Te move to Ukraine had been hard


for me. Te transition to a different country, new school, and then a new capitalist society took its toll on everyone, but for teenage guys it was especially hard. Like so many other guys my age, I somehow slipped through the cracks. Te first year I moved to Ukraine, I became best friends with a kid my age named Pavel. We were inseparable. We spent all our free time together, and eventually started getting into trouble together. It started out as petty theſts, shopliſting, pickpocketing. Stealing bicycles and picking pockets evolved into auto theſt and mugging. Eventually we started working for the


local crime organization, or as it is more commonly called, the mafia. We were responsible for collecting dues from local businesses or beating up proprietors that didn’t pay. Although we were low in the ranks of the mafia, it offered us a certain amount of security. Te fact that my father still worked for the local militia also helped. When I was arrested, he was usually able to get me off. Finally the day came, however,


when even my father couldn’t get me out of trouble. Te charges were too serious, and Pavel and I were taken to stand before a judge. Pavel, at 18, was sentenced to three years in prison. My


continued > bmaamissions.org n theGLEANER 13


“Despite Pavel being sent to prison and my own probation, my life didn’t change. I continued down the same


destructive path I had been on – crime, alcohol, and drugs.”


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