My Ukrainian Family

Having a family that is foreign is an eye-opener. First you get to see your own culture through the eyes of ‘strangers’, this is especially interesting for me as I am a Sociologist. But as a Husband, first and foremost, it sometimes gets very frustrating. I am held to task whenever my culture or my system is deemed to be failing. So it seems because our water tastes horrible, it’s my fault, or the food tastes different, ‘why? I’m asked’ – I don’t know and I am always loathe to say ‘well the food in Ukraine wasn’t anything like an elaborate taste extravaganza’.

Then the Health service is held up to inspection, why is it so bad? Again I don’t know and am at a loss to come up with some rational explanation because I always thought it was OK. It has always suited me and I’m generally healthy. But I know that my pre-conceptions in regard of the health system in Ukraine were wrong, it is in fact very good and accessible, so my visits there have opened my eyes to the shortcomings of the health service here.

Then there is the eternal, or so it seems, money pit that is the various bureaucracies we have to deal with. Look, I knew when I took this on that the visas would cost money, (and I have to say, don’t I, that for my wife every penny is worth it) but now it seems every little thing you need to do with these people costs money. A new passport for the stepson from the Ukrainian embassy was £60 plus £15 fee. That’s not counting the £100 in fares to get to London, plus the hotel etc etc. Now we have to go to Croydon or Birmingham to get the old visa re-stamped into the new passport. More fees, more transport etc. Then it’ll be the turn of the younger stepson, then we have to get a visa called ‘Further Leave to Remain’ for all of them and that’ll cost around another £400. Then I think we even have to pay for Citizenship!

The other interesting thing about having a family from another country is that you suddenly get thrown into that group’s local culture. My goodness, if you had asked me a year ago about the number of Russians living in the UK or the number of Russians living in Devon for that matter I would have probably shrugged my shoulders and said ‘not many’. There are bloody loads of them! My wife now has more friends than me! She’s only been in Plymouth since we moved in November. I used to live here about 6 years ago and have worked here over 10 years and she now knows more people than me. And they’re all Russian or Russian speaking of course.

Now I don’t mind that because it means she now has this huge support group and there’s loads of self help going on and of course I get access to loads of vodka so it seems we’re all happy. But it is surprising and of course lots of these people are very enterprising, I even saw an advert in London when I was there where someone was selling his National Insurance Number – very enterprising I must say.

And cross cultural marriages, do they work? Well I’m only in the first year of mine. My wife’s English is fine, good enough for us to have the usual marital rows. So we can communicate well. Having two hulking teenagers appear in my house eating everything in sight was a bit of a shock to the system and the wallet. I guess even the usual UK teenager is uncommunicative but these boys, both extremely gifted in Maths (what is it about the former Soviet Education system and the current Ukrainian/Russian systems which produce such good mathematicians and our British system can only produce innumerate, inarticulate, illiterate, kids who think Emenem is a high grade poet.) Seem only to be able to communicate in some sort of computerese. Which after all is probably the geek equivalent of liking Emenem!

My wife’s only vice is wanting to shop till she drops, yes she’s catching onto Capitalism rapidly, far too rapidly for my pocket that is. Like the song by Queen goes, ‘she wants it all, she wants it all, she wants it now!’ I have to explain to her many many times that we only have one income at the moment, mine, and unless we win the lottery this coming Friday, then she cannot have everything she sees in the shops. I am afraid that the January sales have tainted her view of the world and everything in every shop has been discounted.

But then when I remonstrate with her for wanting to spend, spending, or just simply wanting the unachievable, she simply retorts with her sexy accent, ‘Well I am Woman’

Fair Comment!