Meeting My Neighbor, Zina

Yesterday evening, I decided to take a walk through the neighborhood.  I ended up spending some time chatting with my neighbor, Zina (or Zinaida).  She’s probably around 70 years old, I presume.  And she had nothing good to say about the current state of her country.  She remembers the good old days when the Soviet Union took care of her.  Now, for over the last 20 years, she has seen life transform into something she sees only as poverty.  Bandits and thieves, Zinaida told me, Bandits! and Thieves! have taken all their land or if not their land, all of their produce from their land and ruined the ability for them to maintain the standard of living they desire.  When she asked me where I was from off the bat (yes I have a very strong accent...), she shook her head in disgust, regarding my response, the United States.  She had heard from a couple men that had worked there that all they did was work.  They couldn’t make or save any money in America.  And so the U.S. is bad.  

While we were having this conversation, a young man driving a nice Mercedes Benz with the steering wheel on the right side of the car (left side is normal in Moldova) pulls up in front of us and starts talking to the baba (which means elderly woman) next to me, Zina.  After a few words, Zina recalls who this young gentlemen is.  She hasn’t seen him in years.  He was a little boy the last time she saw him.  

But she recognizes him.  He was one of the boys next door, whose family moved out and left Moldova over ten years ago.  The house still is there, empty, unable to be sold.  Zina asked about his family, and he responded that they all had left Moldova- Spain, England, Russia.  No one was living in Moldova.  His family was only visiting on vacation.  He was the only one that came back to his hometown.  The rest of his family knew what a shame it would be to see their empty house.  

So this is a story in Moldova that reflects much greater on a trend in this country.  When people face poverty in this country, some stay around and moan.  Some stay around and fight.  Some leave and search for a better life.  Not too many people like me move in to the country.  When I told my host dad about the young guy who I had just met last night and his family’s story, I asked if it made him sad.  He responded that he is not sad about it, because it’s a sensible thing for people to do- to seek a better life elsewhere.  What is sad is when people live in poverty and are stuck in poverty.  Luckily for my host family, they have worked hard; they are smart and maybe have had a bit of luck; and they have created a good life for themselves in their hometown.  I know they have made sacrifices that I don’t realize.