Christos Vozkres

Those words are still ringing in my head from my crazy Easter night. Yes, I said night. We left the apartment at 2:30 am, got to church at the end of mass, and stood with an Easter basket awaiting the priest’s blessing in the freezing cold. And I volunteered myself for this experience.

The ride to church was creepy with zombie-like characters emerging in the headlights carrying baskets to mass. It didn’t help that we drove about an hour away from my site in an unknown direction. After mass, we paraded around the church three times for good health in the coming year. The parishioners were gathered in a ring around the church standing behind their baskets filled with meats, hardboiled eggs, and a special sweet bread called Paska. It was a beautiful scene with the decorated baskets illuminated by candles and the young priest showering his flock with holy water as he blessed the baskets.

We left the church and went to my host father’s parents’ house. I was privileged to sit in the space over the oven with my host sister and her 4 year old nephew to warm up. A feast was prepared from our basket and we sat at the table. (Disclaimer: I know the opinion and impressionability of some of my readers on the subject of alcohol, but please understand that this next section is truly part of Ukrainian culture. Nobody became drunk. I was cut off well before even the babushkas, and nobody who drove drank a drop. That said…) Those of us not driving were all poured shots of homemade vodka. We toasted with the host who proclaimed “Chistos Vozkres!” as we responded “Voistenu Vozkres”. Christ is risen, indeed He is risen. This is how Ukrainians greeted each other for the rest of the day and the next. We ate the spread of various meats, eggs, and breads. My favorite part was cracking the eggs. I would use the tip of my egg to smash the tip of my opponent’s egg. Whoever’s egg broke lost. Then the eggs were turned to the other side for a rematch. I lost miserably to my little host nephew, who has since broken his leg, poor thing. A lot of food and a couple of rounds later, my host sister enlightened me that this was the first of several houses in which we would repeat this process. She wouldn’t answer me when I asked how many houses were left.

We moved on to the next house as the sun rose, giving context to the wild ride of a few hours before. The host of this house was my Ukrainian great aunt. My family found plenty of reasons to make jokes at my expense, such as my tendency to eat desert before tea, or have watery eyes after even smelling their version of spicy mustard. After leaving the humiliation of this house, I caught some sleep in the car on the way to my host sister and brother-in-law’s house, which provided fuel for more ridicule. Lucky for me this was the last stop for awhile. As I left the house after finishing another insurmountable feast, my brother-in-law joked that there was barbequed dog in the meat. This joke was lost on me as I had become a zombie at this point.

I finally crawled into bed around 11am. When I awoke at 3pm, my family was gone. They apparently continued in the same fashion as before throughout the rest of the day and the next since they had Monday off. I of course had class on Monday, something they could not understand despite my repeated explanations as my eyes drooped. Later, my cluster got together to figure out what had just happened to us. We had our own feast of course, and played cards. From what I can gather, the entire holiday centers on the church for everyone. It’s such a beautiful celebration, unpolluted by commercialism and strengthened by the bonds of family and friends.

Other events to note. I got to play basketball and volleyball with some of the locals and my cluster mates. It felt so good to just run around for awhile. My cluster cooked a killer meal of fajitas completely from scratch, including the tortillas. We watched two episodes of The Office afterwards. We’re starting at the beginning hoping to make it through the 4 seasons we have with us. And I taught my first class. It was a frustrating success. I taught a 7th grade class, which is something I’ve never done, about stress, which I’ve never taught, in Russian, which I barely speak. It’s hard to hone your teaching methods when your students can barely figure out what you’re saying, and vice-versa. But it went well all things considered, and my partner Dave and I managed to get or points across. I’ll be doing it again this week. Same class but I’ll teach about the negative effects of smoking.

A final story. My parents’ generation always talks about the good ole days when everybody’s parents were your parents, and news traveled lightening fast, often faster than you could get home. Well, I experienced this first hand after I visited an orphanage the other day. With no prior explanation on my part, as he walked in the door, my host father told me all about how I had visited the orphanage earlier that day. He even made sure to tell me who went with me. Note how he didn’t ask me anything, just wanted to inform me that he knew. I think he was a little proud to have an American in his house who is interested in the local children’s home. Thus is the small town atmosphere of my 10,000 person town. You can imagine what a village is like.

Till next post,
Ben

P.S. I posted this from Kiev!!!

Beets, They're Nature's Candy Don't Ya Know

Hey guys. I wish you knew how bad I want all of you to see the city I'm living in. I feel like I've stepped back in time, sort of. Culturally, I live in Mayberry. I went to the police station to get some info and watched as they booked two drunk old men with whom they joked and didn't even handcuff. And from the looks of things, that's about as bad as it gets in terms of crime around here. I'm sure there are rare cases of violence, but I think they're the exception. I'm yet to see a police officer on patrol. It's honestly comforting to live in a present day romanticized version of Southern American culture pre 1980. Kids ride their bikes all day and play in the myriad of playgrounds. Mom's stroll together pushing their babies. Everybody's outside, frantically cleaning, planting, and painting. They welcome spring on a grand scale here. It is their reward after such long winters.

Training continues to be rough. Tons of language, but lots of technical as well. This week alone we observed two classes, met with the Department of Family, and planted 'Trees of Friendship' at the Creative Center. The tree planting was interesting as we expected the event to be ceremonial. We ended up planting a small forest behind the center, along with a ceremonial tree out front. On top of all that, we each have planned a lesson which we will teach in a Ukranian classroom next Thursday, in Russian. I've got 7th grade. Yay. There is also 3 hours of Russian every day, with 1.5 hours of tutoring once a week. Ok, enough whining.

I was lucky to attend Orthodox mass with my host family last Sunday. It was just like the Orthodox mass I attended in Atlanta, which of course made me homesick. It made me really wish I understood the language so I could participate. The church was beautiful. It was wooden and painted a pastel blue. Of course icons were everywhere, none of which matched. Saint Gregory is the church's patron saint so he showed up everywhere. It was Palm Sunday, which for this church is Willow Sunday. I didn't figure this out until after the service. I kept wondering why my host mom put strange branches in my hand when we walked in the church. Now they're in a vase in my room. The singing was beautiful, and the language sounded its fullest. If you want the southern accent at it's finest, attend a Baptist church in south Georgia. Italian is best heard at the Vatican. Orthodox mass displays Russian at its greatest. I can't wait to be able to pray in Russian. The only thing that sort of surprised me about the service was that the priest heard confession before the service. This happened in public, with the priest covering the confessee's head with a shawl and putting his ear underneath. He would then pray over the confessee. It actually seemed really cool.

I continually find little nuances in my domestication that are lacking. I realized the other day that I've never hung laundry on a line before. There is apparently a right and wrong way to do it. Luckily my apartment in Atlanta lacked several modern conveniences so I could be comfortable with a few things, especially handwashing dishes. When I get to my site I'll probably have to handwash clothes and take bucket showers. But I've realized everything still gets done the same, even if it takes a little more time and effort. But it's nice, mind numbing work that makes me feel good.

In response to questions: My wardrobe is rather extensive compared to Ukrainians, and fellow volunteers. Though the other day, my host dad walked in to breakfast wearing the same exact outfit as me. I noticed he was wearing a different tie when he left. One of my cluster mates made fun of some of my jeans saying I looked European. Either way I still look really American. I do have to dress up most days, and on days we visit organizations I'm wearing tie and jacket. If you know me, then you know I kinda enjoy it. As for relaxing, I do a ton of reading like I said before. I've never put reading before TV, but I actually prefer it. Now I'm reading 'Away Down South' which discusses the identity of the American South and is really enlightening for Ukranian culture. They are similar in that both cultures are struggling out of an agrarian mindset to industrial/modern. I really want to write a paper on this topic right now. Sad. As for what I do for fun, there's not a whole lot of time, or a whole lot to do. We watched a movie as a cluster last week and went to a soccer match. Honestly, talking on the phone and using the internet are pretty sweet recreational activities.

This leads me to discuss Ukranian culture a little bit. They spend most of their time in their homes. Bars are unsafe, unpopular places that have terrible reputations. It's inappropriate to even be seen in a bar (sound familiar?). And people cook everything from scratch at home, which is often better than restaurants and cafes. So really, there's not much to do outside of class and my host family. And my cluster mates and I are always so worn out and sick of each other that the last thing we want to do is spend the rest of the night playing cards or uno.

Alright, long post. I hope you're still reading! But just know that everything is going well. I'm well taken care of and learning alot. Being from a small town in Georgia actually makes everything a little easier since the cultures match alot. I'm trying to control my expectations and just let myself be satisfied with "everything will be ok" -Jason Kofke. Till my next post, peace.

So I'm Here, and Here is Ukraine, Go Figure

So sorry about the tease of a post I left the other day. The story is the internet is really frustrating and it took me an hour to figure out how to find a back way into my blog, and then couldn't type in the text box. By the time I figured it out, I had one minute left, thus the onle line post. But now I have about 45 min. to get some thoughts out into cyberspace.

So I'm in a moderately sized town about an hour outside of Kiev. There are about 10,000 people. Those of you from Ringgold would appreciate it, as it strongly resembles at least Catoosa county. Imagine Ringgold with high rise Soviet Apartment buildings. No stop lights (or stop signs for that matter). But it is pretty cool, and I have warm water and electricity, none of which were guaranteed. As a matter of fact, I would classify the apartment I live in as much better than mine in Atlanta. And not only because it has a washing machine. But much of it's quality can be attributed to the care my family takes of it. It is spotless and impecably organized. Everything has a place, which seems impossible in such a tiny space. It has about three small bedrooms, a living room, kitchen/dining room, toilet, and bath. Don't get confused, the last two are separated. My host family is a mom, dad, and sister. The mom is a school teacher, the dad works in school administration for the county I think, and my sister studies English in Kiev, which is convenient since I have a personal translator at home. And yes, she lives in the apartment and commutes to Kiev everyday. She gets up at 5am. Crazy.

So for those of you itching to know, I'm learning Russian (yes!) and am training to be a secondary school teacher. Basically I will teach healthy lifestyles classes, IT classes, and work with extracurricular activities. I'll most likely plan a health/sports camp during the summers. The whole goal of my project will be to help youth gain employment, avoid unhealthy habits, and impart American culture and goodwill, not impose it. I still don't know where my final site will be, but I can guess that it will be at a much smaller city which will be Russian speaking. This narrows it down to the rest of Ukraine.

Training is incredibly intense. I haven't been so mentally tired, ever. Three hours of Russian language training a day, then visits to important community organizations or schools, often followed by a technical training session. After this I go home to an apartment filled with people whom I don't understand, and attempt to awkwardly communicate during dinner and often afterwards. Then there is homework and preparation for the next day.

I've actually had to change quite a bit. You knew me as a talkative, disorganized mess. Well, I make my bed every morning, iron my clothes, pick up my room, and barely say a word when around Ukrainians. There are just some points where it is impossible to communicate and I just give in to silence. I've read alot, journaled alot, and done morning and evening prayer. I've always wanted to spend time doing these things, but now realize I never did them because I spent so much time talking. I never realized how much I love communicating with people. Silence kills me. But no pain no gain I guess.

I do have a cell phone. I can call America for about 15 cents a minute, and text for about 10 cents. I can receive anything for free, so if you want my number, I'll send it to you through Facebook, since I figure it's the safest way to send such information. Not even sure if a cell number is sensitive.

I revise my statement of blog first email second. I really need to read stuff from home, so please send me emails, and consider my blog my reply maybe. I'll still try to reply to really specific stuff, and have no doubt, I will read any emails or Facebook posts or messages. I've really craved it these past two weeks.

That's all for now. Send me emails if there's anything you want to know and I'll put it in my next post.

Peace,
Ben

Posting is really hard

I'll update soon