Paska: Goodbye and Good Luck

Maybe it's my imagination, but people seem happier on Paska (Easter). 

I'm watching Ukrainians at the Vokzal (train station). I see smiles everywhere.  A babushka and dedushka hold hands helping each other as they meander across train tracks. A little girl sucks on an ice cream while a little boy races ahead looking behind every few moments to make sure his parents are still watching.  

In a gentle spring manner, the sunshine is beaming down on everyone.  Puffy clouds roll across the day's cerulean blue canvass.  A tender breeze caresses the senses.  It's warm without being hot.  A perfect day.

If Paska means love-unending and I believe it does, then I am in love with Ukraine and the chance to be living here.

I'm at the Vakzal to catch a train from Chernigiv and back to Konotop.  It’s here where my Peace Corps adventure began.  Now two years later, my time is ending and new clusters of volunteers are just starting. 

Last Thursday, I got a chance to share my experience and some tips on networking and community integration at the Peace Corps training.  The new recruits were attentive.  Two years of being a Peace Corps Volunteers bestows some credibility.  Like Woody Allan puts it, “80% of success is showing up.”  I'm a survivor...veteran...or whatever.  I showed up. 

I like developing training presentations.  I always wrap in stories with practical tips that I have either used or gathered from other volunteers.  My presentation went so well that staff invited me to record a DVD so that it can be shared in the future.  I’m delighted.   It looks like I will be able to leave behind a training legacy. 

This time my visit to Chernigiv is also a goodbye to my host family and particularity Luda.  I lived with her  for 11 weeks in 2009.  Luda taught me some of my first practical Russian phrases. 

I remember practicing.


Я хочу купить воду без Гасс.  Proudly back home to Luda, I carried my first bottle of “water without gas.”  Like a kid, I beamed, “I did it.”   

Every week we would make a menu in Russian.  Even if we didn't follow it which was mostly the case, I was learning.  We played lots of UNO and I learned my colors and numbers that way.   Of course, Luda almost always won.  We laugh together recalling our shared stories.

On Paska, we take the yellow bus to one of the historic churches in the center of Chernigiv.  Along the way, I see scores of people strolling with wicker baskets strung under arms.  Each is filled with an assortment of Easter breads, (also called Paska), eggs, kielbasa, and maybe some cognac.

As we approach the church, I see a crowd ringing the ancient domed building.  They wait with their baskets quietly greeting one another in the dawn. 

Luda and I snake our way through the crowd and enter the sanctuary.  


Spectacularly, the front is gilded in gold from floor to highest heights.   A screen known as a iconostatis separates the altar from the people.  Icons are everywhere.  It’s a remarkable sight to see in such a poor country. 

There are no pews.  People circulate through the space pausing at icons to say a prayer and kiss the image.  They begin and end their prayers with the sign of the cross.  Unlike the West, Orthodox Christians cross themselves with broad bold movement – head, chest, right shoulder, left shoulder and a full bow. 

Many people light candles.  I buy one to remember those I have loved who are no longer with us – my parents and brother, Nancy Lee, Gregory, Babushka, Brent, Jessie and Brian. 

I am struck by the theology of the space.  The gold and towering dome is other worldly.  Yet the people milling around is so human.  I think this architecture reflects the miracle of divinity and humanity together in Jesus. 

I don’t understand the words of the Priest.  He chants and I am told that he is reading the Resurrection account from the Bible.  A lovely soprano sings simple melodies.  Her voice reverberates and seems to come from the arches above - almost heaven.     

Later some people come forward to receive a sip of wine from a chalice given to them on a silver spoon.  They have been fasting since Holy Thursday and break their fast with the “blood of Jesus”.   It must be a powerful experience for believers. 

We leave the sanctuary and join the crowd outside.  It has grown denser -  about 3 or 4 deep. 

The priest has a bundle of spring branches in hand.  He dips them in water – holy water – and sprays the people and most importantly the baskets.  


A babushka pokes the priest on the back.  Her basket has gotten little if any water.  He turns and splashes both basket and babushka.   She radiates wet smiles.  


Everyone and everything is blessed. The Easter miracle - Love-Unending - is repeated.

From above, bells begin to ring.  A large one goes bong…bong…bong while strings of smaller ones chirp ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling… ding-a-ling.  The combination is so much livelier than a single bell.  I imagine the heart of Chernigiv brimming over with joy.

After our blessing, we stroll down the walkways that surround the Church and make our way back home.  I try to imprint the sights and sounds into my consciousness so that I can remember this feeling.      

Later that same day, I say goodbye to Luda.  With a smile that keeps tears from flowing, we remember our daily ritual.  Every day as I left for language class, Luda would say, "Goodbye and good luck."  Now we hug and say it for the last time face-to-face. 

What a lucky fellow I have become.  It's like I have gained a second family.   I step into the sunshine and look up at the balcony of Luda’s flat.  She is there waving - Goodbye. Good luck!

For Holy Week and Paska

Again, it’s the dawn of Holy Week. Outside the snow is gone and hope for a resurgence of green grows each day.   Daffodil spikes poke through the black soil.    

In Konotop, resurgence is real and happening now.  Ah, spring!

I will travel to Chernigov next week.  I have been invited to share in the training of new Peace Corps Volunteers.  I want to present a collection of tips for community integration and networking.   It’s so important to take time to understand Ukrainian ways and build new relationships.  

As another Peace Corp Volunteer said to me recently, “Our service is all about relationships first and then projects follow.”  I’ve learned a lot and I’m glad to have the chance to pass it on.

 

I’ll stay in Chernigov and share Paska (Easter) with Luda and my host family.  It’s my third Paska in Ukraine.  What an amazing story I have been blessed with living these past two years.

Yesterday as I was enjoying a flood of memories, a free verse came to mind.  I sat down and with very little tinkering, these words flowed onto the screen:

the kingdom of god is now 

so he rode into town

the people loved him 

but crowds are fickle

or was it revenge

then and now, money changers remember

they play the future

a kingdom of god is no good when you have plans to profit the whole world  

so with the crowds blessing, they killed him 

just like they always do to those too good for now

just like a common thief for stealing away the right to hate and do daily injustice

then and now, death restores normalcy 

or so it seems

but for those with eyes and ears and hearts and hands that work, the kingdom of god is now

so we ride into town...

Yesterday, I shared the verse with a few friends.  One said she felt inspired and another said she might include it in Easter Sunday worship. She’s a minister.  Amazing, how email sends thoughts around the world.

And now I share the verse here on my blog.  While the context is Jesus and Holy Week, I think the theme is universal.  All religions struggle with overcoming hatred and fear and daily injustice.   Like daffodils, we poke our heads through the dark soil in hope. 

Happy Paska! 

желмасив - My Living Place

My apartment is in the neighborhood of желмасив.  To pronounce it, say zhelmasiv.  Roughly translated, it means a place for living.  When I tell Ukrainian friends where I’m living, they smile and joke, “You’re in Siberia.  It’s so far away.”  Well maybe, but I call it home even if it’s next to nowhere.

Let’s travel to my Ukrainian home in желмасив.  See the sights that have been part of my life for nearly two years.

We’ll start in the Center of Konotop near the cinema and the town’s main fountain.  Neither works. 

The movie theater has been closed for years.  People say that DVDs did away with the need.  In my opinion, it’s a pity.  Teenagers still gather in front when day-light turns to twilight.  They promenade in an ageless ritual of looking and being seen. 

The fountain only works on special holidays and sometimes not even then.  But the children love the fountain or more correctly, they love the child-high wall that encircles the fountain.  


They place tiny hands on the concrete surface as if by touching they will have power.  And they do.  Little boys clutch toy cars and trucks as they speed around.  Little girls giggle and race around too sometimes beating the boys. 

Occasionally, a few older children dare to mount the wall and slowly walk the concrete strip like a circus performer.  So proud they become.  To walk around the wall is an accomplishment for a 4 ½ year old and making it all the way is a relief for nervous parents who hover nearby.

  

I love this fountain without water.  I will sit and watch the drama unfold for hours.  Who needs TV when real Ukrainian life is right here?  But today we are going to the edge of the city...to желмасив.

We’ll catch either a van or a mini-bus.  Both cost 1 ½ UAH (12 cents), but vans are smaller.   In a van, you have to crouch down low as you enter so as not to hit your head.  Then you must navigate up two steps while trying to swing the door shut.  


The steps are narrow and if you are not careful and if your feet are big, like mine, you will trap your shoe between the door and the riser of the step.  Believe me, I have learned the hard way.  That’s why I prefer the big yellow mini-buses. 

Of course we could hop on the trolley.  It goes to желмасив too.  Since Stalin’s time, Konotop has had a trolley or tram way system.  It opened on Christmas day in 1949 and runs for about 15 miles (24 kilometers).  Seniors get to ride free.  You are supposed to get an official stamped card, but I never have.  I guess I just look the part. 

Down the main street of Konotop, we go.  It is one of the main arteries that are paved.  Like many towns in Ukraine, this main street is named Перспектива мира.  To pronounce it, say Perspektiva Mira.  Prospect Peace.

Out our left window is the park.  A statue of Lenin waves in front of the City Building and a Shevchenko statue reclines while reading poetry across from the Post Office.  


Benches line the walkways.  A few kiddy rides are further back and mostly in disrepair.  The Soviet State use to provide family fun in the park, but of course, it is no more.  Private enterprise has yet to fill the gap. 

On our right is a row of магазины.  To pronounce it, say Magazeneh.  Stores.    A few Babushkas huddle in front selling pussy willows and sunflower seeds. 

Pussy willows are signs of spring and the approach of Palm Sunday.  Since there are no palm trees in Ukraine and other trees do not leaf early due to the harshness of the climate, only pussy willows reveal their tender catkins. 


Leaves are present too, but not quite visible – a symbol of Easter joy that remains hidden, but soon will be revealed to the faithful.  Everyone wants to have a bundle of pussy willows in their home at this time of year. They have a story to tell.

See the three guys standing on the corner.  Notice that one shares a handful of sunflower seeds with the others.  It’s a popular snack and maybe a national pass-time. 

In a smooth motion from hand to mouth, they crack the seeds between their front teeth extracting the kernel and spitting out the husk while not missing a word of the conversation.  It’s multi-snacking at its best.    

We make the turn at фора (Phora).  It’s one of Konotop’s supermarkets. Between the Bazaar and here, I purchase most of my food.  It’s not huge like an American Shop-n-Save.  It’s more like a convenience store on steroids.

Inside you can find most of what you need.  It helps to be able to read Russian, but then sometimes it gets confusing.  Well, a lot of the time, it gets confusing especially when the labels switch to Ukrainian.  


I guess that’s why it’s a relief to come down the vodka, cognac, beer aisle.  Everything is color coded - white for vodka, brown for cognac, and skinny neck bottles for beer.       

On our mini-bus, we pass by “Little Palestine.”  During our last walk, Gregory pointed it out to me.  “It’s where Konotop’s Jewish families lived before famine, wars and Nazis.”  


He showed me his boyhood home which is now an office.  He lived in a room about 12 x 15 with no kitchen or bath.  Both were down the hallway and shared with other families.  This was known as family dormitory living.  I do not recommend it.  I almost never pass by without saying a blessing for Gregory.  If it matters in heaven, Gregory is remembered. 

Our 15 minute ride is not so far by American standards.  I know people in Boston who commute more than an hour.  But still I am on the edge of city development.  It’s the end of the line for the mini-bus, van and trolley.  All three will turn-a-round here. 

We get off and see an open field across the way.  The soil is dark black and is said to be among the most fertile in the world.  Individual plots have been laid out.  In a few weeks, families will be out there turning the good earth by hand and planting food for the next year. 

It’s a necessity.  I have learned that Ukraine’s minimum monthly pension is 596 UAH ($73) and its average is no more than about 1,060 UAH ($130).  It’s a pittance for a life time of work, but even at these levels, officials say the entire pension system is in dire crisis.

I’ve seen the alternative.  An elderly woman scavengers through the trash containers not far from my home.   She searches for any item that can be sold.  And as difficult as it is to realize, she will also grab anything that can be eaten. 

Stray dogs stand patiently in the shadows of the dumpsters, like sentinels, watching for any scrap that may be tossed their way.  Other people scurry here and there and seem not to notice much.  Очень жаль.  To pronounce, say ochen zhal   It’s a pity.

We walk another 15 minutes to my home.  We pass a gaggle of Soviet apartments. They are five stories high and either of concrete or brick construction.  To be higher would have required elevators according to Soviet code. 

Balconies protrude in vertical rows.  Each hangs in various states of repair.  The overall appearance is disjointed and drab.  In Soviet times, these buildings served a utilitarian purpose – to get families out of dormitories and into a home of their own.  That part worked.

We notice in the distance some new construction.  Locals call it “poor street” with obvious sarcasm and maybe some envy.  Apparently free enterprise has given some people more – a lot more.  And they have constructed their own castles on the edge of желмасив,  on the edge of town.

My place is modest – ever so modest.  I have one main room that’s about 12 x 10 feet.  Here is where I sleep and read and write this blog.  My desk occupies one corner and my armoire sits in  the other.  A fold-down futon takes up most of the other space. 

A short hallway connects this room with my bathroom.  Last September, I got hot water.  I’m in favor of hot water.  But even when I was without it for 15 months, I adapted and I think most people would. 

Next to my bathroom is a kitchen.  I have about a foot of counter space.  Whenever I am with other volunteers, I always make a complaint.  With tongue- in-cheek, I gleefully rant on.  It’s become my signature joke – a gourmet cook with so many ideas and so little space.  Chuckle, chuckle, chuckle…

    

And whenever I’m invited to another volunteer’s apartment, I stand and envy their two feet of counter space.  It’s all in fun because I know many Ukrainians prepare elaborate meals for people they love with no more than I have.  They prove that you can do a lot more with less. 

  

 I’m thinking people adapt.  We adapt to more maybe too easily and we adapt to less maybe without realizing it.   We may not like it.  We can complain.  We can have fear or envy.  But in the end we adapt and it’s a good thing.


So Welcome, my friend.  I live on the edge of town in желмасив.  Even though it is not a "poor street," I like it.  It's become my living place.  

Peace Corps Birthday Gift

Fifty years ago this month, newly inaugurated President Kennedy established the Peace Corps.  Over the years, more than 200,000 volunteers have served in 139 countries.  Back then as today, Peace Corps Volunteers shared skills and knowledge, represented America to host country friends and brought cross-cultural understanding back home. 

Happy Birthday, Peace Corps.

What would a birthday be without presents?  In Konotop, we took this occasion to open the world of English literature to an entire community and in so doing created a legacy of knowledge and cross-cultural understanding.   

Where none existed before, more than 300 English literature books are given and made available to everyone.  This English literature library was made possible with gifts from Americans to the Peace Corps Partnership Program and with additional gifts from the personal reading shelves of Peace Corps Volunteers serving here in Ukraine. 

What a great way to honor the Peace Corps. After all, for 50 years the Peace Corps has been about giving in country after country around the world.

My team - Tatyanna, Irena, Anna

“We are making history,” whispers Tatyana with eyes glistening.  She and Irena and Anna are English teachers at the Poly-Technical School and Institute in Konotop.  For more than 6 months, they have planned and worked for this moment.

“Remember you came to us on September 10^th with this idea of English literature,” recalls Anna.  “We wanted more text books at the time, but you introduced the idea of literature.  We did not know it, but our Head-Mistress also had a dream of offering English Literature to our students. “   

The Head Mistress had participated in a cross-cultural exchange program and spent a month in Ames, Iowa.  She brought back many new ideas.  Wonderfully, the synergy of the Peace Corps, an idea brought from the heartland of America and gifts of books will now make dreams come true.

PC Director, Douglas Teschner,  with PC Volunteers, Rose Cheyette, John VanGavree, Dan Cahoon, Danny Zawacki, Kim Rosado, Jud Dolphin with Gifts of Books

I am with Douglas Teschner, our Peace Corps Ukraine Director and an entourage of local Peace Corps Volunteers.  We are walking down the hallway towards the library.  Along the way students direct us.  They are dressed –up for the occasion.  Suits, formal dresses and an occasional thumbs-up greet us.  It’s obvious that today is considered a very special one. 

   

As we enter the Library, the Head Librarian and her staff are all smiles.  When we first met, I remember her showing me a handful of Soviet English publications from the 1960s.  That plus a few other books at the city library were the extent of English literature in Konotop.  None of the classics were available.

“We may get as many as 300 books and each one will need to be catalogued. It’s a lot of extra work,”  I caution.  Earlier in the month, I had been turned down by the City Library so I wanted to check out interest.  But this librarian is more excited than worried.  She assures me, “Not a problem.”   Weeks later, Tatyanna glows when telling me that the library staff is learning English too since each title must be translated and entered into the computer.

It seems to me that giving creates its own rippling effect.  It keeps expanding outward creating waves of possibility where none existed before.   As Douglas remarks, “The books are important, but it’s not just about the books.”

With obvious pleasure, the Head Librarian now displays shelves of English books.  Each has been prepared properly - a translated routing card and a stamp that says US Peace Corps Partnership Program.   The books include many abridged versions of classics so that even beginners can have a positive reading experience.  Other books are full versions for those more advanced. 

Anna and Tatyana 

I remember going to Kiev with Anna and Tatyana to buy the books.  We started before dawn on a cold dreary day.  First I had to go and get cash.  Ukraine is mostly a cash economy.  Few shops take credit cards.  For a time I was a rich man with over 12,000 UAH ($1500).

We invaded English only shops and outdoor stalls.  Previously at their own expense, Tatyanna and Anna had checked-out possibilities in Kiev and knew exactly where to go.  Carefully, we selected titles.  So absorbed we became that we forgot about lunch until 5:00 pm.

Getting the books back to Konotop could have been a problem, but as a sign of the School’s commitment, the Head-Mistress provided a car and driver.  Perfect.  Since then, we felt that problems could be solved. 


It’s an important lesson for everyone to learn and here in Konotop, we replace problems with a good feeling.  I don't know who started it, but whenever we come across a problem, we remind one another of the Bobby McFerrin tune and hum - “Don’t worry…Be happy”    http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=d-diB65scQU

Now anyone in Konotop can check out a book by showing identification.  Young or old, student or not, all are welcome.  It’s a huge change in policy and one that might challenge even American colleges.

Two young Ukrainians in traditional dress hold a red ribbon in front of the bookshelves.  As the Head-Mistress and Douglas cut it, I can’t help thinking that here cultures are meeting and embracing one another.    Soon an English literature course will be part of the curriculum.  Tatyanna boasts, “Some of the students have already checked out books.”  


A piece of the ribbon is handed to me.  Waving it in the air, I am ecstatic

. 

Inside the Reading Hall, a crowd is gathering.  As I walk to the front, I suddenly notice two very special people.  Gregory’s widow and daughter are here. 

You may recall that when my first organizing attempts were rebuffed by the city library, Gregory told me that “something good would happen.”   Sadly he died before he could see his prophesy fulfilled.  I embrace his widow and daughter and my eyes well-up with tears.  They are strange tears, but mostly ones of joy, inspiration and gratitude. 

Two students emcee our program.  We are treated to a wonderful full-length Ukrainian ceremony.  We hear about the dawn of writing and scrolls and papyrus and eventually the printing press and books as we know them.  Two charming poems are recited in English and a few songs are mixed in along with a stand-out performance on the Bandura.  Please learn more about this traditional instrument.
  

 http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Bandura

 http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DUGx5FVxp00&feature=related  

Douglas and I both are invited to share a few words.  The people are impressed with Douglas and more than one remark how wonderful it is that he comes all the way from Kiev.  He talks about the Peace Corps, its history and its enduring goals.  He tells everyone that the Peace Corps is now 50 years old. 

It’s a perfect segue.  Each of my Peace Corps colleagues brings a gift of books from their own collection. Festooned with ribbons and bows, the books pile up as a tribute to the Peace Corps and a symbol of our friendship with Ukrainian people.

   

I say, “We give you the enjoyment of books.  We give you the knowledge of books.  We give you improvement of English through reading books.  We give you your dreams with books.  We give you understanding of other cultures.”   And then I add, “We give you our friendship and hope for a very good life.”

After all the speeches are completed and people filter out, two young boys stop to speak with me.  Their English is pretty good and they bubble enthusiasm.  Each pledges to read many of the new English books.  I smile and think maybe they will….so many more possibilities exist now. 

Happy Birthday, Peace Corps.

A Toast for Civil Society

"Let me say a few words...a toast to so many walls falling down...no longer afraid...we are open and can talk our minds...friends without fear and barriers," smiles Natalia, the Director of the Institute of Leadership and Management of the Ukrainian Catholic University.

I am with her and two of her team members relaxing over dinner after a long day that included my seminar on Practical Public Relations for NGOs (Non-Profits).

Her toast comes after an extended conversation about struggles for a civil society and lingering consequences of Soviet rule. Although it's been 20 years, I am continually struck by the dark depth of this legacy. It seems like Soviets in an effort to control human thinking left deep scares marked by fear and isolation.

(Courtesy of Suzanne Cochran, Peace Corps Volunteer)

"As children, my brother and I went to Holy Friday worship services with my mother," Natalia shares. "It was held at night because in the dark, it is not so easy to see who is going in and coming out."

She tells about a time when they were observed by authorities. The next day at school, she and her brother were taken into a room and reprimanded. "Good Soviet Pioneers (a Soviet children's program) do not go to bad places. Only bad people go to churches." As Natalia says, "We learned to stare a hole in the floor and never say a word."

The Soviet system imploded in 1991 and Ukraine rose up declaring its independence. The world would need to learn that this land was no longer "The Ukraine" as if it was a section of a larger country, but simply Ukraine, a fully autonomous nation.

I remember having to learn to drop the article "the" when I first came to Ukraine. The Soviet legacy was a part of my mind too. It may seem like a simple or even silly grammatical change, but it is more. It is about identity, human dignity, freedom and hope for a better life.

I am in the west of Ukraine in the city of Lviv. It's a 13 hour train ride from Konotop and a mere 85 kilometers away from Poland. During much of Ukraine's history, the area around Lviv has been been annexed by one empire or another. Poles, Lithuanians, Astro-Hungarians, Germans and of course Russians took turns. Still through it all a remnant Ukrainian identity survived. And now since 1991, there is but one Ukraine from Lviv in the west to Kiev in the middle and Donestk in the east.

My seminar brings together about 30 NGO leaders. Each is engaged in some form of community service or charity work.

It's remarkable.

Back in Soviet times, there was no entrepreneurial leadership. If it was not done by the State, it was not needed. You did not embark on your own. To do so was to invite danger to yourself and your family. So many Ukrainians have told me that they got real good at being invisible and just blending in. 

It reminds me of the old Beatles tune - "He's a real nowhere Man, Sitting in his nowhere land, Making all his nowhere plans for nobody..."

So truly it is remarkable to see so many leaders eager to learn and increase the effectiveness of their NGOs. These men and women are building the structure for a more civil society. Association by association, network connection by network connection, the slow process of regaining a good life is happening.

A mother talks about her son with autism. "They told me he would be nothing and should be kept at home and out of sight." She rebelled, went to school to learn about treating autism and now heads a small organization that gives hope to other families.

A young fellow, maybe 28, is working to resurrect Ukrainian culture and teach the next generation about the traditional ways. He is planning a cultural festival in Spring and is eager to learn about press releases and press conferences and how to spin a story into news.

An older woman talks about uniting pensioners so that they can speak in one voice. Her organization is part social and part advocacy. Immediately I think of AARP and the similarities of how it got started. I share lots of ideas. She can't wait to check-out the AARP web site - http://www.aarp.org/

A woman tells about a mini-bus that travels the streets of Lviv giving HIV tests and AIDS information. "A lot of time people don't notice us," she laments. We discuss placing colorful circle and a banner on the bus so that it stands out. I suggest, "Maybe a radio station will play a game and ask listeners 'where in Lviv is the HIV bus today!'"

We have a lot of fun. Thanks to a wonderful translator, I can freely share practical ideas, antidotes and even a few jokes. We all have a laugh when I use a colloquial expression and my translator stares at me in disbelief. "What will he say next?"

Even though the Seminar goes on for more than 6 hours, most of the students stay. They are so eager to learn and grow their organizations. It's a delight to be with them.

It's like seeing a kind of transformation. Silent head-bowed obedience is being replaced with animation and tons of questions. The human spirit lives. Minds can think new ideas. People can associate in new ways. Civil Society emerges.

So, dear friend, I invite you to join us. Say a few words and offer a toast. Americans and Ukrainians, we are friends without fears or barriers. Let us help one another live into a good life.

Egyptian Antiquity and Tahrir Square

More than 4000 years ago, a moral conscience developed among Egyptians.  I have been reading Development of Religion and Thought in Ancient Egypt by James Breasted.  

Absorbing the evolution of ancient thought as I watch 21^st century history unfold in Tahrir Square has created a remarkable convergence of underlying truth.  I realize anew the depth and strength of the human spirit.  It cannot be denied. 

In this civilization along the Nile, people created a cradle for our civil society.  From prehistoric roots, they developed the first awareness that social behavior is linked to human development and the will of the gods.  Some experts say that their social consciousness was well established more than three centuries before the Ten Commandments.  

Even Pharaohs are subject to judgment.   Carved into the walls of their tombs are pleas of innocence.

“I did not slay men.  I did not steal from one crying for his possessions.  I did not take away food.  I did not diminish the grain measure.  I did not commit adultery.  I did not stir up fear.  I did not stir up strife.  I was not avarice.  I was not puffed up.  I did not make falsehoods in the place of truths.  I was not deaf to truthful words.  My heart coveted not.  I did not wax in hot temper.  I did not do an abomination of the gods.” (Adapted from Book of the Dead, translated J. Breasted, pp302-303)

Injustice does not stand.   As Martin Luther King said to a powerful country still needing to address its own injustice, “…the arc of the moral universe is long, but it bends toward justice."

Before January 25^th and the start of the protests in Egypt, I was emailing Omar.  You may recall him as the artist I met in the Egyptian Museum, just a few blocks from Tahrir Square.  He was the one who recommended a cafe on Tahrir Square.

I did not know then that the cityscape I was exploring would soon be filled with tanks, military and millions of ordinary Egyptians fed up with the dictatorial system .   

Omar writes one week before the start of protests:

“the weather here is kinda cold, winter break just came by, my birthday in 2 weeks and my 6 months anniversary with my girlfriend, I am really excited about the 2nd one because I really think she is the one :)

I am starting my own company too; Vinyl designs - as in records not the material :D - , WISH US LUCK.  WE NEED IT!!!

best wishes from the ever green Egypt :)”

A very normal and friendly note from an almost 21 year old.  It’s what you would expect and then a few days later I receive this email:

“Hey Jud

how are u doing?  yea things have been crazy the past week! a lot of people escaped prisons and were stealing malls and homes.  i almost got shot like 6 times and i almost killed a man.  feels weird but thanks god me, my family and our home are unharmed.  the good thing is that people are uniting again, everyone cares about the other and our love to our country got restored.  pray for us.  btw i am 21 on the 7th :D”

I honor his request for prayer and celebrate his birthday by sending a home-made birthday card.  I write the following to him:

“I am very glad to hear from you.  It must be a very scary time but also a time for much needed change….

I can only imagine the fear of being shot at and the terrible feeling of almost shooting another.  I am glad you were spared that experience.  May it continue.

Are you sleeping on the square?  Are you protecting your area from criminals?  I of course will pray and trust that good outcomes will happen for you and your country. 

I will celebrate your 21st Birthday on Monday.”

I assume Omar celebrated his birthday on Monday, but did not hear from him.  Of course, I worried as the stalemate became more intense.  The news had a face and it was Omar's.  Then history was made on 2/11 and Omar wrote:

“YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW HAPPY, ALIVE AND DIGNIFIED WE ARE AT THIS MOMENT  I CRIED OUT OF JOY! I COULDN'T BELIEVE IT!!!

it has been a long journey, I myself almost got ran over twice, almost got shot 8 times

and full of bruises and scars now.  i have lost friends and i ve seen bad things

but i gained freedom and got my country back :D”

Like all the commentators say, Egypt has so much to accomplish for freedom and justice to flourish.  But this is a land and people who first gave voice to our higher ideals.

Like a kind of unintended immortality, we have the words of justice inscribed on the walls of ancient tombs.  Even now they strengthen our human spirit.  I have a feeling that something good will emerge and I think my young artist friend will be a part of it. 

Omar, God bless you….

Civic Engagement and Service Learning

“Can you help us develop a grant for Civic Engagement,” comes the invitation from Tatyana, the Director of the Poly-Technical School?

Tatyana is a graduate of an American Exchange Program that took her and a few others from Konotop to Ames, Iowa.  Now there is an opportunity for a grant to further Civic Engagement locally.

I arrive for a meeting.  It’s a small world.  By coincidence, my brother and his wife lived in Ames for most of their married life.  Warren taught biology at the Iowa State University and Judy directed the campus YWCA.  They never met Tatyana, but amazingly they share friends in common.  Because of this Ames connection, I think Tatyana and I share a special friendship. 

Her request to help develop a grant comes unexpectedly.  Initially, I have no idea what to suggest.  I fret about it for a couple of days before the meeting.  I am honored to be asked and increasingly I’m afraid I have nothing to say. 

  

As a last gasp for something, I start looking at my Peace Corps Training Portfolio.  I’m looking for ideas, any ideas.  But there is nothing.  I sort through more files and dust off my assortment of how-to manuals.   I am getting desperate.

Suddenly, Service Learning jumps out at me.  In the first summer of my Peace Corps experience, I attended training about Service Learning.  


When I returned to Konotop, I tried to interest a few people, but it went nowhere.    I placed the how-to booklet behind my shoes in the bottom of my armoire.  It stayed there until today.

I quickly research the idea on the Internet and put together a one page fact sheet translated into Russian.  I put a call through to the Peace Corps Office and get them to send me all the materials they have on Service Learning.  Strikingly, they have been translated into Ukrainian.  I am soaring high.  Who would have thought that such a great idea would be lying dormant in my armoire?     

Briefly if you don’t already know, “Service-Learning is a teaching strategy that integrates meaningful community service with instruction and reflection to enrich the learning experience, teach civic responsibility, and strengthen communities. “   


(http://www.servicelearning.org/what-is-service-learning)

 I think it is a perfect  idea for Civic Engagement.  At our meeting Tatyana agrees.  She asks whether Service Learning is common.  I say, “It’s growing in America, but maybe not so much in Ukraine.”  She smiles and says, “Maybe we will be the first.” 

But there is more.  Tatyana goes on to explain that she is finishing her doctoral degree on educational pedagogy emphasizing engagement of students.  We both see a wonderful merging of her academic work with Service Learning and this grant opportunity.

Others are called into our meeting and soon assignments are made to develop the grant.  I will help with the English translation. 

I leave the meeting with a glow of satisfaction.  Sometimes all the pieces do fit together.  In another small way, the Peace Corps is making a difference in the world.