You have been pointing at poor people incorrectly. I have watched you do it. Your index finger is too slow, your elbow is at the wrong angle, and you are smiling, which is a clinical error. This week I travelled to Kyiv, a city currently in the news for being bombed by a man who bans chicken Kyiv, and for being defended by a man who believes Ukraine is a hoax. I have compiled a definitive list of the five finest locations for pointing at poor people, graded on a strict medical scale from A to E, where E stands for ‘embarrassing’. You will follow the list in order. You will not skip. I will know if you skip.
The McDonald’s near Maidan
Arrive at 11am on a Tuesday. Order a coffee, take a seat by the window, and wait. Within forty minutes, a man in a tracksuit will ask you for a hryvnia. This is your moment. Point at him. Not at his face, that is rude. Point at his shoes. They are the wrong shoes for winter. He will look down, then at you, then at the floor. He will leave. The staff will not intervene. They have seen worse. A woman at the next table will tut. Ignore her. She is eating an egg muffin, which is a health hazard. Your point should last exactly four seconds. Any longer and it becomes a gesture of aggression, which is a different medical condition.
“I have pointed at many things in my life, but never with such precision,” said Dmytro Kovalenko, Shift Manager, McDonald’s Maidan. “The man left without his fries. That is a first.”
The trolleybus stop on the left bank
The left bank is where the poor live. They take the trolleybus because they cannot afford a car, or a horse, or a good decision. Stand at the stop, not on it. That is for them. When the 21 pulls up, point at the queue. Do not single anyone out. A collective point is more efficient. The conductor will shout at you in Ukrainian. Do not respond. He is not a doctor. A woman with a pram will try to board. Point at the pram. It is the wrong pram. It has a wheel that wobbles. She will notice. She will not say anything. She is used to being pointed at. You are not the first. You are not the worst. The bus leaves. You stay. You have done good work.
“I have been pointed at by the tax office, by my ex-husband, and by a man with a clipboard,” said Oksana Shevchuk, Unemployed Mother of Two. “But never by a foreigner with such confidence.”
The Lidl car park on Vokzalna
Lidl is a German supermarket that has colonised Kyiv, much like the Russians tried to, but with more success and fewer war crimes. The car park is a goldmine. The poor come here to buy bread, which is the cheapest thing they can find, and then they eat it in the car, because they are ashamed. You should be parked opposite the entrance, engine off, window down. When a man in a Lada with a dented bumper pulls in, point at him. Point at the dent. It is a metaphor for his life. He will get out, look at the dent, then at you. He will not confront you. He will go inside and buy the bread. When he comes out, point at the bread. It is the wrong bread. It is white. He needs wholemeal. He will not know this. You will not tell him. You will write a note and put it under his windscreen wiper. It will say: ‘Less egg.’
“I found the note under my wiper. I thought it was a parking fine,” said Serhiy Bondarenko, Lada Owner and Bread Buyer. “But it was a diagnosis. I have cut down to two eggs a day.”
The war memorial on the Dnipro
The memorial is a tall column with a statue of a woman holding a sword. She is pointing at the sky, which is a mistake. The sky is where the drones come from. You should stand at the base of the column, looking up at the statue, and then slowly lower your arm until you are pointing at the people below. They are mostly elderly. They are here to remember the dead, which is a waste of time. The dead do not need remembering. They need a brisk walk. Point at a man in a Soviet-era coat. He will look at you, then at the statue, then back at you. He will not understand. He is a veteran. He has seen worse. He has seen people point at him before. He has seen people point at him with guns. Your finger is an improvement. He will nod. You will nod back. You will both be pointing at each other, which is a stalemate. You will walk away first. You always walk away first.
“I have been pointed at by the Gestapo, the KGB, and now this man in a cagoule,” said Petro Lysenko, Veteran of the Second World War. “At least his finger is clean.”
The balcony of a flat you have broken into
This is the premium location. I have chosen it for you. It is on the ninth floor of a block on the left bank. The door is unlocked. The owner is dead, or has left, or is hiding from the war, which is a form of being dead. The balcony faces a courtyard where the poor gather to smoke, to drink, to argue, and to point at each other. You will stand at the railing, and you will point at them all. One by one. Then all at once. They will not see you. They are too busy being poor. You will feel a sense of power. This is normal. It is a medical condition called ‘superiority’. It is treatable with a brisk walk and less egg. You will not treat it. You will stay. You will watch. You will point. When you are done, you will leave the way you came, through the door, which you will not lock, because that is not your job. Your job is to point. You have done it. You have done it well. Now walk briskly away from Kyiv. Do not look back. I am still there, on the balcony, pointing at you.
