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Jennifer's spaceMay 06 LEEDA'S STORYLEEDA’S STORY - REVISED
Monday April 30, 2007
We are preparing to leave Ukraine after almost three weeks. We have had some wonderful experiences and gotten answers to questions we came seeking, but we are ready to go home. Our muscles are tired, our legs hurt, and the bottoms of our feet are sore from all the walking, so reentering the American way of life will be a welcome change. Let’s face it, we are spoiled and we wouldn’t have it any other way. Although Leeda has enjoyed her visit, seen old friends, and has had a chance to really compare the differences in culture, she too is ready to go home. She talks almost non-stop about what she wants to do when she gets home.
One of the reasons for our visit here was to see if we could locate the missing pieces of the puzzle of Leeda’s childhood. We wanted to know the complete story of her life, how she lived as a small child, and the validity of the stories we had heard from others. We knew almost nothing of her biological father and other relatives prior to that cold day in January 2002, when a single blast from a shotgun changed Leeda’s life forever. Leeda rarely speaks of her years before the shooting so we knew if we did not discover the missing pieces soon, the story may be lost forever. What we have learned will be chronicled and kept with the other pictures, records, and even this blog, until she is ready to know it. If, as an adult (or even late teens), she wants to track down her biological family, or find the answers to some of the questions that may arise, we want to be prepared to give her the information we have assembled. This then is Leeda’s story, as told to us and to an investigator we hired to travel the length and width of Ukraine and interview those who knew her. Our investigator is a professional and was able to locate and speak to almost everyone who is still alive. Not only did they share information, but many had pictures of Leeda and her biological family taken before the ‘accident.’ They offered to help us compose the “life book” we are preparing for Leeda. Even if she never wants to learn any more about her biological family or the circumstances that led to her spending a year in the hospital, three years in an orphanage, or the way she came into her ‘forever’ family, perhaps her children may want to know the story.
Sources for this chronicle were doctors, hospital and orphanage director and staff, almost all living bio family members, neighbors, pastors, teachers, and other’s whose lives Leeda touched. The ‘lynchpin’ for connecting the whole story is Ludmilla Tihonovna (Granny), without whom we could not have found the missing pieces or daresay even been able to adopt Leeda.
Before we began this reconstruction, we did have a few facts - for instance, we knew that Max, Leeda’s brother and the one who pulled the trigger on January 11, 2002, traveled with his aunt, to the orphanage at some point about two years after the shooting to see Leeda. At the time she was asked if she wanted to see him but she refused and he left without being allowed to see her. She has not seen him since the day she saw him looking down the barrel of her grandfather’s shotgun pointed at her heart. After hearing the loud bang, she looked down at what a few moments before had been her arm and hand. Now there was only blood and, at the sight of it, she lost consciousness.
Leeda and Maxim (called Max) are fourteen months apart in age and share only the same mother, Marina. We have been able to take the information we learned last year from Granny, the Christian neighbor who played such a pivotal role in Leeda’s recovery, and added to it the rest of the story, as told in their interviews by her biological family and their friends. The family still resides in the same village, Dnepryany, as they have for generations. When interviewing the relatives and friends, the interviewer, Vanya, was surprised at the consistency and steadfastness of the stories from all the people he interviewed. He was convinced of the accuracy of the events as they were told to him.
A few words about Leeda’s mother, Marina are appropriate at this point in the story. Her family describes her as a flippant, airy person, who wasn’t stable and could not maintain a steady job. The reputation she had was of a person who seemed to always have a problem which kept her from being dependable. She never exhausted her supply of excuses for missing work. It may be a cut finger one day, a twisted ankle or terrible head ache the next. When she could not come up with a new ailment or illness, she would blame someone for being out to get her. But it’s not enough to say that she was just lazy to explain her inconsistent behavior. Her own mother, Lyuba, (Leeda’s grandmother), had also been relinquished of her parental rights when Marina was a child. She drank vodka excessively and abused and neglected her two children. After being deprived of her parental rights, Lyuba disappeared. So, after Marina grew up, she followed the only example of parenting she had ever seen modeled. When Lyuba disappeared, Marina’s father, Vladimir, moved in with another woman. He too found solace in a bottle of vodka and spent whatever money he could earn on the new woman and her family, leaving Marina and her sister, Tatiana to fend for themselves. So, the sisters grew up in a dysfunctional home. Many people in the village expected that it would be Tatiana who would follow in her mother’s footsteps, but she surprised them. In fact, she is still married to her husband, Victor, and has three children Andrey (1988), Julia (1989) and Sergey (1997). They all now live in Nikopol, a town within a three-hour bus ride from Dnepryany.
The pattern of abuse continued from one generation to the next. No one knows just how far back it went – some surmise possibly for many generations. Of course the constant companion of the abuse was Vodka, a very ancient intoxicant. Alcoholism ran in the family as far back as anyone could remember. Leeda’s great grandfather, Boris, was a fisherman by trade and after a bountiful catch; he would celebrate his good fortune with vodka. On the days when there were no fish, he would drink to drown his bad luck.
Both Max and Leeda then, were also victims of abuse. According to Leeda’s Aunt Tatiana, her mother’s only sibling, she and her sister could not have been more different in temperament and personality. Tatiana is good, kind woman who does not drink vodka. The abuse that Marina foisted upon her own children was often a source of conflict between the two sisters that sometimes boiled over into physical clashes. Tatiana said during her interview, that she once witnessed Marina beating Leeda severely and decided spontaneously to intervene. She grabbed Marina by the hair dragging her to the ground and while holding her there, screamed in her sister’s face, “You will not hurt this child again.” Unfortunately it was a threat she could not enforce and the beatings of the child continued.
Max was the eldest, and since mealtime was never a certainty, nor the quality or quantity of food, the children were almost always hungry. Although under normal conditions, Max may have been a kind and loving brother, this family would not be mistaken for the family on Walton’s Mountain where John-Boy always looked after his sisters. Leeda represented competition for food to Max, as well as the entertainment value his sadistic personality seemed to thrive on. He enjoyed having his turn at being the bully. He used the only models for behavior he had – his mother and her friend who would often direct undeserved hostility toward him. Max would frequently threaten Leeda with whatever tool was handy. Sometimes it was the gun, or knife, or whatever else he could find to intimidate her to relieve his boredom. Apparently, the favored status of the elder son was also evident. Different treatment was meted out for Leeda than it was for Max. Leeda was required to cook and clean for her mother and brother. By the age of four Leeda was cooking potatoes while standing on a stool at the gas stove. By the time she was six she was able to cook cabbage, beets, potatoes and other things like soup - the Ukrainian kind of soup (not Campbell’s).
On January 8, 2002 (the day after Christmas in Ukraine) Leeda and Max were playing in the house they shared with Marina, her boyfriend, and her father, Vladimir (Leeda’s grandfather). Five people lived in the one small one room shack. As the children played, Ludmilla Tihonovna, who will hereafter be referred to as just Granny, arrived at the house next door for a visit with her brother and his wife. Actually, Granny’s parent’s house is also located in the same village, but before this day she had never met, or even seen, Leeda or her brother Maxim. Granny had just arrived from Kherson where she lived with her grown daughter, Sveta and her grandson, Andrey.
As Granny stared into the house next door, she saw two children, playing on the floor. When Granny asked the boy who they were, Max explained that they were children of his wife’s friend. Granny invited the children into her brother’s home to feed them, because there were some tasty leftovers from the previous days Christmas meal. After feeding the children, Granny visited with her brother for another day and then left for her own home in Kherson.
“You know,” said Granny as she interrupted her story with a quavering voice and tears in her eyes, “I knew that God wanted me to meet Leeda that day. It wasn’t just a coincidence that she and her brother happened to be in the house when I dropped in.” Max and Leeda had often been fed by compassionate neighbors before so, when invited to eat, they eagerly accepted. Five days later Granny was in her flat alone, her daughter, Sveta, was at work, and Andrey was in school. When the phone rang Granny said she had an uneasy feeling as she answered and the uneasiness was replaced a few seconds later by fear that gripped her heart as she heard her son from Dnepryany. Although the connection was poor she knew that something horrible had happened in the village, from the tone of her son’s voice. Before she could learn what happened, the line went dead. Granny was in a panic as she called her daughter, Sveta, to ask her to call from her more reliable phone. Within a few minutes Sveta called back to tell her the news that the boy she had just met had shot his seven year old sister with a shotgun. Although the news did not affect her immediate family, the news was just as devastating to Granny. There was already a ‘personal’ connection with the child, Leeda.
That day, January 11th, 2002, Max and Leeda were left alone while the mother, Marina, locked them in the shack by twisting a wire on the outside of the door to prevent the children from wandering off. On the previous day, January 10th, Marina had celebrated her 30th birthday in her usual fashion. Sometimes, being left unprotected, Leeda would go to the Dnieper river, close to the house, to swim or walk on the ice alone. According to the neighbors, she had fallen into the freezing water on than one occasion when the ice would break beneath her tiny feet. As a result from the near freezing water, she suffered from kidney problems. So, perhaps in order to prevent that from happening again, or for some other reason, Marina decided to lock her two children in the house.
The shack resembles a war-time hut with thin clay-and-wood walls and a low ceiling that prevents me from standing up. Grandfather Vladimir had been preparing for the new hunting season and had been cleaning and polishing his shotgun. Max, of course, was watching him and learning how to open the chamber, cock the hammer, and pull the trigger. The shotgun was kept where Vladimir thought the children could not reach it. He was wrong. He didn’t count on an inquisitive lad who had watched his every move. How one of the shells just happened to be in the barrel is a mystery, the answer to which lies far beyond the vodka dulled consciousness of Grandfather Vladimir. According to Max, the first few times he pulled the trigger, nothing happened. Then he aimed the weapon at his little sister, Leeda, standing less than five feet away, and pulled it again. This time the ‘unloaded’ gun did fire. Deafening noise shook the house, the room filled with smoke, and when it cleared Max could see Leeda. Her left arm was totally destroyed by the shot, the bone was smashed into little pieces.
But Leeda didn’t lose consciousness at once; she was still staring at Max. She fainted when she saw the blood. Max acted quickly; he broke the glass window and ran to call the ambulance and find help. While he was trying to get help, his little sister was lying on the floor unconscious and bleeding.
The ambulance took the child to the nearest hospital in a town named Novokahovka-a. It is adjacent to the village of Dnepryany. The doctors of the reanimation department tried to put Leeda back together. When the mother arrived to the hospital she was told by the doctors to prepare herself for the worst. The wounds and trauma of her daughter were such that no one could possibly endure such injury and live. No one had any hope of Leeda’s survival – well, almost no one. The “experts” had not counted on one little peasant woman whom Leeda would name “Granny,” and the connections she wielded with a higher power. Leeda’s forearm bone was splintered; a large section of muscle with skin was missing, having been torn out by the blast. Her lungs were damaged so badly that the surgeons had to remove one third of her left lung; the skin on her breast was perforated by the shot and because she was so close to the blast, her small body was badly burned. In addition, there were many shot pellets remaining in her arms, chest, neck, and lungs and the pinky finger on her other hand was missing. The list is actually much longer but this is already bad enough and papa is out of Kleenex. It is, however, enough to show why the doctors were certain that Leeda would die.
The doctors at the hospital did everything they could and as each day passed they were surprised that the little girl was still alive. When it became evident (in their opinions) that she actually may survive, they decided that she needed to be in a better facility, one who had the training and technology to help her. They performed three surgeries, cleaned the burns, extracted as much shot as they could safely retrieve, and reassembled the left hand and arm bones (although they knew little of reconstructive surgery and did it wrong). They called Kherson hospital and asked for help. A group of doctor’s from the regional capital city came and took Leeda to the central hospital, it was the fourth day after the tragedy.
When Ludmila Tihonovna - (oh, excuse me, Granny) was told that the Leeda was brought to Kherson (where she lived), she went to the hospital. Leeda was not her blood relative, or even a close friend, but only a poor child whom she had seen only once in her life. Nevertheless Granny believed in her heart that God was directing her to try and help this child. She just knew that there was something she could do to help (was that ever an understatement), so she went to the hospital. In Kherson the doctors examined Leeda and said that they would have to do more surgeries and so somebody had to find blood donors for Leeda. Granny went into action. She called her daughter, Sveta who worked was near a military base. Sveta wasted no time in asking for help and several soldiers came to give blood for the little girl from a family of alcoholics.
The doctors had decided to amputate Leeda’s left arm, so bad was the damage, but once again, Granny stepped up to fight for her. She pleaded with them not to do it. She said that if they saved the hand, even if it would never function, it would still be a better solution for a girl, than to have a prosthetic appliance. So the doctors, mostly just to placate this woman who had become a thorn in their side, decided to try. They reassembled Leeda’s arm bone once again, they took stripes of skin from her hips to cover her arm and breast, they did everything their experience had taught them. A few days later after Leeda was brought to Kherson, doctor Victor Ivanovich, a very good surgeon, had just returned from vacation. He examined Leeda and he did not like the way the arm bones was put together, so he took drastic steps. He broke the arm apart and reassembled it for the third time. He spent hours of surgery, carefully putting every little piece of the bone where it belonged. When he finished he told Granny that the arm was saved although he was unable to reconnect all of the tendons and ligaments. He said that, at best, the arm may regain partial function, but the hands and fingers were too badly damaged to ever be of use. During the year she was hospitalized, Leeda underwent eight surgeries.
All this time, Granny and Sveta were nearby. They prayed without ceasing, visited, entertained, and encouraged Leeda, brought fruit to the hospital, begged and borrowed all they could to pay for her care and medicines. Of course they couldn’t have afforded all that without the help of good people who gave money, food, clothes and their time and love to help Leeda. Granny and Sveta talked to the doctors daily and also helped Marina. They washed, fed and kept her sober, for her daughter’s sake as well as for her own. But after two months, Marina could not stay sober. I am not trying to be unduly harsh or judgmental but Marina, couldn’t even stay with her daughter in the hospital at first because she was drunk, dirty and stinky. Instead the wife of Granny's brother stayed in the hospital room with Leeda.
Dr. Victor Ivanovich called Granny and told her that he was going to bar Marina from the hospital, He felt he had no choice because she not only refused to help, she was actually making things worse for Leeda. The large metal cast/brace that kept the arm, wrist, hand, and fingers in place that Dr. Ivanovich had so painstakingly put together was in danger of amputation again. At night Leeda would fall from her bed with the metal cast on her arm, necessitating more work to be done. Marina refused to help with the housekeeping in the area near Leeda’s room as she was required to do. The reason she gave was that because the other women who also stayed there refused to do work. What made her argument null and void was that the other women had the right to do that because their husbands were paying for all the expenses and also supplying medicines, food, and supplies to the personnel of the hospital. So after just two months Leeda’s mother was ejected from the hospital. She continued her slide into the death grip that vodka had on her and never saw Leeda again. At the end of Leeda stay in the hospital, she was transferred to a temporary children’s shelter in Kherson.
A shelter is an institution for children deprived of parental care. It is run by the government and its main aim is to provide temporary shelter until a child is assigned to a permanent orphanage. Leeda came to the shelter in mid June. The director of the shelter, Yuri Ivanovich (not to be confused with Dr Victor Ivanovich), expressed a desire to help Leeda.
Only hindsight reveals that Yuri was not as interested in helping Leeda as he was in using the story of a small girl from an alcoholic family, who was shot by her brother, to solicit funds from people. Granny, by now a Mother Teresa, intercessor, provider, and all around Saint, also donned a new hat – that of a detective. She learned that Yuri, while riding the train with Leeda and a few other sick children met some American missionaries. Yuri and the children were on the way back to Kherson, from Kiev where Leeda received special treatment for her wounds. By coincidence, Yuri struck up a conversation with missionaries and told them Leeda’s story. They were so moved by the story, they offered to donate money for her upcoming surgery. Yuri, saw what he considered to be a good business opportunity. He began to solicit others to also help the small orphan in need of an operation. The missionaries who met Yuri on the train, came and gave him an envelope containing $2000 in U.S. currency. Granny was present at the exchange and remembers one of the missionaries was named Cosmos. The money was never used for Leeda, (or any other orphan child). It was of interest that Yuri, on a salary of $70 dollars a month, began to renovate his apartment. When Granny pressed him later about the money for Leeda, Yuri denied any wrong doing. But Yuri’s greed was his undoing as far as this little grandmother was concerned.
Yuri had much bigger plans that included fleecing other wealthy donors using the poor little girl who needed surgery as ‘bait.’ Normally children stay in the shelter no more than 3 months, but Leeda stayed there eight months and no one knows the total funds collected for Leeda’s surgeries. With Granny ‘hot on his tail’ he decided to transfer Leeda to the Kherson Boarding School number 1, where there were 250 other orphans. Being close by would give him an opportunity to continue his scam.
There were, no doubt, many children at the Kherson Boarding School who also had difficult lives, but it is doubtful that any of them had gone through anything like Leeda. Besides, none of them had a “Saint Granny” working for them. Granny challenged Yuri, as David did Goliath. He had a position of power in the orphanage system of Ukraine. But that didn’t faze Granny as she stood up to him and insisted that Leeda needed some resemblance of a normal family, even if it were a foster family. He refused. Once again, Saint Granny took on a challenge. She contacted a friend in Kiev who just happened to be a tax police officer. Because of her work, influence, and power, she had contacts with many businessmen, government officials, and other people who had the ability to help Leeda. So Granny called her friend Nadezhda Grigorievna Zaharchenko (I promise not to throw the whole name at you again) and asked her to visit Leeda at the Kiev clinic while she was there for a regular treatment. So Nadezhda responded to her friend and after meeting the girl with the big smile, she too was ‘hooked.’ She promised to do everything in her power to find Leeda some type of foster care. Even after several failures, Granny and her friend from the tax police did not give up and eventually met Roman, the director of Father’s House. We all know that when you are asked to do a favor by the tax police, most people would not refuse such a request. Neither did Roman. He was also a Christian and felt he was being led by God. He too now joined the fight against the corrupt Yuri who did not want to lose his ‘ace money maker’ but once again he was outgunned by Granny, why had assembled a bigger army than he had.
Leeda was sent to, and remained at Father’s House for three years, where she learned to forgive those who had hurt her so badly. With the influence of Granny, Roman, and other strong Christians, Leeda developed strong moral character to accompany the courage she already had. She met other Christians who prayed for and with her for a mama and papa of her own. One such prayer partner was a girl younger than Leeda, named Ilianna who prayed nightly with Leeda for parents of their own. Ilianna was adopted a year before Leeda to a couple in Oregon, but never forgot her friend left behind in the orphanage. Her new mama contacted us when they knew we were looking to adopt telling us of the situation. As most of you know, we went to Ukraine having already been given the name and birthday of Leeda. What we did not know was that it was impossible to select one child from the two hundred thousand orphans on file at the Government office. Not even having a picture of Leeda, we quickly realized that, given only one hour to select a child, we could never find her. So, we simply went through pictures and selected one whose smile seemed to jump off the page at us. Jennifer took one look at the picture and said, “That’s my daughter.” Only after our selection did we learn that the child we chose was, indeed the same one we went to Ukraine seeking.
On March 28, 2006, while she was in the process of deciding whether she wanted to be adopted by us, Leeda’s mother, Marina and the man she was living with were killed in a tragic fire. One of the few different stories told by the family was the circumstances of their death. There are two versions of the way they died. According to the first one they came home and Marina started making pea soup. As you know it takes a while to boil peas, so they took a nap. Of course they were not sober. So, as they slept, the water from the pot evaporated and the aluminum pot started burning, producing poisonous smoke which killed both people. According to the other theory they had been working as day laborers in a field that day and instead of cash, were paid with vodka. The vodka was bad and poisoned them. The peas boiling over, did cause a fire but, according to neighbors, was not the cause of their deaths. They are buried side by side in the village cemetery. The mother of Marina’s lover paid for a headstone for her son, but upon discovering there is none for Marina, we made a down payment and will have one erected for Marina. Of course Granny will see that it gets done. Upon being told of her mother’s death, Leeda expressed no emotion. Granny, who broke the news to her, saw Leeda’s inability to grasp the full meaning of the words so she ended the conversation with the counsel, “Leeda, when you are ready to weep, your new mama, Jennifer, will hold you and cry with you.” We believe that this prophesy will still happen at some point in her life. We pray for it to be soon.
Well, this has been, by far, the longest part of the blog we started on our adoption of Leeda, but one I had to write. Perhaps it may be good for Leeda one day to have the story, but also it may help Jennifer and I to always remember the gift we were given and to inspire us to care for and nurture this treasure for as long as we are given. We are humbled that, with all the parents God could have used to parent her, we were chosen. There remains one thing that stands out in our experience in adoption. Every person we have seen who has stepped up to help has been greatly blessed by having done so. The blessings come in a variety of ways; some have been blessed financially, others spiritually, physically, or psychologically and emotionally. But it is a certainty, we believe, that it is impossible to help an orphan and not receive much more than you ever thought possible.
Even those who may not profess Christianity (at the moment) cannot help but notice that God’s favor rests heavily on Leeda. Although it is impossible to ‘keep score,’ the miracles just continue to follow her life. Consider the following:
1. She did not die from hunger, disease, or abuse. 2. She did not die from exposure, frostbite, or
drowning in the frigid water of the Dniper River. 3. Of all the ‘buckshot’ pellets that were fired from point blank range, none pierced her heart. 4.
She astounded every doctor by living when they said it was not possible to survive such traumatic shock. 5. The arm that doctors said could not be saved now works normally. 6.
The fingers of her left hand that Granny was told could never work properly because of missing parts, do so as they should. 7. She escaped the clutches of those who would use her for profit. 8. She prayed for and received a family of her own. 9. She continues to defy the experts and the odds in every area of her life. 10. Her faith and resiliency of spirit are a testimony of the power and goodness of God. 11. Her determination to not only survive physically, but also spiritually, psychologically and
emotionallyinspire all who know her.
I know this blog has been rather disjointed and maybe in places is redundant or confusing. I wrote it, often very late at night and many times without even proof reading. Please forgive my bad grammar, use of punctuation, and other mistakes. We began the blog back in March, 2006 as we set out to adopt a child. We never knew for certain that a child was there for us but knew we had to try. We made a commitment at the very first to be totally transparent and open in all areas. Something has happened, not only to us, but to many of you who have kept up with our blog as you have written to say how our journey has inspired you to step out to also adopt or get involved in helping others to adopt. Some have just wanted to know how they could help the children without being defrauded by con artists like Yuri. We have tried our best to help all who have asked for it.
Blessings to all of you. Jerry, Jennifer, and Leeda Moellenkamp
Ps - If you should desire to contact us for information, please feel free to contact us. Our email address is jerrymo@alltel.net
April 27 "As you have done it unto the lease of these, you have done it unto me."“And they said unto him - Lord, when did we see you hungry and feed you or naked and clothe you?” “And he said, “Inasmuch as you have done it unto one of these, you have done it unto me.”
Tuesday, April 24, 2007
Today we visited an orphanage under construction in Gorlovka. Kenny and Laura Payne are ministers from The Church of Christ, and on staff in Panama City, Florida. They have been missionaries here for fifteen years and have watched the transformation from communism to democracy up close and personal. They live a short distance from Kosyta and they too paid very little for their apartment. The value of their apartment has gone from hundreds to thousands in only a few short years. Kostya told us he only paid $1000 dollars (U.S.) in the mid 90’s and the value is now about $15,000. Any shrewd businessman would spot the investment opportunity that exists in housing if they spend even a few days here. An apartment can be bought here for about $15000 and even assuming that the market may cool a little, the price would probably still grow to $50,000 in two or three years. The reasons for such an optimistic view are: a Capitalist society, a stable currency, a rapidly expanding economy, a shortage of housing, and many employment opportunities. A good investor could see the similarity between this and the U.S. economy of the 1960’s. How many of us are all quick to tell our friends the story of how we missed the opportunity to buy low, hold for a few years, and sell high when the prices for real estate increased by ten fold in only a short amount of time. Another thing that makes buying real estate so attractive here is that, unlike some countries, foreigners are not prohibited from buying and owning property in Ukraine.
This morning as were getting ready to visit the orphanage and hospital, and mama was doing laundry in the next room, Leeda shared with me the dream she had during the night. Leeda said her dream was really a nightmare, and in it the three of us were trying to go home (to America), only we were told we could not go for some unknown reason. She said the thought of not being able to return to America was very disturbing to her and she was very upset as she thought of her future knowing she had to remain in Ukraine. So, without even knowing it, Leeda answered one of our concerns when we first brought her home – the fear that she would want to return to her homeland to live. Later in the day we spoke with Dasha, a nineteen year old friend of Kenny and Laura’s. She has learned to speak almost perfect English and has been to America several times for medical treatments. When asked what she thought of America she replied, “Everything there is so clean. Why, I think you could lie down and sleep on the streets.” I suppose, in order to understand such a comment from a teenager, you would have to see and smell the difference from her vantage. She has a point of reference that most of us do not share. We probably wash our hands six to eight times each day so we can certainly understand why she said this.
We started the day with a visit to an orphanage still under construction. Kenny and Laura Payne are the major source of funding for the construction. There are no children housed there yet and the completion is set for later this year. Its operation will be similar to the model of Father’s House, in Kiev. The one major difference we can see is that adoption will be the primary focus, not just warehousing children indefinitely. Of course adoption by Ukrainian Nationals is still the preferred goal. There will be apartments for foster families, each with about 5 children and a mama and a papa. There will be a swimming pool and other ‘common’ features used by all the families to help orphan children in a family setting, to have a temporary home until they are adopted. Those who may age out of the system without getting their own parents will be trained in a skill to help them to survive in this society without having to resort to prostitution or crime. We are very impressed with the way this is being put together.
After lunch, our new friends, Kenny and Laura, took us for a visit to the Children’s Hospital in Gorlovka. It is a State owned and run hospital but without the private funds, as provided by these missionaries, I do not know how they could still operate. Kenny and Laura are out of Panama City, Florida, and they contribute substantially to this hospital. From what I have been able to learn, they are the only regular contributors who can be counted on to help. Kenny shared the story of how he met Dr. Sergei over ten years ago. Sergei was not a Christian and told them that, as the head doctor, he would be glad to accept any financial help they could offer the children in his hospital. However, he wanted them to know that “I know why you are doing this – you want to show your Christianity, but I am not buying it, and, although I will accept your help, I do not want you to push me.” Kenny agreed that they indeed wanted to help because they were Christians. but he told Sergei he would accept and agree to the terms laid out by the doctor – they would not push Sergei. After seeing the help provided by the Christians, Sergei’s wife became a Christian and in time, Sergei himself, accepted Christ. Last year Sergei and his wife adopted one of the abandoned children that had been left at the hospital.
One of the problems that complicate and hinder adoptions in Ukraine is the stigma or negative perception by Ukrainians on adoption. This prejudice often goes unspoken but, just as bigotry everywhere, it can be painful to those on the receiving end as they struggle for acceptance and a place of belonging. It is often even more damaging to orphans and their new parents than to victims of ethnic or racial prejudice. This prejudice that exists in Ukrainian society is one of the reasons why so many children stay their entire lives in an orphanage and are never adopted.
Sergei’s adoption had an impact on the entire region around Gorlovka. It broke the taboo of adopting on of these precious children. In fact, when it was announced that Sergei was adopting one of the children from the hospital, many of his co-workers came to him to say ‘goodbye’ and to wish him well. They said they were really going to miss him at the hospital. Sergei was astounded that they thought he was going to leave his place of employment rather than face his friends at the hospital. He told them “No, just because we are adopting does not mean we will be leaving the hospital. We plan on staying and will raise our child right here.” Now, it was the staff’s turn to be astounded. Dealing with the stereotype of adoption is similar in nature to a family having a child with some dread disease, like HIV.
After the example set by Sergei and his wife, other doctors and nurses changed their minds on adoption and also adopted. It is so amazing to us that people who make less than $300 dollars (U.S.) each month, would not even think twice about bringing one of these children into their own home. Even though, in America, the standard of living is so far above what it is here, most of the reasons we have heard for not adopting is “we can’t afford it.”
So, the old ways are changing, in Ukraine. Sometimes slowly, to be sure, but “Line upon line – precept upon precept,” progress is being made and children are finding parents in spite of the national stigma on adoption. The fact that other nationalities and cultures (like America) place such high value on Ukrainian children also helps the locals to consider adoption, as many of them can now see the worth of these children (anyone want to ask us about the value of Leeda?).
Dr. Sergei is a specialist trained as a Neuro-Pediatrician and one of the top doctor’s in Ukraine in his field. He cares for sick abandoned babies, often just brought to the hospital by mothers who have no roof, no food, and no place to go. They care for children under three years old and there are currently nine babies in his care. Some babies have HIV, some Downs syndrome, some who have been horribly abused by the very ones who are supposed to love and care for them. They do have several common factor – they are all abandoned orphans, they are all beautiful, and they were all gifts from God.
Dr Sergei, and his very small staff at the hospital are experts at working miracles with very little drugs or supplies that would be considered essential in America. They are always in need of medical supplies, as they must find most of their own support or do without. The lives and comfort of orphan babies are not a very high priority in a very poor country with over 200,000 orphans. One of the babies died just before our visit. Although the doctor tried hard to save her, the tiny girl weighed less than one pound. The hospital cannot even treat the children unless they receive contributions for medical supplies. They also appreciate the other donated items necessary to run a hospital like paint, toys, and furniture. Recently someone included several packages of dental floss to their sack of items for “that Ukraine hospital.” Later the hospital asked for more of “that suture material.” The donors were rather shocked since they knew that they had never given any ‘suture’ material. When pressed to explain ‘just what suture material’, the doctor showed him the dental floss. Needless to say the hospital was given a supply of real sutures. Unfortunately, such things are needed and necessary as many of the children arrive broken and cut from wounds received at the hands of their parents or siblings.
Dr. Sergei showed us infants who had arrived at the hospital barely clinging to life from beatings received from their biological families. Sometimes it is the mother who is responsible for the injuries, as in the case of our twelve year old friend, David, who was adopted from a Ukrainian orphanage. His mother doused him with gasoline and threw a lit match on him – as a means to get even with his bio dad. Two year old David spent a long time in the hospital recovering from his burns. One of the babies shown to us by Dr. Sergei was beaten almost to death by the child’s grandfather. The baby, as well as his mother, received many broken bones from the beating. This and other stories of the children we held and cuddled brought tears to our eyes. I remember thinking - “I can’t stop to cry right now, I’ll weep later when no one is watching.” I did. How can we ever forget these babies who desperately need care? Can we return to our lives as if they do not exist? If we don’t help, who will? We ponder and pray over these questions as we consider the words that I used at the beginning of our blog today, “In as much as you have done it unto one of these (little ones) you have done it unto me”
Wednesday, April 25, 2007
Today was the day I finally had my new tooth put in. As I told you before, the total cost was $327.00 (U.S.). The fit was perfect and as I paid my bill and left, I had Kostya tell the dentist that although I could not return at six month intervals as normally advised, I would try hard to make annual visits to the dentist here in Ukraine. I don’t think the guy believed me.
After leaving the dentist’s office, we toured Donetsk for about 2 hours, then met Olga and Nikita who had taken the bus to meet us for our train trip to Simferipol, in the Southern part of Ukraine. So, tonight we are back on a train, all six of us. This time, however, we are in two separate compartments, but they are adjacent to each other. Our first experience, last week, with Ukrainian trains left us wondering how they got such a bad reputation with Americans. It was a fairly positive experience. Now, we understand just how the reputation was earned. Jennifer and Leeda attempted to use the toilet at the end of our car. The smell was so overpowering that neither of them could stand it and quickly retreated, preferring instead to spend the entire 12 hours trip without a toilet. I thought I could stand about anything, but one wiff of the putrid smell of urine everywhere was enough to also send me packing. I felt compassion for the women on the train who had to go - - there is no toilet seat - it had been removed long ago - and pee is everywhere and on everything. As Leeda would say “YUK”. At least I have verified the rumors, that, in Ukraine, whatever goes into the toilet goes out onto the tracks below - - with the exception of what gets sprayed on everything in the toilet. Double YUK.
About an hour after the train pulled out of the station, the lady in charge of our sleeper car came around collecting the tickets. I was standing in the doorway while Jennifer and Leeda were visiting Kostya, Olga, and Nikita in the next cabin. This woman, who would have been comfortable in a pair of combat boots, pushed me aside as she wanted to see into the room behind me. At first I didn’t know what she was doing until I realized that she just wanted to be sure that these Capitalist American Pigs were not stealing space by hiding their comrades in the room without paying the fare for them.
Well, today it is Thursday, although I would not know it but for the date on my watch. Hours and days seem to blur into a haze. We are in Yalta, in the Southernmost part of Ukraine. Yalta was made famous by Roosevelt, Stalin, and Churchill as they met here to carve up Europe near the close of World War II. It is a big tourist area with almost year round sunshine and is right on the Black Sea that also borders Russia, and several other countries. We are joined here by Kenny and Laura Payne, missionaries to Ukraine, as well as our translators and friends, Kostya, Olga, and Nikita. Although none of us can understand how or why our friendship has grown and deepened, we feel as though they are part of our family. Some people come and go in your lives – others stay for awhile and linger long enough to leave footprints on your heart. Both are changed, though you may not understand how or why. One thing is certain - - neither of you will be the same – not ever again. I will try to update the blog before we leave here in three days. Blessings to all who follow our journey. Jerry, Jennifer, and Leeda
April 24 The half way pointMonday April 23, 2007
The half way point.
Today, Monday, we are at the half way point in our trip and when we think about our departure, we already feel sadness creeping into our hearts. Just as we did last year, we begin to rekindle a bond, a closeness to the people in this far away land. They teach us so much by their generous spirit and kindness. They are a fiercely loyal and proud people who do not want our handouts or leftovers. They do not want to be pitied or looked down on by the West, because of their poverty; rather, they want our friendship and to be treated as equals. They want to trade with us on a fair playing field where they can show just what they can do and how they can compete. They are not afraid of hard work or spending years in educating themselves. In return they do not criticize us (as Americans) or blame our coke bottles on their beaches for all of the social problems of the world. They look up to us and want to model their society after us. There is both good and bad in being a role model. As Charles Barkley once said “I am not a role model for anyone – I am just a professional basketball player.” However, the point Barkley did not consider is that sometimes we are not given a choice in life; - With great blessing comes great responsibility. The Bible says it best - “To whom much is given, much shall be required.” We are role models whether we like it or not; whether we want to be or not; whether we are ready or not.
Ukraine is at a crossroads. There are certainly those left over from the communist State who want a government ‘nanny’ as the answer to all of their problems. Like some in our own country, they want to be taken care of. Give them a free apartment and free heat in the cold winters and they will sacrifice other freedoms, stand in long lines for limited goods, and do without anything other than basic necessities of life. This type of philosophy was tried for over 70 years here and did not work. The only place left on earth still trying it is Cuba and North Korea. Even China is realizing the benefits of capitalism and entrepreneurship. Countries like Ukraine have thrown out the communists and embraced democracy. They understand that it will not be easy and many will have to go to school or be retrained to other jobs, but those of us who come here can see where they are and where they are going to be in five or ten years. They want prosperity, safety, and the things we take for granted every day. O.K., my political rant is over. The only thing left for me to say is that along with the overthrow of communism there was an embrace, by many, of their long forbidden practice of faith. While many in our own country want to throttle any practice of religion, these people see it (as we did in our founding and first one hundred years) as the path to a better life. That is the main reason I see hope for them as they begin rebuilding their own country.
The poverty is evident everywhere, although the locals have long since blotted it out of their minds. Walking at night or sometimes, even in the daytime, if you are not looking where you are going, can be hazardous to your life. There are many manholes that allow access to the underground utilities. Unfortunately, because of budget constraints, most of the covers are gone - - stolen by some who, needing a fix or a drink, take them to sell for the scrap metal value. Most of the open holes are totally uncovered but a few have had something placed on, in, or near them to indicate to the pedestrians that there is danger here. Now that we are familiar with the layout of the town we walk almost everywhere, instead of taking taxis as we did when we first arrived. We have to remember, as we walk, not to do so like Americans, always looking up and gawking at the sights. Instead you must keep your eyes on the ground in front of you to watch for open holes or abrupt changes in elevation of the sidewalk that can send you flying head over heels and place you on the ground in an embarrassing posture. I have stopped more than once as I encountered one of these open manholes to just stare at it and wonder how many people have fallen in. Kostya has finally learned not to walk so far ahead of me as he knows now that I will stop and look at anything I find interesting. Yesterday, as I stopped to stare at the open manhole in the middle of the sidewalk, he stopped beside me, and, as if reading my mind, began to explain why there were no manhole covers. I listened but my mind was racing ahead – and I asked, “If they steal the manhole covers for the scrap metal value, why doesn’t the city put in the kind that have a locking mechanism so that they cannot be stolen, or perhaps just do a ‘tack weld’ to keep them in place until needed by the utility workers.” His guess was that because of the extra cost the city would not pay so much for the system as I described.
Although the weather is still very cold, it is no longer freezing at night, so the trees and plants are starting to blossom. The growing season is so short that plants must complete their life cycle in only a few months.
While waiting for one of my dental appointments, Kostya enlightened me on just why dentists are more feared and dreaded in Ukraine than in America. Many people here go their entire lives without ever seeing a dentist because of the fear of them. After listening to Kostya’s story, I can understand and appreciate that the reputation is well earned and deserved. In fact one person shared with us that most people still extract teeth the old fashioned way – with a pair of pliers.
Arsenic was still used until mid 90’s to kill the root when having a root canal. There was no such thing as anesthetic such as Novocain or even narcotics to alleviate the pain of dental extraction or repair. Kostya related his own experiences, having had several root canal procedures. He needed most of them before he was grown. He said that the dentist would begin drilling the affected tooth, and continue until he got the desired reaction from the patient. They did not have the instruments or x-rays that allowed the dentist to see the tooth clearly. So, he knew that he had drilled to sufficient depth when the patient, overcome with pain, would bolt, screaming, out of the chair. At this point, I was sure Kostya was pulling my leg and indicated that I was no dummy and had not just fallen off the turnip wagon. With a straight face, and all of the sincerity Kostya possessed, he assured me of his truthfulness and continued on with his story.
After the patient became almost hysterical and uncontrollable, because of the pain, the dentist was satisfied that he had drilled far enough and had reached the main nerve - the ‘pulp’ of the tooth. Then the dentist would reach for his small bottle of Arsenic, (Yea, the stuff used to execute condemned men at Alcatraz – also the same heavy metal that causes retardation and other maladies in children). All they knew at the time was that the Arsenic had the effect the dentist desired, that of killing the live root nerve, (or pulp) of the tooth. Several drops were inserted into the hole left by the drill and then the tooth had a temporary protective cap placed over the hole. After several days it was then time to remove the temporary cap and see if the root, had in fact, died. To test to see if the pulp was still alive, they prodded into the hole and as before, if the patient jumped out of the chair, they knew the tooth was not ready. Once again the dentist reached for the little bottle of Arsenic (with the skull and cross bones on it), placed a few drops into the hole, put on another temporary cap and the patient was told to return in a few days for another check. According to Kostya, this was repeated several times until such time as the dentist could remove the cap probe the tooth and get no reaction from the patient. At this point he knew the root (and nerve) was dead and he could now proceed to place a crown over the tooth.
Since such numbers would have been considered worthless (and derogatory to the Soviets), statistics were not kept in the Soviet Union and no one knows just how many patients died from Arsenic poisoning because of this procedure. However, the esteem to which I hold Kostya went up significantly after I heard his story. I mean, if Kostya is as good as he is now, after having multiple (brain damaging) Arsenic treatments, can you imagine how smart he would have been had he been born with good teeth? He would most surely have been president or at least prime minister by now, but for his bad teeth. What an awesome thought, - “my friend, the President.”
Well, tomorrow we visit two orphanages. I have the camera ready and we are hoping and praying for favor as we inquire and take pictures of the kids. We know that many of you are waiting to hear our report and we will not forget you. Surely somewhere near here is a child with your last name just waiting for you to come and get him/her. Keep the faith and know that others who came before you have been successful – you will be too.
Blessings, Jerry, Jennifer, and Leeda Moellenkamp
PS - I was very late getting a connection to the internet so did not have time to include the things that happened after the blog was written. We visited the childrens hospital today and have lots to share. We will be traveling to Simferipol tomorrow via overnight train and plan on spending three days there. We hope there is internet service so that we can share our journey from there. Later, JM April 22 "There's no place like home, there's no place like home."Saturday, April 21, 2007
One week in Ukraine
It’s hard to believe that we have been here a whole week – the time has been a blur. However, we are finally settled in, have food in the pantry and refrigerator and know our way to the market and the bread store. The bread store is a wonderful experience as everyone here makes daily trips to get fresh bread. No one would buy packaged bread like we do; it must be freshly baked and all of the bakeries do just that. No bread is left over after the store closes. Closing time is 10 pm every night but the bread is all gone before then. I have often gone into the bakery at the local supermarket back home and smelled the wonderful aroma that made me hungry. Well, multiply that by ten and you come close to why Ukrainians insist on fresh bread every day. I did not see ‘sliced’ bread of any kind but there were many different varieties. Some is cooked with garlic, some is plain, some is sweet, some are large loves, others are small, but it all smells and tastes wonderful. How can we ever go back to two week old sliced Wonder white bread with no smell and no taste? No wonder Leeda has been eating non stop since we arrived. One of our friends asked her if she preferred American food or Ukrainian food. She replied that she preferred American over the food she grew up with. Our startled friend then asked for her reason and she responded with, “If I ate Ukraine food all the time, I would gain lots of weight.” That may be true but we notice that if we also walked as much as Ukrainians we would have no weight problem.
Other things we wish we had back home are the chese, yogurt, butter and smetana (sour cream). All things made with milk are so much better and the difference is remarkable. My friend, who owns a dairy in Live Oak, shared with me recently that the milk fat content is so much higher in Europe, so these products all taste better. In America, the dairies are limited to products that contain milk with no more than 4% fat, whereas here the content is often 6% or more. Of course the downside of mealtime here is the lack of potable drinking water distributed by pipes to homes. The water is plentiful and the pressure is adequate but it is only good for bathing and flushing. We boil it in a large electric coffee pot – it is amazing how fast water boils when using 220 volt appliances. We boil it for a few minutes and then we can brush our teeth and other uses like rinsing dishes. Even boiling it doesn’t make it taste any better though. Many Ukrainians suffer problems like giardia, salmonella, h-pylori (bacteria that causes ulcers), and myriad other bacteria problems. A little chlorine at the water plant would be a wonderful thing and save many lives each year. We buy and carry our drinking water from the store nearby and use about 2 to 3 gallons each day. So, we get about five or six gallons every other day and haul it up to our third floor apartment for use in coffee, tea, and other drinking uses.
I finally have the total cost of all my dental work. After they install the gold/porcelain crown next week, I will have been out a total of $327 dollars (U.S.). That is the total for the best dentist in the whole region and includes x-rays, Novocain shots, exams, tooth repair, cosmetic work, root canal, and crown. The price was higher because I chose to use the most expensive material for the crown.
Leeda has been wonderful our entire trip. Someone told me recently that Leeda was like a beacon, or a lighthouse, and all the people who know her on two continents are influenced and impacted by her. That ear to ear smile that almost never goes away attracts everyone who meets her. No matter which country she is in people want her to tell them about herself, what she likes or doesn’t like about the country, language, food, her faith, school, church, and other things of interest. Of course, as her papa, I agree with this assessment of her. She really is a lighthouse - a very bright one.
There is one similarity between the southern part of the United States and Ukraine. Both are known for hospitality. Here in Europe, Ukrainians are known for their gracious hospitality to everyone they meet. The only difference I notice is that the Ukrainians do not smile like a Cheshire cat as we Americans do. Other than the lack of a smile, they are very good and kind people. And, it is my belief that because of the fall of communism and the spirit of entreprenuership that has taken hold, it will not be long before these guys will have a standard of living similar to ours. There are investment opportunities everywhere. You can buy an apartment for about $1500 to $5000 dollars (U.S.). Because of the shortage and the booming birth rate (now that couples feel good about having children again), I can see these apartments going up in value so fast that these guys will soon be saying (like we in America do) "Man, I remember just a short time ago when I could have bought an apartment for $1500 bucks, and now they are bringing $30,000 each." This has already happened in Kiev, (the capital) but in the smaller industrial towns it is just starting. The good news is that foreigners can own property here, unlike places like Mexico. So, if any of you guys want to check it out, this is a really good time.
Well, that’s it for the first week. We have not forgotten our task however, of visiting and reporting about the children in the orphanages in the outlying areas like Gorlovka and Donetsk. We know that many of you are asking about the children and we will do our best to let you know about them and also to post some of the pictures on our blog. For those waiting prospective adoptive parents, please know that we will do all in our power to help you find and bring your child into your arms and home. Please do not even think about giving up and quitting. It will surely be worth the agony and waiting you have had to endure. It is our desire to be able to find and give you hope as we see and talk to those who are close to the heart of the adoption system in Ukraine. Blessings to all who have followed our journey with Leeda. Your emails are a constant source of encouragement to us. Jerry, Jennifer, and Leeda April 19 Well Toto, I guess we aren't in Kansas anymore.Wednesday, April 18, 2007 - For those who are following our blog, please remember that blogs are read from the bottom up. I posted the first part below - dated April 12th and since I didn't have internet for awhile, I had written two by the time I was able to get on line. Successive entries will be on top as this one is. Now, on with the story.
We are all well and other than some occasional personal discomfort, we are having fun. We are in downtown Gorlovka and have a nice apartment. There are not many places to rent because this is not a tourist town; the population is about 300,000 and most people are employed by the two major industries, mining (coal) and chemical plants (don’t know what chemical though). So Americans are scarce although there are a few around like missionaries, Peace Corp volunteers, and a few who work with orphanages.
Our apartment is two bedroom and quite large by Ukraine standards. It is on the third floor and, of course, there are no elevators, so we get our exercise which helps to keep the pounds off as we are eating lots of good food. Kostya and his wife, Olga, are taking good care of us and so far have fixed every meal we have eaten since we arrived four days ago. There is no ‘heat and eat’ type foods available so every meal is prepared daily from ‘scratch’. It is, as you would expect, Ukrainian foods such as Borscht (the best I have ever eaten), and other dishes I do not yet know the name of. A lot of the food is prepared by wrapping dough around a variety of things like meat, cheese, or cottage cheese and raisins, ground beef, etc. Some are sweet and some are ‘meat’ dishes. However, smetana (sour cream) is put on all of them. It’s not just that the food here is new to us or a novelty, - - it really is wonderful. The only thing I have had that I don’t care for is a drink they make called ‘compote’. Other than that every morsel I have put in my mouth is a culinary masterpiece – I swear – you guys, you would be so impressed.
Since there were few choices in available apartments and we were so desperate to find a place, we rented and paid in advance for the first place looked at. The landlady, Valentina, is a very pleasant woman of about 60. She lost her husband about three years ago and prides herself on the little English she knows. The downside of the apartment is there is no hot water. Seems the water heater must be lit at every use. Valentina offered to come and light the water heater for us every time we needed it - - seems the water heater can only be used when the hot water side of a sink or tub is actually running. The heater is similar to the one we have at home, an instant one, but it has to be lit with a match and you must follow the directions precisely to have hot water. It seemed simple as we watched her light it. First, you turn the blue valve on for water, then turn a yellow valve on to start the gas flowing. Next, you hold the orange button down, stick a lit match into a hole, press and hold the blue button in until the unit ignites, then release the orange button and when the flame is going for a few seconds, release the blue button. When you are finished with your bath, you must reverse the directions but first you must push the large gray button. Jenniferr, Leeda, and I all watched her go through the instructions and wrote everything down just as she went through the steps. We told her that we were reasonably intelligent people and would not need her to come and light it for us every time we needed hot water. So, last night was our first time to do it by ourselves. But for the grace and mercy of God, we did not blow ourselves up or burn down the whole apartment building around us with everyone in it. We totally screwed up the directions and the order of procedure, and after 30 minutes of near disaster which had pure steam coming out to the faucets and a rumbling sound in the pipes that would make Mount St. Helens jealous, we decided our lives were of more value than our pride. Even though we had previously boasted that a blind chimpanzee could do it. So, we shut it all down and tried calling Valentina. Unfortunately since our comment about blind chimps, she had left town and would not be back until the next day. So, after about 30 minutes of contemplating the thought of no bath, and allowing my amnesia to blur the recent danger, I sent the family to safety and tried once more to get hot water. This time I was successful and proved once again why every family should have a papa. I was the hero; - - well, at least for ten minutes.
A couple of other minor discrepancies showed up after we rented the place. First, we discovered that Valentina was not renting just any place to us – she was renting ‘her place’ and all she did was to move her own belongings aside trying to give us room to put our things alongside her own. Then she personally relocated downstairs with a friend. There is a small amount of space left for us in the refrigerator but the freezer is crammed so full that any thoughts I may have had of buying ice cream for a late night snack are gone. Mama had plans of fixing our meals here and can still cook a few things. However, on the way out the door after collecting our money, Valentina told her not to use the oven on the stove. To make sure she was understood, Valentina removed the knob that operates the gas oven and put it in her pocket, leaving us wondering “just what can we use around here?” Another minor inconvenience is that the steam heat (provided by the government) is turned off on April 15th of each year, the day before our arrival. The nights are still cold so we were told that sufficient blankets were available on each bed. Until the place warms up, about one or two o’clock in the afternoon, we wear our sweaters and whatever other warm clothing we brought with us from Florida as we putter around the apartment. The only other minor inconvenience is that the television only gets one local channel. We were told that the satellite receiver, that would allow us to watch some English speaking programs, was not working (as almost everything else) and would be fixed ‘in a few days’ - - (yeah, right).
Valentina’s decorating taste for her apartment was not exactly how we would have done it (putting it mildly). She has lots of pictures and statues of nude bodies, mostly female in almost every room. I was tempted to pull a John Ashcroft when I saw this ‘art’, (he covered up the nude statues in the U. S. Department of Justice in Washington.) I wanted to go around and cover them all up, but finally decided to just let it go. Leeda got a kick out of it at first, pointing and giggling at some of the pictures and statues. Soon though s | ||
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