Back in Kyiv

I got back to Kyiv last Wednesday, but have only now found a few minutes to write a quick post.

The trainings in Bonn were OK, I did actually learn some stuff that I think will be useful. And it was a lot of fun to meet so many interesting people. The first week was a workshop for UNV Program Officers and Program Managers in Eastern Europe and CIS. Our group included:
– a Mongolian woman working in Kazakhstan
– a British man working in Kyrgyzstan
– a Norwegian man working in Uzbekistan (who also happens to be the ONLY Norwegian in all of Uzbekistan)
– a Japanese woman working in Albania
– a Czech woman working in Bosnia (who graduated from Ohio University and has been living in the Columbus, Ohio, for the past 7 years!)
– a British woman working in Albania
– a Serbian woman who grew up in Sweden, lived for 10 years in the U.S., and is now back in Serbia with UNV
– and an Italian woman who works in Indonesia (she joined our workshop because she started her UNV position just a bit after her region’s workshop was held in Kuala-Lampur, so they let her join us to get the info)

And the UNV headquarters staff is amazingly diverse – people from Vietnam, Germany, Ghana, Albania, Canada, Netherlands, Bosnia, Japan, and many many more countries; I didn’t have time to ask everyone where they were from.

Back in Kyiv, I discovered that the political crisis had moved closer to my home. I live about 2 blocks from the Prosecutor General’s office, and I walk past that building every day on my way to and from work. It seems that President Yushenko fired the PG, and so the tent dwellers moved to the PG’s neighborhood to set up camp there. With temps in the 30’s (80 F), it’s not a pretty thing to walk through a huge crowd of people who’ve been living in tents for who-knows-how long. Even worse for me was that they seem to move over to my street, maybe even right under my apartment window, at night, blaring music, signing, yelling, and smoking up a storm. So now it’s too hot to close the windows, but too noisy to leave them open. Lord, I hope all this ends soon.

Bonn

I have a cold. Two completely free days in Bonn – with tons of shops, beautiful parks, interesting museums and galleries, and I barely have the energy to get out of bed. Oh, cruel fate!

I did manage to get across the street yesterday to the natural foods shop. Heavenly! I roamed the aisles for 45 minutes or so, reveling the huge variety of organic foods, all-natural household supplies, and more. Germans seem very keen on “clean and natural.” I’ve seem people of all ages riding bicycles around town, in suits as well as sport clothes. The streets and parks are amazingly clean, and recycling seems fully integrated into the culture. There is rarely just one trash bin, but instead two or three in a row for the different kinds of trash. I haven’t figured all that out yet – who would have thought it would be so complicated to throw away your garbage! I went to the pharmacy to get some relief from my cold, and I couldn’t even get drugs with actual drugs in them. One pharmacist recommended a decongestant “from flowers.” Another gave me an “all-natural” nasal spray. Maybe they are better you in the long run, but geez, give me some Nyquil and good old-fashioned chemicals to make me feel better now!

Germans are also conscientious with natural resources, as well. Escalators that start up when a person approaches, instead of running constantly, using electricity, when no one is riding on them. Hallway lights that turn on as you walk along the corridor, instead of burning constantly when no one is around. There’s a little sign in my hotel bathroom encouraging use of the towels more than one time, so as to conserve on water usage.

So, given all this obsession with clean, conservation, and natural, it is a real surprise to see about 2 out of 3 people, of all ages, smoking up a storm. And they smoke everywhere, inside and outside. A no-smoking section in a restaurant? Hah! Even in Ukraine, I can (usually) get a no-smoking table, even if it is in the corner next to the bathroom. During our coffee breaks during last week’s workshop, all the smokers headed to the break room to light up and have a cup of coffee. I was not alone in being surprised by the smoking inside, and the utter lack of consideration for the non-smokers. Yuck, I hate smoking so much! It’s such a bizarre contradiction to be surrounded by Germans and German residents who seem so committed to a healthy lifestyle (bike riding, organic foods, natural medicines), and then these same people are sucking chemical-laden smoke into their lungs and spewing it back out in the faces of everyone around them.

Well, I’m hoping my non-drug drugs will kick in today and give me some relief so I can get out and enjoy the town. On the other hand, I won’t be missing much today. The country is closed on Sundays, and most shops close at 8 pm on other days of the week. I think I missed my window of shopping opportunity yesterday when I was comatose in my hotel room. I’ll be in training sessions at the UNV headquarters until 6 or 6:30 for the next two days, which won’t leave much time (or energy) for anything else in the evenings. Looks like I’ll be getting most of my presents at Duty Free on Wednesday morning!

I miss them

Last year, my mom and my grandma died within 3 months of each other. Losing Mom was overwhelming and confusing. Losing Grandma was expected, yet more than I could handle so shortly after Mom died. I think I didn’t even write about it here.

Grandma died one year ago tomorrow, at the age of 91. She lived more than 35 years longer than her husband, and outlived all three of her children, her sister, brother-in-law, and almost all of her friends and peers.

She was a an amazing woman, she was very funny, and she was one of my favorite people.

As a young girl, I spent many Saturday nights having a sleep-over at Grandma’s house. We would watch the Love Boat and Fantasy Island together, which meant I got to stay up to the super late hour of 11:00 pm. I loved it! I would also spend hours playing with her awesome collection of jewelry from all over the world.

Nearly three decades later, I lived with her for a month, after I sold my house and before I left for Peace Corps. In those intervening years, although I had spent plenty of time with her and in her house, I guess I never had much reason or opportunity to go upstairs to her bedroom. But during that month living with her, I did spend time upstairs and in her room. I felt a rush of memory looking every day at all the “exotic” jewelry on her dresser – beautiful bangle bracelets, clip earrings, long strings of beads, and many many pins and brooches. Suddenly it clicked for me that my love of jewelry has its roots in those weekends staying at Grandma’s house, playing dress up in her long strings of faux pearls, wearing her clip earrings from far-away countries, and covering my shirt in beautiful and colorful brooches.

My grandma was a rare person who actually loved to hear other people’s stories. She would ask me really insightful and detailed questions about places I had been and things I had done, and she would listen with an attention that made you feel like she was reading a book you were writing. She loved to travel, and when age and poor health made it physically impossible, she travelled vicariously with me and anyone else who would let her.

Computers and the internet never quite made it into Grandma’s world, but she was a good old-fashioned letter writer, and she enjoyed getting letters too. I still find myself drafting letters to her when I feel like writing with pen and paper, but now I have no one to send them to. I miss her very much.

This week I am at a UN Volunteers workshop in Bonn, Germany. My Mom did some consulting on volunteer management for UNV five or six years ago. In fact, I learned about UNV because of my mom’s work with them. I have been thinking about her a lot this week, wondering what she would think about my new position, wanting to talk to her about the training we are going through.

Today I talked to a woman from UNV headquarters who made a comment about my name being spelled wrong on a list (I have seen more variations in the spelling of my name in the last 2 1/2 years than I ever thought possible!). I was surprised that she would recognize it as being spelled wrong, and told her I was impressed she had noticed. “Of course I knew it, I knew your mother,” she said. I had to pause and catch my breath. I hadn’t expected to meet someone here who knew her. “I am having a moment of really wanting to talk to her,” I said. “I understand completely,” she replied. “My father worked for the UN, but he passed away before I started working here. I really wish he had lived long enough to know about it.”

I do too.

Ah, the West

It’s clean here. In fact, it’s freakishly clean. There are so many different bins for sorting garbage, I don’t even know how to throw my trash away.

It’s amusing to be with a group of people who live (perhaps some for too long) in what “less developed countries”. Typical questions have been –
“Do you really think it’s OK to drink the water from the tap?”
“Can’t we just take our beers on our walk with us?”
“Can you believe how freakin’ expensive the beer is?!”

After my fourth straight meal consisting entirely of heaps of green salad, a new friend who works in Sarajevo commented “Wow, you really eat a lot of salad.” You can’t get a salad with lettuce in Ukraine, so I’m eating up while I can. It’s also difficult to get a salad in Ukraine that’s not drenched in (a) mayonnaise, (b) sour cream, or (c) oil. Ukrainians don’t seem to be comprehend the fact that one might atually enjoy the taste of vegetables themselves.

On the other hand, there are some things here that are a not-so-pleasant shock. The hotel has a small spa – two sauna rooms, two steam rooms, a jacuzzi, and a small pool. Now, sweating and steaming are very popular traditions in many Slavic and Central Asian countries – in fact, many people go weekly to the “banya” or public bath house, to sweat out impurities in the steam room, followed by a dip in a cold pool (or a jump in the snow, depending on the time of year). These activities are always strictly separated by gender. We learned last night that Germans are, shall we say, not very prudish in this circumstance. The naked men walking around the spa and sitting in the sauna were a bit too much, especially for the women from very conservative Central Asian countries.

New jobs

Igor and I both have new jobs!

I have accepted the United Nations Volunteers Programme Officer position in Kyiv. I’ll be overseeing the UN Volunteer program in Ukraine, helping to recruit both international and national UNVs, supporting all UNVs in Ukraine, and promoting volunteerism throughout the country. I officially start on June 1, but they wanted me to attend a couple trainings in Bonn, Germany, that were already scheduled. So, I arrived in Bonn last night, after a 4-hour layover in Prague during which I got to hang out with my buddy Hana.

Can I just say how nice it is here? Smooth, well-paved roads. Signs that actually provide directions. And the hotel! I’d nearly forgotten a hotel can be so luxurious – and clean! A bathroom that doesn’t scare the bejeezes out of you. And the efficiency is so impressive – the lights in the hallway turn on as you walk down the hall, and turn down as you pass along. Brilliant! It’s rumored there’s even a swimming pool on the grounds; I’ll check that out later tonight. I’ll be here for 10 lovely days – woohoo!

In the meantime, Igor has officially moved to Kyiv and started his new job last week. He is the Interim Executive Director of a new project sponsored by the German-Polish-Ukrainian Fund, a center for Kyiv street children called “Our Kids.”

The project concept is to create a home-like, family-like experience for street children. The center is located in the three buildings of an old kindergarten on the left bank of Kyiv (Dniprovske neighborhood). The buildings are being renovated into 4 large apartments in two of the buildings (8 apartments total), and the third will be an administrative building. Within each apartment will leave one married couple with 8 children, aged 6-10 years old. The couples will either have no children, or they can have adult children, but they should have no dependent children. The wife will be paid a monthly salary by the Center and will work as a kind of “house mother” for the 8 children; the husband will work part-time outside of the home, and will also receive some financial support from the Center for working part-time at home as a caregiver within the “family unit”. The parents and children will all receive special trainings and support throughout the years they live in the Center. Over the course of three or four years, the hope is that the couple and the kids will form a real family bond, and eventually the couple can adopt the children.

The renovation of the first building will be done sometime this summer, and the center will be ready to accept children by September. In August, when the new Executive Director arrives from Germany, Igor will take over as the Center Director, which is the job he’s really excited about. He will oversee the recruitment, hiring, and training of the married couples, social workers, and all other Center staff. He’ll design and organize trainings, special programs, and all kinds of other interesting things.

Until then, he is overseeing the renovations of the first building on the site. He took me there on Saturday for a quick tour. There’s a lot of work still to be done, but judging by the architectural plans, it’s going to be a beautiful complex.

As Center Director, Igor is expected to live on site, so as soon as the first building is ready, we will be moving into the Director’s apartment. We’re excited to be getting free housing in Kyiv! We walked around the neighborhood for a bit on Saturday, too – checked out a nearby market (it has a fabulous Asian stand!), and a café just across the street from the Center. We were both stunned by the prices – geez, all we did was cross the river, but prices here are so much lower than in the center of the city. A multi-course lunch (soup, meat dish and side dish) costs just 15 hrivnas ($3), and a beer just 5 hrivnas ($1). At the café near my office, a salad alone costs at least 20 hrivna.

Aside from the awesome prices, I enjoyed walking around the “bedroom” neighborhood – lots of little parks and playgrounds, beautiful trees and flowering bushes (on the Center’s grounds alone I counted a weeping willow tree, chestnut trees, some maple trees, lots of gorgeous lilac bushes, and some other flowering bushes I couldn’t identify). We are both looking forward to living in the quiet, family-oriented area.

I’m excited about my new job opportunity, too. I will still be involved with the Chornobyl Programme, as the majority of UNVs in Ukraine are currently affiliated with that project. I’ll also be involved in some new UNDP projects that plan to involve UNVs. And I’m looking forward to being involved in the “Our Kids” activities, and I hope to organize a Peace Camp next summer for the kids.

So, big changes in our lives are happening. I’m thrilled that Igor is finally in Kyiv. And although I’m delighted to get to travel to Bonn (don’t I deserve a nice business trip after a year and a half of traveling throughout some of the most depressed regions of Ukraine?), it’s a pity that I had to leave just a few days after Igor moved in. Maybe it’s good for us in terms of “easing in” to living together – it was a bit strange to have him around during the week, and odd that we both had to get up and go to work instead of lazing around like we usually do during the weekends.

Air-tight security

A few months ago, we got a new “signalizatsia” (electronic alarm) system in our office. Being the customer-focused country that is Ukraine, there were a few strange new rules that came along with the system. In particular, we can now only be in the office from 8 am to 8 pm Monday-Friday, and not at all on weekends or official holidays. Even knowing and using the correct code to deactivate the alarm upon entry is insufficient evidence of you being a person actually authorized to use the office during these “off hours.” This makes for some hassles for those of us who live close the office and are accustomed to coming in on weekends or staying late on weeknights to use the internet. But the rules are the rules and we had to adapt to the new plan since there was no way in hell the company was going to adapt the plan to our needs.

Yesterday was a national holiday – Victory Day. As such, the office was closed. Today at about 1:45 pm, two men from the alarm company came to the office to “investigate” an incident from 23 hours ago. They said the alarm was triggered yesterday around 3 pm. Natasha, our secretary, just went through the office asking if anyone had come in yesterday, and it seems none of us was the culprit.

“Natasha,” I innocently asked,”if the alarm went off yesterday, why are they coming only today to check it out?” She stared at me for a moment, then burst out laughing.

Adoption, cont.

I wrote last week about my adoption conversation with my Ukrainian tutor. I cut the post short, partly because I was short on time and partly because I was so irritated by the conversation I couldn’t write very calmly about it.

I had another conversation today about adoption, this time with a 37-year old American woman who adopted a Ukrainian child 4 years ago. More on that below.

As for the conversation with my tutor, I’ll try to summarize her somewhat confusing position on adoption. As I mentioned in the previous post, we read a short article that stated 25 of 37 children adopted in one Ukrainian town recently had been adopted by foreigners. Valentina found this upsetting, saying it was a shame so many Ukrainian children are taken out of the country, and more are not adopted by Ukrainians. She followed up this statement, though, with a long explanation of why she herself could not (would not?) adopt a child from an orphanage.

First, she told me about the very special bond that she has with her two children, and how although she really adores her friends’ children, and she even had a young girl live with her for several weeks once, she just doesn’t feel the same kind of love for them as she does for her own children, and she can’t imagine loving “someone else’s children” the same way she loves her own. I tried to tactfully point out that there is a difference between living with a child full-time for most or all of his/her life, and just spending time now and then with a kid. So Valentina addressed the issue from a different angle, stating that you just don’t know what kind of kid you’ll get if you adopt – s/he could have alcoholic or drug-addicted parents, and for sure you already know “there is something wrong with the parents if they were willing to abandon their child to an orphanage.” All of these problems, and others, according to Valentina, can be in the child’s genes and so you are likely to end up with a potentially alcoholic, drug-addicted and/or socially undesirable child because they will inherit these characteristics from their birth parents.

I had a number of counter-arguments at this point, and didn’t quite know which sad and absurd misconception to tackle first. Earlier in the conversation, when I said I would have no problem adopting a child, Valentina accused me of being idealistic (well, she meant it as an accusation; I personally think it’s great to be idealist!). As I went through a few of my counterpoints, such as “perhaps some of the mothers didn’t just abandon their children, but really struggled with the decision and thought they were doing what was best for their kids”, Valentina again said I was being idealistic. She again stated her absolute confidence that the children are abandoned by terrible parents and are very likely to grow up to be terrible people themselves.

Now, my guess is that pretty much every Ukrainian family has at least one alcoholic in it. (In fact, I read a newspaper headline today that said Ukrainians spend 2 billion U.S. dollars a year on vodka. That’s 2% of the country’s GDP – and it doesn’t include how much is spent on other alcoholic beverages like beer or wine.) Valentina’s argument collapsed on itself a few minutes later when she mentioned, in another context, that her husband’s father had been an alcoholic. “How do you know that won’t be passed to your sons?” I didn’t want to upset or insult her, but I couldn’t help but point out the inconsistencies in her arguments.

So today I met an American woman who adopted a Ukrainian girl 4 years ago. I asked her how she and her husband had come to adopt a child from Ukraine, and she related a very touching story. She had been on an study abroad program in the mid-1990’s in Minsk, Belarus, for about six weeks. During her stay, she had the opportunity to visit an orphanage, and she was heartbroken by the miserable conditions and the hopeless futures of the children there. She saw children with mild health problems, with severe mental and physical disabilities, and almost all of them without warmth and love in their lives. She decided at that moment that she would one day adopt a child from Belarus. Pan ahead almost ten years, and she is now married with 2 young birth children. Yet she hadn’t forgotten her desire to adopt a child from the former Soviet Union. For a variety of financial and logistical reasons, she and her husband decided to adopt in Ukraine. They know that their daughter’s birth mother was an alcoholic, but she does not exhibit any of the characteristics of a child with fetal alcohol syndrome. Three years old when they adopted her, she had not learned to speak coherently. However, once home with them in the U.S., she learned to speak English “seemingly overnight”, her adopted mother told me. She is a normal, healthy, active 7 year old.

I wonder if Valentina will be able to understand the motives and mentality of this American family that opened their hearts and their home to a little girl from a Ukrainian orphanage. Until Ukrainians are able to be so accepting, thank god someone else in the world wants to help these children.