Stories from the Stage

CHRISTINE BOUTROS: I'm on a island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean.

What will home be without our son?

DONTA' BROUSSARD: I'm in Pakistan, staying at a random family's home.

They fed me, gave me their bedroom.

In this moment, I felt like a family.

KATERYNA AKYMENKO: And every news feed screams, "The war is coming to Ukraine."

And instead of running away, we're coming back home to Kyiv.

THERESA OKOKON: Tonight's theme is "No Place Like Home."

What is home?

For some, it's an actual house, a place that's filled with our loved ones and the memories that we have built there.

For some, it is a country left behind, a place that is only accessible when dreaming.

Sometimes home drifts away from us.

Sometimes it transforms right before our very eyes.

And sometimes we find it in the places that we were least expecting to see it.

Tonight's stories might just transform your understanding of what home means.

BOUTROS: I'm Christine Boutros.

I grew up in Australia, in a large Egyptian family and community, and now I live here in Boston as a museum educator.

In what ways have you seen museums change over the years?

I think there has been a democratization in who is the expert.

I think I see a lot of museums opening up to the community and really embracing what the community has to say, and share, and... It, it's a good thing to see that it's finally opening up that way.

And in terms of telling your own story, what drew you to this experience?

Like, is this your first time sharing a story in this way?

And what drew you to it?

This is the first time that I have shared a story in this kind of way.

I've never thought of myself as a storyteller.

I think I'm more of a participant and a listener of stories.

So was there a moment when you were, like, "I, I have a story and I need to tell it"?

I would say it was more of a feeling that I needed to get out of my system.

I dream of traveling when I grow up.

I'm 18, I move to Melbourne for college, two hours away from my Egyptian parents, who are always in my business.

(audience chuckles) I am finally independent, but not for long.

When I'm 22, my parents move to Melbourne... (audience laughing) ...struggling to be with empty nesting, and insist that me and my siblings move back into the home with them.

(audience chuckles) I'm not impressed with the situation.

I have... (audience chuckles) I have six months left to finish my degree, and the only way to keep my independence from my loving-yet-suffocating family is to get the hell out of there.

(audience chuckles) I do a gap year in Yokohama, Japan.

In Yokohama, I am working, I am traveling the way that I had dreamt of.

I meet Chris.

He's an American from Kansas City.

(audience chuckles) He's wonderful.

He's so wonderful that it is difficult for me to leave when my time is up to go back to Melbourne to finish school.

Chris and I are doing long distance.

I'm 25.

I'm living back at home with my folks.

(audience chuckles) I miss Chris.

I think about moving back to Japan all the time, but I can't.

My mum has breast cancer.

My grandmother in Egypt dies.

What kind of child would I be if I was to leave at such a difficult moment?

Chris is wonderful-- he is so understanding.

He moves to Melbourne.

My mum is in remission, Chris and I marry.

We have a son, Tilo, in 2004.

Tilo is the first grandchild for both sides of the family.

Tilo's arrival into the world is my arrival to home.

It doesn't matter where we are.

As long as the three of us are together, I am home.

Tilo is a feisty, stubborn child with an obsession for trains and airplanes.

(audience chuckles) We spend hours at the train station, watching the trains go by.

Sometimes we go on train safaris, not knowing our destination.

Usually, it's the beach-- we love the ocean.

When Chris and I go to the airport, we have to factor in an hour or two to avoid the tantrums, so that Tilo can watch the planes land and take off.

When Tilo is eight, Chris suggests we move to Kansas City.

He has lived in Melbourne for 11 years.

That is a long time to be away from family.

I agree on the condition that it's for only five years.

Kansas City opens up new doors and an exciting career for me in museums.

I love it-- I love Chris's family, the new friends that we're making.

Tilo's love for airplanes continues.

(audience chuckling) Five years turn into six years.

I am in the middle of the United States of America, landlocked.

(audience laughs) I miss the ocean.

Chris and Tilo miss the ocean.

Chris is working online, so when I see a position at a museum in Honolulu, I go for it.

I uproot my family, my home, to be surrounded by a large body of water.

In Honolulu, Tilo graduates from high school with his interest in planes intact.

He takes a gap year, lives at home.

He takes another gap year to contemplate his future.

(audience laughs) Chris and I are eager for him to figure it out, but we don't want to see him leave.

We've lived in Honolulu for five years.

Tilo is 19-- it's June of 2024.

He hears from a university, 12-and-a-half thousand miles away, that he has been accepted into-- it's in Melbourne.

(audience laughs) To study aviation.

(audience laughs) We are about to become empty nesters.

I'm on a island in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, adrift.

For so long, my home has been Chris and Tilo and all the places that we've lived-- our family and our friends and our memories.

What will home be without our son?

Unlike my parents, we don't follow Tilo to Melbourne.

(audience chuckling) We give him the gift of space.

Instead, I take a job in Boston at my dream museum and I take Chris with me.

We don't feel like empty nesters.

We're distracted by the move and getting Tilo situated in Melbourne to start college in March.

June and July is Tilo's winter break.

He comes and visits us in Boston.

I'm excited to show him the museum where I'm working and the places that we enjoy in Boston.

It's no surprise that Tilo is the one that takes us to Castle Island, where you have a really great view of the Logan Airport.

(audience laughing) For him, it's the perfect combination between the ocean and airplanes.

We sit there for hours watching the planes land and take off while Tilo describes the technical features of every single airplane that is flying above us.

(audience laughing) This is our special time.

The next day, we have to take Tilo to Logan Airport.

Chris and I are dreading our goodbye.

(inhales) This is what empty nesting feels like-- empty.

It hits me.

As we enter the airport, I can hear my parents' voices saying to me, "Christine, when are you moving back to Melbourne?"

I understand them-- this, this is karma.

(audience laughs) As we head to the TSA security entrance, I am weeping.

Tilo is comforting me.

In between the sobs, I let out my final nags.

"Tilo, don't forget to change the sheets.

"Tilo, brush your teeth.

(audience laughing) Tilo, call us when you get home."

We say our final goodbyes and watch Tilo walk away.

The tears continue.

The TSA officer at the security entrance, she sees me, she consoles me.

(audience chuckling) She sees my grief.

And the loss of my home.

My home is split in two, with Tilo in Melbourne and me and Chris here in Boston.

(breathes deeply) Chris jokes that Tilo now comes from a broken home, and he broke it.

(audience laughing) We miss Tilo.

I miss Tilo.

Thank you.

(cheers and applause) BROUSSARD: My name is Donta' Broussard.

Some people online call me the Bearded Backpacker.

I'm from Lafayette, Louisiana.

I live in Houston, Texas.

I work as a senior data analyst.

Outside of that, weekends, holidays, nights, I'm a travel content creator.

And I understand that you like to travel alone.

So can you talk to me about how you got started in that and why you like to go alone?

When I first started backpacking, I was joined by a few friends.

Eventually, things changed once I started going to different places.

I started to go a little further, I started to go to more remote places that many people really wouldn't want to go.

Mm.

And I realized that if I waited for people to travel with me, I would never see the world.

And did you dream of traveling when you were, like, a kid growing up in Louisiana?

BROUSSARD: Honestly, no.

No one around me was traveling.

I honestly thought that Louisiana, and Lafayette specifically, was the only place.

So if you could talk to your younger self, what do you think that he would have to say about the life that you're living now?

"Good job."

- (chuckling) And just to simply keep going.

I'm a young boy growing up in small-town Louisiana.

I'm raised by my grandparents.

My mom is fairly young, so she's in and out.

My dad isn't present in my life.

In school, the kids tease me because I'm chubby, I wear glasses-- you know kids.

No one really wants to play with me.

I'm forced to do my own thing.

Life is pretty unstable.

I'm constantly shifting between new neighborhoods, classrooms, environments.

The only thing that's stable during this time is my grandpa, who I call Papa.

On weekends, he takes me to the sale barn, and we watch horses, cows, pigs, and sheeps get auctioned off.

I'm extremely curious, so I'm asking him so many questions.

And he answers all of them.

In this moment, I feel... I feel loved.

I feel seen, I feel heard.

I feel at home.

We immediately leave to go and pick pecans and used soda cans.

We sell them for pennies.

And I think this is nonsense, because I could be playing my video game, chasing chickens, or riding my bike.

(audience chuckles) But for Papa, it's priceless, because he gets to spend time with me.

He always tells me, "Boy, you better get an education."

I don't see the importance of getting an education, because no one else in my family has an education.

So I drop out of high school.

Papa says again, "Boy, you better get an education."

This time I listen.

I go back, I take an exam, and I get my G.E.D.

I eventually move from Louisiana to Houston.

I packed up my two-door silver Camaro and I left behind everything I'd ever known, including Papa.

It was quite scary, but I did it.

(audience chuckles) I started working full-time.

I was attending school full-time, I was struggling.

It was hard living paycheck to paycheck.

I finally graduated college at the age of 30 with a degree in economics.

I was surrounded by 24-year-old kids.

I was slightly embarrassed because I was much older than them, but still proud because I was one of the first in my family to get a degree.

I then land a job as a financial analyst.

I had no idea what I was doing, honestly.

(laughing) I don't know why they gave me the job.

(laughing) I was making more money, I had PTO, and I had freedom.

With this freedom, I decided to travel.

I booked a flight, I took one backpack.

I started in Germany, I went to France, then I was in Switzerland, Belgium, and the Netherlands.

I spent two to three days in each country.

I did five countries over the course of two weeks, going extremely fast, staying in only hostels, and taking planes, trains, flights nonstop, only visiting touristy places.

I came home feeling empty.

I went back out again.

This time I'm in Poland, Austria, Hungary, Slovakia, Greece.

I came back home feeling empty again.

This time there was a shift.

I wanted to slow down, I wanted to really connect.

So I'm scrolling on Instagram and I see people in Pakistan and Afghanistan who look like me.

I, too, can go there.

So now I'm in Pakistan, staying at a random family's home.

They fed me, gave me their bedroom.

I fell ill, they gave me medicine and nursed me back to health.

In this moment, I felt like a family.

Then I was in Afghanistan, sitting in a restaurant with five guys who invited me to eat with them.

We're sitting on the floor, we have this huge plate of food in front of us, we're eating with our hands, and we're talking about the Afghan War, how it affected them and their families.

We laughed, we talked, we apologized to one another.

In this moment, I felt a connection.

I felt a brotherhood.

Then I'm in Syria, walking through a town called Jobar that was completely destroyed by the president.

I met an elderly man who lost his family.

He showed me where his grandparents once lived.

Where his home was.

He cried, I hugged him.

We ended up raising the new Syrian flag together.

In this moment, I realized that we have so much more in common than what actually divides us.

Then I'm in Iraq, sitting along the Euphrates River at 2:00 a.m.

with two guys I met that day.

We're playing dominoes, and I'm honestly losing this game.

(chuckles) We're drinking coffee.

But honestly, I, I don't feel bad, because in this moment, I feel seen, I feel heard, I feel a connection with these guys.

Then I'm in Iran, sitting on a rooftop in Yazd with a few strangers, and we're watching the sun set.

We're eating desserts I can't even name.

They're Persian desserts.

They ask me what it's like to be a Black man in America.

I tell them.

I ask them, "What is it like to be a woman in Iran?"

And they answer.

In this moment, I realize everything I thought I knew about Iran suddenly did not feel true.

Now when I get off a plane in a new country, I still hear Papa's voice saying, "Boy, get an education."

(chuckles) You see, Papa never got an education, nor did he leave Louisiana.

But the lessons he instilled in me has taken me places we both could never imagine.

I realize that home isn't just four walls or one place on a map.

Home is the love Papa gave me.

The lessons he instilled in me.

The quiet rides back from Sunset, Louisiana.

Those pecan trees.

But also in Afghanistan, the cafes in Lebanon, the dirt roads in Haiti, the pyramids in Egypt, the coastal lines in Oman.

Sadly, Papa passed away.

I know he was proud that I did get an education.

But I wonder how he would feel knowing that the world has become my biggest teacher.

And yes, I do travel solo.

But I'm no longer that lonely little boy.

I've managed to make connections in every part of the world.

Many who are now my friends, my family.

I've learned so much about myself and the world, so I've realized that home isn't just one place.

Home is wherever I find connection.

(audience murmurs) Thank you.

(cheers and applause) KATERYNA AKYMENKO: My name is Kateryna Akymenko.

I'm Ukrainian.

I'm a visiting scholar at U.C.

Berkeley University and also, I am a co-founder of Deep Tech Security Accelerator in Silicon Valley, which helps Ukrainian defense startups to develop the innovations in Ukraine and the world.

So your work is in technology, education, and entrepreneurship.

Yes.

How did you get into that work, and was that always your plan?

AKYMENKO: I'm not sure it was a plan.

It just turned out like this.

When I was a little girl, I was not playing, you know, dolls, pretending I am a mom with many kids.

But I definitely remember I played the teacher.

So at the end, I, I didn't become a teacher, but I choose the education because I believe that education help our countries to prosper.

OKOKON: Mm.

Is this your first time telling a story onstage?

It's my first story on the stage.

Mm-hmm.

- First time, yeah.

So it's a, it's a big challenge, but also, it's a big honor.

It's my personal story, but the end of it, I think it's very similar to many, many stories for Ukrainians right now.

OKOKON: Mm-hmm.

- And I would love to, for people to hear it.

I am four years old, and coming into the kitchen and taking from the kitchen counter my mom's magnesium pills.

She's stressed one more time.

After the fight with my dad.

My dad is an alcoholic.

When he is drunk, he breaks things in the house.

Sometimes he hits my mom.

I'm just a little child, but I remember these moments very vividly.

I'm 15 years old.

Nothing has changed.

My brother, my mom, me, and even our dog, we afraid of every evening.

Because when he comes back home, we don't know what to expect.

Would it get dangerous?

Would he breaks things again?

Or would he hit not only my mom, but also my brother or me?

So I try to find the ways to feel myself more comfortable.

So I run away-- I escape from the house.

I spend time with my friends.

We have fun.

I feel safe with them.

I'm 17 years old.

And finally my brother and I, we forced our mom to divorce our dad.

And he moved out.

But we stayed at the same place.

And no matter how my mom tried to make this place home for us, it never helped.

The walls are poisoned for me.

So I run away again.

I start to travel in Ukraine and outside of Ukraine.

And in Ukraine, while traveling and doing camping, I met my husband, my future husband, Sasha.

And our relationship itself became a home for me.

I could imagine to build a family with him, to travel together, and to raise a child.

And that what we did.

We had our son Taras and we made travel our family tradition.

January 2022nd.

I will remember forever.

This our latest vacation.

The three of us, my husband, my son, and me.

My son is four years old and we are in Sri Lanka, discovering the new country for us.

We are doing safari.

We're watching elephants, snakes, leopards.

So could you imagine how fun it is for four years old?

And of course, for us, as well.

But at the same time, the real life is going on in a parallel in our cell phones.

And every news feed screams, "The war is coming to Ukraine."

And instead of running away, we're coming back home to Kyiv.

Month later, we all wake up to the explosions.

February 24, 2022nd.

This date we're going to keep in our hearts forever, all Ukrainians.

4:30 a.m., and we wake up to the explosions.

I turn around to Sasha and ask him, "It couldn't be it, could it?"

And he said, "It is-- the war has started."

Probably, this is the last thing you want to tell your mom when you wake her up at 6:00 a.m.

Somehow, somehow she missed the sounds.

We gathered all together, we took our car, Peugeot 2008.

We packed our stuff.

And the car became a home for us for two days.

It carried me, our son, my husband, his father, my mom, cat, and the dog.

(audience chuckles) You would probably love to Google Peugeot 2008, right?

Now?

(audience chuckling) Yeah, I would, too.

(chuckles) So we went west part of Ukraine.

We were sure that the Ukrainian army and our people will not let Russia to go so far, but that Kyiv was definitely a target for them.

Once Kyiv region was liberated from Russians, from Russian army, we went back to Kyiv.

Now I'm telling you this story here from U.S., right?

I'm here with my son.

I'm a visiting scholar at Berkeley University.

Now I'm safe, thanks to your country.

We just got back from Kyiv.

We spent the summer there with my son and my husband, because my husband, he cannot leave Ukraine, because of the martial law, so we come to visit him.

When I was four years old, I couldn't protect my mom.

I couldn't protect my family.

When I was 15 years old, I ran away from the problems and violence in my home.

But now I have these problems and violence in my home again.

And I'm not running away.

I do everything I can to help my country to prosper.

Now the family for me is all Ukraine.

Now the home for me is whole Ukraine, including the occupied territories by Russia.

Once I cross the border, I feel home.

I don't need walls in my apartment in Kyiv.

I don't need any walls.

I just need to see "welcome to Ukraine" and I'm home.

And we won't give up our home.

Slava Ukraini.

MAN: Heroyam slava.

(applause)