The kids loved running and playing on the trails which run through great fields of yellow flowers to the villages which are filled with cherry trees and both wild and planted flowers. By this time Andry had my big Canon camera, Olya had her little Nikon and the kids were photographing every flower and bee in the fields. Most of the pictures in this post are theirs. Olya was taking a lot of self portraits of her face with the flowers behind her. She also photographed every cherry on every cherry tree in every village. Good thing I have a dozen 4G memory cards. I’ll need to download them all on the computer tonight and clear them up for another day.
Halfway through the complex we sat in a quaint restaurant and had a very nice meal of shishlick (shish kebob), borscht (which both Olya and Andry love), vareniki (little dumplings filled with things; Olya and Andry loved vareniki filled with cherries), potato pancakes, identical to German potato pancakes and, of course, Chicken Kiev.
We convinced Andry to tell some stories about himself and Olya when they were children together. This is the time of Olya’s history which we had not been able to fill. Olya has been very anxious to know things “about when she was little,” meaning before she was with us. Olya was in heaven as Andry told a few little stories about how she climbed a cherry tree that her two older brothers couldn’t and how a fish she caught pulled her into the water. Olya loved them.
Winding our way back through the other villages we stopped for a short break on the steps of an old restored onion-domed wooden church. Andry had begun to tell us a little about the fire that we believed had caused the long scar on Olya’s bottom.
It seems they kept an open fire in an “oven” in a detached shed. Olya, standing on one leg, playing, tripped and fell against the stove. A spark from the fire lit some straw nearby setting the little shed on fire. The fire was put out and Olya went to the hospital.
From this story Andry went on to tell us about Nikolai’s (the biological father) abuse. Andry told that Nikolai often got drunk and beat Maria. He didn’t know if Nikolai had broken her nose (her nose has been broken badly) but he did know that Nikolai had busted out all of Maria’s front teeth. He said that Nikolai did not often try to hit Olya or Andry. Everything would have been worse for all the children except that Maria stepped in and got the beatings instead of the children. A year ago Andry was there when Nikolai got drunk and started beating Maria. Andry called the police and they came and took Nikolai to jail. However, he paid a fine and was released. Wife-beating is not that serious in Ukraine according to Yelana, our translator.
Andry told us that Maria divorced Nikolai about that time but that Nikolai would not leave the house, which belongs to Maria’s mother. He said there are too many things he made for the house to leave. We can’t imagine what he might have made or repaired. Nothing is visible and there is absolutely nothing of material value in that house. Maria told Nikolai that he could stay if he stopped drinking. We hear that he has been sober for the last six months. That’s a relief to hear!
That was the end of the stories. We expect there will be more.
In the evening Olya and Andry made distorted self-portraits on the computer for hours laughing at their long twisted noses and curly heads. I went into our bedroom watching CNN (each bedroom has a TV). But more than anything I was brainstorming on ideas on how we could help Maria. When Pippa came to bed I wasn’t surprised to find out she had been worrying about Maria as well and how to help her.
We agreed very quickly on one thing. We should find a way to get her new teeth. We’re likely to be in Ukraine for another month. That gives us some time. Maria’s birthday, we found out, is July 27. Perhaps we could have our driver, Vassily, go and bring her here to Kiev; she could stay in our apartment overnight; we could have a birthday party––presents––useful things––clothes, whatever, and Maria could have a special time with the children. Then, the following day, a trip to a dentist to get fitted for new front teeth. It wouldn’t be difficult to arrange for Vassily to take Maria back to the dentist for additional times as necessary even after we are back home. If Kiev is too far for her to mentally accept, surely there is a dentist in one of the small towns nearer her village.
She’s only 32; being able to smile freely again would have to be great for her self-confidence. Perhaps not having to show the result of Nikolai’s violence and past (present?) control over her would be even more important. Or maybe Nikolai would be jealous of her gift or of her improved looks. Or maybe the idea of visiting a dentist would be too frightening for Maria.
Monetarily helping Maria is not a problem for us. But finding a way to get the money to her without Nikolai getting his paws on it is another. Would being a little better off cause him to go back to drinking? We know we must return to Maria’s area again because we have to get Andry’s birth certificate. So we plan to stop at a bank in the nearest town to set up an account for Maria if we can be assured that Nikolai won’t have access.
But somehow we feel, there has to be a way that will help Maria help herself. Andry tells us that she decorates eggs in the traditional Ukrainian style. From the look of her house, she is certainly creative. Perhaps we could help her find an outlet for her craft. I don’t know. Even as I write this, I know how far-fetched this idea really is. But we haven’t stopped thinking on this. Tomorrow is another day.
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