Basia and Me in the Lair of the Enemy, Part III

The party went on for several more hours. Before Basia and I managed to head towards the door, we were exposed to:

– a lady from Belarus who demonstrated the famed resilience of the Belarus guerrillas in her sustained refusal to respond to Basia’s attempts to engage her in a political debate; 

– the Russian husband of an English-speaking woman who was insistently trying to discuss “that girl I picked up, oh, and that other girl I picked up” while his uncomprehending wife smiled placidly by his side;

– a fiftyish Jewish gentleman who managed to mention his Momma five times in the very first sentence he addressed to the group;

– a disgruntled professor of physics from St. Louis who had read Basia’s article on Ukraine and wanted to argue with her about it but was thwarted by the host’s piercing scream, “No, discuss anything but politics!!!”

– a boisterous Russian fellow who kept addressing me with, “What kind of [offensive word for Ukrainian] are you if you don’t even eat salo!”

– a colleague from my university who exclaimed, “Oh God, I am so very, very sorry” when I told her the name of the department where I work. It seems like being an object of unexpected and, frankly, unwarranted compassion was my role at that party.

After Basia and I finally emerged into the street, one of the guests caught up with us.

“You are Jewish, right?” she exclaimed triumphantly, pointing at me.

“What gave me away?” I asked. “The hair?”

“No, not just the hair. Everything about you screams Jewish!”

I wanted to explore the subject further but Basia chimed in with an aggrieved, “And what about me? I’m Jewish, too!”

“What, am I not enough of a Ukrainian patriot to be recognized as Jewish?” Basia asked as we walked to my car. “Everybody knows that all the fiercest Ukrainians are Jews!”