General Jaruzelski at the Zoo

 

“Even a flounder takes sides.”

—Stanislaw J. Lec

 

 

MACIEK THE CHIMP SAW GENERAL JARUZELSKI coming down the gravel path that ran by his cage. There were two men with him. One was looking around nervously, as if he had lost something; the other was the zookeeper.

Maciek endured his hunger cramps, believing that if he performed well enough the visitors would give him a banana.

Maciek jumped up and down.

The general failed to notice.

Maciek did a backflip.

Still the general paid no attention. He seemed to be hiding behind his dark glasses.

Maciek leaped onto the bars and shook them.

The general stopped and smiled.

This was it! Maciek was sure that the bananas were close by; his cramps would soon end.

Maciek rattled the bars until his arms and shoulders hurt.

The zookeeper began to talk to the general.

Maciek’s eyes watered from the pains. He lay down and held his belly. There had been no bananas for so long now, and there would be no bananas again today.

 

“It’s been difficult for us lately, general,” the director of the zoo said softly. “I appreciate your stopping by to take notice of our problems.”

The general smiled at the diplomacy of the director’s words, but the truth was otherwise. Nostalgia for the zoological pleasures of his boyhood had prodded the general to come here during his lunch hour, nothing more.

“People can get along in the worst of times,” the youthful director continued politely, “but animals are unable to stand in long lines or take vitamins, or eat the variety of foods we do. This chimp’s digestion requires special oils from bananas. Cuban oranges have helped, but they’re not quite right. You see his pain. He hasn’t had a banana in three months. Of course, we could feed him easily if he were a human being.”

The general stepped up to the cage. It seemed that the chimp was watching him with unusual attention.

“What is it?” the director asked.

The chimp got up and came to the bars. Pain slipped through the general’s stomach, and he felt a craving for bananas. Suddenly he was gripping the bars from inside the cage. His muscles ached from the dampness. He peered into his own dark glasses and saw a shadowy chimp face staring back, baring its teeth.

He stumbled back from the bars into the arms of his security man.

“Maciek is in great pain,” the director said as the general steadied himself.

They walked on. People were feeding the elephants, the general noticed as he tried to shake off the delusion he had experienced at the cage. The biscuits, he saw, were the shortbread kind, expensive and hard to come by. These people had stood in long lines to buy them for the elephants. Why had the delusion come upon him? I must be a man of conscience, he told himself. Or I’m losing my mind.

“Even the smallest thing you could do for us,” the director said, “would help us save some of the animals.”

“You anticipate deaths?” the general asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Of course, without a doubt.”

General Jaruzelski recalled his private meeting with the university professors. They had made him feel guilty and sad, as the young zookeeper was doing more gently. They had not understood, in their inquisitorial fervor, that the Russians would invade their beloved Poland. It was a matter of camouflage, he had told them with tears in his eyes, to make the Soviets think we are like them, for as long as it took for Poles to become free within their own borders. The jealous, fearful bear had to be put to sleep, as the Czechs, Yugoslavs, and Hungarians were doing....

“The Bulgarians sent us some fruit for the animals,” the director was saying. “They didn’t even ask for payment in trade, and we’re grateful. But, you see, it’s got to be the right fruit—bananas for the chimps, raisins and nuts for the birds....”

“Raisins and nuts?” the general asked. The demand was familiar in its seeming extravagance.

The director shrugged shyly. “The grains we’re getting are not really for them. Our birds need special kinds of seeds. They develop rashes, lose feathers and coloration when they don’t have raisins and nuts. How can I do my job when I have to ignore facts of biology and diet?”

The general nodded and they walked on, followed by the security man. Even Polish animals were extravagant, a Russian would quip, needing exotic feed in keeping with the national character.

“There won’t be much I can do,” the director was saying, “when they start to die.”

 

It was a matter of doing the effective thing, the general told himself, and not what was popular or satisfying to old scores and hatreds. His own father had died at the hands of the Russians. Surely that personal loss makes me a credible Pole? The bloodbath could start again quickly, no doubt about it. What did they know, those who had never held responsible public office? Their emotional siege was making him hallucinate.

“I would like to call to your attention,” the director said more insistently, “that the problems of our zoos are widely reported in the Western media. American newsmen were here with video equipment, I’m sorry to report. They had the proper permits, of course.”

The general felt a moment of respect for the director. The fellow knew what to say to be heard. A responsible, conscientious young man, not at all like so many corrupt officials.

“Are you a Party member?” the general asked.

The zookeeper smiled. “Unfortunately, no, general. I’m a zoologist, not political.”

They never were, the general thought with a twinge of resentment. Like the animals, they couldn’t be political, even though they lived in a political situation. They cared more for their career specialties, even for the animals, than they did for Poland.

 

The biscuits were sweet, but there was little in them to make the elephant strong. The people who brought them had kind, pitying faces, but they also seemed to know the two-leggeds who hid food in the nearby buildings and seemed to want elephants to perish.

The elephant knew that dying-time was near, and that he would have to do it right here, with no privacy at all.

A face was looking at him. The hands held no biscuits. The eyes were great dark patches. The lips were pressed together.

 

The general wondered why he had liked zoos so much as a child. What had it been about the animals that had made his boyhood happy? That one might escape? Seeing danger contained? We’re surrounded by wild elephants, he thought. One false move and they’ll trample us to death. It will be a long time before the danger passes; elephants are big and sturdy, and take a long time to die....

“Can we count on your help, general?” the young director was saying.

I can’t move, the general thought, feeling elephantine.

“I’ll do my best,” he managed to say finally.

The director smiled gratefully, endearingly, in contrast to the stone-faced professors when he had spoken the same words to them. Nothing short of futile resistance against the Soviets would satisfy them—not his tears, not his acceptance of their just criticisms of the Party. They had grudgingly admitted his good intentions and personal honesty, but they would never support him in their hearts. They would never love him, but he would do what had to be done to avoid bloodshed.

The universities were also zoos of a kind, where the wiser animals had to teach the more foolish ones how to live and die. A Poland outside the Soviet orbit was impossible, but it was up to Poles whether their relationship with the bear would be that of a slave or equal. Feuding would leave no chance for mutual respect, much less eventual friendship. Martial law preserved this possibility, despite the loss of economic support from the West.

“Thank you for listening,” the director of the zoo was saying. “I know that your valuable time is limited.” The scientist smiled again. He seemed a good sort—probably a country boy educated in the city; polite and without guile. He would not be promoted.

“I’ll do what I can for you,” the general said, “but put some of the blame on American business. It’s inhumane enough even when it’s not politically directed.” He turned and followed the security man out of the park.

 

Maciek trembled in the muggy mid-afternoon heat. His stomach rumbled painfully. Someone was angry at him. He felt lost as he listened to the elephants snorting. The birds were silent.

 

Back in his office the general leaned back in his chair and fell asleep. The animals quarreled with him in a strange language. He couldn’t make it out, but it seemed that they were pleading, insisting, mocking. The strongest animals, he said to them, avoided capture; only the weakest were prisoners.

Despair and a sense of worthlessness seized him. The chimp’s pain mourned in his stomach. He could not escape by waking.

He longed for what he might do to be loved. Polish independence would do it. With the army behind him, the Russians would think five times before invading. He would equal the great General Pilsudski in driving the Russians out of Poland.

But alas, that feat was impossible. Supplies and ammunition for the army were strictly controlled, and for every line of Poles there was a line of Russian soldiers. Polish independence of any kind would cut East Germany off from its master, precipitating German unification, and all of Eastern Europe would rise in a ferment of hope.

Nothing was simple, ever. Justice was a naive, impractical concept. Even the Americans did not really want a free Poland, because such an interface with the Soviets would only benefit the evil empire’s economy. Cartago Delenda Est! 

He awoke and almost fell out of his chair as his private phone rang.

“Hallo!” he shouted, pressing the receiver to his ear.

“Wojciech! Is that you?” the Soviet Underminister of Agriculture asked.

“Of course.” The man knew well enough that no one else could pick up on this line. “What can I do for you?”

“Well, it’s the hams again, you see. We need more this month. Special occasion, you see.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“The railroad car will be waiting.”

The corrupt bastard, Jaruzelski thought bitterly, recalling the man’s weakness for Western pornographic cassettes. If he were one of my officials, I’d have hanged him by now. Andropov had turned a blind eye to him but perhaps Gorbachev would remove the parasite.

“This is very good of you, Wojciech, on such short notice. I won’t forget it.”

“Not at all, Minister.”

“You’ve had quite a week, I hear.”

Jaruzelski got up and went to the window, arranging the long cord carefully behind himself. The Minister had once offered him a cordless model, but he had neglected to take him up on it.

“Wojciech, perhaps I might do something for you? Feel free to ask. I have means. I mean if it’s within my power I’ll do it. I promise.”

Jaruzelski saw a man down in the street, reminding him of Maciek in the way he loped along by the buildings. People resembled animals of one kind or another in their faces and manners. Even human artifacts like buses and cars seemed to be animals on occasion....

“Wojciech!”

General Jaruzelski swallowed hard away from the receiver. The pain from the zoo was still in his stomach.

“What’s that, Wojciech!” the Russian shouted as the connection broke up. “I lost you there! What is it you said you want?” There was some coughing and slurping on the line as the Minister downed a shot.

“Minister,” the Savior of Poland asked loudly, with a hint of defiance, “can you send some bananas?”

“Bananas, Wojciech?”

“Yes, for the zoos. Animals are dying. The shortages are an embarrassment. CBS did a story on it.”

“Did you tape it?”

“No, I only heard about it today. Besides, I don’t have a VCR.”

“The Americans are so sentimental about animals! Didn’t I offer to get you a Sony?”

General Jaruzelski was silent.

“I’ll see what I can do,” the Russian said finally.

“Thank you.”

Collaboration and compromise, he thought bitterly as he hung up and sat down again. Cage bars rattled in his ears, and he felt himself slipping in again behind Maciek’s eyes. His stomach burned as he looked around at his office, at the pale light streaming in through the window, at the locked door with the armed guard sitting outside. The room was a cage. It seemed normal to beg for bananas.