Articles by Olga

In the spring of 1999 I had attempted suicide.

It was a lovely May morning in the Appalachian Mountains and I was on my way to pay college tuition, which I did not have. A woman with a big crooked nose, black hair, and a hairy wart on her chin looks at me across the desk. A large gold tablet with her University Registrar title separates us. Anxiously, in my broken English, I begin to tell my story, hoping she will understand the human struggle of working three part time jobs, picking through dumpsters for clothes and food, and washing dishes late at night at restaurants so I can put myself through school in America. Still, it’s not enough money.

The hairy-wart lady pulls the tiny clerk glasses down to the tip of her nose… CLICK HERE to read the full article.

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A BIRTH AT A FUNERAL: REWRITING THE VICTIM STORY by Olga Aura

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Aunt Tanya’s hands begin to tremble, “What do you mean ‘no grave’?” “The mortician brought the body,” Peter motions to a tall thin man with black hair standing next to the casket. “But the Russian guys from the church did not dig out a grave. There is nowhere to put the body.” Wrinkles forming on his forehead, Peter points behind him to a small green lawn with tombstones lined in long rows…

Aunt Tanya has crossed the tipping point, and the dam breaks, waves of raw grief flooding the parking lot. “Mother died and I can’t even let her rest in peace. Why did I bring her to America?!” Other relatives are quickly gathering around Aunt Tanya. Like scolded animals they stand in the cold, their tails tucked under. Helpless, they are ready to crawl back home to lick their wounds and come back tomorrow. CLICK HERE to read the full article.