Post-soviet Ukraine

6:20 pick-up by Dima and Vitaly. We repeat our trip out of Kiev, but this time eventually turn off turn off onto a more rural road that is roughly paved with no markings. It passes through farmland and an occasional small village, in one of which we have to find our way through a flock of geese in the road. Even some of the smaller towns have an ornate shaped orthodox church standing somewhere in the middle of town. We ask directions of several people about how to find the village where the boys were born. It is called Bobrovitsa (accent on the second syllable).

There we find the office where we need to get the new birth certificates, oly to find that they do not have any of the forms that are needed are not there. So we take that woman over to another office to get some, but her boss, who is the only person with a key to the safe, isn't at work that day because of a sick child. She agrees, though, to come in to get them, but her 20 minutes turns into an hour. Dima is really angry about all of this, but I am quite content with my laptop, making notes about the day and editing the pictures I have taken so far. Besides, this is another gorgeous day in Ukraine. The sky is cloudless and intensely blue. The temperature is only the slightest bit cool. We have been so lucky in this regard. When it has rained, it has been at night, and by the morning the stars are visible again. Sounds a bit like Camelot. Meanwhile hurricanes are roaring up the east coast of the US, spawning tornados in my home territory.

Her boss finally arrives, we take her and the forms over to the other office, and sit and wait while they are filled out. Finally I am called in for my signature and a word of congratulations. All of this took 4 hours.

We hop in the van and race off, tearing along the bumpy roads. Vitaly has a way of beeping his horn from about 200 yards away whenever he is approaching someone on the road -- vehicle, bicycle, pedestrian. We make record time to Chernihiv, picking up Olya again, and racing off through the town to where we need to get some documents. Honking and swerving, he careens down the street and finally pulls over to the curb to park, just barely missing some pedestrians and almost throwing us onto the floor. Sometimes I feel like I am in a scene from a move. Life in the US rarely rises to this level of drama. Dima and Olya get out of the car for a while. Apparently someone has agreed to work during lunch so we do not have to wait. Olya comes to get me for another signature, but when we get back to the building, another woman gives her a hard time in that rapid Russian way about entering during lunch, even though she had only just exited. She finally lets Olga in, but then tries to stop me from entering. I wave my pen like I am making a signature and she lets me pass.

I sign the papers for the birth certificates. These office records are all handwritten on ledger pages, and the column for signatures is the smallest -- only about an inch wide -- so I have to squeeze my name into it. Off then to a notary, and then to a parking lot, where Olya fills in some of the forms we have, using the van seat as her desk. While she is off with those papers, I take a few photos of the nearby buildings, including the one across the street. A while later, my three companions are joined by a man in a uniform. After he leaves, Dima tells me that the building I was photographing is the FBI, and they wanted to know why I was taking pictures. My second brush with the FBI in 2 days! I finally get brought in for another signature, and then head home for Kiev.

On the way back to Kiev, the van starts to act up, and by the time we get to the city limits, it is sputtering and spewing blue smoke. Vitaly has to let us off at the farthest Metro station, so Dima and I use that to get back into town. I am glad for a chance to try out that system anyway. We hurry back to the apartments where we scoop up John, Jennie and their 3 little ones and hitchhike off to the American Medical Center for their adoption checkups.

(Hitchhiking is an accepted means of getting around in the city. You stick out your arm and almost immediately someone wil pull over. Oyu tell them where you want to go, and then you negotiate the price. For us that has never been more than $2. It's about half the cost of regular cabs, and brings in a little extra income for the driver).

They are all examined, and then hungry and tired we hitchhike our way back to the apartment, where grandma and grandpa have a pit of hot soup waiting for us. They've now gone to the store a couple of times by themselves and are getting to be old pros. Late supper, bath and off to bed. I am reading them the Russian version of Pinnochio. I manage to get the words out reasonably well, but usually do not know what it means. They seem to be enjoying our second time through anyway, and help me out if I really stumble over a word.

We are working on clarifying appropriate behavior for different places. My new question is -- Where are we? And how should we be? They always know the answer. Tonight we noted how interesting it is that even though they know the answer, their behavior does not always reflect that. Hmmmm.

It's official!

(I am writing this on my laptop in the van on the way home from our court date in Gorodnya listening to Anonymous 4; Asif and Dzhoy are taking the first nap they have taken since we hooked up this visit, and I am blessed with some time to write about today before I am swept up again by parenthood; I gave myself this laptop as a final gift to myself before the sacrifices of being a Dad, and it has been such a great companion to all of us. I use it to keep in touch with my "people" in the US - all of you reading this - and the boys have watched videos and played games and listened to their Russian-English CD)

We have to get up very early - 4:45 - to be ready for Dima and our driver Vitaly at 5:45. The boys are very cooperative with breakfast and helping pull together what we packed last night. We decided that Mom and Dad could stay in Kiev today, since there might be a lot of driving and waiting, so it's me and the boys. We pile into the van at 5:50 - it's still dark out, with a very bright star above our street.

(hard to type this - driver going very fast on bumpy road with not very good springs)

It's a 2 and a half hour drive to Gorodnya at this time of the morning (and at this speed). The boys do well - Asif sleeps some, but Dzhoy is alert and taking in the scenery. Most of the drive is on a four lane highway with intermittent villages and commercial buildings right alongside the road. Twice we have to slow down to let people herd their cows across the road. The houses are very modest - small 1 or 2 story buildings painted white, beige, dark green, with fenced yards, small vegetable plots, some farm animals. Much of the land is open farmland. From the air, the entire landscape was covered with planted fields.

We arrive early, but Olga, the social worker who traveled with the boys last year, was in a meeting, so we will meet her at the court. Thus begins our first wait of the day. The players begin to arrive - the director of orphanage, the judge who usually hears such cases but is supposedly on vacation, the judge who will be seeing us, and finally Olga.
We get out of the van to speak with the director of the orphanage and his first question is: where are babushka and dedushka (grandma and grandpa)? Uh oh. Apparently their presence has been made known, and is a bit of leverage that we will not now have.
The boys are getting increasingly antsy in van, but we eventually go into the courthouse, which is a modest one story building with a little bunch of flowers planted out front, complete with outhouse in back.

I sit with the boys just inside the front door, but they are taking turns standing up and walking around. Dzhoy pretends to be Spiderman, shooting his webbing and swinging around. Asif just gets sillier, making noises, whining, squirming, and they start to set each other off. I realize how stressful this is for them, and with no real opportunity to speak about it. Who knows what kind of preparation they had for any of this. I am afraid that they will totally melt down before we enter the courtroom and I will be declared unable to manage them.

After about 20 minutes, Dima says to come in, and for a while they are quiet and still as we stand in the front hallway. Other people who are apparently being seen for their own cases come and go and when the benches in the area outside the courtrooms empty, we go there to sit. Dzhoy and Asif are OK for a few minutes, but then Asif takes my gloves out of my pocket and starts to play with them. One of the hardest parts of this trip has been how other people respond to the boys' behavior. This is especially true of our translator Dima, who has told me several times that I need to punish them when they misbehave, and not spoil them. As a result of this, I feel very self-conscious about not repeatedly reprimanding them, preferring to ignore as much as I can and focus on the positive behaviors. But here in the court it feels as if the stakes are high, and as we once again sit and wait, I worry they will not be able to hold on.

Almost an hour after we arrive, we are ushered into a room dominated by a floor-to ceiling cage on the right side with 2 benches in it, for prisoners, I assume. There are several rows of wooden benches facing one end of the room at which there is a long wooden table from one side of the room to the other. Just in front of that are 2 desks facing one another, and that is where Olga and the prosecutor sit. Dzhoy, me and Asif sit on the front row of benches, and Dima is right behind me with the judge to his right
After a few minutes we rise as the judge enters.

He is not the usual judge who hears these cases, and is a bit of a wild card with regards to waiving the 30-day waiting period that is legally required in adoption in Ukraine.
He begins to talk, and Dima translates in my ear. He introduces himself and the other players, identifies me and reads me my rights. I then have to stand and speak for myself - coached earlier by Dima - and tell why I am wanting to adopt from Ukraine, what I have done to make a place for these boys, physically and financially, and finally to ask that the 30-day waiting period be waived due to the boys' TB positive status (I was told earlier that this is not really true) and because of the eye surgery that Dzhoy needs for his cataract.

He then asks me what I do for a living, and what I have in the way of a family. I speak about that, including that my parents are here with me in Ukraine, but "returned" to Kiev due to the stress of travel and could not be here today. The director of the orphanage speaks then, saying that he is in support of this adoption, and urging that we be allowed back to the states as soon as possible.

Olga speaks next, explaining how she met me last year, how I had taken good care of the boys, how where I live is not like in Ukraine where neighbors do not know one another, but where everyone looks out for one another (hooray for cohousing!) and that she also supports this adoption. She mentions her concern about the boys' health and the contagious nature of TB and her desire they be treated quickly in the US. The director stands again and shares a story about some other children who had health problems - I don't remember all of it, as I was petty much struggling to stay present to the reality of the moment.

(this driver is crazy - just passed two lanes of traffic by moving into oncoming traffic; earlier he passed on blind hills and curves)

The prosecutor has no further questions and the judge retires, saying he will be back with his decision in 10 minutes. Throughout all of this the boys have been quite still and attentive. I realize now that they were never asked if they wanted to be adopted (at least not in court - I checked with them several times myself earlier). Olga comes in with some paperwork (part of which requires Dzhoy to sign the name Zuckerman in Ukrainian) and before long the judge returns. I stand, holding the boys' hands, as the judge reads out the identifying information - my name, address and DOB, then proceeds to announce that he has approved this adoption, and in addition has agreed to waive the 30-day waiting period due to medical concerns. He reads off the boys names as they will appear on the birth certificate -- Dzhoy Burakevich Zuckerman and Asif Burakevich Zuckerman. Since it is required that there be a mother's name on the birth certificate, we have used my mother's name -- Alwynne Virgina.

Houston, we have lift-off.

This is the best-case scenario we could have had. No real interrogation in court, and the 30 days waived. Hooray. I have no idea what sort of negotiations went on while we were waiting out in the hallway, and to what degree the decision was made before the hearing, but apparently a complete waiver of the 30-day period is not the norm in this district - Dima did not know of another case where a complete waiver was offered.

Then we are out of the court, the boys running on ahead. There was no real acknowledgement of the event that had just unfolded: I have a family - 2 sons - for the rest of my life That's pretty hard to grasp at this moment. But no time to pause for that now. We head back to the orphanage with the director in our van, and there we have half an hour to visit the classrooms of both of the boys to say goodbye to their classmates and give them the balloons and pencils that we had brought along for them. The boys had also brought some of the other toys from our flat and give them to some of their "special" friends.

Most families spend a week or so in the region where the orphanage is, and during that time have a chance to get to know the children's teachers and friends. I did not have this chance, but did get to meet them briefly during our quick farewell and photo tour of their classrooms. Dzhoy was intent on showing everyone the walkie talkies that Asif got for his birthday from grandma and granddad, so that was pretty much the extent of his farewells. The presents were distributed and pictures taken. While I was with Asif's class in a building separate from the classrooms - a very nice children's play room - there were a couple of men going around doing something - opening and closing doors and windows. I thought they were maintenance people. Then the director came over and motioned me not to take pictures, so I stopped.

We find Dima, and then head off to the van for another "wait." We are accompanied by a 14 y. o. named Vasya who hopes to be adopted later this year by a family in California. He saw Dima and knew we were here. Unfortunately, because he speaks Ukrainian and my Russian is not very good, I do not fully understand what he says.
When Dima arrives back at the van he tells me that the director was not happy that I was taking pictures because the men who were going around the room were "FBI agents," or the Ukrainian equivalent.

A few words about the orphanage (Inernat). It was at the same time a more run down and more friendly place than I had imagined. While the outhouses the kids use are typical of the region, the classrooms are not unlike the ones in my elementary school. The play room where we met Asif's class was quite pleasant -- big stuffed chairs and sofas, lots of windows and light, a big wall unit full of stuffed animals, books and other toys. I did not get to see the rooms where they had slept (each had 3 roommates). The grounds are typical for Ukraine - not much landscaping to speak of, with an occasional area planted with flowers (marigolds, salvia, and other annuals). There are several statues on the grounds -- a large bear, a woman sitting with children, etc. The play area I saw was rather worn-out, but that did not stop Dzhoy from hanging on the monkey bars. Many of the older kids have back packs and cd players, and many have gone to Italy several times for cultural exchange visits, as Dzhoy and Asif did this summer. The teachers and staff we met were very friendly and gentle with the boys, clearly fond of them. Dzhoy's teacher commented on his energetic nature, and gave me their address so we can write and send pictures.

We go back to Olga's office for more paperwork. The boys are getting wound up again. I have fed them all the snacks I brought with me. Finally Olga comes out and we head off for another restaurant. This one is also without patrons, but that doesn't mean the service is not really slow. The room we are given has a small banquet table laid out, and one wall is a stained glass window with figures of men in old attire having some sort of meeting. It gives the room an odd glow. Asif is doing his strange things, not doing what he is asked, charming smile intact. Please let's just get out of here, I think. But once they start to eat they calm down. At one point Dima asks if I am OK, because I am silent. Partly this is because I can't really have a conversation with these folks in Russian, but also it is because I am trying to ignore my son crawling under the table. And in fact after a moment he comes back to the chair. I commend his good appetite. The food here is the best I've had in Ukraine, though I comment to Dima that I don't want to know what the pork and potatoes were fried in because it tastes so good.

We return to Olga's office for more waiting, and finally are able to say goodbye, giving her our gifts and card. The office where we would get the birth certificates registered is not open on Mondays, so we head back to Kiev. The boys both fall asleep (see beginning) and I write this. As we near Kiev, Dzhoy awakens and again points out places he's been and seen and the associated people -- the area where his uncle lives this time.

I check in with John and Jennie to let them know of our successful court hearing. Then I give the boys each a watch that I brought for them as adoption day gifts. Grandma and Granddad have prepared a meal for us, which they don't eat much of (lunch was huge). I desperately need to collapse, but instead take the boys out for a walk to get an internet card so the grandparents can watch BBC news in our room. We check out a supermarket on the ground floor of the fancy shopping mall nearby, and it is fabulous! Well stocked, nicely organized, and close by. I can't believe we were not told about this at the beginning. Oh well - next trip. They talk me into buying them a Tom and Jerry DVD -- apparently they have seen most of them at the internat -- but when we get home we find that it does not play on my computer, so they have to settle for Lilo and Stitch. We all have a celebratory dish of ice cream and head off to bed. I have to get ready for another outing, and of course the boys are not the least bit tired after their naps, but we negotiate a truce and they eventually fall asleep as I unpack and repack for tomorrow. Tired.

Life in Kiev

This morning we took our first stab at homework, and they both dove in eagerly. Asif has not done much writing, so we are working on making numbers. He can also write out his first name in both Russian and English.

Dzhoy has already moved beyond the materials I brought for him. He can write out his full name, and has started sounding out English words when we see them on advertising. We are all also working on the "th" sound that does not exist in Russian.

Afterwards, we went for a VERY long walk without grandma and grandpa. Our original destination was a park I had seen on our street yesterday. I did not realize how far it really was. They played for a while, then Asif started picking at Dzhoy, and when he repeatedly ignored my requests to calm down, I said we were leaving. That's when we had meltdown #2. I ended up having to carry him out of the park until he felt able to walk on his own.

We found another park at an outdoor café where they played well together, then went on to a buffet restaurant where we had an early lunch. From there we returned to the park we'd been to several days before, where a group from a private school had set up some activities for kids -- making dolls out of straw, little clay figures, etc. -- to advertise their program. They were very nice to the boys, and it was such a shock to see Ukrainians interacting with us in a way I'd normally expect in America. The women were warm, friendly, patient, interested. The boys were captivated, and loved watching the women work and making the toys themselves. Then on to the play equipment.

After a while I told them they could ride on the moonbounce, which they loved. Then Asif wanted to ride the little electric cars, which in this context represent lethal weapons at the hands of children. There are no barriers and no monitors, so the kids can essentially drive as fast as the cars will allow in the areas that pedestrians also use. (In general it is stunning to see how little attention is paid to the safety of both children and adults here. Playground equipment is often hard and sharp and poorly maintained, and play surfaces minimally resilient). When I said "no" to Asif about the cars, he proceeded to cry for over an hour in my lap while Dzhoy played on the playground. He does not like to be told "no."

Dzhoy helped us find our way home, where they listened to a CD for kids to learn English from Russian. It was so cool to hear them saying the Russian and English phrases with their Slavic accents. They then watched a CD I brought about the Ngorongoro Crater in Africa.

Tonight we all had dinner with Jenny & John Olbrych from S. Carolina, who are here to adopt three kids from the same family from Gorodnya as well. It was delightful to speak to other English speaking adults, and we found our way through the menu with the help of a good-natured waitress.

Adjusting

The reality hit quickly of being a first-time single parent of two highly energetic school-aged kids in a foreign country with unfamiliar currency and products, a poorly equipped kitchen, two rooms for me, boys and 80 y.o. parents. For 2 weeks.

Not a vacation I would normally have planned........

I cannot imagine what this all would have been like without my year of intensive Russian, not only getting around but communicating with Dzhoy and Asif. I can actually talk to them, which is a joy.

These guys are a piece of work. Incredibly active, very bright (Dzhoy can already sound out words in English having started to study the language in school on Sept. 1 -- infamous day). They can be quite sweet when alone, and sometimes very cooperative when together, but the sibling dynamic will take some work. My current strategy is divide and conquer. So far I am the only recognized authority figure here, and gratefully they listen to me when I am firm. Grandma and Grandpa are not obeyed, and Mom won't bathe them again after last night, at least not together (neither will I for that matter.....). They start playing and don't know how to stop before the physical stuff gets someone (usually Asif) hurt.

It is clearer to me now that their high energy is due at least in part to the tremendous stress of this transition. Not only seeing me again, but anticipating a new life in the US, away from everything that is familiar. We had a meltdown yesterday after I had hit my limit, but some strong feelings came out and that seemed to clear the air a lot. More affectionate and calm today. Asif points out every airplane he sees, and draws them constantly. His only flight has been the one to the US last summer. (I later find out I am wrong about this -- they also flew to Italy this summer, but it was a nice romantic notion for a while).

I am writing this in the room I share with the boys (they are asleep). It is both bedroom and living area for us. It is quite a change for me to switch from living alone in a two bedroom 2-bathroom house to sharing a 3-room apartment with two other adults and 2 kids (one bathroom). Mom and Dad have the "real" bedroom, which has a sweet enclosed porch big enough for 2 comfy chairs, where they sit and read.

We have all been working to find our rhythm and balance as a family. We are developing a routine for shopping at the market on the corner, getting to know some of the products without English labels. Mom and Dad handle cooking and clean-up for the most part, which is a huge help to me. I am the primary caregiver, as well as fearless leader of our outings out into Kiev. We tried the trolley today to get to the Kiev zoo, and it was PACKED. Of course when there are so many people on it, there is no way to collect fares, so the trips were free.....

The zoo was pretty depressing as zoos go. The facilities are poorly maintained, and the animals are really in cages with little or no attempt to approximate their natural environment. One of the foxes paced back forth in his 4-foot wide cage, weaving the same pattern over and over again. The boys were probably more interested in the rides than they were in the animals, and a play area with child-sized dinosaurs made a great climbing area for a while. We had lunch - hot dogs on a bun piled with horse radish, ketchup and mayonnaise. An opera singer was rehearsing in the apartment building overlooking the wall of the zoo.

Got 'em

Up at 5:30 this a.m. to hurriedly prepare for trip to Gorodnya. Dima and Vitaly (driver) are waiting in the van out front -- Dima scolds us a bit for being 10" late, saying that 10" can be important, esp. on Court day.

The trip goes smoothly -- only stopped by the Police twice. That's how they make a living, we are told. There is a major road that goes north to Chernihiv, the capital of the region where the boys live. It looks a lot like Ohio - spreading fields, farm animals, occasional groupings of dachas (many Ukrainians, even poorer families, have country houses where they have room to grow some of the veggies that will sustain them through the year). The occasional cow and chicken wanders near the road, unconstrained by fences.

Chernihiv, from what we've seen so far, is a pretty city with lots of old, ornate buildings. It has a European feel to it. There are trolley cars along with the regular automobile traffic. We pick up Olya, who is the daughter of Olga, the guardian who traveled with the boys last year. Then on to Gorodnya.

Olga's office is our first stop, and she surprises us with a spread of bread, butter, and veggies from her garden, which was a real treat, and typical of Ukrainian hospitality. She calls the boys from there and says their Papa is on his way. Asif asks - our Amerikansky Papa?

Then off to the Internat where the boys are. They are waiting in the director's office, and are immediately in my arms, very affectionate and smiling. For the next hour or so various arrangements are made, which are still a bit blurry to me. I talk with some of the other children, including a 14 y.o. boy who will be adopted later this year by another American family I've been in contact with. I take pictures of many of them. We next go to the office of the assistant director, then off into the town to do some paperwork while the boys are getting a physical exam. Dima does most of the paperwork for me, and brings me in only once to sign a document that needs notarization. Finally back to the Internat where we pick up the boys and take Olga to lunch at a Ukrainian restaurant that served us WAY too much food for a very low price. The waitress seems to have trouble getting our order right, and it takes a long time to get served. While we wait, though, the boys take instantly to the digital camera, and shoot many pictures at the restaurant.

We next make our final visit (at least for today) to the orphanage, and then back to Kiev in the van, arriving home about 9 p.m. The boys sleep the last hour or so, but before then are very delightful company. We arrange "our room" to accommodate the three of us -- the boys on the pull-out bed and me on the floor.

Thus begins our time in Ukraine. We are deepening our connections, getting to know Babushka and Dedushka, and testing one another's limits, patience and capacity to love. The boys continually amaze me with their intelligence, energy and playfulness, with more to come I am sure. I am not sure when I have been this tired recently, but exhaustion is a pretty close word.....

but...

4 feet away from me are two (almost) sleeping boys who will be my family for the rest of my life. Wow.

Arrival in Kiev

The plane trip goes very smoothly, though none of us sleep much at all, so when we arrive at the Borispol airport near Kiev, we are really tired.

As we exit the plane into the airport, I hear someone calling "Zukirmen, Zukirmen," and see a rather frenetic guy pacing back and forth. I wave to him and he hurries over to us, taking our passports and runs off. I struggle to follow him, Mom a few feet behind, and Dad nowhere to be seen. He (his name is Alexey, I am later told) turns around, and not seeing three of us, exasperatedly goes back to retrieve Dad, who is wrangling with his carryon luggage. "Come on, come on," he urges us. Walking up to a booth where others were in line, he flashes our passports to someone, and waves us through. He helps us fill out our declaration forms, then talks us through customs with only a few questions asked and no luggage search.

We are met at customs by my translator Dima and one of his associates, Alexey, who is my power of attorney in Ukraine. We drive from the airport immediately to our appointment at the National Adoption Center, stopping only long enough at the apartment to drop off our bags. Once at the NAC, I am introduced at last to my facilitator, Oleg, who has helped me get to this point so quickly. (Note to other Ukrainian adoptive families: because I had already hosted these boys last year, the protocol is somewhat different than the usual). We are immediately led into an office on the third floor, where a very nice woman shows me pictures of the boys to be sure the ID was correct. She has a momentary difficulty finding the paperwork, which panics me a bit, but then all is well. She (and my translator) make me answer some questions about myself in Russian, and about 10 minutes after our arrival, we are out again and walking back to our nearby apartment. I have to go back over there later to retrieve the phone I'd forgotten, at which point my Dima tells me to expect to be picked up at 6:30 the next morning to go to Gorodnya where the boys live. Wow.

We did our first money exchange, first shopping trip at the corner grocery, and settled in a bit for our first night in our 3 room apt.

Cool Guys

Dzhoy (L) and Asif sip some juice and soak up some rays.....Summer 2003

Cool Guys - Sunglasses Originally uploaded by 1dad2sons.