Europe is a land of unexpected encounters. Every time as I cross its borders I am again convinced that there can never be too much history. The mixture of ethnicities and races can also produce surprising effects. The Belgian writer Francoise Lalande had a Ukrainian last name, Wastchenko (Vashchenko), for nearly 15 years of her life. She used this name to sign her first literary works. Surprisingly, the spirit of the Wastchenkos from Odesa was imparted on Lalande, who has been on the move all her life. The author of dozens of books, Lalande shows on her own example that culture, and literature in particular, has no nationality. The Day spoke with this Belgian writer, author of biographies of Arthur Rimbaud, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, and Christian Dotremont, and teacher at the Higher Institute of Translation and Interpreting, Brussels.
“THOMAS AND KATIA WASTCHENKO LIVE IN BRUSSELS AND LEARN ABOUT THE HISTORY OF UKRAINE”
Francoise, how did you meet your first husband, Ivan Wastchenko?
“It happened at the Free University of Brussels. I had just become a student of philosophy and philology, while he was finishing his course as an engineer. At the university cafeteria he sat down at my table without as much as asking my permission, explained how I should pronounce his name correctly, and fixed a date for the next day. I was like, oh, what cheek! However, I gave in to his pressure, and we were married at an Orthodox church in Brussels next year. His father Vladimir (Volodymyr) Wastchenko left Ukraine in 1917 at the age of 17. The Wastchenkos left Odesa for Morocco, where they developed ties to a Belgian family.”
Did they leave because of the revolution?
“Of course. They had a palace in Odesa – now it houses a hospital.”
And how did the Wastchenkos become the relatives of a Belgian family?
“By chance. They met at a common acquaintances’ place in Morocco. The family came from Antwerp; they had been traveling together, and had two pretty young girls. The Wastchenkos had a title, while the Belgians had money, so they had things to arrange. Thus, Vladimir married Emilie Osterrieth, while Constantin (Kostiantyn) married her cousin, Fanny von Der Becke.”
Your children, Thomas and Katia, bear the name Wastchenko. Doesn’t this cause any misunderstandings?
“They are proud of their Ukrainian last name. They are happy to learn about their grandparents’ homeland and its history.”
And where are they now?
“In Brussels, where they live together with my grandchildren.”
You bore a Ukrainian last name for almost 15 years, and even used it as a pen name to sign your first works. Did this name influence you and your fate?
“Right you are, it did influence me a lot. Life in Odesa, holidays (Easter), and friends… I always feel joy when I remember it all. By the way, when people saw us together, they thought that I was Ukrainian. That name also evoked in me a great interest for Russian literature.”
How many times did you come to Odesa?
“I have only been there once, it was more than 25 years ago. I was invited to the USSR to participate in a congress of Soviet writers. Besides Odesa, I was also lucky to see Moscow, Leningrad, and Kyiv.”
And do you know any Ukrainian words?
“Alas, not a single one.”
“THAT NIGHT I WAS SURE I WAS GOING TO BE TORTURED TO DEATH…”
You lived in Belgium till you turned 20, and then your travels began: Zaire, Colombia, Ecuador – exotic countries. Now you are living in Tunisia. Does it normally take you long to get used to the climate? Are your men always at your side?
“Since I was a child I have always wanted to see other countries, ‘to leave’ like Rimbaud did! I wanted to discover other peoples for myself. Indeed, I feel a stranger everywhere, but I can adapt anywhere. I am a true chameleon!
“Ivan was with me in Zaire and Colombia, and my second husband, Dominique, in Morocco and Tunisia. It was actually them who brought me there: my first husband worked there as an engineer and the second, as an official in the department of culture.
“As a writer, I have to adapt everywhere. I absolutely love Guatemala. It’s an incredibly beautiful country. And the people in Morocco are so friendly. I can never forget the Congo – I have horrible memories of this country. I will never go there again!”
In the 1960s your family had to leave Zaire (as Congo was then called) under rather grim circumstances. Can you share more details?
“I remember that night in the village of Kambowe, Katanga province. As the curfew signal went off, young Greeks, who had come over for holiday, watched their parents being killed in the bushes. Mobutu’s volunteers were prowling the streets of Kambowe, searching for booze, money, and victims. They broke into homes, behaved like barbarians, drunk and drugged. That night I was sure I was going to be tortured to death, but they stole all they could, and left. They stopped two houses away, to take a Belgian couple with them. Two days later, we found the ill-fated couple in the river. They had been hacked to pieces.”
But even after that you and your second husband continued to live in exotic countries, and you keep writing books about them. Is exotica all the rage in Europe?
“What kind of exotica are you talking about? There is no fashion for it. Personally I hate that. It is nothing on the exotic side that attracts me in any country. It is the people – the weak, abused people, and the children. We are living in times in which I find plenty of material.”
You spoke of blacks killing whites. But Belgians also did horrible things in Congo…
“You are right, it all took place during colonial times… It’s a stigma for Belgium. But the former colonizers are not to blame for what is now going on in Black Africa: mass murders, rapes, corruption, and military dictatorships. Nor are they the only ones to blame for the slave trade, which had been practiced by Arabs long before Europeans appeared in Africa.”
“MY DAUGHTER PLAYED IN THE SAME FILM WITH MARINA VLADY”
A professor from Wallonia told me that Belgians were a nation of travelers and explorers, and that could be accounted for by the country’s small size, and by the desire to straighten their shoulders and get into the open, so they could have more room. Do you agree with him?
“Your professor was right, but my motivation was different. I don’t think my country is too small, and it’s too complicated to inspire me. If I travel and want to live in another country, it’s exclusively out of curiosity. The planet is so huge! And I am a writer, I can dream and render my experiences in fiction, so in my novels borders just disappear. The horizons of my imagination are unfettered.”
You had a really valuable experience working with an outstanding French writer, Georges Perec. Would you say something about it?
“Oh, he was a totally charming person! I and my children lived at his girlfriend’s place (or rather, one of his numerous girlfriends), because she was making a film at that time (with Perec’s money; he had just received the prestigious Prix Medicis). In the evening, after the filming in Paris, we went to his place, he cooked spaghetti for us and kindly let the children look through some comic strips.
“My daughter Katia starred in that film, she was always next to Marina Vlady. In the evening, when we went to a restaurant, Perec would amuse us by making rebuses on napkins.”
How would you describe your debut in literature?
“As being poetic. I published two collections of poetry under the pen name Francoise Wastchenko, one in Paris, the other in Brussels. They were called L’ambassadeur (The Ambassador) and La fumeterre (The Fumitory).”
You have authored several biographical books. Arthur Rimbaud, Jean-Jacques Rousseau, Christian Dotremont — what do they have in common, and what makes them different?
“Rimbaud, Rousseau, and Dotremont — all three of them have an exceptional talent for writing, you will not find it in any other author. They are meteors on the sky of the literature. All three were unhappy in their lives. The only difference is perhaps their respective epochs, but they share the desire for travels, walks, and reclusion.”
You were in charge of the Belgian department of Amnesty International. What did you have to do in this job?
“When I came back from South America to Brussels, I took the others’ suffering too close to heart. I remembered too well the Congolese students from Kolwezi, and the abandoned children on the streets of Bogota… I wanted to find a way to help them from Brussels. Then I met some people who were going to open a department of Amnesty International in Belgium. I love to be a pioneer! It was hard work, but exciting at the same time. Something very much like writing. It has been 40 years since then.”
