The Unexpected: Iryna from Odessa takes Camp Sosnovy to "Sacred Mountain"

The road to Sacred Mountain and the beautiful and sacred Monestary. 

A Ukrainian ritual: Preparing to enter the Cathedral monestary.

When I thought I was done for the day at Camp Sosnovy, the summer camp for kids from all over Lugansk oblasts, listening to music, studying Russian, a counselor would pop into my room and take me to an unexpected activity. 

One evening it was the nightly disco, thumping music blaring, a whirl of motion. I had heard the music before but thought it was just the teenagers cranking it up! It was that, and more.  

One morning I was told I was assigned to help lead the kids in their morning calisthenics. That no doubt allowed a few counselors to sleep in!

Another time I was led to an American couple from Alabama who were adopting a Ukrainian child. We had a lovely talk, and I was made poignantly aware of the special camp site where the orphaned children, most teenagers, stayed. The Alabama couple told me other Americans were hoping to adopt too. I was glad of that. At 16-years orphans were turned out of state facilities to fend for themselves, unless they were lucky enough to be adopted or find a private foster home. I made special efforts to stop by every day. I wanted to adopt all of them.

I was asked to help judge the natural habitats the children had built for a project: houses made out of branches (huge branches gathered from the forest), fences out of twigs, paths out of acorns, gardens out of wildflowers. All incredibly beautiful. I gave them all 100+. Some judge I made!

One night after I had fallen asleep, Iryna from Odessa barged into my room, turned on the lights, and said I had to wake up at 5:00 a.m. because we were going to the monastery in the mountains. She motioned to my clock and made sure I set the alarm. "Wear a skirt, no pants." Beyond that, I didn't get the details. "But I have to meet with the kids," I mumbled. "Not tomorrow. Tomorrow you join children for a very special day."

The next morning some 30 of us boarded a bus for a 3-hour ride through bountiful fields of wheat and sunflowers to Svyatogorsk and CBYATbLIE ROPbl,  Sacred Mountain. Stunning: the terrain, the river, the domed churches built along the mountainside. 

When we got to the monastery grounds, we snacked on fresh tomatoes, cucumbers, cheese and bread. All fresh from people's gardens and kitchens. Delicious. We then got ready to go into the Cathedral monestary.  I had no idea what to expect.

It turns out that this took a lot of loving preparation. I became absorbed in a Ukrainian ritual. The women and girls pulled out dozens of colorful scarves, mostly sheer and gauzy. They wrapped the scarves around their waists if they were wearing jeans or pants, and covered their heads. Now I understood what Iryna had told me the night before. But I never knew there were so many ways to tie scarves!

Natasha (one of the counselors in charge of taking care of me for the day!), reached into her bag and pulled out a pretty blue and green scarf. It was for me. She wrapped it carefully around my head. Now we were all ready to approach the church with reverence and respect. An elaborate ritual, a solemn moment.

Heads covered, children and counselors in a somber frame of mind, we entered the grand church. We stood under a huge gold and crystal chandelier, surrounded by icons, exquisite art and architecture. Ukrainian Michelangelos had done their work and it was breathtaking. A priest's voice boomed through the sound system. The bells tolled.

Beauty and awe. "The Ukrainian Vatican," Iryna called it. A sense of the sacred enveloped us, the bonds of Ukrainian culture and tradition. I joined in the moment. I lit a candle and prayed for my family and friends back home, for my country, for Ukraine. It was unexpected. I felt blessed.

Notes: 

* Holy Mountains National Nature Park - Wikipedia    

 Holy Mountains National Nature Park, or Sacred Mountains, is located along the chalk cliffs and river terraces of the Donets River in Eastern Ukraine. The park's boundaries are a patchwork of forested areas stretching along the banks of the Donets. The Sacred Mountains of Ukraine contain many archaeological, natural, historical, and recreational sites, including the Sviatohirsk Lavra monastery. The park is located in the administrative districts of Sloviansk, Lyman and Bakhmut. You'll recognize the names of these towns because they are now under the fierce combat of Russia's war against Ukraine. 

Spontaneous Conjunction: One Day at a Time

Sharing Florida postcards at camp's end

Ukrainians don't usually make big plans far in advance. It's one day at a time. They say you can't tell what tomorrow might bring. They've experiened too many promises made and broken. Relationships are much more important than plans and schedules. This can be a challenge to goal-oriented, task-driven Americans who just want to get things done. But here, it's important to get to know each other first, to take time, to gain trust, to share meals and have many cups of tea together.

Ukrainians have experienced the devastation of war. Over 20,000,000 killed in Russia and Ukraine during World War II; no family left untouched. Scorched earth; everything, everyone, lost. We Americans can hardly fathom it. Ukrainians have been victims of enforced starvation; they remember the "Holomodor" of the 1930s. The Tartars of Crimea were brutally, suddenly, evicted from their homes and forced to migrate. Many fled to Turkey. Some are just now returning to their ancestral homes in Crimea. You never know what tomorrow might bring.

During the first week at Camp Sosnovy, the program director, Iryna, made a schedule for me to speak to the boys and girls. Groups 1,2,3 on Mondays, starting at 10:00 a.m., and so on. I dutifully followed the schedule, or tried to. It didn't take me long to learn that this was flexibile scheduling. One group had to meet with the doctor at that time; another was practicing for an upcoming performance; another had a football (soccer) game. Okay. I see. No problem.

So it was that in addition to scheduled meetings, I started meeting with the kids whenever a group of them was gathered together--in the lounge, outside, on benches, in the sandbox, around the playing field. I'd come with my dictionary and maps and sit with the kids. I walked around with a globe. I showed family photos, took out my camera. I pulled games out of my pocket. I brought my computer, a big hit.

I called it spontaneous conjunction! It worked. The kids liked "surprises" and had fun. The camp counselors saw I could be flexible and trusted to fill in the gaps. It made for good relations all the way around. One day at a time.

Future Leaders of Ukraine

With the children of Camp Sosnovy

I've met the future leaders of Ukraine. They are among the boys and girls at Camp Sosnovy.

All of the children are bright and beautiful. Some are athletic and fast. Some artistic and creative. Some serious and shy. Some boisterous and funny. And some are natural-born leaders.

In today's Ukraine there is little faith in government, at all levels. People tell me that local officials are unresponsive, laws not enforced, roads not paved, national leaders uninspiring, more influenced by the wealthy few than ordinary citizens. Nothing gets done and hope is fading.

But the future leaders of Ukraine are growing up. They are the children who stand out in every one of the eight groups at our camp.

These children are curious, not afraid to speak up. They ask questions and listen for answers. They initiate. They are first to try something new, to volunteer, to make suggestions. They have ideas and share them, and willingly listen to the ideas of others. They are both active and responsive.

Most of all, they motivate. They lead by example and others follow. They encourage, then praise. They are the future leaders of Ukraine. Ukraine will be in good hands.

A Happy Camper

I am at Camp Sosnovy (Pinewood) in Leman, Ukraine, a farming village in the forest just outside of Starobilsk. It takes some doing on the part of Olga and Luba to convince the camp director that a Peace Corps Volunteer (PCV) can be a good thing. After I get to the camp, it takes a few days to convince the counselors and staff that I can do anything other than be in their way. I understand. I have no idea what I'm doing either.

I find out when I get here that it is a camp for 8-15 year old kids from Luhansk Oblast. They are the cutest, brightest, most talented kids you'll find anywhere in the world. Some 270 of them, divided into 8 groups. They live in dorms or 2-story cottages, 3 to 4 to a room. Most of them study English in school. Most have never seen a real American. I am their first PCV, their first Amerikanka. This is so for the adults, too; stereotypes abound, I think mostly around the image of the ugly American.

Not sure where to begin, I wander around the camp site, dictionary in hand. One by one, the children come up to me, full of curiosity. In halting Russian I say I am from America, state of Florida, city of Saint Petersburg. Saint Petersburg? Yes, just like in Russia. I say I want to speak Russian but I am still learning. They catch on right away: I am one of them! I am a student too.

They see I need their help. They speak English. They help me translate. We spontaneously start a game: “My name is...” More children gather round. They come with slips of paper. They want my autograph! I use the dictionary, and they want to see how it works. Then another game begins: they look for words in Russian; I look for words in English. We take turns.
I take out my camera to capture the moment. I take a few shots, then give them my camera. It's okay to use my camera? Sure. They each take photos in turn. We are having a great time. The counselors and staff are watching. Day one ends on a happy note.

Every day is like this. Something new. New opportunities to get to know the kids and for them to get to know me. Same with the counselors and staff. I attend every gathering, sports events, performance programs, which are incredible. I learn the schedule. I just show up. I help out wherever I can, in the dorms, in the dining hall, at programs. For two days I join the kids for morning exercises.

By day three, Iryna, the program director who speaks some English, and I have become friends. She is a beautiful, multi-talented woman whose dream is to live in Odessa and work in year-round camps. I give her a Florida post card: “May all your dreams come true,” I write in Russian.

The counselors enjoy having me around now. Ira asks me to join the activities director up front to help lead the exercises. I like being with the kids, but this is a good sign: I am being accepted. I gladly do it. The kids wave and clap. Ira also makes a schedule for me to meet with the kids group by group, every day. I begin simply by being present, on the floor with the kids, maps spread out in front of us. We are learning about each other. Lots of Q&A. I'm getting ideas from Jud and other PCVs. The counselors start inviting me to join their groups. "The children love you," one says. I beam.

The kids are leading the way. And they are speaking English more and more. “Good morning. Hi. How are you.” I give them two thumbs up and say 'SUPER!” So now when I ask them “Kak dela,” how are you, they give me two thumbs up and say “super!” As we go in and out of the dining hall or around the camp site, I give them a 'high five.” The counselors and staff join in. New rituals are being created! The counselors look happy. The director looks happy. I am a happy camper!

Accidents

I fell off my bike today. My new red "velociped." I peddled through a rocky muddy hole filled with black water on Panfelova. Luckily, I fell to the side of the road, onto a patch of wild grasses and wildflowers. A pretty sight. Things went flying, pens, papers, cel phone, but apart from a bit of wounded pride I was okay. I gathered my stuff and took a minute to smell the roses. I love those lavender blue wildflowers that seem to open only in the morning. It could have been worse, this accident. I could have fallen into that muddy puddle. Another reminder to keep my eyes on the road.

Yesterday I skidded through a sandy spot on the road to work. I went for the hand brake, then remembered I had to back-peddle to stop. By this time I zigzagged right into the huge statute of Lenin at the entrance to the park. I looked up, and there was Lena, the teacher from School #3. I had been trying to contact her all week. And here we were. Serendipity. I handed her a flyer for the English Club, which she liked. We chatted in English. It felt good to have a real adult conversation! Another accident, another happy ending.