The Water Truck

My part of the country is full of gorgeous rolling hills, grassy fields, wild flowers, and the occasional tree, but we desperately lack rivers and lakes. When settlements were first being built in this region a little over a hundred years ago, numerous water reservoirs were dug. Unfortunately, we are also the heart of industry, complete with coal mines, slag heaps, factories, and smoke stacks: the Pennsylvania of Ukraine, if you will. Our tap water is absolutely not safe to drink. Even if boiled, if left to sit, a white cloud forms at the bottom of the glass. The only way to make the tap water safe is decant already boiled water off of this cloud of heavy metals, then boil again. That being a laborious process, I just use the water truck.

There is a truck which drives around town on a set route, following a set schedule, refilling five litre jugs with scrumptious, potable water. In fact, there are multiple trucks from competing companies. I used to buy from Water World, because I like dystopian Costner films, but now I purchase my water from Crucial, because they make a fair point.

At predisclosed times throughout the week,a loud horn carries across the yard and through my single-pane Soviet windows. Residents from surrounding apartments gather at the truck to fill their jugs with either fresh or carbonated water, depending on the day of the week. If your jug's handle breaks, they can cut it off and pop on a new one for just a few coins. If you don't have a jug, they can sell you a new one. Best of all, the water is exponentially cheaper than bottled water from a store. A typical 5 litre jug from the grocery would run me around 30 UAH; I can fill up at the water truck for 2.50.

The water truck: bringing you pasta, soup, and tea...without the heavy metals!

Not actually being there to take the picture myself, photo from fellow bloggers at Ukraine Confusion. Will replace with the Crucial truck when I go back.

Superstitions

A source of constant surprise, frustration, and amusement, I encountered numerous superstitions while living in Lutugino. Whether these are uniquely Ukrainian or held over from Soviet times, I can not say. Most people will admit that the majority of these are ludicrous, but they've been hammered with these beliefs since childhood and they are now behavioural norms. There are several overlaps with the rest of Europe and with America, such as the black cat, salt spilling, and "knock on wood" tradition. Here are the ones which I've noticed over the course of 2 years:

Rule:
You mustn't whistle indoors.
Repercussion:
You will not have money (this is a common consequence).

Rule:
You mustn't walk through any triangles (not only under a ladder).
Repercussion:
You will contract an illness (another super common one).

Rule:
You mustn't step on manhole covers.
Repercussion:
You will contract an illness. (This one originated from the fact that covers are often loose or stolen, so it's better to just be in the habit of avoiding them. For your health.)

Rule:
You mustn't tear (e.g. a thread or tag), cut, or sew any clothing that you're wearing.
Repercussion:
You will contract an illness.

Rule:
You mustn't sit at the corner of a table.
Repercussion:
You'll never get married.

Rule:
You mustn't count money or pay someone after dark.
Repercussion:
You will not have money.

Rule:
If you have a slice of bread, you must finish it.
Repercussion:
You will not have money.

Rule:
You mustn't take out the trash or throw things out after dark.
Repercussion:
You will not have money.

Rule:
You mustn't pass money from hand to hand, but instead lay it on a surface (traditionally a wooden one, but that's become rather flexible).
Repercussion:
The passer will not have money.

Rule:
You mustn't cut your hair while pregnant, nor cut the child's hair within the first year.
Repercussion:
The child will be unhealthy.

Not to make it seem as though it's all doom, gloom, illness, and poverty, there are also some situations that will bring one good luck and riches:

1. A spider descends from your ceiling and lands on your head.
2. A swallow or a stork builds a nest on your roof or balcony.
3. You allow your pet to enter your new home before you start moving in.

I know there are also myriad examples of wedding superstitions with which I'm simply unacquainted, and I've already written about Ukraine's borderline mystic health beliefs. If you know of any Slavic superstitions that I've overlooked or you've encountered any weird ones in your travels abroad, I'd love to hear about them. Comment below!

Evacuation

I know many of you have been following the situation in Ukraine, probably through the 24 hour hype-fest that is the American media circus. You will not find that here, nor will you find real journalism. You will, however, find one man's unaccredited view from the ground, as has always existed on this blog.

Start at the beginning? (If you don't care about the run up, skip down three paragraphs). Right after Thanksgiving of 2013, then President Viktor Yanukovich passed up an opportunity for closer economic ties with the EU in favour of strengthening relations with Russia. Among his detractors, this, for reasons unknown, was the last straw. Protests broke out on the main square in the capital Kiev, demanding that the EU deal be reconsidered. Yanukovich chose to ignore these protests. To his credit, I would have done the same in his position. The opposition leadership had little control over the demonstrations, demands were unclear, the weather was turning, and a series of important familial and religious holidays were fast approaching. No one expected this to last into 2014.

Then it did. The protest movement warped from one focused economic grievance into a broad revolution that would not be stopped until a change in leadership came to pass. This was about the time (latter January) when Yanukovich started suppressing demonstrations, protesters started capturing government buildings across the country, and the Western media began to pick up the story. We Peace Corps volunteers in Ukraine were placed under travel restrictions, and everyone watched to see what would happen next . Still, there was minimal violence, no looting, and all happenings were isolated to protest zones. Regular life seemed unaffected, especially in the traditionally pro-Russia and apathetic East where I live.

Then the fever broke. Yanukovich began to make concessions. Prisoners were released, laws repealed, and Independence Square quieted. Everyone in country breathed a sigh of relief, ploughing ahead with plans that would have been disrupted but now seemed in the clear. Unexpectedly, the situation erupted again, this time more violently. One minute, the opposition was pulling out of occupied state administration buildings, the next there was a death toll. Then roadblocks. Then the President fled.

I had a feeling that this time things were more serious. Violence had begun to spread outside of the capital and transportation was being disrupted. There were incidents of threats toward or injuries incurred by Americans. The opposition leadership seemed to be losing control of the momentum of their movement. The President's colleagues were abandoning the party by handfuls. All of these developments would be noticed by Peace Corps, and wouldn't be taken lightly. As a member of the security framework within Ukraine, I knew it was time to pack my bags and prepare for the worst.

On Thursday the 20th, we were told to congregate in our state capitals and await further instructions. Together with 14 other volunteers from my state, we holed up in two small apartments, baking cakes and listening to Chumbawumba to keep the mood light. Monday, at 3:30 in the morning, we boarded a bus for Donetsk airport. Most incidents of violence against Americans occur during the evacuation process, so everything had to be kept secret. We rolled past the Lugansk square, where 6 pro-government protesters stood wearing Balaclavas and brandishing wooden swords and shields, which I can only assume had been procured from a Soviet Renaissance Fair.

We flew to Istanbul and then to D.C., where a conference awaited us. It's hard to describe the feelings. It's a strange mix of reverse culture shock and survivor's guilt. No one was given a chance to process what was happening, to say their goodbyes, or to prepare for life and future in America. At the same time, it feels so completely selfish to complain about how "it's so hard in America because there are too many types of cheese and I'm used to just one" when in fact we did the easiest thing. We ran away from the country in which we had invested years of our lives in building relationships and fighting uphill battles, now when they seem to need us most. Why should we get yanked away when everyone we know is left behind?

There's still a considerable chance that Peace Corps will return to Ukraine, and I am not alone in holding on to that hope. Many of us are continuing to organise our summer camps, to plan projects and seminars with our partners overseas, to host English clubs via Skype, and to support Ukraine here in America through public presentations at schools and churches. I hope as I always have that Ukraine can find its common identity and a path forward with neither violence nor oppression. My heart goes out to the friends who comprise my Ukrainian family.