A trim and a manicure
for Comrade Lenin

Alan Fisher's Russian Diary
Part III

There's a long queue for Lenin's tomb. Hundreds are in line to see the preserved body of the man who sparked the Russian revolution and all that it brought in the years that followed. There's strict security; no back packs, no cameras, no phones. Walking along the red brick wall there are names on the plaques, a few of them British, the heroes of the revolution.
     Following the winding path leads me to the front door of the mausoleum itself. The pallid complexion of the guards sets the tone and with one last check of my coat, I'm waved in. The body was first preserved by the bitter Moscow cold. Now it's chemicals that do the job. The tomb is closed twice a week when the body is taken and treated by being immersed in a bath, then being put back on display. Even now the hair and nails still grow, so every so often, the former leader gets a trim and a manicure and is then laid back under the glass. The skin looks waxy, and I'm sure I've read that some of his fingers had to be replaced because they turned black and almost fell off. He's wearing a grey suit and his beard is neat, trimmed and red. Soldiers keep the line moving. No one is allowed to hang around and my coat is checked one more time before departure.
     Lenin was once regarded as the grandfather of the nation, loved and revered across the vast state.  But now they know about his brutality, his persecution of the church and those who revolted against his revolution. Yet his body is still on show drawing tens of thousands every year, fascinated by this link to a violent past.
     The line moves back outside to the graves of the Soviet leaders who died in office and are now buried here. I'm pleasantly surprised how many I remember. Brezhnev obviously, in charge for so much of my youth; Andropov, Chernenko and the others. And then there is Stalin. After all his crimes, still here, still remembered, still commemorated. Just four weeks ago I stood in the town where he was born, in Gori in Georgia, the front line in the war with Russia. And there too Stalin is revered and remembered. His statue dominates that town's main square and at the moment it seems that is all these two countries have in common.
     As I walk out onto Red Square, I can see the colourful spires of St Basil's Cathedral. Against the grey Moscow sky they are spectacular and beautiful. Back along the square towards the tomb I see some Soviet flags flying. I'm told it is a protest by the Communists who want a return to the old way. There are nine of them, none under 50. They have a banner and flags with an image of Lenin. Their appearance catches the eye of the tourists and the attention of one bored looking policeman. Their time has passed here and everyone knows it.

Photo taken by the author

Alan Fisher will be reporting again from Moscow in the Weekend Review