Ukrainian Now

It was just over a year ago.  Russia had launched an invasion of Ukraine and, in those first days, it looked like it was going to be a blowout victory for Russia.  At least that’s what I heard and read.  It was like Muhammed Ali, in his prime, going up against a club fighter.  Ukraine didn’t stand a chance.  I had no real idea of why Russia was invading or really anything about Ukraine, other than our past president had tried to strong arm their current president and ended up getting impeached for it.  Ukraine wasn’t on my radar at all and the whole thing would probably be over in a week or so anyway, and nobody would pay much attention.  End of story.  Except it wasn’t.

It turned out the Ukrainians didn’t get the memo.  They didn’t roll over and their president didn’t catch the first flight out (which was offered by the United States).  “I don’t need a lift, I need ammunition” he boldly said, and it was transmitted around the world in a flash.  It was a gutsy move, but it placed him firmly in the center of the western media circus and caught everyone's attention.  He was the biggest longshot since David went up against Goliath.  I figured he’d have his 15 minutes of fame and end up in the crosshairs of a firing squad or get blown to smithereens by a missile.  I was wrong.  Everyone was wrong.  And every night, this guy would come out and lift his nation's spirits and tell them they not only could win, but would win.  You can’t help but admire that kind of spunk.

For 6 months this went on and like most Americans, I was rooting for him and rooting for them.  They were the underdog and I'm no fan of Putin. I wanted to help, but what does an average guy do other than send a few bucks to an international relief organization I’d never even heard of.  Heck, I don’t think I’d ever met a single person from Ukraine that I knew of.  That was about to change.  

In late November, the Sunday Roanoke Times carried a front page article about a young Ukrainian woman who came to Roanoke with her son as refugees.  It was the kind of story that you can’t not read.  It was heartbreaking and unimaginable to me, but also a story of courage and strength.  It was written by my friend Heather Quesinberry (Rousseau).  I sent her a text to tell her how it moved me and how much I admired her writing.  That led to an exchange of texts, which led to more texts, which ended up with a Christmas party being planned for mid December for this young mother (Jenya), her son Egor and the family they lived with - Anna (also from Ukraine), Travis and son Emmett.  I sure didn’t see that coming.  

Having traveled a bit internationally, I was pretty certain there would be culture gaps to cross. How do Ukrainians celebrate Christmas?  What other cultural landmines might exist (that you only learn about when you travel somewhere)?  My buddies Greg, Cellie and Mollye wanted to perform a song Tom Paxton and John McCutcheon wrote called “Ukrainian Now”, which is a very emotional song.  Too emotional perhaps?  We struggled with that, but in the end, our new Ukrainian friends very much appreciated it and I think it helped form a bond between us.  Then there was trying to figure out what else would be fun and appropriate?  Jenya had the right answer - dancing!  Every aspect of planning (or lack of planning) worked out phenomenally, as it seldom does in real life.  

Since that day in mid December, we’ve had several other occasions to gather with the local Ukrainian community and develop bonds of friendship.  Most recently the Ukrainian community came together to commemorate one year of defending their land with a rally in downtown Roanoke.  I can’t even begin to describe the emotions I witnessed.  It’s better to let you hear what our Ukrainian friend Anna Miroshnychenko said as she addressed the rally that day [big thanks to Heather Quesinberry for capturing that piece of video].  

What have I learned along the way that I didn’t know before?  The first thing I learned was that much of what I thought I knew was wrong.  As Brad Paisley’s new song "Same Here" makes so clear, Ukrainians are just like us.  They love each other.  They laugh hearty.  They cry hard. They love to dance (especially Jenya) and have big meals and include everyone. Ukrainians celebrate life and love and feel pain in exactly the same ways we do.  They have tremendous pride in their country and stand tall with dignity, honor, grace and the same love of freedom and democracy that we do. Those who came here as refugees like Jenya, are very grateful to us for providing safety and support. They are eager to work, but also dream of returning home to Ukraine someday to rejoin their families and rebuild their nation.  They are well educated and had great jobs and first class cities back home.  They aren’t from some backward third world country where women ride in ox carts and wear babushkas.  They are just like us.

Ukraine is a small country, smaller than Texas.  They are outgunned and outmanned by the Russian invaders.  They are literally fighting for national survival against the most brutal dictator since Adolf Hitler.  What is happening in Ukraine is nothing less than genocide - the destruction of their land and culture and the annihilation of their people on a scale that could rival the Holocaust if not stopped.  There are those in America who say that we shouldn’t support them with money and resources, that we should keep our money at home and let that nation fall.  God help us.  Ukrainian defenders are all that stands between us and World War III.  And.... they are just like us.  An attack on them is an attack on us.  As Tom Paxton and John McCutcheon put it so eloquently, I am Ukrainian now.  Like my father before me, I will fight the evil that confronts us and support my new friends.  We all should.

Photo By Jenya Shulim Photography - eugeniashulim@gmail.com 

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