Sport as Hope (Day 112)
Time is flying. Some of the most specific help is the most time consuming. An update on our grocery card distribution project. What to read.
The last few days have been a blur of the kind of work I am not very good at. Phone calls in German. Writing long emails trying to explain things that could be a text message if you knew the person, but as this is Austria and everything is formal, phone calls and emails it is.
In short, I am trying to help Pasha find a place for sport and school. It sounds so simple, and yet. The very brief version of a very long story is that the town where Pasha is now does not have a volleyball club, and Pasha is a very good volleyball player. Therefore, we need to help Natasha and Pasha join a club where the coach will be happy to have such a player and then move to that location, find a school, apartment, etc. Volleyball is the anchor.
I made some calls on Monday trying to find a school (at 15 in Austria you no longer have to attend school so you suddenly have a huge range of options including even pursuing an apprenticeship — but it is all very complicated and you basically have to do it all yourself which isn’t easy when your kid is 15 and you just arrived from Ukraine and you don’t speak German yet). In the process of researching schools, I came across sports directors.
Another long story short, I spent 6 hours yesterday driving Pasha to volleyball practice. But it was worth every minute. He came alive. He is really, really good. The other kids were excited to have him play on their team. I took Natasha for a coffee in a local ice cream shop, and we talked and talked, and we came back just in time to see Pasha serve ace after ace, flying high into the air, and then hitting the ball across the net so fast the other boys had no chance to respond. Pasha said he isn’t used to playing on sand. He plays indoor volleyball. In Ukraine, a neighbour used to drive Pasha to Kyiv every day for volleyball practice. Every day. He is that good.
Unfortunately, in Austria, it’s complicated. I talked to everyone. Other parents. The town coach. The village coach. Everyone is nice but there is no package solution. And even this once a week practice they cannot reach without a car (two train rides, bike ride, would be 2 hours each direction). So I need to help Natasha and Pasha move to a town in Austria where there is a great volleyball club that would value his skills, and then build school, apartment, work around that.
I came home last night and started sending emails, sent a few more this morning. But it is slow going as I am not Austrian and don’t have connections to make things fall into place. Social capital or whatever you call it. But I believe in sharing these stories in the hope that others will raise their hands and say “we can help”. I hope. I remain optimistic and I will keep being persistent. It made me so happy to sit there on the sidelines with Natasha yesterday and watch her watch Pasha play. It was two hours of normality, and he came alive too, even though he cannot really talk with the other kids yet. A bit of English. Everyone was friendly and inclusive. It was really nice.
In other news, I was back at the train station briefly yesterday to distribute more Hofer cards to dorm residents. They all tell me similar stories: cannot find a job because they live in the dorm, cannot get an e-card number because they live in the dorm, cannot get paid the state money because they live in a dorm, should we stay or go home to Ukraine?, how do I get my operation not cancelled for the third time because I don’t have an interpreter? I cannot translate that day. I tried to book the same woman a mammogram today; not possible without e-card number. She has no e-card because she lives in what is considered temporary housing, no man’s land. And so it goes. Those who are lucky, are lucky in everything, and those who are unlucky, it feels contagious. Everywhere they turn there is a roadblock.
Generous donors brought me more Hofer cards in person to the train station, too. I distributed them immediately, both in person and by post. Thank you thank you thank you. I am still sitting on a large pile of empty envelopes waiting for funding. But each day a few cards trickle in and I don’t lose hope. I know people still care. Not everyone, but many.
You can feel the backlash. I can tell within about two seconds of starting to talk to someone if they are sympathetic to the plight of the Ukrainians or annoyed there is a war and everything got more expensive. It can go either way in Austria. I never try and convince anyone otherwise. Barking up a tree that has already made up it’s mind in favor of Putin and blames all Ukrainians because some rich ones drive nicer cars than the average Austrian is a lost cause.
The news, when I have time for it, is utterly depressing. Do read this harrowing reporting by Valerie Hopkins, and the photos. My god the photos. These glimpses of what look like normality when nothing is normal.
That is what Natasha describes from her phone calls back home. Another family abandoned its dog. Her relative is feeding it now. A local young husband died on the front. He was 25. Leaves behind a wife and two young sons. And so on. Nothing is normal and yet the sun is shining and the kids are swimming in the pond. Nothing here is normal either — Pasha is playing volleyball like a rock star but I still haven’t found a team for him, finding a school to take a not super academic 15 year old who hasn’t learned German yet is going to be a huge challenge, and don’t even get me started on an apartment in Vienna or wherever we find a volleyball team. And yet you have to keep trying. Because if you give up, well, then, what was it all for? He loves his new used laptop. He stayed up until 3am playing games. He installed them all himself. Mom wishes he would use it to learn German. I had to giggle. It all sounds so familiar.
I have hope because my inboxes are filled with both messages and photos of thanks from Ukrainians, and also messages of suggestions and advice from Austrians and people living in Austria. I really think together we can have a real impact, but it is frustrating how slow and bureaucratic so much of life here is. And that most people kind of respond with a shoulder shrug like “jo eh” and I often wonder why there was never a massive revolution other than I guess the system suits those in power just fine because they know how to pull the strings to make things work which gives them a structural advantage for life. But I digress.
Just when I thought I had really heard it all, we discovered by accident an address in Vienna that is literally not delivering mail to the Ukrainians living there because it wants to charge them a fee for it. Sounds very strange and very illegal.
And just as I was about to hit send on this post, a volleyball coach called and asked me to drive Pasha again today back to where we went yesterday (two train rides + bike it will not be possible on his own without a car — yesterday he genuinely was surprised to learn he cannot legally ride his bike 40km on the highway!). I tell my own family I am abandoning them again. I tell Pasha they want him to train with the grown-ups tonight. I call the family. They are trying to get e-cards, which no one will give them without blue cards. Blue cards aren’t ready yet. Do you all know yet how the song goes?
Thanks for reading and for your continued support. To help fund grocery cards, please see here or here. I am so incredibly grateful to Mario for making it possible for us to reach thousands of families. I would never have been able to do that on my own. I still spend a lot of time texting, but Mario has taken over the bulk purchases and distribution and I would like to thank him publicly for stepping in and taking on a huge thing. It is a huge thing. And we are making a real difference in people’s lives. Of that I am sure. We see it every day in the photos. And every shopping cart is different.
A journalist just called me. Where can one find a Ukrainian who will talk about how hard it is to buy food and survive here. No one wants to go on camera. I know, I said, I know no one wants to talk publicly. I suggested one contact, sent the addresses to the dorms. Ukrainian women have other problems right now. They don’t have the energy to do press stuff. They fear making it even worse. I understand them.
Ok, now I really hit send.