Dutch farmer works wonders in Moscow region

Johannes Panman, a 53-year-old Dutch farmer, has recently been the subject of much controversy in this country. Two years ago, fate landed him in the Dmitrov District of the Moscow Region where he obtained a 50-year lease on some potato fields, producing very high-quality potatoes which Russia usually buys abroad for hard currency. Locals, with their trademark thoroughness, started stealing the farmer's harvest, as shown in an NTV report in late Sep­tember. We asked the author of this report to share some details about the long-suffering foreigner.

By Lena KUKSINA

NTV, special to Moscow News

Johannes Panman's working day in Russia starts at six in the morning and ends exactly at midnight. At daybreak, he can already be seen standing, commander-like, on the captain's bridge of an imported potato harvester biting into the soil of one of the potato fields that he has leased in the

Dmitrov District. The Dutchman leaves the field when a mist starts drawing over the low ground near the river.

For this, the farmer left his vast farm near Amsterdam. True, he has everything running smoothly there, with clock­work precision, and he does not have to worry about it. Now he is drawn to enigmatic Russia. He is helped by Jan-Wiliem Backen, a 22-year-old assistant — the same straw-colored hair, faded in the sun, and the same expensive thin-rimmed glasses covered with a thick layer of dust. Jan is a graduate of an agricultural college; he worked as an intern with Panman and then joined him to go to snowy Russia.

The vast, under-cultivated country appealed to their hearts. They hope to build on their potato success story and start a dairy operation, delivering milk to Moscow plants to produce yogurts — a recent passion in Russia. Sales do not worry the Dutchmen. They are more amazed at the fact that such a huge, fertile, and well-populated country imports 70 percent of its food from abroad. The Dutchmen genuinely expect to make some money on this paradox.

Agricultural laws in their motherland are harsh: a farmer may not produce milk or potatoes beyond a specified quota. In Russia, however, no one cares. You can work all you like. They will even thank you for any additional kilograms that you produce and pay you for them.

There is yet another circumstance that lured the Dutch­men to Russia. The Dutch government gave Panman a loan for this operation. True, the crisis that hit Russia has frozen it indefinitely. Panman does not complain, but now he has to rely only on his own resources and hope that his potatoes find a good market in Moscow. How much he will now gets for them is, of course, anybody's guess.

Especially given that people are stealing from Panman. They are doing this in a big way. They come with their families, with sacks and spades. It's hardly surprising. The potatoes are very good, especially when baited — at least according to local residents who shamelessly plunder Pan­man's fields it broad daylight. Meanwhile, Panman rushes about in his white Lada car, trying to chase the Russians away. But he has so much land — 200 hectares and only one Panman. It's clear who will emerge the winner in this battle for the harvest.

However it would be wrong to say that Penman is going it completely alone. Local muzhiks are working for him. Nonetheless, it seems that you cannot really rely on them either. If you don't watch out, a potato harvester operator, who has smuggled in a bottle of vodka in his knapsack, will take a swig or two right in the morning, and your expensive piece of Dutch hardware is ruined.

Vodka is the main pastime of the local men who work for Panman. When Panman catches a drunk agricultural worker red-handed for the first time, he warns him that next time he will be fired. Even so, threats do not work. Since April the Dutchman has had to kick out four local muzhiks. There is no shortage of applicants for the vacancies: Panman pays well. Furthermore, he teaches his Dutch potato-growing technology to his employees free of charge. And this techno­logy is really effective: the local state farm produces 18 tones of potatoes per hectare while Penman does 35 tones.

As a token of gratitude, the local employees have learned a few of the most common Dutch words. As for Johannes and his wife, who was mercilessly brought to Russia from prosperous Holland, they are taking a crash course in Russian. Richt, the courageous Dutchman's wife, sees her husband at best three to four hours a day. Still, she hopes that this is only temporary and that in winter they will find the time to go cross-country skiing together. Life in Russia gives her many problems: the little house standing in the middle of a field has no hot water or running water or central heating — only electricity. The former stewardess has to boil water in a kettle to wash or to launder. Most of the time, she can forget about the shower and other creature comforts; she goes to Dmitrov once a week, checks in at the

local hotel, and wallows in a hot bath. While in town, she also stocks up on food for the week — the Panmans are afraid to eat the local stuff.

Richt does not regret having moved to Russia and is ready, in her own words, to follow her husband to the end of the earth. The latter — despite the crisis that has scared all foreigners — is ready to settle down in Russia for a long time. He has even begun to build a big two-story house next to his Swedish makeshift structure. The locals come to gape at it and feel really angry when the Dutchman fails to invite them to tea. Un-Christian-like, they say.