In 1995 I went to Odessa. Being so young I had to be placed in the care of a family. I don’t know what you imagine about Ukraine in the mid 1990s but it was not at all like that.
The father was a very Russian-looking Ukrainian (that is what my memory of a 14-year-old tells me), very tall and squared, with beard and red cheeks. Also, very proud of his vodka (and his capacity to drink endless amounts of it). His way of showing me his country was to offer me few glasses and give me some pickled vegetables. It worked. My Russian became fluent after that (don’t ask…).
The mother was a nurse, a very useful mother of two. She was fit and sporty and was full of positive energy. Not at all motherly to my Greek eyes, where a mum should be at least size 18. Her way of introducing me to all things Ukrainian was to take me to the famous stairs of Odessa, and then to her hospital where I could see the state of the art equipment for ill children. Sadly, I was not interested, and mine and hers limited English did not help the communication.
The oldest daughter was my age, very round faced and happy-jumpy. She was exited that she could communicate in a language other than her own (you know the feeling, after all, this gibberish they teach us at school called English are actually useful for communicated with other bipeds). The youngest daughter was drawing non-stop princes and princesses (communist did not affect children imagination after all).
After a few glasses of vodka the father of the family was ready to make a statement. He looked at me very carefully and he said something in Russian which was later translated to me: I think I know why you look familiar to me! You look like John Lenon and Yoko Ono at the same time! Incredible!
Lenon was killed on December 8th 1980. I was born on January 24th 1981.
I am their lost child.
