Sliding on the Snow Stone (30 page)

Her husband, Volodko, stepped forward with a platter, upon which was a loaf of bread and a dish of salt, the traditional Ukrainian welcome.

I must admit I was in something of a daze as we walked out of that building and I looked around me. It was one thirty and the sun was blazing above us, the sky was a misty blue, and beneath me was my beloved Ukrainian soil. The air I breathed was from a wind blowing across from those wonderful, magnificent Carpathian Mountains. It filled my nostrils, and my ears and all of my senses were tingling. I have to admit, it was strange, like stepping into a dream. We left the airport and we climbed into a minibus hired by my nephew and my journey back to Vinnitsya began.

The roads were bumpy and full of holes and cracks, a reminder once again of the extent of Soviet neglect. The constant bumping over holes in the road and the excessive engine hum made conversation impossible so I sat and took in the scenery.

We passed by many areas with settlements. There were blocks of high rise flats dotted around the landscape, one or two run-down shopping centres, and many sprawling estates, with houses of different sizes. One thing that was common to all of them was the shabbiness, the peeling and the pitted paintwork, the piles of rubble and the broken fences. Ukraine, to my searching eyes, looked second-hand; it looked like a junk yard.

To take my mind away from the wrecked scenery that surrounded us, I thought about Mother. I so wanted to go to the place where she was buried. So I could say a few words to her. At the age of 15, I’d been torn away from her, tossed onto the mercy of the wind. I’d been lucky and survived, when so many hadn’t. I wished I could tell her I was okay, and that I’d found a wife and raised a family. The fact she’d lived until she was 90 made me feel a little better, but only briefly, when I considered she may have spent her days wondering what happened to her husband and her youngest son. I trembled when I thought about Father and his sudden death. I knew I had to tell her about that. That’s why I was coming home.

My wife Maria chattered away to my niece and my nephews and I was grateful to her for that. I joined in the conversation now and again, but to be truthful, I had too much swirling around my head and my heart to be properly included.

For five hours we sat on that minibus, squirming and fidgeting. The seats were very hard and we were all getting a little bit sore and stiff. Halfway through our journey, we stopped at a petrol station to refuel and I went inside to see what I could buy with the Ukrainian currency I’d got.

‘
Welcome!’ The shop owner was a small fellow, with thinning hair and a nodding smile you couldn’t ignore. ‘Please take a look around, I have much here that may be of interest to you.’ I nodded back to him and then browsed through his wares. There wasn’t much, just a typical selection of chocolates and candies and a rack of CDs. I flicked through them, but they were all of a modern style, so I wasn’t interested. It was a shame to see such an enthusiastic fellow with so little to trade, so I bought a few chocolate bars from him. It was my first purchase with
hryvnia
, real Ukrainian money. I handed him the notes only too gladly as, in my mind, it cemented the fact that Ukraine was a free country, and its citizens and visitors had a currency to trade in. That’s what I wanted to do. To see how people were faring in their day-to-day business, and give whatever money I could to them, even though it wasn’t much. I wanted the Ukrainian economy to grow and prosper, and for Ukraine to get stronger.

After the refuelling was done, we all got back on the minibus, a little less sore thanks to that leg stretch and short walk.

Stefan, my nephew, who was driving the minibus, switched on the CD player and some traditional Ukrainian music arrived to accompany us on our journey. We sang along to ‘
Oy Chorna, ya si Chorna
’ a song about a young Ukrainian girl, and several others tunes followed that one. Maria and I led the singing and it filled me with great joy to hear so many of us sharing these great melodies in my beloved Ukraine.

The time passed quicker than I’d expected, and some familiar sights caught my eye. We passed by the lake where I used to go swimming with my friends. I looked across and there were groups of boys there, in their shorts, splashing around and fooling about just like I’d done with my friends all those years ago. A lump formed in my throat. We passed by the town hall, the place where the Nazis had based themselves during their occupation of the area, and where Father and I so narrowly escaped execution.

We’d arrived, and were heading into the heart of my old home town. Stefan drove the minibus around a few familiar bends and turns, and then, it wasn’t long before I knew exactly where I was. Either side of us were groups of houses, some which I recognised, and others which appeared to be much newer. I scanned the dwellings on our left hand side, and my eyes fixed on one particular house. As the minibus slowed down, I couldn’t take my eyes off it. The minibus stopped. Stefan turned the engine off and announced that we’d arrived. I put my hands together and whispered a prayer of thanks to the Lord. Then, I stepped down from the bus and stood looking at my old house. It wasn’t much, but it was my home. It was where I was born and grew up. So many years had passed by, more than 50. For a few seconds, I gazed at the house. It hadn’t changed all that much. The approach up to it had the same well-trodden track and there were neatly trimmed grass verges either side.

I walked up to the side of the house and I saw the door and the set of steps leading up to it. It was just as I remembered. As I stood there, I thought I could detect the aroma of fresh baking in the air, just like Mother might have done. The steps were freshly painted in the same shade of red that Father had always liked. It was so familiar.

I dropped to my knees in front of the house. Silently, I gave thanks to the Lord for leading me up to this moment. I placed the palms of my hands on the ground in front of the house and then I lowered my head and kissed the ground.

I was so happy to be back. A jigsaw which had been thrown in the bottom of a cupboard had finally found its missing pieces and put itself back together again. That was how it felt.

And I truly believe Ukraine will find its way, just like I found my way. There are many obstacles to overcome, but the human spirit and resolve can overcome them. I’d travelled many miles to reach that moment and in my heart the journey had been unending. At last, I got what I’d always wanted. Finally, I found freedom.

Ten years later . . .

The waitress smiles at us as she wipes our table down, and Bronec and I grin back at her. All the staff in the café know us well, we’re regulars here, and they often have a little joke with us. The café’s just reopened after redecoration and the smell of paint is still in the air. The carpet beneath our feet is lush and thick. There are new light fittings and the walls have been painted cream, whereas beforehand, they were a deep red. It feels like we’re in a completely different café.

‘
It’s a funny feeling isn’t it, sitting here?’ says Bronec, ‘it’s just like being in a different world, don’t you think?’

It’s been a few years since I made that trip back to Ukraine, and I didn’t even know Bronec then. I only got to know him in the last few years. Of course, we’ve talked about our lives and the journeys we’ve both made, but I’ve never really spoken to him in any detail about that visit. I haven’t really spoken to anyone about it. It was important to rejoice and celebrate going back home, and, in many ways, it set me free, but it wasn’t quite what I expected.

‘
Bronec . . . I know what you mean only too well.’ There are two mugs of steaming hot coffee on the table in front of us. I stir a couple of spoonfuls of sugar into mine, and take a big mouthful. ‘It reminds me of when I went back home to Ukraine. You know what? When I got off the minibus and saw my old house, I couldn’t believe it. It looked the same, but I couldn’t believe how small it was when I got inside!’

Bronec smiles, ‘I know what you mean. Things are not always as we remember them.’

‘
You’re right. You see, I went there with expectations. When I was a boy, my family had some really beautiful religious icons around the house. We had one of the Last Supper in the kitchen, the Holy Trinity and a portrait of Mary and Jesus in the living room, and one or two others. You know the kind of paintings I mean?’ Bronec nodded, and I continued. ‘Those paintings had the most beautiful frames, carved from oak, with very intricate patterns and a gold painted finish. They were very fine. But when I walked into the kitchen for the first time after all those years, the painting of the Last Supper wasn’t there, and when I walked into all the other rooms I saw that none of those others remained either.’

I take another sip of my coffee and Bronec does the same with his.

‘
Well, I didn’t want to make a fuss about it right there and then, because a big party had been laid on for us. There was food and drink on every inch of the kitchen table. We had a great time, and I was so happy to be back in the bosom of my family, back in my old home. We partied into the early hours. But it kept preying on my mind. So, the next day, when it was early and everyone was still either in bed, or just starting to stir, I asked Tanya, my niece, about it. Of course, she didn’t know, or she couldn’t remember anything about it. Maybe she was too young. So I turned to my brother’s wife, Hala, and asked her the same question. She looked into my eyes, and I could see a great sadness deep inside her. She kept it well-hidden, as we all do, but it was there all right, I could feel it. She said she couldn’t remember exactly, but she thought the paintings had been sold some years ago, many years ago in fact.’

Bronec nods as he listens, ‘It sounds like those paintings were really something to you.’

‘
Of course they were! My Father held on to them through all the bad times, even the very bad times.’

‘
I know what you mean, but a very long period of time had passed before you went back home, so it was always likely those paintings would have ended up elsewhere.’

I take another mouthful of hot coffee and survey the new interior of the café. There is truth in Bronec’s words, and what’s happened to this café, one of our regular haunts, brings it home to me. The past clings onto us like strong glue, we can never pull ourselves away from it completely, and sometimes it’s the little details that stick in our minds, we can’t shake them away. The thought of one day seeing those paintings kept me going through times of turmoil, they gave me something to hang onto, but my life is settled now, so maybe the paintings aren’t so important anymore.

More important is the visit I was able to make to Mother’s grave. I’ll never forget that. It wasn’t the grandest of graves and a little overgrown. That didn’t matter, because I could feel her there. I stood alone next to her for quite some time, and I told her everything that had happened to me and to Father. I put my hands together and gave thanks to the Lord for the union I was able to have with Mother. My heart opened like a flower and everything inside me was right there. I told her all of it. I walked away with the padlock smashed away from those words which had been locked inside me for so many years.

What really matters now is that Ukraine is free. I now realise my old home is that of my niece and nephews and I bless them and wish them luck, long life and prosperity as they journey through the new political and economic landscape. Of course, it’s theirs to do with as they please, and it’s good to see them caring for that old house, and constructing more buildings on that same piece of land. It’s called progress, something Ukraine has missed out on under the misery of Soviet rule.

There are events and people from the past that should never be forgotten, some of them good, many of them bad. Now and again, I think about that crazy old man, Matviyko, who lived in that broken-down old shack near the lake, the one who laughed at us as we slid around on the snow stone, as he called it. Well, it feels like I’ve been sliding on the snow stone for many years, one way or another, trying to get up onto my feet. Only now can I really stand tall.

The present day and the future are what we must think about. Ukraine is building stronger links with the West and with its neighbours. Even though some of them may give us trouble on occasion, as each day passes we cement our place in world history and on the world map. Even though there are many Ukrainian diaspora such as I scattered across the world, we have a new identity and a new nation to be proud of, and it doesn’t matter where we are in the world, we’re all still part of it. Inside each and every one of us is a beating Kozak heart.

The End

Pronunciations

In order of appearance:

'Andriy'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘And’ as in sand, ‘riy’ as in sea.

'Bronec'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Bro’ as in broth, ‘nec’ as in neck.

'Stefan'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ste’ as in step, ‘fan’ as in fan.

'Bohdan'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Boh’ as in bob ending on a hard ‘h’ (the ‘h’ is sounded), ‘dan’ as in man.

'Holodomor'
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ho’ as in hot, ‘lo’ as in lot, ‘do’ as in dot, ‘mor’ as in morrow.

'Volodimir'
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Vo’ as in bob, ‘lo’ as in lot, ‘di’ as in dip, ‘mir’ as in mirage.

'Kolhosp'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Kol’ as in colt, ‘hosp’ as in hospital.

'Miron'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Mi’ as in miller, ‘ron’ as in gone.

'Kozak'
- two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ko’ as in cot, ‘zak’ as in back.

'Novi Khutyry: Novi'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘No’ as in not, ‘vi’ as in ‘vee’.
‘Khutyry’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Khu’ as in hook (the ‘k’ isn’t sounded), ‘ty’ as in took, ‘ry’ as in rink.

'Vinnitsya'
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘VIN – NITS – YAH’.

'Mikola'
– three syllables, weight on first syllable’ . ‘Mik’ as in ‘mick’, ‘ola’ as in collar.

'Moscali'
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Mo’ as in moth, ‘sca’ as in scab, ‘li’ as in lea.

'Katsap'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Kats’ as in ‘cats’, ‘ap’ as in tap.

'Hohli'
- two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Hoh’ as in hot ending on a hard ‘h’ (the ‘h’ is sounded), ‘li’ as in lit.

'Taras Shevchenko : Taras'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ta’ as in tap, ‘ras’ as in rasp.
Shevchenko
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Shev’ as in dishevelled, ‘chen’ as in ten, ‘ko’ as in cot.

'Ivan Franko: Ivan'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘I’ as in pizza, ‘van’ as in van.
Franko
– ‘Fran’ as in man, ‘ko’ as in cot.

'Markovych'
- three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Mar’ as in marry, ‘ko’ as in cot, ‘vych’ as in ‘rich’.

'Kobzar'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Kob’ as in cob, ‘zar’ as in arrow.

'Paska'
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Pas’ as in pass, ‘ka’ as in cat.

'Horilka'
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ho’ as in hot, ‘ril’ as in kilo, ‘ka’ as in cat.

'Varenyky'
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Va’ as in van, ‘ren’ as in rent, ‘y’ as in any, ‘ky’ as in hanky. VAR-EN-IH-KEY.

‘
Pavlo’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Pav’ as in have, ‘lo’ as in lock.

‘
Khrusty’
– two syllables, equal weighting, silent ‘k’, this word begins with the ‘h’ sounded. ‘hrust’ as in crust, ‘ty’ as in dotty.

‘
Popovic’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Po’ as pot, ‘po’ as in pot, ‘vic’ as in ‘rich’.

‘
Yaroslav’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ya’ as in yak, ‘ro’ as in rock, ‘slav’ as in have.

‘
Oleg’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘O’ as in on, ‘leg’ as in leg.

‘
Ukrayinska Povstanska Armiya’: Ukrayinska
– four syllables, equal weighting OOH-KRA-YEEN-SKA.
Povstanska
– three syllables, equal weighting. POV-STAN-SKA.
Armiya
– three syllables, equal weighting. ARR-MEE-YAH.

‘
Razoviy’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ra’ as in ran, ‘zo’ as in got, ‘viy’ as in ‘sea’.

‘
Slavka’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Slav’ as in slap, ‘ka’ as in cat.

‘
Uzhorod’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Uzh’ as in bush, ‘ho’ as in hot, ‘rod’ as in rod.

‘
Vysne Nemecke’: Vysne
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Vys’ as in vista, ‘ne’ as in neck. 
Nemecke
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ne’ as in neck, ‘me’ as in met, ‘cke’ as in ‘scare’.

‘
Kazimir’
– ‘Ka’ as in cat, ‘zi’ as in zig, ‘mir’ as in mirage.

‘
Samohonka’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Sa’ as in sat, ‘mo’ as in mop, ‘honk’ as in honk, ‘a’ as in hat.

‘
Borsch’
- one syllable. BORRSHCH, with the ‘o’ as in bob.

‘
Kobasa’
- three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ko’ as in cot, ‘ba’ as in bat, ‘sa’ as in sat.

‘
Nikolai’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ni’ as is nit, ‘ko’ as in cot, ‘lai’ as in ‘lie’.

‘
Sharivari’
- four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Sha’ as in shall, ‘ri’ as in rip, ‘va’ as in van, ‘ri’ as in rip.

‘
Hohol’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ho’ as in hot, ‘hol’ as in hollow.

‘
Janowska’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ja’ as in jam, ‘ow’ as in low, ‘ska’ as in scan.

‘
Oleksa’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ol’ as in bold, ‘ek’ as in echo, ‘sa’ as in sat.

‘
Taras’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ta’ as in tap, ‘ras’ as in raspberry.

’
Kotlyarevsky’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Kot’ as in cot, ‘lya’ as in yak (‘l’ sounded), ‘rev’ as in crevice, ‘sky’ as in ‘ski’.

‘
Haidamaki’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Hai’ as in ‘high’, ‘da’ as in dad. ‘ma’ as in mat, ‘ki’ as in kilo.

‘
Zaliznyak’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ZA- LEEZ- NYAK.

‘
Miroslav’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Mi’ as in mill, ‘ro’ as in rock, ‘slav’ as in slap.

‘
Yarema’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ya’ as in yak, ‘re’ as in red, ‘ma’ as in mat.

‘
Fedor’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Fe’ as in fence, ‘dor’ as in dorm.

‘
Nazdorovya’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Naz’ as in has, ‘do’ as in dot, ‘rov’ as in sovereign, ‘ya’ as in yak.

‘
Korovai’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ko’ as in cot, ro as in rod, ‘vai’ as in ‘vie’. KOH-ROH-V-EYE.

‘
Ukrayinska Dumka’
- OOH-KRA-YEEN-SKA DUM-KAH.

‘
Tryzub’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘try’ as in trick, ‘zyb’ as in hub.

‘
Uskorz Wielki’
– USK-ORZ WEEL-KEY.

‘
Lemkovyna’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Lem’ as in lemon, ‘ko’ as in cot, ‘vy’ as in ‘vih’, ‘na’ as in nap. LEM-KOH-VIN-AHH.

‘
Myzichka’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘My’ as in ‘moo’, ‘zich’ as in rich, ‘ka’ as in cat. MOO-ZICH-KAH

‘
Dryshba’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Drysh’ as in ‘bush’, ‘ba’ as in bat.

‘
Kolomyjka’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ko’ as in cot, ‘lo’ as in lot, ‘myj’ as in ‘me’, ‘ka’ as in cat.

‘
Tarasivka’
– four syllables, equal weighting. ‘Ta’ as in tap, ‘ra’ as in rap, ‘siv’ as in live, ‘ka’ as in cat.

‘
Zabava’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Za’ as in zag, ‘ba’ as in bat, ‘va’ as in vat.

‘
Pripyat’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Pri’ as in prim, ‘pyat’ as in pat (‘p’ and ‘y’ are both sounded).

‘
Mykhaylo’
– three syllables, equal weighting. MIHH-EYE-LOH.

‘
Rivne’
– two syllables, equal weighting. ‘Riv’ as in river, ‘ne’ as in net.

‘
Volodko’
– three syllables, equal weighting. ‘Vo’ as in von, ‘lod’ as in plod, ‘ko’ as in cot.

‘
Mihasz’
- (short form of Mykhaylo) two syllables, equal weighting. MIHH-ASCH.

‘
Hryvnia’
- three syllables, equal weighting. HRIV-NI-YAH.