March 31, 2022

"This is My Lucky Day"

I wrote about the dangers of human trafficking of refugees in my last post, and last night I came face to face with the issue.

When an announcement was made that I had room for four passengers to Krakow, a woman traveling alone stated that she would like a ride to Tarnow, a city about an hour's ride from Krakow. Her name was Natasha and I agreed to drop her off there and asked her to wait to see if there were any more passengers who needed a ride to Krakow. She readily agreed and seemed relieved that she might not be the only one traveling with me. 

A family of four requested a ride to Krakow and I had to turn them down since I only had room for four passengers in my SUV. I called a colleague, thirty minutes away, who had a seven passenger van to come and pick up this family of four. 

When no one else expressed an interest, Natasha appeared anxious and hesitant. Then she asked to take photos of my passport and driver's license and asked me to call her phone number so that my number would appear on the screen of her phone. I tried, but due to poor internet connection, my call wouldn't go through. That probably raised her suspicions about me since she didn't know about the internet connection problem.

Just then a mother and child appeared asking for a ride to Krakow and I agreed to take them. The two women started talking and I later found out that they were from the same city. Natasha appeared very happy to meet someone from her hometown and that she wouldn't have to travel alone with a stranger. 

I then remembered that a seven passenger van was on its way and that my colleague could also take the mother and child as they were all going to Krakow. This would save me an extra two hours of driving since I wouldn't have to drive the mother and child to Krakow. When I told Natasha the change in plans, she became agitated and I sensed that she was nervous again about driving in the car alone with me. 

As we were walking out of the reception center she suddenly turned and walked back toward the information table and said something to the volunteer in charge. I could sense that the volunteer was telling her that she knew me and that I could be trusted. I told the volunteer that I didn't want Natasha to feel uncomfortable with me and that she could ride in the van and be dropped off in Tarnow, and I would wait for additional passengers. However, Natasha finally agreed to leave with me. I had her take a photo of me standing in front of the car's license plate as an extra measure of precaution.

Once we were on the road, her demeanor immediately changed. Although she spoke very little English, all of a sudden she said with a big smile, "This is my lucky day." Where she learned that phrase I do not know. 

I showed her photos on my phone of my wife, my two sons and two cats (all while driving), deliberately to reassure her that I was not a human trafficker but a family man.  Through great effort and the use of Google Translate and gestures, I was able to piece together the following information about her:

Natasha is a 45 year old married woman who worked as an accountant and lived with her husband and father in law in Kharkiv, one of the most heavily damaged cities from the war. She showed me a video clip of the buildings destroyed by bombs and missiles on the street where they lived. She had to leave her husband since men are not allowed to leave Ukraine.  She said, "I am happy (to be safe in Poland) but sad (to leave my husband)." Then for the second time she said, "This is my lucky day."

Her plan is to stay in a hotel with a childhood friend in Tarnow for one night and travel to Frankfurt, Germany to join her younger brother. She doesn't know what will happen beyond that and if she will ever see her husband again.

Then for the next hour she wanted to practice her English by naming objects and asking questions about them. Our conversation went something like this:

Natasha: "Mirror, window, door . . . what called this?" (pointing to the steering wheel) 

Me: "This called steering wheel. Wheel round." (Note that I'm beginning to talk like her, omitting verbs)

Natasha: "What means steering?"  

Me: "Steering means turn, like this." I demonstrate by turning the wheel sharply to the right and almost run us off the road.

After an hour of this ("What is that?" "That crosswalk." What means crosswalk?" "People walk cross street like this." [I demonstrate walking using my index and middle fingers on the dashboard]) I am exhausted. I didn't sign up to teach English to Ukrainian refugees, but I guess we have to be flexible.

Shortly before we arrive in Tarnow, Natasha blurts out in perfect English, "I like to live and not to die, I like to laugh and not to cry." I am stunned and wonder where she learned that rhyme. I quickly type it into my iPhone Notes while steering with my other hand so I don't forget the rhyme that probably reflects how she feels about her situation.

Then she asks me, "You like Hotel California?" I wasn't quite sure what she meant, so I found the song on YouTube and played it on my phone. With a big smile on her face she said, "I like Hotel California" and we listened to the song as we entered the city.

In just an hour and a half, Natasha has gone from an anxious and nervous woman about to get in a car with a stranger to a smiling woman who gives me a big hug and says for the third time, "This is my lucky day." I think to myself, "This is my lucky day."