Chapter 11: A Complicated Visit

Saturday 27.04.2019

An important day was approaching. For the first time, one of the kidnapped girls was going to contact her family. Lenya had been excited for days. She would finally be able to hold her mother again.

Early in the morning, I took the lift up to reception and made it clear that we could leave our car in the garage until noon. I woke up the three young ladies by telephone. We had to be at the airport at half past ten to pick up Mrs Vernushina, but I wanted to show the young women the sea. We wouldn’t see it again so soon.

We finished breakfast around 8am. Lenya was very quiet, thinking about the meeting with her mother. Olivia and Esther, on the other hand, chatted almost non-stop. I ran out into the open air and called down into the valley. Ramona was very happy to hear my first words of welcome. All was well in the valley. Esther’s Attila and Lenya’s Vadim were well looked after. Ramona had given Olivia’s Nicolas some breast milk. His great-grandmother had given him another bottle of mixed milk. I should like to greet the three young women. She wished us a successful day and a safe journey home.

When we checked out, I was asked if we had taken anything from the minibar. I shook my head in denial, but asked my companions. They nodded in amazement. They couldn’t believe we had to pay for everything we used. They did not know about the ownership of food and drink. They had tried several things and thought it was part of the hotel’s service. It was certainly a lot of useless money to pay, but how different my girls thought made me smile.

The porter sent someone upstairs to check the consumption. I told the girls that I wanted to go to the beach with them on the way to the airport. Olivia and Esther had never been to a big ocean beach in their lives. But our Peruvian did not want to go. She begged me; she wanted to see Lucia again.

Who was Lucia? She was the girl without enough breast milk that whose baby Olivia was breastfeeding yesterday. I didn’t want to go to the park. My plan was a quick visit to the seaside, but Olivia begged energetically, full of concern for the young woman and her child. Olivia had packed two extra towels from the hotel. Now I was almost amused by the little Peruvian woman. Even the porter had to laugh when I showed him what Olivia had packed. Of course, he was supposed to put the hotel property on the bill for us.

He called a small Indio woman to exchange the used towels for new ones. Suddenly the petite woman screamed, threw herself on the floor in front of Olivia and kissed the hem of her dress. She stammered unfamiliar words in Quechua. The reception was embarrassed and one woman angrily dragged the cleaner up.

She screamed something, ran to the end of the counter, and came back with a newspaper. On the front page was Olivia in her bright yellow dress, the Catholic cross with the green stone flashing in the sun, smiling kindly at the toddler on her chest and the child’s mother. Everyone was struck by lightning. The porter translated the headline “The Angel of Trujillo, a miracle”. When two other Indio women knelt before Olivia, I was too embarrassed. Esther was moved to tears by how much Olivia and her humanity moved people here. A small crowd of hotel guests formed. Even servants came running from the kitchen to see Olivia in person.

The receptionist learned from me that Olivia had only taken the towels with her to breastfeed the baby again. When he translated this into Spanish, a storm of applause broke out. Everyone wanted to kiss Olivia. It was too much for us. I agreed with the receptionist to pay for the minibar and towels when we picked up our car. I pulled Olivia out of the crowd and we got into a taxi. The porter had followed us and told the driver where we were going.

It was not easy to find the little child woman. Eventually we found her lying on a dirty blanket. Olivia sat down with her on a bench. Our dear Peruvian was delighted to see how sweetly the little one drank from her breast. Suddenly, an elderly woman with a child stood in front of us. Olivia had just finished with Lucia’s child and was giving the young mother chocolate and nuts from the minibar. She had no idea of Mammon and capitalism. “Maybe that’s a good thing,” I wondered to myself.

The older mother’s eyes pleaded with Olivia. Her child was thirsty too. One side of Olivia’s bosom was still full. When Olivia had cleaned the little one to feed it, the man from yesterday suddenly stood in front of us and started taking pictures. I stepped between him and Olivia. Then he pulled a newspaper out of his pocket. He had written the article and asked me to take Olivia’s picture. A little unsure, I let him go.

Soon after, he asked Esther out. I quickly stepped in. “What did you tell him?” I was angry, angry with myself, but also with Esther or the man, I can’t remember. In any case, I was not quite up to the situation.

The reporter had asked why Olivia was doing this. And Esther had answered naively, “In paradise, it is normal for young women to help each other with breast milk.”

Luckily, I had already interrupted the man’s question: “In paradise?”

I had to laugh inwardly. The man was astonished to hear that we were from paradise.

“Please leave us alone. We have other worries. We don’t want to be in the press.” I told him sternly. Nevertheless, he took a few pictures when Olivia bought food from the man’s stall again and distributed it. Those 200 SOL were really better spent than the 600 - 900 SOL for a gold necklace. Olivia had to tell the vendor that we were leaving at noon, “Please don’t come back tomorrow with any more food.” My dear Peruvian woman asked me for another 200 SOL, gave it to the seller and told the women that they could get food from him tonight.

Our Peruvian was a hero. The women did not know how to thank her, stroked Olivia’s arms and hair, but then quickly retreated to the park for consuming their food. The reporter wanted to get in touch with Olivia again, so I threatened to hit him. He gave me his last newspaper. When I saw that he was crying, I stood helplessly in front of him. He was really touched, I could see that now. I patted him cheerfully on the shoulder. We were in a hurry; we had to get to the airport. He also had to go there urgently, he told me when we went to the taxi.

The flight from Lima was still twenty minutes late. I sent Olivia to the mother- and-child-toilet for a thorough wash. I told her to wash her hands, face, and breasts thoroughly. She was irritated that I was worried about her health. “Olivia, you know how sick I was because I helped a little girl.” She finally understood my concern.

We walked through the foyer of the small airport. There was shouting from the direction of the toilets. Olivia was being dragged out of the special toilet. I ran to help her. The police were already there. I stood protectively in front of Olivia. The situation was getting more and more threatening. They wanted to see Olivia’s ID.

Luckily, one of the policemen understood a few words of English. I pulled the newspaper out of my pocket with Olivia on the front page. I explained that Olivia only wanted to wash her chest because she had just given milk to two poor little children, and held out the newspaper to them.

Suddenly a ‘hardened criminal’ had become a goddess. The woman who had angrily dragged Olivia out of the room reserved for mothers fell to her knees and apologised. The policemen beamed at us and stroked Olivia’s hair.

“Everything will be fine,” I told her. Her frightened eyes stared at me inquiringly. I had not considered that I should have prepared my three companions better for life outside the valley. That’s why I told the three young women that they shouldn’t take anything from anywhere, as is the custom in the valley. Here it would be theft and they would be arrested.

Finally, we heard the plane landing. Lenya stood beside me, pale and trembling. I held her close. Esther stroked her, while Olivia had to keep shooing away locals who got too close. One woman called her “Mama Olivia”, Olivia told me worriedly.

“What does that mean?”

I told her something about Mother Theresa, gave her my tablet and sent her to a counter so she could get the Wi-Fi key. She had never been on the Internet before. A woman put her behind the counter, could not believe that such a modern dressed young woman had no idea about the Internet. She was looking for ‘Mother Theresa’ for Olivia. Then the operator gave Olivia an affectionate kiss.

Stunned, she came back. “That’s a saint.”

“Maybe you will be too,” I told her with a smile.

We were standing at the exit of the arrivals hall just after customs. My two ladies looked great in their new clothes. It was only now that I noticed that Esther’s and Lenya’s pregnant bellies were more visible than in their loose maternity dresses from the valley.

Suddenly, Lenya screamed and waved to a woman. The lady ran to us as fast as she could, carrying a heavy suitcase and a large bag, but the customs officials stopped her. She was searched for almost fifteen minutes. Lenya’s tears came again as I held her. She just wanted to run to her mum and didn’t understand what was going on and that this was the border.

Finally, the woman came to us and looked at her daughter in horror, but Lenya was already crying on her neck. Lenya’s mother broke away from the embrace far too quickly, looked reproachfully at her daughter’s belly and said a few harsh words in Russian. Lenya stopped, turned white as a chalk stone and looked at me in horror. She tried to say a few words, but her mother would not stop talking in a stern tone. Every time she tried to speak to her mother, she was met with new accusations, or so it seemed to me.

After a few minutes of high tension, Lenya just ran off, followed by Esther. The woman and I looked at each other angrily. Nevertheless, I took the stranger’s suitcase and we sat down at a table with Olivia to have a snack. Hopefully, Esther had managed to calm her friend down. I had no idea what words and insults Lenya’s mother had used and how much she had offended her daughter. It was a stupid situation we were in now.

A few minutes later, our two pregnant women called Olivia over to the counter where my little Peruvian had been given her Internet access. I was a bit relieved, but I didn’t know what was going on. Then Esther came running. Behind her came a woman who spoke English and Russian. Esther asked if I could pay 6,500 SOL for Lenya. She would be there to book her mother’s return flight. She didn’t want to see her anymore. It was only then that I realised the extent of the conflict. When I wanted to go to Lenya, Esther told me to leave Lenya alone. She had made up her mind.

The airport official who came to us wanted Mrs Vernushina’s passport. She spoke Russian very well, was also from Ukraine, and I was able to communicate with her in some English. Lenya’s mother looked at us defiantly and pulled her passport out of her pocket. She was not about to give up. I asked the uniformed woman to sit with us and help me a little while I talked to Lenya’s distraught mother.

I quickly got to the heart of how Lenya had looked forward to seeing her mother, what a great young woman she was, how she had fought for her and our lives. “She fought for us and for her, she shot her enemy Olena Kuklina, like this...”

I was stopped by the screaming translator. “The Kuklina from Odessa?”

When I nodded, she fell around my neck and kissed me on both cheeks. The woman was here because of Kuklina, she told me. She would also have her father and her two brothers on her conscience. “Is she really dead?” she asked cautiously.

On my tablet, I searched for the photos of the attack in my protected folder. Of the two dead men, the woman also knew one. When she saw the picture of Kuklina in the pool of blood, she wept violently. Lenya’s mother looked at the pictures in silence. She couldn’t believe it.

The airport employee had also come to her senses. She had to ask Lenya’s mother my questions. “What is a pregnancy against a three-year struggle for survival? You should be so proud of your daughter. She teaches our children of the same age maths, she taught five girls to swim. She is one of the most beautiful people on earth.” You could see my excitement; my hands were shaking with rage.

Lenya’s mother looked sad and had to go to the toilet. She probably just wanted to wipe away her tears. I got the passport back first. I allowed Katharina from the airport to look at more pictures. When the video of the balalaika came on and we were dancing awkwardly to it, the stern Vernushina came back. She looked at her singing daughter in amazement. Then the two women watched more films. The video of Olivia’s birthday, our first big party in the valley almost three years ago, left Katharina stunned. And when I danced a waltz with Lenya, who was only thirteen at the time, her mother cried out loud.

She went to Lenya to apologise and we followed. Lenya did not accept the apology. She was driving towards her mother when Katharina whispered to me that she should give a damn. She would have wanted to kill herself first, but no, life with us in the valley is much too good. She came to me, kissed me and said in Russian, “This is my beloved, the father of this child,” pointing to her belly. Katharina had to translate.

“We already have a little Vadim. I named him after my dear father.” Katharina knew who Vadim Vernushin was.

A little out of breath, Lenya went over to Esther. “And this is my lesbian friend, Esther. We love each other very much.” Just to provoke her mother, she kissed her girlfriend like crazy.

“And this is my dear Olivia. She was repeatedly raped by the inhuman Rus and had a child with him. And then three other men had tortured and mutilated her abdomen. They wanted to do the same to me, to torture and hurt me. That’s why they brought me here.”

Stunned by Lenya’s outburst, I stood there petrified. But then the worst came. A short time later, Katharina translated for me that the Vernushina was no longer her mother. A mother loves her child no matter what she has done. Then she sank exhausted into my arms. Suddenly, I saw the reporter again. He had recorded the proceedings on his mobile phone. I pushed Lenya onto a bench, pulled Esther over to her and ran to get the man’s mobile phone to delete the file. Only the police were able to separate us.

After checking my passport, I was allowed to leave. But they threatened to arrest me if I approached Ernesto Cueva again. He seemed very well known. The man was allowed to keep his mobile phone.

Lenya reiterated that she wanted nothing more to do with this woman, her mother. Her head was cancer red. I was afraid that if she went any further, she might have a miscarriage. With my three companions I went to the taxi rank. We left the chalk-white Vernushina. All I saw was Katharina talking to her. I hadn’t paid for the ticket, but maybe the Vernushina had a credit card.

On the way, I had Olivia ask the taxi driver if there was a beach café nearby. I wanted us all to calm down. Lenya’s eyes were fixed, her lips pressed together. There were no more tears, but that worried me even more.

Soon we were sitting on a beautiful wooden terrace overlooking the rushing Pacific. Only Olivia was hungry, we had run out of food. We drank lemonade. I smoked a cigarette. Suddenly Lenya wanted a puff of my cigarette. What was in it? One puff did not hurt your child. But the three fast puffs that followed did harm Lenya. She rolled her eyes and coughed like mad. Something incredible happened. She suddenly screamed in terror. Esther was the first to notice, Lenya had pooped in her pants. Soon I smelled it too.

Esther helped Lenya to the toilet, but it was unbearable with all the dirt. The taxi driver who was waiting for us took Olivia into town to buy a new pair of underpants and jeans for Lenya. The change of clothes was in the Landcruiser at the hotel. Esther took Lenya to a bench under the terrace. Our dear Russian was still wavering. It had just been too much today, not just the unfamiliar puffs of the cigarette. I hoped her child had not suffered any damage in her womb. I was sure I’d be able to get Lenya back. She was so strong at fifteen.

The two friends went down to the sea and I followed them. Behind a rock we were unobserved. Esther washed her friend with sea water. She was furious because Olivia had given the two towels to the Indio women with the children. Luckily, I had some napkins from the hotel in my bag. Esther then washed the dirty knickers. Olivia called out to us from the terrace upstairs. I went to her and showed her where the girls were. She ran at high speed with the new underwear to the two friends. When the three teenagers returned to our table, Lenya smiled embarrassedly. She seemed to be in control again. Esther had also cleaned the trousers and put them in the plastic bag in which the new jeans had been packed. Unfortunately, they did not fit. Lenya had to leave the top button and part of the zip open, but her top covered her naked belly.

We drove to the hotel. Katharina from the airport was waiting at the entrance. I looked at her questioningly. “Please, don’t be angry. We brought Mrs Vernushina here.”

“We?”

“Yes. Ernesto, the reporter, knew where your hotel was.”

I thanked her, looked at Lenya firmly and told her insistently that I expected her to accept her mother’s apology now. She was an alpha and shook her head defiantly. But I could be stubborn too. I sat down with Olivia and Esther against a wall outside the hotel entrance. Not a word, everyone was silent.

When Lenya asked what was going on, I said very quietly, either I go back to the valley with two Vernushinas or with none. “We have not taken on the hardships that you two strong women fight each other. She has apologized, she wants to apologize again. Now it’s over. Either you accept your mother’s apology and we drive back together, or I book two single rooms for you here in the hotel. Once you’ve come to an agreement, you can call me. Then I’ll pick you up here.”

Lenya wanted to start talking. “No,” I yelled. “That’s it. This is not a game. Your mother will come with you or you will both stay here.”

Lenya’s eyes were fixed on me again. ’This could be a bad trip home with those two fighting chickens,’ I thought.

“I’m going to the reception to book.”

The three young women sat together against the wall and talked. I went to the hotel and spoke briefly to Ernesto, who had taken his guests from the airport to the hotel. After a short discussion with Mrs Vernushina translated by Katharina I invited all three of them for coffee. First we sat together in silence.

Suddenly, the airport employee asked if she could come with us to our valley. She wanted to get away from here and what she had seen on the videos was fantastic.

“That’s not possible,” I replied. “We have a hard life. And we have no money. Everyone works voluntarily up to ten hours a day, sometimes even more, so that we can survive and from time to time have a feast like the one you saw on the video”.

“That’s communism,” she exclaimed in amazement.

I replied. “No, this is not communism. There will never be communism. It is a fantasy of some philosophers. There will always be people who want to dominate others. Some governments have lulled their people with this idea in order to exploit them better. The idea will always fail because of human selfishness.”