Formally, it is no longer the Suvorov Collective Farm, but a joint agricultural enterprise named Koltsovo, in which each worker has a share. Virtually every conversation becomes a litany of grievances. On this day, a mechanic said, the manager came back from Kaluga with 240,000 rubles, a small part of the payroll backlog. Vodka has become a greater devil. One old woman in the village now sells raw alcohol from her home, a dispatcher at the motor pool complained, but the local policeman is no longer sure this is illegal and has done nothing to stop her.
Fuel is constantly in short supply.
Prices for basic goods are skyrocketing, but the collective still sells most of its milk at fixed prices to the state. Tatyana Sokolova, a clerk in the snug, three-room kolkhoz headquarters, said with a shrug. We did try once, but these thugs met us and 'suggested' we go home. Across the street, in the neat brick hut that serves as a village hall, Larissa Lapochkin, the deputy village clerk, took pride in doing elections right. In the Soviet state, the authorities went to extraordinary lengths to insure that everyone cast a ballot, leaving democracy the legacy of a truly efficient election organization.