Village Drama

It was a Saturday, about a week and a half ago, when Roma received a frantic phone call from his mom in the village. Papa had been building an enclosure for the geese when his arm slipped and he sliced his wrist on a piece of sharp metal. Mama called Roma in tears, saying that Papa had cut himself and they couldn't get the bleeding to stop. It was difficult for Roma to discern what exactly had happened because cell phone signal in the village is spotty at best. Then, in the middle of trying to calm his mom down and figure it all out, the call dropped.

A scary ten minutes ensued wherein Roma kept trying to call but couldn't get through. When he finally did get his mom on the line, she was still in tears, saying that the bleeding wouldn't stop and they didn't know what to do. Roma told his mom to run and get a neighbor who used to work as a nurse. She did just that, and with the help of this neighbor, they were able to get the bleeding under control.

What was most nerve-wracking about the whole incident is that there was nowhere for Papa to go to seek help. There's no hospital in the village. Furthermore, Mama doesn't know how to drive & most village residents get around by horse-drawn carts. It was unclear how Mama and Papa were going to be able to get back to Bar's hospital. It would have taken Roma at least an hour and a half to reach the village by bus so as to drive his folks back. In the end -- with his arm elevated out the window -- Papa drove the 40 minutes back to Bar. Mama and Papa went directly to the hospital where Papa received eight stitches.

Since then, Papa has been unable to work so he's been homebound. Between you and me, the poor guy is bored out of his mind without anything to do. He is not a man who is accustomed to having free time on his hands.

With his wound slowly healing, he's been able to start doing small tasks here and there. And so yesterday, Roma, Papa and I headed into the village to help with chores. On our way, we got stuck in traffic. (FYI, cows always get the right away & so you also know, they are never in a hurry.)

Once in the village, Roma and Papa took to cutting the grass.

Do note the dirt road to Roma's left. When a late-afternoon thunderstorm blew in, that road was like a raging river.

When I wasn't busy running to-and-fro supplying cold drinking water to my workers, I was walking around the premisces snapping pictures. Below you can see grandma & grandpa's house.

The corn has gotten really tall, though this picture fails to do it justice:

Below is only half of the crops that they grow every year. Mama & Papa have a whole other plot of land a little outside the village limits.

We enjoyed a nice village day sans drama. We got back into town in time to meet up with our friend, Vadym, who we all call Boss. Why all the nicknames you ask? Well, in school, there were like, four Vadyms in Roma's class. Hence, my Vadym got the nickname Roma (from Romaniuk) & this other Vadym -- due to the fact that he apparently wore a Hugo Boss t-shirt all the time -- got the nickname Boss. All I ever knew Boss to be was Boss, until my dad -- during his visit here -- took to calling him Hugo Boss. And now, I silently think Hugo every time I hear his name. Thanks for that, dad.

Anyways, (Hugo) Boss is getting married on Saturday to this lovely lady:

So from now until Sunday night, it's nothing but wedding, wedding, wedding. Here's hoping our livers survive into next week ;)