Paris, March 21, 2024
Dear readers,
My life has changed since the last letter: a child, a move, the rush between feedings, diapers and sleepless nights. It’s been a month since I became the mother of a little French-Kabyle Ukrainian. I speak to him all the time in Ukrainian, I wonder how soon he will be able to answer me in our language. Since his arrival, I often think about my own childhood.
I was born in 1987, in the Soviet Union, that is. Baptism in a church, at the birth of a child, was a very common rite in Ukraine, among believers but also among non-believers. It was a way of fighting against the system. The USSR was atheist, all religious demonstrations were prohibited. My parents had me baptized in secret in a small church in Podillia, the region where my father’s family comes from. From now on, we are free to do what we want, but this tradition has remained very important in Ukrainian identity.
I don’t know if I’m going to have my son baptized, but I will pass on to him his roots, his “ukrainianness”. It is very important that he knows my country and is aware of its origins. We live in a world so uncertain that the only things we can be sure of are our family and our roots. The little one will also have Ukrainian nationality: we will soon go to the consulate.
After giving birth, my mother spent three weeks with us. She returned to Kyiv [Kiev, en ukrainien]. I found her so war-weary. I know Sasha feels exhausted too. My heart sinks when I think of the long and exhausting trips back and forth. I only want one thing: to be with my loved ones. I feel lonely.
I met a Ukrainian friend who had been living in London for years. She told me about a friend of hers from Mariupol. He still lives there. It caught my attention: living in Mariupol, the city martyred and occupied by racists [contraction de « russes » et de « fascistes »] ? I contacted this man. Of course he can’t say his name and especially doesn’t want to be recognized, but this is what he told me: at the start of the Great War, he hid with a neighbor in his apartment. In March 2022, when a small group gathered outside around a fire to prepare a meal – the town then had no electricity – there was an air raid and he was seriously injured . The other five survived. They were lucky. During these attacks, many residents of Mariupol died and were hastily buried near houses or in courtyards.
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