Part III
“Are you a Russian-speaking? Hello!”, thundered the voice from heavens on my third day in Toronto. More precisely, from the second floor of the house where I rented a room.
“Well… How is it better to say… Yura told me that someone Russian-speaking has come. Is it you? I crave to talk to somebody who will understand me. Come to the kitchen, I’ll treat you with coffee”.
I wasn’t sure at that moment whether I’ll be able to understand this man from the balcony, who addressed me in Russian from the balcony of the Toronto building. Who is this Yura and why he decided that I’m a Russian-speaking? When I had been looking for a dwelling before the trip, I didn’t e-mail any Yura. A woman answered me in English. But, I mentioned that I’m from Kyiv, so, maybe this lady decided that I’m Russian. For the majority of citizens of far-away countries, we’re all still Russians. And how does some Yura fit into this?
I’ve been repeating to myself and my friends for two years, “Speak Ukrainian. At the moment you switch to Russian, “they” come and start protecting you”. This phrase refers to the communication abroad too. You’re walking leisurely somewhere along the European cities or enjoying your rest on the Asian beaches, talking English or Ukrainian, and have no trouble. But, you only utter at least two Russian words, they appear. Your continent neighbors. They seem to have a sense of smell for “language”. And now, I just said to my son, getting out of the car, “Good night, son, write when you wake up”. Nothing major but I said these words in Russian. And at that precise moment, I heard the voice from “the heavens”.
To reach my room, I had to cross the kitchen where I was already awaited by the Russian-speaking joyous hugs. They were two men. One was in-mid-sixties, another – around thirty-five. A younger greeted me again politely (I adore this collocation – “polite people”), begged pardon that he disturbed me and introduced the other. This was Yura, the owner of the house, married to a Canadian woman, whom I’d been e-mailing. Yura was originally from Moscow, the younger one – from Krasnodar.
I wanted to ask whether they know where I’m from and that I’m not a Russian-speaking, but I was late. Yura looked at me severely and asked, “Why didn’t you defend your territory? How could you give away Crimea?
I froze stiff.
The other said, “Yura, can you do without politics? I barely managed to catch this lady to talk to a normal person, and you want to spoil everything. Can you do without politics?”
“Yes, I can”, Yura answered, “But it’s important!”
In the next fifteen minutes, it was found that Yura has been living in Toronto for more than twenty years, that he was one of those who in August 1991 came out on barricades in Moscow, that he was talking in the Soviet times about the necessity of destruction of Mausoleum and the burying of Lenin. He also said that he had believed in real changes in his country, then he gave up and left because he now thinks that changes are impossible. Sometimes, he comes to Moscow because his old parents live there. That’s all.
I didn’t have to answer his question. Yura took the floor and left. And the other from Krasnodar said, “Sorry, I didn’t want to talk about politics at all. Yura, you know, he’s like that… But I want to talk to someone who understands me”.
To understand a person from Russia… Even the one who is living in Canada now. It’s too much for me.
“Have you been to Crimea?”, I asked.
“Yes, in 2015. Went with children in the car. We’re waiting on the ferriage for 8 hours. It was storming. First, only Russians were given way, then nobody.
“Why didn’t you go there before?”
“I didn’t have time. Worked a lot. I don’t know. And only Crimea became Russia’s, we decided to go – to see how the life is going there”.
“And how?”
“We liked it a lot. You can’t imagine how beautiful your Crimea is!”
“A person, who considers Crimea Russian says ‘your'”, I stated in my mind but said aloud, “Yes, our Crimea is very beautiful”.
“Your Crimea is a wonderful place. We liked everything – the sea, the people, the food”.
“Where exactly have you been?”
“Near Alushta, in Solnyachnogirsk. The hostess was so welcoming. The sea was warm. We didn’t go anywhere else. They say the prices are high there now, but then it was cheap and a lot of products from Ukraine were on the shelves”
“And what are you doing in Canada?”
“I relocated a year ago, want to bring my family here, for children to grow up in a different reality”.
Actually, I wanted to write about simple routine things, which I was interested in during my visit to Toronto. About the prices in the supermarkets, for example, (I need to know how much money my kid spends on shopping) or about how to tip in the cafes or restaurants or about parking rules. But it turned out, as always, about hurting things: about the language problem and the Crimean land, which was torn off from me.
At the Kyiv railway station for two years, two trains “Kyiv – Simferopol” and “Kyiv – Donetsk” departed from one platform. With a 10-minute interval. There are no such trains for four years. There’re “Kyiv-Novooleksiivka” and “Kyiv-Kostiantynivka”. And now they also depart almost at the same time. And I believe that my home and the homes of my friends from Donetsk and Lugansk will return to the motherland. To the place where everything is good, warm, tasty and where people love living, not killing.
Speak Ukrainian. It saves lives.
Olena Bogatyrenko