published in Eastern Economist #393, August 13, 2001
Just when Kyiv residents might have thought things couldn’t possibly get worse, with the endless reconstructions in the city and constant traffic jams, they did. At the beginning of August, without any warning whatsoever, the city closed off the entrance to the central train station. In fact, the Kyiv Vokzal is really the only serious railway station in Ukraine’s capital, unlike Moscow, which has seven.
It was a nightmare.
At first, it looked like this was just a short-term thing, possibly to repave the drive, install sewage and other conduits, or finish off some part of the outside area near the station building itself. The auxilliary drive a block away, where the trams once terminated, was already deeply torn up and inaccessible.
Policemen swarmed at the pre-station intersection, swinging their white and black batons left and right, refusing anyone access. Shocked drivers tried to cut deals, freaked that their wives and kids might miss trains to annual holiday spots in Crimea – but to no avail. They were just waved away dismissively. Other than the occasional police car or Mercedes with special plates, it was no dice.
Like a sudden blood-clot in a worn-out vein, the blocks around the entrance to the Vokzal territory turned into instant gridlock. For the first week, uninformed drivers continued to swarm off the main eastbound route from the southwestern suburb of Borshchahivka to get downtown. Westbound drivers continued to swarm in from the opposite direction, in an effort to avoid overloaded downtown arteries on their way to the main highway out of the city.
In desperation, those driving friends and relatives to catch the dozens of daily intercity trains out of Kyiv parked their cars willy-nilly, and distraught passengers did the tiresome 300-meter trek in 35-degree weather with packages, baggage, kids and food – most of it not properly organized for an unanticipated long, hot walk.
Pollution levels went through the roof, as thousands of cars fumed and sputtered in a two-block area from morning until night.
It didn’t help much that the intersection just before the station drive was itself without traffic control since the beginning of July. The northbound boulevard is in the midst tram tracks being torn up, roadways widened and several new traffic lights installed.
There’s even a new church going up behind the train station, right next to one of the city’s biggest wholesale markets.
On the third day, when the drive remained empty and no construction was visible on any of its surfaces, it seemed that maybe it would be open to traffic again soon.
But no, a green fence was put up instead, and two movable railings. The only let-up was that cops began permitting city transit like mini and diesel buses to take passengers onto the station’s territory. After a week, taxis were also allowed.
Every day, it seems, more and more vehicles are being let in, and half-a-dozen cops hang out at the intersection, arguing with drivers about who can and cannot get through. Occasionally, a duty sergeant trots over and gets his licks in, shouting at a well-dressed guy in a foreign car.
If you work in a building on that block, they might let you in in your car. But then again, they might not.
At the end of Week Two, the blocks around the station remain fairly impenetrable much of the time, pollution is unbelievable, and there’s no end in sight. There’s still no visible construction that would require the roadway to be so restricted in the height of the summer travelling season, during the worst heatwave the city has seen in over a decade.
Complain? Here’s an example why not.
A secured municipal parking lot in the same area had an entire slice of its territory taken away in June, when the block was unexpectedly widened by city “planners.” As a result, parking spots for 15 car owners who have been paying regularly for years vanished overnight. The parking lot gate was also damaged in the process.
The lot had a standard easement and an apron that allowed cars to drive up to the gate and safely wait for it to be opened. It has been reduced from 12 feet to 3, which means cars risk being hit by vehicles racing down the hill and around the corner onto this short block.
Worse, when a car comes out of the lot, without a proper apron, it’s impossible for oncoming traffic to see it, or for the exiting driver to see what’s coming. One person just about had the front end of their car clipped off like that.
With the road double its previous width and traffic coming onto the block from poorly visible directions, it has become very dangerous for people to cross over to the parking lot, which, incidentally, is owned and run by the city.
“The whole thing is so crazy! I tried to do something about it,” says Natalia, the woman who manages the parking lot. “They just told me they had instructions and when I asked them to show me their plans, they told me to mind my own business.”
Nothing was “planned” in terms of consulting with the users or residents of the area, or informing them of the city’s intentions. The widening was supposedly to match the other side of the intersection, which, of course, it does not. When Natalia found out who was responsible for the construction and went to see the official in charge, she was warned: “You’re sitting on some pretty valuable real estate. Bitch any more and we’ll just shut down your lot altogether.”
The message Mayor Omelchenko has been sending out all this summer to everyone in Kyiv is the same one Ernestine the Switchboard Operator used to snort out with great delight on the Laugh-in show: “We don’t care… We don’t have to.” Like Ernestine herself, it’s not pretty. •
– from the notebooks of Pan O.
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