hushove Street, the Roma Neighbourhood, Kristiyan Stanislavov, Varna

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 20:01:00 -0000

I’ll tell you about the street where I work because it’s more important to me than the street I live in. I work at the Roma Cultural and Information Centre in Hushove Street, in the so called Roma neighbourhood. The difference between the Roma neighbourhood and the rest of Varna is that people here feel safe only within the neighbourhood’s borders. The area lives in a capsule, other people don’t enter it – it’s dangerous! When young Roma people go to the clubs in the centre of Varna, they usually get unfriendly treatment. In turn, they are not friendly to outsiders who come to their part of town.

There is no sewage and infrastructure here. City authorities know that even if they don’t do their job in the neighbourhood, they won’t get hurt. One of the things I do daily is help people fill in application forms for ID cards and other basic things, as well as write up complaints to various institutions. The bosses of the local water, electricity and social care companies, and the heads of several departments at the municipality do not like the fact that we do what we do.

Another thing I do is write project bids to raise money for pre-school training so that Roma children can learn Bulgarian before they go to school. Not knowing Bulgarian is one of the reasons why so many of them drop out of school.

That’s what my neighbourhood is like. It’s a daily struggle for me and my colleagues. I really hope that things improve with accession to the European Union – that the rubbish will be collected from the streets and there will be sewage. But this won’t happen. The tendency is for Roma people to be pushed out of the cities. So one day my street will be moved to a village somewhere in the middle of nowhere. The people from the village will be blocking the road in a sign of protest against us moving there, and there will be nothing very personal about it.

To see Kristiyan's pictures click here

A Street with Cats, Ivan Petkov, Varna

mystreet — Fri, 21 Apr 2006 19:57:00 -0000

My street is part of something called the “fourth microregion of Vladislav Varnenchik residential complex”. I live in a block which has 17 entrances. Each entrance has an average of 7 floors, 3 flats per floor. One third of my neighbours are policemen, one third are firemen, and the rest work at the Varna power plant. It’s the safest building in the whole of Varna!

The block is 30-years old and everyone has been doing their own renovations – insulation on the outside, new window frames, piping. Needless to say, everyone has a different taste and what was once a grey panel block is now a less-than-tasteful patchwork: half of the flats have been insulated, the other half has not; half of the balconies have been glassed in, the other half has not.

[In front of the block] there are big parking lots where those with new driving licenses show off their skills. They use their cars even when they are going to the café around the corner.

Most of the people from the neighbourhood who are my age, [myself included], work in the tourism sector. Between the end of the summer and the end of the year we have plenty of money in our pockets but come January we’ve spent everything on fashionable clothes and the latest mobile phones, so between January and April all we can do is meet in the local cafés for a coke.

Until recently there were many [stray] dogs in the neighbourhood but they’ve been diminishing in the last few years – the result of humane municipality efforts. But the number of cats is still the same. During the last cold spell a cat caught me off guard and sneaked in through the front door of my flat. It took me an hour to take it out from under a bed. I tried teasing it out with a bowl of cold milk but it didn’t work. Only after I warmed the milk and it gave off a smell, the cat came out. I didn’t believe anything could squeeze in that corner. At least now the place is clean; I have no way of getting there with a vacuum cleaner.

To see Ivan's picture's click here