It is shocking to see how naive people can be:
Ha. Ha. Ha. The world wants to believe Ukrainians did it. So the world will believe just that.
Sixteen years and two weeks ago I was standing at a bus stop next to my building in Ukraine, knowing that I was seeing that street, those houses, that city for the very last time. The van was coming to take me away forever. And it couldn’t come soon enough. All I felt was hatred, alienation, disgust. It had been my organizing principle for years to leave. Never to see those people, those streets, never again. It didn’t matter where I’d go or what would happen next. Leaving was the entire point. The only point. There was nothing beyond that.
On the airplane, I was waiting for the moment when the flight attendant would announce that we had crossed the border. And once we heard, “We are now flying over Poland,” I had the distinct thought in my head, “I don’t care if the plane crashes now. As long as my remains don’t lie in that ground, I don’t care about anything else.”
In the first weeks in Canada, people kept dragging me from the roads because I kept walking into traffic. I’d lost the fear of death. The entire goal of my existence had been achieved and I felt the kind of ecstasy that obliterates any concern with life. Since then, of course, I formulated other goals and found other organizing principles, but let me tell you, that was one potent feeling.
I haven’t been back to Ukraine and I’m not planning to go. I’m not in touch with anybody there, not even relatives. I only go back in nightmares, the ones where my only concern is that I will not be able to escape before I die. In those nightmares, I desperately try to cross a border, any border, just to make sure I don’t get buried in the ground I hate so much.
I’ve written about all this many times before. None of this is new to anybody. (Here is one post, for instance. And here is another. And one more.) But my naïveté is as shocking to myself as anybody else’s. I honestly hoped that this personal history – which is pretty bizarre as immigrant histories go – would prevent people from dismissing me with the condescending, “Oh, who cares what you say when you are so obviously blinded by irrational patriotism.” But that didn’t happen.
It is very disturbing to be so misunderstood. And so naive. People have been so infected by patriotism that they project it onto everything and everybody, and evidence be damned. Given that the nation-state is dying, this intense attachment to a corpse doesn’t bode well for the planet’s future. What won’t people do to keep it around?