Tuesday, October 13, 1998

The Art of Bathing and My Inadvertent Blunder

Edward wakes me up as usual by turning on my light. It just seems like I went to sleep, but it is 7: 15 am. He tells me the plan. He will leave for his regular class time, but I can bathe, eat, and come to school on my own around 8: 30 am, since I now know the way.

Bathing is an art when you have just one hot pail of water, a naked body in an empty tub, and a faucet that dispenses only cold water. I have to conserve the hot water for the wash, the rinse, a shave, and in the process avoid scalding myself, or freezing myself when mixing in the frigid tap water.

Valentina patiently waits for me to finish the bath and get dressed. I eat my first egg – what a treat - along with squash-potato fried rolled pancakes. It is very good, and I nod approvingly to her. She also serves uncooked sliced bacon and sausage slices, tomatoes, beets, and hot tea. I manage to eat a lot today, so I am thinking I am offending her today. But this is when I make a big mistake, which I do not realize until much later. (I wish the US ACCELS had told me about it beforehand!) I cut off the fat part of the bacon, and only eat the skinny meat edge. Valentina’s smile disappears and her mood changes sharply. I do not understand, and think she must be upset at how little I must have eaten. Little do I know I have offended her and insulted Ukraine culture by not eating Ukraine’s national food – the bacon fat that she gone out of her way to purchase for me as a treat!

Foggy Walk to School

It is now 8: 00 am and I figure I have a 25 minute walk to school. When I step out from the pitch black stairwell, it is very foggy outside. I can see maybe 100 feet at best. All the landscape has a ghostly white quality. It looks and feels like the foggy days I once experienced in Milwaukee, Wisconsin when I was in graduate school 1969-1972, and I find myself transported back in time. So far, Ukraine has been an almost carbon copy of Wisconsin weather, vegetation, and landscape. It is a weird out-of-body feeling for me. My throat and ear feel a little worse today in the damp air.

I proceed down the familiar streets, footpaths, and sidewalks. Without Edward by my side, it is a strange sensation for me. Strangers all seem to be staring at me, and at the two bags I carry on my shoulders. Everyone else carries bags wherever they go, but my brands, my clothes, and my carriage, must somehow give me away as being “American.”

I struggle to walk a brisk pace loaded down as I am, but arrive at 8: 30 am, just in time. I am soaked underneath my jacket and sports coat. So far my clothing choices have been just about right, except for number of dress shirts. I will need to do some laundry, I tell myself. Edward wears a shirt and tie everyday, and so will I to look professional. The lady teachers all dress professionally as well.

I enter the school, but unlike in US schools there is no front office, or school secretary greeting visitors. There is a hostess of sorts seated at a small table, but she does not know how to greet me, the American. The principal’s office is on the second floor. I spy the children’s coat room, but make a wrong turn to find the teacher’s workroom, and come to a dead end hallway. Two staff people in the coat room chuckle at me, as I make my way back to the lobby. At the end of the day, as I leave with Edward, they point at me and laugh again. I laugh along with them in making fun of my morning mistake.

Problems with the Car

I finally find the teachers workroom, put away my jacket and gift bags, and make my way upstairs to Edward’s classroom. I say “Good morning” in German to his German class, and take my seat in the corner as before. Soon class ends, and Edward frustratingly explains that the car they had selected for our city excursion is inoperable, so they are scrambling to find a replacement.

Galina arrives; Edward leaves, returns, and explains that Galina is going to cover all his classes today so he can be my personal tour guide. Galina leaves and then Edward asks me to read his seventh grade English journals and write some comments on each one.

It turns out I read student entries predicting what I would look like. Most thought I would be in my 30s (I am 51), tall (I am 5’6”), have black or blonde hair (brown), blue eyes (brown), and be strong, athletic, and rich (so close on these last three categories!) I sign each one with a comment, and enclose one of my old school pictures I had thought to make extra copies of before leaving US.

After class, Edward has a break, so he leaves to check on the excursion car. Galina returns and with pretty good English spends the next 45 minutes asking me about my school, my students, and my subjects in great detail. She is the first person, excluding Edward, who has taken the time to inquire about me and what I actually do.

Edward returns with exciting news! The Director of the entire town’s eleven schools (not really like a US superintendent), is coming on the tour. He heard my interview on National Ukraine Kyiv radio the Friday before, and called Kamila to invite himself over to meet me. Edward explains that a “director” is more a figure head role, and is a holdover from the Soviet era. Principals have almost total control over their schools here, he states, and there is no elected governing board to answer to like in the US. I am dumbfounded to think that my interview at the embassy was on national Ukraine radio! I had no idea! I also try to put my mind around the amazing fact that school boards do not exist here.

Then Kamila comes and announces that the car has arrived. We briefly go over the itinerary, squeeze into a tiny vehicle, and drive off in a lifting fog.

Lesya Ukrainka Museum and Scottsdale Connection

First stop is near the fortress location on a side street. It is a museum in the second home of Ukraine’s most famous poetess, Lesya Ukrainka, who lived in the late 1800s and died in 1913. She is the one I saw depicted with the large statue in the plaza on Sunday.

We go inside and are greeted by Vera, the museum curator. With great reverence and devotion, she leads us through each room of the house and chronicles every phase of Lesya’s life. I see that the museum is really more like a shrine to Lesya.

Then a most amazing ironic happenstance occurs! Vera mentions that Lesya’s sister moved to the US in the early 1900s, and a niece named Olga is still alive in her 80s in the United States. I ask where she lives in the US. Vera says in Arizona some place. Excitedly, I ask, “Where in Arizona? ” and she replies, “Scottsdale.” I then tell her I am from Arizona, and I live only fifteen miles from Scottsdale. Vera about faints on the floor in surprise! She composes herself and asks if I am willing to take a letter and some gifts to Olga instead of expense and time consumed in mailing to US. Of course I graciously accept the request, and state that I will come by next week and get the package.

The Women’s Clothing Factory

We leave the museum and all of us are still buzzing about the remarkable thing we just experienced. Once again is proven how small the world really is sometimes. We get in the car and travel to stop number two – a clothing factory. Edward states that he remembers that this building has always been a clothing factory, even during the Soviet period, but it has doubled in size with a new wing in the last four years. In Soviet times, Edward explains, the central government dictated the type of clothes made here for Moscow Communist Party officials. Now the factory has a contract with Germany to make and ship clothes to Germany only. It is a good business decision for both countries, it turns out. Germany gets women’s clothing made by excellent seamstresses, for relatively cheap labor costs close to home without going half way round the world with higher expenses. Edward states that the average seamstress makes about $40 US/month, more than most teachers make.

We enter the factory and I get the grand tour of the entire operation. I see model design, cloth bolt cutting, sewing, iron pressing, and tag labeling all done mostly by hand or with a few 1950s-1960s era machinery. I get to touch the final products and comment on the excellent quality and craftsmanship. They are very stylish women’s clothes, and I think to myself that my wife Kathy would like some of the dress coats. (Ironically, upon my return, I decide to inspect some of my wife’s nicer apparel, and lo and behold, one of her better jackets says “Made in Ukraine” probably at this same factory. What a small world proven once more!)

Again, as I have so often been warmly treated, the factory director is a most gracious lady who gives us fresh brewed coffee and chocolates at the conclusion of the tour. Nothing in the factory is new – everything I see is older than 1970s, and yet this factory is making beautifully stylish women’s clothes with noticeably outdated technology. It only makes me admire these hard working people all the more.

Constant Struggle to Make Ends Meet

They are tireless workers! Everywhere I walk, I have seen elderly women picking small flowers for seed in front of the school, or picking wild mushrooms. Men improvise all sorts of wagons and carts out of scrap materials of all types. It’s a world and culture where finding the tricks to survive against the odds make the real difference. I imagine that for Ukrainians this has been going on for 100s of years of foreign rule.

Last night, for example, Edward stopped at their garage rental space #261. They do not have a car – too expensive – but they rent their space for about $5 US/ month. Inside was an incredible world of preserved food in bottles, and stored summer and fall harvests for the long winter ahead. On the entrance ground level were spread 100s of beets, and sacks of small two inch diameter potatoes were in another section. Gardening tools and equipment of all types were there. Nothing was new or modern, just the old standby tools that have been in place for centuries.

A ladder led down to the cold root cellar, where in the winter it drops to about 35F. Here were shelf after shelf of bottles – pickled cabbage, beets, carrots, onions, fruits of all kinds - and jars of fruit water which I have been drinking at the flat. As a matter of fact, all the foods I have been eating, except for the numerous jars of pickles, were here! I hope I get to eat some pickles before I leave.

I definitely have a new appreciation for what Edward’s mom has to do for their family to survive in such harsh economic times. Without this-garden supplied underground “refrigerator” to preserve food to live on, they would be in very serious trouble. All the families would be.

This constant struggle to make ends meet is just one example of the daily challenges ordinary Americans just take for granted. Edward is tutoring English a few times a week to make ends meet. He has been promised a new computer from ACCELS in Kyiv as part of his award, but he cannot afford to have it shipped from Kyiv. It is too big to carry on the bus or train, so he’s trying to get someone with a car to deliver it. It’s this kind of “fly-by-the-seat-of-your –pants” lifestyle that is foreign to average Americans like me – just holding on every day waiting for the economy to improve. It’s a perpetual challenge to make ends meet to try and stay ahead. It’s wearing the same few outfits all week, hauling well water, walking everywhere, or saving lights in every room and hallway (all hallways at the school are dark just like Edward’s apartment stairway). One time, Valentina turned off my bedroom light when I was only ten steps down the hallway and coming right back. It is witnessing such acts as these that give me pause how well off I really am in America.

The Brewery

But I digress. The third stop on our city tour is the town’s major brewery, a 150 year old Czech one. It is shut down after a somewhat busy summer season. It only produces non-pasteurized beer, so it must be processed quickly and stored in vats underground with temperatures like Edward’s root cellar. It must sell each batch within ten days after being made. It makes four major brands, and I get to taste two of them. The beer is made by old machinery and time tested methods, and is as good as anything in the States.

We depart the brewery and drive back to school. We go inside, and I meet Lyudmila for lunch. We have garlic mashed potatoes, beets, borscht, meat balls, and a sweetened cream of rice cereal – my first! And it tastes sooooo good! As is our custom, we point to objects and name them in both languages.

My First Public Interview

While we are eating, administration and Edward are getting ready for my first interview session with the full staff in the library. After eating, Lyudmila and I go upstairs to Edward’s classroom. I think of picking up the small USA and Ukrainian flags off of Edward’s desk as symbolic props. He gets some clay and we use this creation as a centerpiece on the front table facing the faculty. Edward directs me to sit next to the director of schools, Edward sits on my right side to translate, and Principal Kamila sits to the left of the director.

In front of me are my teaching props – my Southwest US map, my Salt River Valley map, my family photos, and my AEA article about being selected to go to Ukraine. Behind me I hang a large USA map. I look up at the approximately seventy faculty members who have gathered to hear me speak and ask me questions. Only five are men. All grades 1-11 are represented. A video camera is recording it all, and Galina is using my camera for me. Edward tells me to keep my introduction to around five minutes. So I begin.

I try to remember to slow down and speak in sound bites so Edward can satisfactorily translate. I do a much better job than I did in Kyiv. After I finish, question and answers begin for the next one hour and a half. The cafeteria staff is gracious in providing hot tea, sweet rolls, and Ukrainian chocolates.

An Emotional Time

Questions asked are many and varied. I have to keep reminding myself that I am the first American most of them have ever met. Here is a sample: “How is my school organized? How much violence is in America? Do my students wear uniforms? How much is my teaching salary? Does my wife work? How much does she make? How many rooms does my home have? How many children do I have? Do I have any pets? How much did my shirt cost? What classes do I teach? How important is sports? How do teachers make decisions? What is the job of my principal? What is a school board? How much time is spent in class per day, per week? Is my school a leader school? What impressions do I have of their school, their town, their country? ” And on, and on, and on.

At one point, I even mention that my mom’s 70^th birthday was yesterday, Columbus Day, and they spontaneously applaud! I don’t know if it is the afternoon beer I had, or just the power of the moment, but I begin to weep a little as I start to describe how beautiful is the river landscape of Ukraine and their town, and how much it is like Wisconsin in America. Everyone in the room grows very quiet and some weep with me. I don’t know why I am suddenly overcome with emotion, but I swallow hard and continue.

When we finish, I stand and present my various gifts. I give an Arizona copper mine hat and University of Arizona keychain to the director. Arizona is the leading copper mine state. To Kamila, I present many different items: a blow up globe from National Geographic Society, my Cartwright District pen, a U of A pin, a U of A College of Education pin, a silver coin from an Arizona copper mine, a U of A journal, an Arizona children’s coloring book, and some Halloween decorations. To the entire staff I give all my Arizona picture post cards, U of A pens and pencils, Arizona Historical Society bookmarks, and more. They grab everything in sight. Last I put out a large bag of Halloween candy, and it is gone in seconds. Halloween is not a practiced custom in Ukraine, so they are intrigued. In the end, a great time is had by all!

American Food Habits

I am exhausted and mentally drained. Edward and I say goodbye and walk home. As we approach, we see his mom sitting outside on a bench. I insist that Edward sit with his mom and I take a nice picture. We go inside, and I journal about the rich variety of the day’s events while Valentina prepares “lunch.” Here “lunch” is our “dinner” in US, and “dinner” is “lunch” and “supper” follows last around 8-9: 00 pm. There are four main meals in the day here, which is why I am struggling to keep up and feel so full all the time.

Our lunch consists of borscht, bread, cabbage, pear juice, coffee, real Vodka shots, fried potato patties, tomatoes, and meat jello. For dessert, Valentina and Edward bring out a special Ukraine chocolate – rolled up in gold foil like small drumsticks. My wife Kathy would love all this chocolate!

After we eat, Edward and I get into a discussion about US eating habits. He noticed when he visited Delaware where he met me that Americans seem to eat only pizza, burgers, and fries, instead of a diet rich in fruits, vegetables, and juices like in Ukraine. He wants to know about drive-in movies, why Speedos are laughed at on US beaches, why Puritan US attitudes toward sexual behavior are do dominant, and other wide ranging topics. We also discuss the history of his town some more.

I finally have to excuse myself, I am so tired. I attempt to journal before I fall asleep, but I do not get far. Tonight the room has chilled into the 40s F, so I snuggle deeper into my comforter and make myself into a tight ball to stay warm. My thermal underwear and socks help a lot! But I still have a sinking feeling I am starting to get sick, and take a pill before I go to bed.