In Ukraine, jokes about Cossacks are as common as jokes
about Mennonites in Manitoba. Have you
heard the one about the Cossack guide who was taking a Mennonite visitor from
Canada on a tour? As they left Zaporozhye
by car, the traffic lights turned red and the Cossack driver sped up and went
charging through the intersection. The
Mennonite passenger was totally shaken and yelled at the driver asking why he
did such a dangerous thing. The Cossack calmly
shrugged his shoulder and replied, “Because I am a Cossack”. The next intersection the light was also red
and the driver just charged through at full speed. By the third intersection, the Mennonite
passenger was already bracing himself for a crash, when the light suddenly
turned green and he could relax. The
Cossack driver also saw the light turn green and slammed on his brakes. The Mennonite inquired as to the reason why
he would stop for a green light. The
Cossack again shrugged his shoulder and said cautiously, “There might be a
Cossack coming”.
“Cossack” is a Turkish word meaning “freeman”. They were generally runaway serfs who banded
together for their own protection. They
developed their own customs, clothing, and reputations. They lived in the Khortitsa area before the
Mennonites arrived and had a fort on an island in the Dnieper River. They were generally loyal to the Russian
crown and fought many battles with the Turks who had controlled their land at
one time. There is a famous painting of
the Zaporozhyzian Cossacks drafting a response to a demand of surrender from a
Turkish sultan. This historic response
has survived in the archives. It is not
a document you would read in polite company.
The painting is very well done and you can imagine the response just by
studying the characters in the painting.
(Click on the picture to enlarge)
I had the opportunity to meet a direct descendant of the
last leader or “hetman” of the Cossacks.
His name is Boris Polubotko. His
mother’s maiden name was “Froese”, so we really have a Mennonite Cossack. I presume that he is inclined to aggressively
pursue the peace position. Boris has
relatives in Winnipeg and they asked me to deliver a gift to him and that was
my reason for the meeting. If you are
wondering what a modern day descendant of the Cossacks does for a living - he
is an orthopedic surgeon. It was a pleasure
to meet him.
We celebrated Easter on May 5. Sometimes Easter falls on the same day as we
celebrate it in the West. This year it
did not. We spent Saturday before Easter
shopping for paska. Every store and
vendor was selling it. Saturday night at
midnight we went to the local Orthodox Church for their service. We enjoyed listening to the choir and just
watching the people worshipping. Their
service continued all night till sunrise.
Mary and I did not last that long.
We wanted to join the Kutuzovka Mennonite Church for their 8:00 AM
breakfast. The greeting on Easter
morning from everyone is “Christ is risen” and the proper response is “Christ
is risen indeed”. Someday I will learn
to say this in Russian. Easter Monday was
paska baking day at the Mennonite Centre.
Mary loved spending the day in the kitchen with Ira, our cook. The process is fascinating and the final
product is beautiful. Each senior coming
for lunch on Tuesday got a paska.
There have been the usual number of petitions - everything from
medicines for a man suffering from hepatitis to a lady with a badly scalded
hand asking for groceries. Our lives
were disrupted by water problems in our apartment for a few days. Thankfully we are now back to showering on a
regular basis each morning. (no picture available)
A few days ago we were informed that there were a number of “German”
tourists at the Mennonite Centre. They
just showed up one evening. Mary and I
went to find out what they wanted. They
were 8 Mennonite men from Germany. They
were working as volunteers in the Melitopol area doing renovations at an
orphanage. They were taking the evening
off to come and find the villages from which their parents had been forcibly
removed in 1941. It turned out that a
number of them had roots in my father’s village of Alexandertal. One of them, a Doerksen, lived across the
street from where the Suderman’s used to live. They needed maps of the village
and directions on how to get there. I
was happy to do this but felt a bit guilty as I photocopied a few pages from Helmut
Huebert’s atlas (my neighbour in Winnipeg).
Mary had a chance to practise her low-German as she communicated with
them. They were a delightful,
enthusiastic group and we counted it a privilege to meet them. They had moved to Germany from Kazakhstan in
the 1990’s and were now back making a contribution to the area from which their
ancestors had come.
No comments:
Post a Comment