It’s taken me a while to sit down and write about December 1 – my parallel piece for the latest A Day in the Life of Ukraine (just imagine – this is the fourth incarnation of this project!). Still, for all that I may have going on, I can’t expect anyone else to prioritize what I haven’t accomplished myself, and I’m so looking forward to reading about this day from the perspectives of those across Ukraine. And really, as I’ve felt so often over the past month, the scope of anything I have going on isn’t quite on the same level as the events in Ukraine…
November 30, for anyone who’s known me over the past seven years, can bring a mix of struggle and triumph. As the final day of National Novel Writing Month, it’s the day when participants must reach the 50,000 word minimum goal in the year’s new piece of original writing. In 30 days, that’s 1,667 words per day. This year, with Thanksgiving tucked so neatly into the final fold of the month, and a seemingly still-new job where I often clock absurd hours, I woke up on November 30 with nearly 11,000 words still to go. And when I say nearly 11,000 words, I mean about 10,700 – there’s very little exaggeration here. The seventh year I’d participated– and I’d completed (meaning WON!) each of the previous six years… Options?
Struggle before triumph, then take-out tofu. And yes, I slept in on December 1, despite a recently passed resolution to avoid such behavior. Sleep is healthy, right?
The morning light was weak, anyway, supporting a slow start, and I checked email and Facebook on my phone before committing to any major action.
And here, the shift.
I’d been following the news from Ukraine over the past few weeks since Yanukovich had decided not to sign the agreement with the EU, and shared a few relevant updates, but today, it seemed, was suddenly very different. I read of the violence between police and protesters the night before – November 30 – and wondered what to believe. How would this story unravel? It was clear where the blame would be laid, but whose orders had really set these actions in motion?
The story of the tractor being used by protestors to break through police lines was visually striking and picked up by all kinds of news sources – but who was driving this tractor? Was it extremists from the opposition party trying to make their point, or provocateurs, trying to cause further conflict beyond an overall peaceful protest so that a state of emergency could be declared and an occupying military presence called in?
I was overwhelmed by the news, the swirling updates – realizing how rusty my Ukrainian language skills were, wondering how biased all English-language news sources were (ranging among those based in Western Europe, Russia, the US, and Ukraine itself), and still blown away that this was the day that had been chosen for A Day in the Life of Ukraine 4.
One person wrote on our ADITLOU FB page that this might not just turn out to be A Day but THE Day in the Life of Ukraine. Totally. I started to wonder, though, how many people would really be able to take the time to tell this true story – and how many would feel safe and comfortable doing so? Students whose scholarships are controlled by the state – would they feel safe reporting that they attended protests on this day? Citizens who planned strikes for December 2 – as it seemed many did – would they feel comfortable sharing that? As Peace Corps Volunteers, we weren’t to discuss political issues, as we were not in the country on political missions – however, I can imagine that any PCV reporting on this day would have serious trouble avoiding this topic and any emotional coloring.
I spent a little time inviting lots of people to participate – to like the page, to attend the event – and then stepped back. What would I even say about this day in Ukraine myself? What stories or pictures could I now share? Everything I came across seemed so biased. Europe is perfect, Russia is the worst – sign and we’ll live happily ever after with Western standards and never have to pay for visas. Ukrainians don’t understand that Russia looks out for them and Europe’s promises are a bunch of hot air and empty wallets. A picture of a Cossack being dragged by two military police through Maidan Nezalezhnosti (Independence Square). Which we now call Euromaidan (European Square). Or we don’t.
I chatted with a few friends in Ukraine, ended up posting a link to a KyivPost page that was regularly updated in English and which I’d confirmed had fairly accurate information, and stepped away from the screen.
As often as I always think of Ukraine and all those I love who live there, this particular story swallowed my day on December 1, and has been at least front page news for me for the past month. I had the idea that somehow, everyone knew about this story right away, too – that people looked up and saw the Ukrainian flag that always hangs in the window of my apartment and nodded fiercely. When I got in the car to run some errands and this wasn’t on the top of the news, I was nearly shocked. When no one in any of the stores I stopped by said anything about my Ukrainian flag earrings, I had the feeling they were just being polite.
Unreasonable? Maybe. Still, the truth. But what about all the things going on in the world that I don’t know about? Yeah, there’s that… all of that. (And now, as I write this, there are certainly many more people aware of this story... and many more stories that have developed in the world of which I am personally unaware. How to keep up?)
So, on with the errands…
Whole Foods: Returning a glass bottle, then looking for milk, chocolate, in a new glass bottle. Assorted groceries. Flowers.
Trader Joe’s: Another try for the flowers. New people starting the next day at the office should be greeted by flowers at their desks, right? Why so slow to decide on which flowers? They should be the right flowers. Success: yellow ranunculus. That’s a bold choice. Also pumpkin yogurt. That’s for me. It just looks like a good idea.
Goodwill: Vases. Certainly helpful.
With all of these items gathered, I stopped by the office – about two minutes away from Goodwill – to drop off the flowers and vases so I wouldn’t have to carry them in early the next morning. As I swiped my access card, the dark quiet turned to fluorescently lit quiet, white noise humming inaudibly. Air vents slightly waved a few of the colorful hands of our recently Thanksgiving project in greeting. Some scissors, water, the bright yellow flowers deposited appropriately, and my phone rang.
About a minute into this conversation, I realized two things: 1, I was being asked a question I’d been asked before and hadn’t answered yet, and 2, I was responding from my office on a Sunday night. Yuck. What matters? I promised a response by tonight. Where are your priorities? I didn’t say that. I said, “And how are you?”
Home again, I figured out the answer, delivered it. Check.
Ready for work tomorrow? More or less. Check-ish.
Dinner? Buckwheat, eggs – why not? Let’s really have a Ukrainian day. Love it. Of course I check the news updates while I eat. Different time zones allow for translation of recent action, and it’s a full day to report – spreading wider and Wester.
Stepping back, a bit of my own writing for the day – still a priority, no matter how much was accomplished yesterday, no matter how random or serious the content .
As I head to sleep, I marvel how this is always the question: Where are your priorities? It doesn’t always matter who knows them, but it always matters how you act on them. In small ways, in big ways. You know I could go on about this, but the Campbell’s condensed version? Be a hero to your priorities!