It was about 8:00 last night when the phone rang. The caller ID showed it was a call from Santa Cruz, the village where we live, but the voice was strange, Portuguese spoken in a heavy foreign accent. Then some Russian/Ukrainian was thrown in, and I could not think of any Russian or Ukrainian we knew in our village. The person was obviously perturbed and it made conversation worse. Finally, the message got through: it was Misha, one of the Ukrainian prisoners who attends the weekly Bible studies.
But I had just been at the prison with him and two others from 4:30-5:30! Now at 8:00, he was telling me he was at the airport, and in the intervening two hours since I had seen him, he had been told to go to his cell, get his belongings, and go home! Home!? Ukraine...!
I told him to sit tight and I went to get him. "Sitting" was the last thing he could do. He was in a state of shock. A prison guard had given him a lift to the airport, but he had no ticket, no reservations, only €300 (about $450), and a paper saying he had 30 days to leave the country and get resettled in Ukraine! He was arrested on the mainland and after 4 years in prison there, was transferred to the island 2 and a half years ago. He knows no one here...never worked here, never lived here. He called the only person he knew: me.
He was nervous and worried. He had no place to spend the night and couldn't see how he was going to get "home". Before the night was over, he repeated a hundred times, "I can't believe it. It's a dream." (See Psalm 126:1) He stood in our front yard in the light, misty rain and rubbed the hibiscus leaves between his fingers..."It's been over 6 years since I could touch flowers."
We took him on a quick ride through Funchal and back...he had only seen images of the island on the TV, now for the first time it was real. We let him use our apartment and told him that this morning we would go to a travel agency and see about a ticket.
On the way to town this morning, it seemed to me that his eyes were not used to the sunlight; he had to keep shielding them. We walked to the travel agency. "I haven't walked down the street of a city in 6 1/2 years," as if he had to learn all over again.
Things at the travel agency didn't go smoothly at first. For the first 30 or 45 minutes, the only options were to wait a week for the next direct flight from Lisbon to Kiev (€385) or pay €590 to go on Friday, but via Germany and Poland. Misha (short for Mikhaylo---Michael) was discouraged. "Maybe I should just go back to the prison and knock on the door and ask them to let me back in....I'm worried."
In the end, one of the weekly direct flights was tonight, and there was a seat. He would be in Kiev tomorrow morning, and home (350 miles from Kiev) before nightfall. The money? I told him I would pay his ticket and he could give me €150, which would leave him something for travel in Ukraine. "My soul is crying," he said, obviously overcome by the fact that he would be seeing his family tomorrow. His girls were 4 and 6 years old the last time he saw them almost 7 years ago. On the phone, the younger one tells him she doesn't remember him. "I don't know what to do when I see them!" Something else to worry about.
Everything went smoothly at the airport check-in this afternoon. Misha left for Lisbon at 4:00, where he would have to wait 5 hours or so for the overnight flight to Kiev. He should have left an hour ago now, making it two of the four Ukrainians in the prison Bible studies who have gone since the first of the year. Valeriy left last week, as the new Penal Code went into effect and facilitated the early release of many classes of prisoners. But the two Ukrainians who are left will not be leaving so soon. Alex and Oleg are both serving 18-year sentences and will have to serve one-half before being eligible for release. One has served 5 years and the other only 3, so I expect I will be seeing them many times before they go home.
Footnotes:1) A similar situation happened back in 2005 with
Romeo. It was interesting to see the parallels as I re-read
that posting.
2) Misha is the one who gave me a drawing for Christmas last year. You can see a close-up of it
here. Now, he was unexpectedly at the house, so I asked him to stand beside his work of art. He very reluctantly agreed, but here is the photo:
![](https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiMECSKn06oEA6-VkM3-S8VhxglZJqfNgfM8lmI9QKLEiV6NRLO_PMmtEw_1FPUEG-7FDUldtukjOY2dDni9W_EubwovKycwTQj5uMbemysAyKjXFTwbnHKqP1gEwf6NTmVemeK/s320/DSC01863.JPG)
He told me this morning that he studied art in high school: painting, drawing and sculpting. Since he didn't have the money to pursue his interest at a proper School of Art, he took a vocational course in welding, a job he hates, but it was what he could find. I pray that he not only continues to carry the Word of God in his heart, but that God would allow him to express his love for beauty and art somehow when he gets home. I am resigned to the fact that we will probably never know in this life what happens to Misha from here on out. It will not be easy for him to go back into a traditional Orthodox culture and follow the Bible, but we have given him to the Lord to be watched over. Your prayers for him are appreciated.