Village Days

Saturday will probably be a village day. There's lots of work to be done there this time of year, and I like doing it. It beats hanging around the apartment all day.

The village is where Roma's grandparents live. It's where his mother grew up, and before that, his grandfather. Like most, it's a small village, devoid of pretty much anyone between the ages of 18 and 30. Most of the people who live there permanently are in their 70's and 80's. Young people do not stay in the villages. They leave for larger cities and towns where they can find education and work. Few return, except to help their parents and grandparents with the harvest.

My first visit to the village was for Roma's grandfather's 78th birthday. We went via the family car, which is an old (perhaps 25 years old) Lada. It's a functional car, albeit loud and a bit like MTV's "Pimp my Ride" the before.

I've now been to the village three times and so far, this has been my experience getting there:

I squeeze into the back seat of the Lada with Roma's mom, Nadia. Roma's father, Tolic, drives us out of town, perhaps 4 kilometers, where we stop to get gas. After that, Roma drives and Tolic sits in the passenger seat critiquing while Nadia comments from the rear. (It should be noted that Roma's real name is Vadym. Roma is a nickname that I've always known him as and I always call him. But around his parents, it's Vadym)

Roma pulls out from the gas station...
Tolic: More gas, more gas!
Roma: I'm giving more gas.
Tolic: Watch out, car up ahead.
Roma: I see it.
Nadia: Oh Tolic...
Tolic: Don't hit the pothole.
Roma: I'm not going to hit the pothole.
(Roma clips the pothole)
Nadia: Oh Vadym, Vadym, Vadym
Roma: What mom, why oh Vadym?
Tolic: Drive on the other side of the road, there are less potholes over there.
(Roma goes to the other side of the road and clips a small pothole)
Nadia: Oh Vadym, Vadym...
Tolic: What are you doing Vadym?
Roma: You said to go over there.
Tolic: I said to go over there, not to hit the pothole.
Roma: Pa, you want to drive? Drive. You want me to drive, let me drive.
Nadia: Oh Vadym, Vadym. Sheryl, you should sit in the front and Tolic should sit in the back.
Roma: Good idea.
Tolic: I'll be quiet. I won't speak.....watch out for the turn up ahead.
Roma: Pa, I see it.
Nadia: Oh Tolic, Tolic, Tolic...

And so we drive.

About 30 kilometers from Bar, we turn off the main road (and I use that term loosely, because the "main road" is a narrow two laner full of potholes). We turn onto an old, cobblestone road, built for tanks during the war. It is only about 15 kilometers from the main road to the village, but it takes a long time. We have to slow down to a literal CRAWL as we drive along the cobblestone road. (I think I could probably walk faster than we drive this leg of the journey.)

It is at this point when it becomes impossible for me to hear/understand anything because it's so loud in the car. (For me, Ukrainian is best understood when it is spoken in a very quiet environment.) It is also at this point when Nadia usually becomes chatty.

Nadia: Bet you don't have roads like this in America, Sheryl. Do you have roads like this in America?

To me, her question sounds like: IEUREOK dkfajied OEiukd KDJOUE skeruo gh, Sheryl. DKjo k ldkfjou akdjf America?

***

The village house consists of three serperate buildings: a main house (three small rooms, no plumbing), a kitchen (one small room, no plumbing), and a small old house (one very small room, no plumbing, where Roma's grandfather grew up). On the property, there are two horses (used to pull the cart the grandparents use to get around town), two pigs (to be slaughtered some time after Easter), many chickens, turkeys and ducks, a guard dog named Jack, a cow (which I have yet to milk) and rabbits.

The last time I was at the village, I watched Roma's grandmother chase down a chicken and break it's neck. I also watched Tolic club and skin a Rabbit so I could eat it for dinner the next day.(Suprisingly tasty.) It's not all gloom and doom there though. I also got to run around the farm with Roma feeding all the animals, collecting eggs and clearing out poop from the pens. It was fun. I felt like Laura Engles Wilder.

***

Saturday will probably be another village day. Like I said, there is lots of work this time of year. Of course, the really hard work I'm not allowed to do. Roma's parents don't want me to work too hard. I'm constantly told, "Sheryl, smoke." (Not literally. It's just a Ukrainian expression.) But if I'm sneaky, and persistent, I can pretty much do any of the work I want to on the farm. And it's fun.