Planet Literature

A Literary Miniature from Zacharias Mbizo’s Collection of Texts on The Ukrainian Apocalypse

One of the most serious crimes in the war against Ukraine is the abduction of Ukrainian children to Russia. How might these children feel, deprived of any contact with their biological parents?

When you were told that your parents no longer wanted to have anything to do with you, that they had downright abandoned you, this immediately seemed strange to you.
Of course, like everyone else around you, they suffered under the immense burden of the war:
They suffered from the fact that they were in the clutches of an invisible enemy who could snuff out their lives at any time without them knowing when and why he would pounce on them.
They suffered from not knowing in the evening whether they would still be alive the next morning or whether they would be buried under the hail of debris from the shelling.
They suffered from the uncertainty of whether and for how long they would be able to continue working and on what basis they could live when they lacked the money for even the most basic necessities.
They suffered from the fact that the escape routes were closed to them because they either – for your father – only led deeper into the hell of war or left them at the mercy of the unpredictable enemy.
But that’s precisely why it didn’t seem at all heartless to you that your parents didn’t oppose the proposal to send you to a holiday camp with other children. There was no reason whatsoever for you to assume that they saw you as a burden or even wanted to get rid of you.
When you said goodbye, there was no hint of relief on their faces. It had rather been a mixture of care and concern, the natural fear in times of war, but at the same time the hope that the holiday camp could provide you with some distraction, a respite from the war, even if the separation from you was anything but easy for them in these uncertain times.
And now you’ve had no contact with them for almost six months. One day, a bus arrived at the holiday camp, a woman with a mask-like smile on her face got off and read out the names of the children who were to be placed in the care of new parents.
An hour later, you were already on the bus. Trees, rivers and the vast plains flashed past you like dream images. Even in the children’s home where you arrived that evening, you felt like you were in a dream. You moved through the dark corridors as if sleepwalking and spooned your soup at the long table with the other children, whose thoughts seemed to be caught up in a dream just like yours.
Even when you were picked up by your new parents a few days later, you saw yourself next to them like a dream figure, like something unreal that would disappear as soon as you opened your eyes.
Admittedly, your new parents did their best to take care of you. They, who had no children themselves, treated you as something precious from the very beginning and endeavoured to fulfil your every wish. At the same time, however, they constantly looked at you in a strangely worried way – the way you would look at someone who is suffering from a serious illness and of whom you don’t know whether he will ever get completely well again.
Moreover, you were not allowed to speak to your new parents in your own language. So they ultimately remained strangers to you. In a way, they reminded you of the stories about the friendly strangers your parents had always warned you about: „Don’t get in the car with them – no matter how bright the lollipops in their hands might sparkle at you!“
And now you’ve overheard a conversation that has suddenly drawn back the curtain of friendliness and courtesy.
„I told you straight away that it wasn’t a good idea!“ the man you’re supposed to address as „dad“ said to the woman you’re supposed to address as „mum“. „We would have been better off waiting for a normal child from our own children’s homes.“
„It was just a one-time slip-up,“ the woman contradicted him. „I’m sure it’ll blow over again.“
The man laughed derisively. „You don’t believe that yourself! Each day we have to deal with a new quirk! Not to mention that stubborn look! His constant stuttering! This slurred speech! No, I think it simply has something to do with where he comes from. None of this would have happened with a child from here.“
Of course, you immediately realised what the reason for the conversation was. Waking up in the morning, you had felt a strange, warm wetness underneath you. In addition, you had noticed an uncomfortably sweet odour.
Only gradually had you realised what this meant: you had, as they say, „wet the bed“.
The woman you are supposed to call „mum“ had not reproached you. However, the worried look she gave you as she put new sheets on your bed seemed even more concerned than usual. Reproaches would have been easier to bear for you.
„Do you think we should apply to the authorities to have him returned?“ the woman finally asked. „Or maybe exchanged? Maybe we just got a rotten apple, and other children …“
„No way!“ the man interrupted her. „The children from over there are all just second choice. Like a consolation prize in the lottery. I won’t get involved in anything like that again.“
As you closed your eyes in bed at night, the conversation haunted your dreams. „Maybe we should sell the changeling on the market,“ whispered the man in your dream world. „If you know how to stuff it, you might even make a decent doll out of it.“
„Or prepare a tasty roast with it,“ the woman suggested, clicking her tongue with delight. „Sage and thyme should cover up the bland flavour.“
Suddenly, their faces no longer looked friendly at all. Their smiles widened into a malicious grin, and the sharp teeth of predators flashed behind their open lips.
Your heart pounding, you woke up from your sleep. For a moment you thought the pounding was coming from your mother, your real mother, who was desperately knocking on your door to warn you of the impending danger.
Sorrowfully, you wondered what she was doing right now. Did she think the same of you that you were supposed to think of her – that you had left her in bad faith because you found life with her too uncomfortable? Was your father still with her? Or had he long since been sucked into the maw of war?
A strong dizziness took hold of you. You felt as if you were on an ever faster, unstoppable merry-go-round that made you perceive the world as a mass of incoherent fragments.
How could you ever find your way out of the labyrinth of this poisoned reality?

from: Zacharias Mbizo: The Ukrainian Apocalypse. Literary miniatures
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Image: Alf-Marthy: Boy by the window (Pixabay)