Remembering a peaceful afternoon in Ukraine
A journal entry from 32 years ago transports Jimmy Lowe back to a peaceful summer in Ukraine, offering a poignant contrast to the country the world sees today.
Thirty-two summers ago, I taught an English class far from home. Today I read the journal I kept during those days in Ukraine, and that made me recall students and others I encountered there.
The following is an early entry from that journal. . .
It’s 2:10 in the afternoon. I’m sitting in a small park in Kremenchug. Weather is comfortable—warm yet punctuated with a cool breeze. Tree limbs lead an orchestra as wind plays music through the leaves.
There are several benches here. An old man sits to my right. We greet one another with a nod and smile. He doesn’t speak English, and I don’t speak Russian. A pigeon wobbles toward my feet on the cobbled stones. It doesn’t speak English, either.
Across the hard pavements comes an afternoon parade of Ukrainian walkers. Most of the moving about in this city is accomplished by walking, although there are a few small cars, jeeps, trucks, and even a van puttering through streets in front of and behind me.
A little girl politely walks by, carrying a hand-picked bouquet of flowers. Her hair is braided, and she is pretty in her red and white dress.
I notice a middle-aged couple riding on a street in a motorcycle with a passenger seat attached. They seem relaxed and happy to be out and about.
The pigeon returns with something in his beak. He drops his find as if offering me whatever it is. He makes some comments, but, of course, I don’t understand the language here.
Four women and one man have now come into the park. The women have their heads covered in a wrap-around cloth, and their hands are covered with gloves. They use hoes as they begin to clear away weeds. The man scoops up the debris and tosses it into a wagon bed.
A young man in uniform strolls by. I suppose he’s a police officer, patrolling the area. A patrol seems unnecessary here, though.
The old man stands up from his bench and again nods to me with a smile. Obviously, he’s ready to go somewhere else for a while.
I must move on, too. I need to head toward the classroom where I’ll be teaching my first class of English this Monday afternoon. . .
And that’s the way I recorded my impressions on that July afternoon. Unlike the news reporting I’ve seen during the past few years, the Ukraine I remember was quite peaceful and pleasant.
I hope it will one day be like that again.
