Me, Lauren and the Iron Maiden Mrs Pretko at our meeting on Monday. Birth certificate lady. Nastia saying goodbye to her director Tatiana. Hi Ho Krischatik Street (Nastia arrives in Kiev!). Lauren and Nastia on computers at home (at last). Note the Chanukah menorah and the Ukrainian and US flags we brought from home.
Sunday and Monday
Here I will try to catch up with the time between Saturday and Wednesday. Already, since we have Sasha in hand, the details are starting to fade. But it is important to get them down for posterity so that someday these children will know the whole story of their “liberation.”
On Sunday we stayed in our apartment and worked much of the day. Caught up with a number of projects in the office and gave thanks that our staff has done such a great job in our absence. They are a great team and we are lucky to have been able to depend on them.
We also did some shopping and tried to enjoy the holiday atmosphere (it was Christmas day here) on Kreschatik street. We went to bed feeling pessimistic about our chances on Monday. There just seemed no reason to hope for the best except for one: we’ve found on a number of occasions on what I’ve continually described as a roller coaster ride that a really bad day portends a good one to follow.
We caught the train and then the bus to Rado, where we visited first with Mrs. Pretko, the “Iron Maiden of Radomischle,” Sasha’s school director. Svieta was on her way from her hometown of Kherson so Lauren and I met and spoke with her alone. Lauren handled this conversation in Ukrainian all by herself!
It was actually a nice talk. She told us that since today was not a work day, she would be unable to give us Sasha today (surprise), but that tomorrow it was possible, depending on what time she got back from Zhitomer. She tried to be pleasant. We actually took some photos of her with us.
(Lauren: It was actually kind of funny, this stern, inscrutable woman was taken off guard when she realized that I could communicate with her, and I actually got a few genuine smiles from her. For some reason she got a real kick out of our conversation, at the end of which she said, You been here a month and you’ve really picked up the language! I mentioned that I studied before I came, but if you’re reading this, Maksim, I didn’t tell her about the time my pronunciation made you laugh so much you fell off your chair.)
Then we played with Sasha for an hour till Svieta arrived, and the three of us went with Vanya to pick her up in a nearby village. (That’s where I took the pictures of the church we posted on a later day.) This was good news. We had our bureaucrat and she was ready to issue the certificates!
It took several hours to complete all the documents. Then when all was ready to print out, she announced that her printer wasn’t working. OK, why not use the other one in the office? Well we could do that, she said, but it puts a black line down the margin of the page, and this could be a problem when we take the certificates to Zhitomer to be “legalized.” Since we’ve already discovered that bureaucrats hate anything unusual in their documents, we knew that this was not acceptable.
I fiddled around on her computer for half an hour, looking for some kind of printer utility that would allow me to clean the ink jet nozzles (I’m sure this was the problem). But as all the software was labeled in Ukrainian it was useless. To think we had come to the point of having the certificates and we would be foiled by a clogged inkjet nozzle was just too much. Or maybe just par for the course. Lauren and I looked at each other blankly.
It was at this point that Svieta decided to tell us that the lady had already offered to type the certificates by hand (another great job of facilitation by our translator – such a problem solver she is). Do it! And lo, it was done. Also, we received our certificates of adoption, lots of stamps and signatures, and the work was ready.
Now, the lady asked, will you give me your receipt from the post office showing you’ve paid the 10 grivne tax for the documents. But, we said, it’s a holiday, the post office won’t be open. Well, she said, she’d have to have that tax to issue them. I guess Svieta had failed to plan for this. Can you imagine what it’s like to depend in our situation on a rookie with such a complete lack of foresight, not to mention insight?
Somehow, she was able to convince the lady to let us bring her the receipt tomorrow. We actually walked out of the office with our documents. I tried to give her a small gratuity for coming in on the holiday to help us but she pushed my hand away and refused it.
Off to Vischevitsche for Nastia. We got there at around 6 PM. Tatiana and her assistant had been waiting for us since 3. What lovely people. What a contrast with the situation at Radomischle! We signed lots of documents, got lots of stamps.
We had a talk with Tatiana about our plans for the soccer field. We definitely plan to help them raise the money, but I tried to explain that we would have to create a non-profit organization at home, and we would need not only the plans and property deed, but also a legal contract specifying how the funds would be handled and disbursed, and other information as well before most people would consider donating. We told her we would provide any seed money needed for the planning and legal documentation. And we said we want to come back for the opening when it’s finished!
Nastia appeared at the door of the office with the biggest smile, clutching her stuffed dog “Ernie” and a bag with the other books and gifts we’d given her, and besides the clothes on her back, that was it! That’s all she will ever have to remind her of her orphanage and her previous existence.
Oh, one of her friends had given her a small metal “pendant” fastened with a string around her neck. Someone else gave her two plastic flowers that she later put into her hair.
We were lucky that Tatiana understood we hadn’t had time or warning to get clothes for Nastia. They expected to keep everything she had on. We promised to get her some things and return what we could. But we asked if we could keep the winter coat and shoes since we hated to buy new ones when we were moving her to Miami! OK, no problem.
We put the hat that Nanny had knitted on her head and tried to give back the school’s hat, but Nastia so wanted to keep it. She took it back and put it in her bag.
Then, as we were finishing the documents, Tatiana asked for a photograph of Nastia for one of the papers she would need for her records. Of course Svieta and Greg had not told us of this requirement, and we didn’t have the photos with us. There was a cliffhanging moment before Tatiana agreed to let us bring it tomorrow. And that was it. Nastia was ours!
She said goodbye to some friends in the hallway and we all walked hand in hand out to the car. She never looked back!
We caught the minibus to Kiev from Rado and then the train to Kreschatik Street. Everything was new for Nastia. She’d never been to Zhitomer, let alone a big city like Kiev! The subway, the escalator ride up to street level, the lights, the crowds, the busy streets. Kreschatik was closed to motor traffic for the holiday, and decorations were everywhere. It was a fantasyland.
When we got out on the street, the most amazing thing happened. A man who was giving pony rides saw her looking and grabbed her, hoisting her onto the saddle. He didn’t ask our permission because I guess our faces told him we wanted her to have a ride, and Nastia got her welcome to Kiev with a pony ride down two blocks of the main boulevard, with everyone watching her grand entrance! Lauren and I were in heaven watching her exciting ride.
We walked the rest of the way home, up our 7 flights of stairs to the apartment, and she was home! What a night we had. A delicious dinner together. TV. Playing, laughing and smiling. Lauren did her nails, gave her a shower and dried her hair. And we all went to bed later than we should have, knowing that our family was beginning to come together. Now all we needed was Sasha, and we hoped that tomorrow would be the day.