Perpetual Change

Random thoughts VIII...and good byes

Saying good byes involved lots of cookies and vodka, but it was generally very nice. Some people doubted I would ever come back, but most thought it was no long shot. A good summary of the sentiments would be one teacher from the Oil Technical School that said, "just whistle whenever you come to town."

My last week, I brought pizza and snacks for the teachers of my main school (a more or less normal way to send people off, or on your birthday - you are the one that supplies the party). I wore my traditional Ukrainian shirt. I was carrying a lot of stuff, and I noticed my shoe lace was untied. Just then, I was passing two men who upon seeing me in my shirt, asked if they could hold the things I was carrying so that I could tie my shoe. I was a bit shocked by the random act of kindness; something very rare on the streets especially among strange men. After I thanked them and began to walk away, they asked if I was with one of the leading political parties (It was BYuT for all you Ukrainians reading).

I was surprised at the end how I could pick out which traditional songs were of hutsul origin (a mountain ethnic group near where I lived) when at the beginning of my service, I couldn't even recognize all the names of oblasts/states even after I had studied them.

St. Andrew’s is a very interesting holiday that involves mostly women predicting their future lives. It is like a whole night dedicated to the middle school game of M*A*S*H. You should see the pictures. They throw shoes over shoulder or walk them to the door to see who will be first to marry. They cast wax into water or apple peels to predict the initials of their beloved. They ask the first person on the street their name, or spin floating candles in water to catch fire to a name of their betrothed or his mother's. They hang a ring on one of their single hairs to tink in glass of water how many years before the big day. They draw lots for money, home or children. Men fish rings out of buckets like bobbing for apples, and on and on and on. It is very entertaining.

Van Hellsing is very close to the name of Romania in a Ukrainian local dialect (which either comes from the Romanian or Hungarian word). I wonder if this name is merely the name of the neighboring region to Transylvania is where the mythical hero came from. Also, Ihor is a common name in these parts.

This is really not a random thought, nor is the next, but they didn't fit in any other post. One night at my adult English club, as we were sitting in a circle and someone else was talking, one university student reached over and grabbed my pocket watch which was resting in my lap, to check the time. I was leaning back in my seat at the time, and it happened so fast, I didn't know quite what to do. I made a distraught and perplexed face. Several Ukrainians and Americans in the group saw the whole thing. They thought it was hilarious. The speaker was then curious what only a few people, scattered around, were laughing at.

In January, I took a friend to Nahuyevychi (I know that means nothing to any of you, but it is liberating to finally use the place name for these locations.) That is where a famous Ukrainian poet was born to a blacksmith. The guides have seen me so often (a half dozen times in 2 years), that they don't charge me anymore! I really felt like I had made it. The first time I went, I was escorted by the village priest's son, who was one of my students, they didn't charge him then.

At the HIV conference I went to last year, we had some session and someone said “does anyone sell abstinence?” Someone else replied, "Someone sold it to me when I got to this country.”

At another session someone said, “what difference does it make that my smoking mother died of lung cancer. Is it her fault?” I found this very interesting. No it's not her fault she died of cancer and that is certainly horrible, but it is her fault that she smoked which greatly increased her chances of cancer. This was during a session about stigma and how people always want to know how it happened, or why, and it doesn't matter how it happened when determining treatment. I certainly agree, but how does empathy and guilt work with dealing with risky behaviors. Do people hold any responsibility for their risky behaviors? If we say yes, we risk discrimination, but if we say no, we risk them not taking responsibility. How do you increase prevention without increasing stigma?

Finally, on an even more somber note, I want to dedicate this post to Baba Vytvytsya. She died while making dumplings at home; her daughter was out planting potatoes. I was invited to the funeral in the mountain village. I had known them fairly well, stayed in their house, slept in the same bed as her grandson which is the bed she was laid out in. Her and her whole family are such kind people. I was struck by how much work a funeral is; people came from so far, so quickly, and in 2 days the village had dug the grave, secured a coffin, organized the cooking and serving of the funeral feast. They really all work together. We ate in the same room where she had been laid 2 hours earlier. It had been transformed into a dining area while we were at the church and graveyard. We prayed, toasted (you don't clink glasses at a funeral), ate, then prayed, departed. The alcohol and food definitely lightens peoples moods, and what starts so dour, always has an air of respect and solemnity, but definitely ends more festively. I wish those that survive her (which are many) continue on hopefully, and find happiness and blessings in this year to come. I hope to come back to visit them. May her soul find rest in peace.

Labels: random thoughts

posted by jjs @ 1:24 PM