Irina Korzh
Melbourne, Australia
Kyiv Post: Where are you from in Ukraine?
Irina Korzh: I was born in Lubny, Poltava Oblast, but went to school in Kyiv.
KP: When did you leave; why did you leave?
IK: We moved in 1995, just when Western products started to visibly dominate the country. I remember not eating in a school cafeteria for the whole week in order to save enough pocket money for one Chupa-Chups. I met my biological father at 12 years of age, who has been working overseas for some time, so my parents got married and moved to Singapore, taking me with them.
KP: How did you end up in Australia?
IK: After I graduated from high school in Singapore, I had to decide on the university. England, America and Canada seemed too far from my parents or too expansive, so I have focused on universities in Australia. I have been living in Melbourne for nine years now, working in the advertising, market research and film industries.
KP: Do you ever regret that you are not in Ukraine – why or why not?
IK: Sometimes I wonder what it would be like if I had never left. But my parents helped our family financially and this is my main drive now. My cousins back in Ukraine tell me that I have a ‘different mentality’ now.
And this is true – besides not being able to fluently and proudly speak Ukrainian, I have grown up strongly believing in gender and racial equality, saving the environment, re-using products, animal rights – something that Ukrainians don’t really have interest to think about just yet.
KP: What do you miss most about Ukraine?
IK: I miss family, my childhood home, the city I was born in and nature. I think the older I get, the more I miss this. I miss being able to have people of all ages in my life because we are related by blood. Melancholy and nostalgia enter my heart quite often. With every International Film Festival in Melbourne, I rush to watch Russian and Ukrainian films.
I stock up on buckwheat, herring, varenyky and barreled pickles when visiting Eastern European shops. The longest I have been away was three years. During that time my grandmother, with whom I was very close, died, and my niece was born. It was tough to be back.
I collected some old family photos so I would never forget. I also miss the way the Kyiv train stations smell, the Ivana Kupala celebration, local Lubny ice cream, good vodka and homemade Ukrainian food. Too many things I miss – I could write a whole essay about this!
KP: What do you miss least about Ukraine?
IK: I do not miss the overbearing sexism, homophobia and sometimes racism. I felt that some of these issues are much more prominent in Ukraine than other places I lived in (Singapore, London, Melbourne). I also do not miss the judgment some people have. In Australia you can be a plumber and still be respected – earning as much as people in the office. In Ukraine – teachers, nurses, scientists, engineers – can barely survive on their wages. It makes me sad that some of my family are highly qualified but cannot get a job that pays them well. People also do not care about homeless as much as in other places.
KP: Does Australia have more opportunities for you than in Ukraine?
IK: I definitely have more opportunities to earn more here and be creative in my field. But I have been away from Ukraine since I was 12 and I have never felt like I belonged in one place. I am not a permanent resident in Australia just yet so cannot get help from the government or pay local fees for university.
I also have to report to the immigration every time I want to go on a holiday. This makes me feel like I am still a second grade citizen.
KP: What relatives/friends are left back in Ukraine?
IK: My parents are still in Singapore. My uncle, auntie and their children on my father’s side are in Ukraine. So is my beautiful grandmother. My cousins on my mother’s side, who I feel extremely close, to are in Kyiv. My cousin married recently and now has a newborn son.
KP: Do they visit you or do you visit them? Often?
IK: All my relatives came to Singapore at least once and my parents fully funded their trip. Australia is too far, expensive and complicated to visit. Who knows where I will be in 10 years. The longest I have been away from Ukraine was three years. It felt too long. I will try to visit more often.
KP: With Ukraine coming up to its 20th anniversary of national independence, how do you feel about your homeland? Is it making progress as a nation? Or not so much?
IK: There are several points of progression I noticed from 1995 to 2010. For example, every year there were more McDonald’s restaurants and foreign products. The amount of young people speaking Ukrainian after the [2004] Orange Revolution has dramatically increased. But even though people have grown, more stores opened and more buildings built- the infrastructure has never improved.
I feel like Ukraine is still very dependent on Russia. Another environmental concern I have is for the agricultural land in Ukraine that is being leased to overseas countries and companies. Even though they can only lease it – how do we know it is not going to be destroyed?
KP: What would it take for you to return?
IK: After I get my Australian citizenship or a permanent residency I want to come back to Ukraine for much longer. I would come back in a heartbeat if I could freely travel with my Ukrainian passport and have a great job. I would also return to care for my family in future.
KP: What do you wish for your country?
IK: I want the people of my country to have the basic right to an adequate pension and wages. I want Ukraine to become more open-minded and for other countries to unlock the borders for Ukrainians to travel.
KP: Do you think that wish will come true?
IK: Apparently in 2012, the EU will open its borders to Ukrainians to travel without visa. Let’s hope so.
Irina Korzh’s first day of school.
Below is something I wrote when I returned home for a visit last year:
Beer never tasted this good. A little bubbly, sweet and bitter in the end. It’s like drinking a beautiful, cheerful Ukrainian girl who has her own ambitions. An old, autistic woman in the market is begging for money, bluntly screaming that she needs it to get “100 grams” of vodka. Those hot steamy yellow mini-buses contain sad, grumpy faces until you smile and ask for directions.
Curiosity, honesty, old mixed with new, feminine women in summer dresses who drink jugs of beer and stay slim, salads with spoons of delicious mayo, stray dogs, Soviet buildings, statues of Lenin, potatoes – Ukraine. Home. It is not about the scenic places and comfortable lifestyle. Home sweet home. It is not about cafes, stunning women, historic museums.
Nothing posh, nothing to be so proud of, just a humble place where I was born. Smell of blood sausage in the market. I am glad there is no fresh “live” beer with 6.5% alcohol and no preservatives for $2 a litre in Australia. I eat copious amounts of pork and dried salted fish of all kinds with each gulp of beer. Little children with young mothers. Rain that makes my skin feel fresh. Rejuvenating
A black mark of Chornobyl. I was too young to remember Chornobyl, but berries within the vicinity of Kyiv city should not be eaten. We all grew up knowing this. Yet I see berries sold by old grandmothers outside of metro stations. How can they survive with an $80 a month pension?
I see them eat bread and tomatoes on a side of the street. With my Ukraino-Australio-Singaporean brain I sometimes get offended by people’s bluntness or theirrudeness. But they tell you because they care.
If you have gained weight or your hair looks messy, they will tell you no matter if you know them well or they are just your neighbors. Women must take great care of themselves by any means. To look unclean is unacceptable.
Watch out from Ukrainian samogonka. Everyone becomes your best friend, even a weird taxi driver with one eye and a broken front seat belt. He hates when people complain about it. Not to mention the public toilets where people squat like dogs awkwardly squat on a sidewalk and accidentally meet the eyes of their owners. You will see what came out of you in true colors because that is how toilets are constructed
No water after midnight in our apartment. Poisonous tap water. It doesn’t matter if you live in a million dollar mansion in a city or in the old Soviet building in the outskirts. It is guaranteed that the water will be cut off at some point. So is electricity. When everything works fine, it truly brings happiness. Nothing changed in the city but people who conceived, divorced and gained.
Nothing has been built but American capitalism and bureaucracy. My sister’s face with tears running down her cheeks because we won’t see each other for awhile. Waving to a train that is passing me by. Three years. Three years I have waited for this. Ukraine I have missed you dearly.
Yours truly, Irina
