Opinion – Marina Izidro: What the Ukrainian refugee boy and the Brazilian journalist have in common

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“I know who Pele is,” Andrii told me. “Serious?” I asked. “Yes, he won three World Cups. But he died recently.” Andrii is nine years old and a refugee in England, a victim of the war in Ukraine.

We are taking a break from recording a report on the British government program in which families host Ukrainians in their homes. Andrii and his mother, Maryna, fled Ukraine last March.

After months of living with a lady in England, the arrangement expired and mother and son were nearly homeless. Thanks to the help of another Englishwoman, Maryna was able to rent a small apartment. In the living room of the new house, which has two old sofas and a small wooden table, the boy picks up a ball, starts dribbling alone and, after talking about Pelé, continues: “I also know Roberto Carlos, Ronaldinho, Ronaldo. I love Neymar. ” And he goes on: “In the World Cup I supported Argentina, Brazil and England. Brazil scored that goal!” – he opens a smile and mimics Richarlison’s volley against Serbia.

What could a Brazilian journalist and a Ukrainian child who have never seen each other and come from totally different worlds have in common —besides the fact that his mother and I have the same name, mine with i, hers with y? The sport. It’s impressive how it instantly unites, creates bonds, brings a little distraction to someone who, so young, has already experienced the trauma of having to hastily escape his country because of a war that he may not even understand.

Andrii is polite and friendly. My namesake is a doctor, but she can’t practice her profession here with her diploma from Ukraine. We joked about our names. She says that, as soon as they arrived in the UK, Andrii got a place at school, he fit in, he was praised by the teachers. He studies twice as much because he follows classes at the Ukrainian school over the internet – except when the war leaves the place without electricity.

He finishes his homework, runs to his room and brings a number 10 shirt, the uniform of the school where he plays. “I’ve already scored 55 goals,” he says proudly.

I ask if he likes any other sport. “Capoeira!”, says the mother. At that time, the eyes that shine are mine. I trained for seven years as a teenager and I am passionate. Andrii shows me beautiful videos of a sea of ​​kids in white playing capoeira on a sunny day in a park in Ukraine, including him.

How sunny life was before the war. We found out that we were from the same group, Senzala. What a small and huge world at the same time.

“My birthday is in two days,” he said, still with the ball at his feet. I didn’t ask if there would be a cake or a party. Maybe there is no money. I wanted to ask so many questions, but I would never dare. Where are the little friends from Ukraine? Does the park where I played capoeira still exist? What about your toys, your house? Well, he is healthy, has a heated house, fresh food, goes to school, plays sports, is close to his mother. How many children are not so lucky?

Maryna explains that her parents are in Ukraine and she fears for their lives every day (the boy’s father is not mentioned). When the war is over, they will return, because “the country will need us to be rebuilt”.

How the world would be better if we focused on what unites us, not what theoretically separates us.

I say goodbye hoping that Andrii and Maryna will soon be able to return to the life they now only see through cell phone videos.

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