Traveler, Writer, Aquarius, Peace Corps Volunteer
The evidence
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Their family garden is pretty big. We�re not talking acreage, and it�s hardly a typical suburban backyard, but it�s substantial. In the corner stands a two-story shell of a building, all white brick, still unfinished, without any real floors let alone furnishings. It�s their project they hope to one day turn into a little summer cottage for having cookouts after a hard day of farming. Valery poured the beer while Tamara walked with me, ripping fresh garlic from the ground and pulling up fresh parsley by the handful. She pointed out the apricot and apple trees, the potatoes and tomatoes and onions and peppers and cucumbers and carrots, and raspberries and strawberries. Valery talked of eating them right off the bush while working. We sat down and discussed plans for me helping them this spring and summer, learning to plant fruits and vegetables, doing the old fashioned fitness club exercise of digging the earth all day to plant and uproot potatoes. They�ll teach me how to make my own pickles and pickled tomatoes. We�ll have shashleek, which is Ukrainian barbecue with hotdogs. And I sat there amid the chill air and peaceful tranquility of the land and thought that somehow this all makes so much sense.
Tamara called me yesterday at my new apartment. Just to say hi and see how I was feeling, since I�ve been a little sick this week. Her voice had a sad, distant tone. She�s such a typical Ukrainian �scromny� woman � very modest and humble. The distance wasn�t emotional, but societal, as though the vocal embodiment of always walking two feet behind a man and apologizing for speaking out of turn. She told me that she missed me and that the house was different without me there. I joked about it and said we�ll see each other again soon, and she said excuse me, as usual, and we said goodbye. At first I thought it was kind of odd, because I had just moved out one day before. But suddenly I was struck by the same sensation as when I first told people I was doing Peace Corps and was shocked by the emotional outpouring of support and gratitude, realizing that my life was more than just my own but affected those around me as well. Tamara was lonely now, and the house was different. I had spent so much time consumed with worrying and complaining about my apartment situation that I didn�t seriously think about what it meant for their family to get back to normal. Tamara�s life is cooking and cleaning, besides the few hours a day spent at her other job at the Institute. When she makes dinner, the guys are in the living room watching television. When they eat they rarely speak to each other. After dinner, she sits by herself and drinks tea before cleaning and then joining the rest of the family in the living room. When I was there, I sat in the kitchen with her while she cooked and talked about our days. During dinner, we continued the conversation. After dinner, we talked over tea and biscuits. My leaving left much more than just a physical gap.
And not just for them. I�ve been in my new place two full days now, and while I love my independence, it�s come at a cost. There was something comforting about living with other people. Even though I spent most of my time in my room alone, and even though Jura drove me crazy and Dima never spoke to me, it felt good to have company if I needed it. It�s a little lonely here, and it�ll take time to get back into the groove of living by myself again. In retrospect, I�m grateful for the time I had with them. But we�ll have the rest of the two years to continue our friendship. As Valery said when I showed him my new place, �this apartment is not your home. Our apartment is.�
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