La mia Vita: english Version

By Vitalija Kosoru

This is not just a biography novel, but a social drama with elements of healthy humor. As the author of the book La Vita Kosoru says: "... in front of you is a plate on which ripe apples lie and everyone will find their core, their close and painful and surprisingly familiar fruit in this story." It is a fascinating, educational, tragic and at the same time bright path of a Ukrainian gypsy who lost her parents at the age of three. This novel reveals such important and unknown secrets of the world of gypsy communities as the cruel internal laws that lead to the inevitable and painful death of many women in camps. This novel touches on the political questions of several countries at the same time: Ukraine and Austria. He describes clearly and dynamically for many unpleasant topics, such as: an orphanage and atrocities by his educators; domestic violence, absolute patriarchy with its destructive violence; Homosexuality and open positioning of personality in society; Refugee problems and countries' true attitudes towards foreigners, the gradual uncovering of the purulent system and the dismantling of the myth of global compassion; Maternity issues about what it is like to be a single mother, a lesbian mother, a refugee mother while maintaining the light, love, respect, health and laughter of your children.You can discover all this and much more, which probably corresponds to your mind, or recognize yourself in these lines, maybe get an answer, remember a familiar pain or accept a slight smile while reading the book "La mia Vita".

• Language: English
• Publisher: LaVita
• Release date: Apr 29, 2020
• ISBN: 9783969176122

Book preview

UDC 82/821

LBC 84

                      Editor: I. Samuilova

                      Proofreader: Е. Zuccel

        Translation: Iryna Nevzlina

Impressum:

La mia Vita

la Vita

© 2018Vitalija Kosoru

All rights reserved

Author: Vitalija Kosoru

[e-mail]

La mia Vita : Biographic novel / La Vita.

2018. — 80 pages

Introduction

                  I am a lonely stranger here,

                  And in Ukraine

                  I am an orphan, my dear,

                  As in the foreign land.

                  Why is my heart is beating and torn?

                  I am lonely there.

                  Lonely... And Ukraine!

                  And its steppes wide!

                  Fierce wind is blowing there,

                  Talking as a brother;

                  Freedom in the large fields,

                  And blue sea is there,

                  Sparkling, and praising the God,

                  Shaking off the blues;

                  And graves with the tempestuous wind

                  In the steppe talk,

                  I would fly, and listen,

                  And cry with them...

                  But my fate tamed me down

                  Between strangers.

                                  Т . G. Shevchenko Kobzar To N. Markevich

I was born in one of the most beautiful regions in Ukraine — Zakarpattia. The nature here is so beautiful that the Franz, the Emperor of Austria, and the Empress Elizabeth (Sisi) grew fond of this blessed land and grabbed it up to Lviv. The Austro-Hungarian Empire was established...

    I came into being in the village of Khudlevo, on the edge of which our gipsy camp was located. My Mom gave birth to me in small room on the couch; the midwife, being the last old witch living in the camp, later on my godmother, performed the delivery. I was baptized in the church of the same village. My Mom gave me the most beautiful name in the world: Vitalia, Vitochka, La-Vita. And yes! My name matches my character and my life as a whole. 

    Our parents had six children. I was the youngest and the most loved kid in the family. I was less than three years old when our Mom died, and Dad was taken to prison after deprivation of his parental rights. We, the little ones, were committed to the institutional care in Ukraine. As the youngest, I was taken to the orphanage kindergarten, while my brothers and sister to the orphan boarding school. 

    Good morning, kids! Cats and mice have already washed up, and you have to get up as well: make your beds, brush your teeth and go for breakfast. And our breakfast today is very tasty! — that was the beginning of my every new day in the orphanage. I don’t remember much from my life in the kindergarten, but I know that it was a very good time. 

    Every summer we were taken to the sea, where I always had a sun stroke. All children thrashed about in the water, and I was eating ice cream when seated with the teachers on the beach with my white panama hat on. Probably, I’ve eaten it too much at that time, because I still do not like this sweet product. 

    My teachers were two young girls — Anna Vasilievna and Nadezhda Nikolaevna. Thanks to them, my character and personal qualities were built up, and I am constantly grateful to these wonderful people for their contribution in my childhood years. 

    The day before we were sent to school is the brightest of my memories. 

    It was a farewell day for us. We were so small and naïve, and did not understand at all why our teachers had the tears in their eyes, because they told so much good about school. 

  We were washed in tubs and dressed in the new school uniforms. We were also given schoolbags with colored pencils, drawing books, pencil cases and sweets. Hair of the girls was tied up in the nice white bows. Then we took pictures, kindergarteners hugged us, and we listened to many kind words and instructions to be good schoolers and to obey our teachers in all cases.

      Our bus arrived. Having promised everyone that we would be obedient, we cheerfully took our seats and went to so called new home under the name Boarding school!

      During our long journey we were singing together the songs of the first-graders. But the closer we were to the school, the more our little hearts trembled. We began to understand why our beloved teachers cried. We suddenly realized with our children’s mind, that we would not come back home, to our beloved kindergarten. A great silence settled in the bus. We had a sudden flutter of fear, and our hearts were shrinking.

      Hugging me, Nadezhda Nikolaevna encouragingly said that my elder sister and brother were already waiting for me at school. I was extremely surprised that I also had an elder brother. I only knew about the elder sister Eva. Once she came to visit me in the kindergarten, and I was very happy about that. I remember that I was glad, sitting on the swings, cheerfully dangling my feet and eating chocolate brought by my sister. I asked her to swing me higher and higher. It was one of the best days of my childhood...

      Looking ahead, I should say that my family was very lucky because they didn’t separate us. We were neither taken by foster families, nor sent to boarding schools in other cities, like some other children. It was hard to see young people coming to the orphanage in the hope of finding their little brothers and sisters. Most often their searches were unsuccessful, and these people left in tears. This was not the case with me and my brothers and sister, and I say special thanks to people who, while reviewing the reports on distribution of the members of my family, listened to the voice of reason!

      Finally, we arrived at so called new home. But I saw completely different picture than I imagined.

We were greeted by dirty-faced, noisy and, to my surprise, bald children of different age. They touched with their dirty hands my new school uniform, schoolbag and white bows on my hair, asked me what my name was. I got scared; I cried and hid behind Nadezhda Nikolaevna. Then I, pulling her blouse, asked to get on the bus and go back home, to the kindergarten. She said, wiping my tears and barely holding back hers:

— Vitochka, my darling, it’s your school, and new home. I was mad at her, I wanted to cry aloud: Nadezhda Nikolaevna, let’s go home!, but I clearly saw the pain in her eyes. At that moment, for the first time in my life, I felt the heartache from parting with people that I loved. My chest hurt, and it was difficult to breathe. I wept harder and hugged my Nadezhda Nikolaevna. Then I heard someone calling out my name; the voice seemed very familiar. I looked behind and saw — like a hurricane sweeping all before itself — shouting: My little Vitochka! You are here! Don’t worry! Don’t cry! I’ll never let anybody hurt you! — my sister Eva held me tight! For a moment, I felt warm and calm in her arms. She wiped my tears, saying:

— Our elder brother Grishka will be here soon. He is the strongest boy in school. Everyone is afraid of him!

Before she could finish speaking, I saw dark-skinned and dirty boy running to us and shouting:

— Vitochkaаа, my little sister! Finally, I met you! Coming closer, he grabbed me with his strong hands and started to spin round, smothering my cheeks with big kisses. By doing so, he kept repeating: I am your elder brother Grishka!. I remember that I got really scared of him. But at that time I was most upset about my new clean school uniform, school bag and white bows, which no longer looked as neat as they were before arriving at school. Grishka began to apologize for scaring me, explaining that he was overwhelmed by emotions. Eva scolded him.

— It is a shame, dirty boy, and even without a T-shirt, to frighten little Vitochka!

I ran away to the bus, where children of my first grade gathered obediently in their places. Some of them were crying, and other ones were looking at the teachers with begging eyes. Everybody wanted to go home, to our kindergarten.

However, no miracle happened...

And then the minute of parting came! It was like in a nightmare! New tutors simply teared us, little ones, away from the bus seats, explaining that we had no chance to go back, and they were now our mothers and fathers! We shouted at so called moms and dads, biting their hands, beat and begged not to touch us. But it had no effect! Like little homeless kittens, we were taken painfully by the collar, forced out of the bus, and then formed up into one line.

Nadezhda Nikolaevna did not get off the bus. She even did not try to give us a hug goodbye. At that time it was difficult to understand why... For the first time I felt angry with the people whom I loved very much. With a pain in my heart, I looked at our bus in the hope of seeing for the last time the beloved face of Nadezhda Nikolaevna.

But the bus started and pulled away, leaving us and also dust behind... It was very quiet. There were tears, pain, loneliness, a sense of hopelessness inside me, as well as emptiness still poorly understood but deeply felt...

School

Our new teacher drove off bald, dirty, loud-voiced children from us and asked to follow her. We walked like mice, silently, because we pledged our word to obey our new teachers!

There was a kindergarten for the first-graders at school, so during the first year they lived separately from elder children. It was arranged in order that the little ones get used to their new home, new system and regime. Our beautiful school uniforms and white bows were taken from us; new schoolbags were put into the wardrobe. The teachers explained that they could become dirty or crumpled; however, in our opinion, their appearance to that moment was lost. All of us were dressed up in the identical ugly, rude, long green robes and gray slippers, and our heads were shaved completely like the heads of the children we have already seen.

Thankfully, we were lucky. Our new teacher was a good person. She stayed with us for the night, read fairy tales, and sang lullabies. She often heard our nagging: we want to go home! But she always reassured us, day and night. I understood it later on, when growing older. Our teacher often spent the nights with us. Besides, she always had delicious sweets for us, and a kind word on the lips.

Over time, I began to get used to school, to new classmates, to the teachers and new regime.

Perechin boarding school was the best and exemplary school within the twelve communities of Zakarpattia region of Ukraine.

We were the best of the best for everyone. We were visited by many adults with presents and sweets, as well as deputies from various districts,

even TV people often interviewed us. But actually it was all just window dressing, third-rate advertising!

As soon as it became known about arrival of the next scheduled delegation occurring in the near future, in the evening the tutors gathered us in the classroom and divided the children into beautiful white and black (gipsy) and bald ones. Putting on a strict, angry voice, they ordered us to hide from these men and women, and warned that if we lean out they will then punish us.

The punishments were always different: they could simply scold or call us bad names, or give a hard slap in the face after which you can see stars around. Of course, the most popular punishment was to deprive us of the lunch or dinner. But the hungry orphanage child is like a doggy looking for something to eat. This dog will give the paw if commanded by the master, and seat down or stand up as ordered, if only the master would feed it, because the breakfast is only in the morning of the next day, and who knows what the next fault the master would find...

First ray of enlightenment

I remember that before the arrival of respected people from Uzhgorod television we should get every corner of our exemplary school ship-shape. Then we were washed as if expensive kitchenware. However, bald gipsy children, including me, were forced to hide from the television people because we seemed to damage the reputation of the school. Non-gipsy (white) children were dressed in the best clothes.

One day my classmate (white girl) was interviewed by TV people. None of the teachers heard what was being discussed, because they were not allowed to enter the room at that time.

This girl was a home-grown child but her parents as alcohol addicts were deprived of their parental rights; therefore, social workers took her to us, to our famous and exemplary school.

She told in the interview what the negative stuff she experienced first-hand, and what the other children suffered from. She told that the teachers, tutors and senior children used dirty words, beat with whatever came to hand, and tormented the younger kids...

And the long-awaited day of TV broadcasting has come! Hooray! Our excellent renowned school is shown on TV. On this occasion the lessons were shortened, and all the children of the school were seated at the blue TV screen. Naturally, I have not seen my beautiful image with the bald head in this story, but I was not upset with this. When I heard the interview of my classmate, I laughed, as the phrase goes, with all my heart. I hugged her and said: You are a smart and brave girl, because you are not afraid of false-faced adults!.

The teachers were shocked at first, but then they became very angry. But they could do nothing with this little girl, since all the children stood up and began to applaud her loudly! We were proud of this slender little girl and admired her! It was the first ray of truth about our school! By this interview, we shocked the town of Uzhgorod (Uzhgorod is the capital of Zakarpattia).

But, unfortunately, nobody believed the orphanage children, or nobody really needed such truth, it was just unfavorable.

Just a week later, new journalists arrived. Teachers and tutors chose the children themselves and instructed them what to say and how to say, and, oh God, they succeeded!!! As a result, it was exactly what people wanted to hear — a beautiful fairy tale about good life of the abandoned children under state protection.

Of course, Uzhgorod town and Zakarpattia as a whole really liked this fairy tale. (If the Uzhgorod television has not removed this interview from its archive, I will be glad to take it as a souvenir to enlarge my collection).

Cruelty through child’s eyes

The school kept the regular hours, with getting up at seven o’clock, to the sound of the pioneer horn. All school was set up for morning exercises.

After that, we washed themselves, brushed our teeth, and ran for a breakfast.

After breakfast, 20 minutes remained to get ready for school, namely: put on school uniform, check the schoolbag and at nine o’clock in the morning already sit at the desk. From one to two o’clock in the afternoon we had a lunch. After lunch, there was our private time comprising two hours. I always loved this time and, basically, spent it alone in the forest. At five o’clock in the evening we came to school, but already with the class master to do our homework. At 7:00 p.m. we had a dinner. From 8:00 to 9:00 p.m. we had one hour to get ready for bed and take a walk with friends.

Getting ready for bed meant washing our collars, panties and white socks for tomorrow, brushing the teeth and at 9:00 p.m. already lying in bed.

Every night at nine o’clock the tutor on duty made his round. The children whom he did not find in the bed were punished.

For some reason he immediately took a dislike to me, I still don’t know why. Every time when this tutor was on duty, I tried by 9:00 p.m. to lie in the bed with my eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

But one time we have got absorbed in playing blindman’s buff with the children of other school grade and completely forgot about time. We were effectively seven girls.