The Borderland Chronicles

Too cool for school. I mean that quite literally. With the temperature hovering around -24 degrees Celsius (-10 degrees Fahrenheit) this morning, most schools cancelled lessons all together. My school, however, thought they’d give it a shot and see how many students would show up.

In my first lesson of the day, usually a rowdy bunch of 28 12-year-olds, just 5 girls showed up. The teacher I work with was running around like a mad woman trying to figure out where everyone was while also dealing with parents of children calling her mobile to explain that they were keeping they’re kids home from school today. “It’s too cold to be outside today,” my partner teacher explained. “And some of the students live on the edge of town and would have to walk in.” (What’s funny was the number of phone calls from mothers worried their boys would catch their death if they were to go outside. Contrastingly, only a few mothers called to explain they were keeping their daughters home. And like I said, the students that did brave the weather to come to class were, in fact, all girls. I’m seriously beginning to question who’s tougher in Ukraine.)

Proof to the severity of this eastern European cold snap can be found with a quick scan of the international news. A Reuters story published yesterday reported that already 30 people have died in the past week. Most of those were homeless people, but still. I tried running some errands yesterday afternoon, but quickly gave in, turned back and went home when my snot and mustache froze just five minutes after stepping outside.

Being from the Pacific Northwest, I’m not used to this type of weather. We get rain, fog, and at worst maybe some sleet. But the temperature rarely drops below freezing, except for maybe a few times and during the night. Having spent the previous winter in Ukraine, though, you’d think I’d be prepared. But nothing prepares you for this extreme chill.

I’m home now, curled up in a blanket a few feet from my radiator. This is where I plan to stay for the remainder of the day. Maybe this afternoon I’ll make some mulled wine. Here’s to hoping it warms up soon.

Posted in Artemovsk, Culture, Donetsk, It's Cold!, Life, School, Teaching, Ukraine |

The Interfax-Ukraine news agency reported this week on a project that will bring new and innovative technologies to secondary schools throughout Ukraine.

The Open World project, which Ukraine officially rolled out yesterday, will be implemented in 704 schools around the country, including schools in rural areas.

The Interfax-Ukraine story lacks significant details regarding what exactly the program will entail, but any help rural schools can get is a step forward for education in Ukraine.

Many schools here lack what most would consider bare necessities – blackboards, chalk sticks, projectors, computers, Internet and even books enough for an entire class. In some 12 classrooms at a nearby village school, where I taught for 10 months, four were without chalkboards and all were without chalk sticks. Students actually went to local quarries to find pieces of calcium carbonate to use in their place.

Whatever the program provides to the secondary schools involved will no doubt be a big help. And hopefully in the not so distant future the rest of Ukraine’s public schools will receive the same assistance.

Posted in School, Teaching, Technology, Ukraine |

Heavy-eyed and over-tired from just three hours of poor sleep, we spent the 30 minute taxi ride reassuring each other everything would be fine, that despite my girlfriend’s multiple entries into Ukraine and living here for five months now customs officers would simply look the other way and let us pass through security to the gate where our plane to Poland would be waiting.

The law in Ukraine states travelers are allowed in the country for 90 days total during a 180-day period, but must spend 90 days out of the country before allowed another 90 days in it. The law is fairly new and until recently has rarely been enforced. But with Euro 2012 approaching, Ukraine’s trying to clamp down and show the west it’s moving away from Soviet-era lawlessness and toward European conduct.

It’s well known that corruption and bribery has played a prominent role in Ukrainian culture. In the country’s defense, with a bureaucracy as thick as the ice that forms on the Dnieper in winter, paying someone off is often times the only way to ensure something gets done here.

Approaching the airport customs booth, I went over every possible scenario in my head. Everything from nothing happening to detention and deportation. A check of my passport proceeded as usual. With a working visa and government approval, I rarely get asked many questions at customs. Then came the check of my girlfriend’s passport. Multiple entry stamps showed more than five months residing in country. The guard’s eyes widened as he studied this. And then he spoke – in Russian.

“Do you not have a visa or registration to be in Ukraine?” he asked my girlfriend.

“I’m sorry,” I said. “She doesn’t speak Russian. And no, she doesn’t have a visa.”

He went on to explain the law – 90 days in, 90 days out. Did we not know about this? No, of course we didn’t know, I explained. Our bad. We apologize. What do we need to do now?

He didn’t ponder this question long.

“You must pay a fine. Today. You can pay 850 hryvnia, and I can let you pass.”

I turned to my girlfriend to explain the situation. She had 800 hryvnia on her, not a kopek more. When I explained this to the guard he said it would be enough, and then he motioned me around to the side door of the booth.

“Put the money in here,” he said, holding open my girlfriend’s passport.

A minute later, after some pecking at the keyboard, we got the stamp we needed to get through. Thirty minutes later we boarded the plane to Poland.

Returning would be another challenge, of course. Would we run into the same customs officer? Would my girlfriend be allowed back in the country? Again, thoughts of questioning, detention and deportation entered my mind. Always prepare for the worst, but expect the best.

Turned out it was easier getting in than going out. The female customs officer said hello and smiled. She didn’t ask a single question, but stamped the passports and handed them back to us. “Have a nice stay” was all she said.

Outside the terminal we embraced for a moment, relieved that we’d been allowed back in without any trouble. But we were interrupted a moment later by a taxi driver asking if we needed a lift.

“Yes, please,” I said.

We didn’t haggle over the price – 150 hryvnia – which my girlfriend agreed was probably twice as much as it should have been. At that point, though, we just wanted to be home.

Posted in Culture, Encounters, Flying, Holidays, Kiev, Krakow, Teaching, Travel, Ukraine |

Today is World AIDS Day. And while I didn’t spend the afternoon teaching lessons to students about HIV/AIDS in Ukraine like I did last year, I did have some conversations about the situation here with some friends and colleagues.

In case you’re unaware, at 1.3%, Ukraine has the worst HIV infection rate in all of Europe. About half of those infected in Ukraine are drug addicts.

Despite this, the government does little in the way of prevention programs and anti-retroviral treatment.

Trawling my daily online sites, I came across this story in The Economist which does a good job of highlighting the HIV/AIDS problem in Ukraine.

From the story:

Ukraine and Russia account for 90% of all HIV cases in the region. Fewer than one-fifth of Ukrainian HIV patients receive anti-retroviral treatment. Botswana and Rwanda manage more than 80%.

In both Russia and Ukraine the epidemic is driven by intravenous drug use, with addicts accounting for around half of all cases. Yet the Ukrainian government seems uninterested in prevention programmes. “There’s a line in the national AIDS programme budget for prevention,” says Andriy Klepikov, head of AIDS Alliance Ukraine, “but its value is set at zero”.

Some believe corruption in Ukraine to be a reason for the lack of prevention programs:

Ukraine’s government has recently agreed a co-funding deal with the Global Fund, an international organisation, worth $85m over the next two years, but AIDS Alliance says that the government’s bit will be spent almost entirely on medical treatment rather than prevention. “They usually procure medicines at a higher price than they need to,” says Mr Klepikov. His (widely shared, if unproven) suspicion is that kickbacks are at work.

Among the Ukrainians I’ve spoken with about prevention programs, there seems to be a clear split. Some acknowledge that something needs to be done to put an end to rising infection rates, and prevention programs and education are it. On the other hand, fearful perhaps of admitting there’s a problem, succumbing to the stigma of HIV/AIDS that exists here, some believe that the situation in Ukraine is being blown out of proportion. One woman told me it was only morally bankrupt drug fiends that had HIV, and that no truly decent person could contract the virus.

Contrary to that woman’s belief, I happen to have known a truly decent woman who recently died from complications with AIDS. And I’d be willing to bet that her son, a hard-working young student now living with his grandmother, would agree.

On the HIV/AIDS front, it’s great that in parts of the world – Africa, for instance – we’re making big strides toward ending the AIDS epidemic. But there are still some places, even places that are in many ways more developed than, say, Africa, that have a long way to go. I hope a year from now we’ll be reporting a decreased infection rate in Ukraine.

Posted in Culture, Kiev, Life, Media, Peace Corps, Recent reads, School, Teaching, Ukraine |

A few months back, while on a tour of Konstantinovka’s dilapidated factory areas and trash heaps (“The Wonders and Horrors of Donbass”, April 13), I met a young journalist from Donetsk named Alex. Alex is the editor of the online news outfit НОВОСТИ, based in Donetsk. We chatted for a while about journalism and I promised him I’d give him an interview about what I’m doing here in Ukraine

We just wrapped up the interview this week. The interview is in Russian, but you can run it through Google translate and get the jist. Here’s the interview.

Posted in Donetsk, Encounters, Journalism, Konstantinovka, Media, Peace Corps, Russian, Teaching, Ukraine |

This report from The Bureau for International Reporting does a good job of explaining the HIV/AIDS epidemic in Ukraine. And it is an epidemic. Nowhere in Europe does HIV spread quicker than in Ukraine.

As a Peace Corps volunteer working in youth development, part of my job entails teaching about HIV/AIDS to Ukrainian youth. I’ve done so at summer camps and in schools, and I’ve received training to do so from Peace Corps staff and health experts.

Posted in Media, Peace Corps, Teaching, Television, Ukraine |

Posted in Culture, School, Teaching, Ukraine |

While away this week in Chirnigov for a Peace Corps Russian language refresher event my first column for the Artemovsk’s газета Вперед hit the streets. The column, which the editors cleverly titled ”Я не шпион!” – meaning “I’m not a spy!” – can be read in Russian here. I’ve posted the English version below.

I’m not a spy!

Arriving in Ukraine on April 1 of last year, there was no fooling me about the drastic lifestyle change that lay ahead. Once past security and passport control at Boryspil Airport, it took only a moment for the reality of the situation to sink in. Signposts in Cyrillic, taxi drivers heckling arriving travelers, haggling with each other over prices, a flatter landscape than I’m used to, all lending to thoughts of being far away from home. Not knowing how to speak anything other than “yes,” “no,” “please” and “thank you,” and without any ability to read neither Ukrainian nor Russian, I was greatly overwhelmed.

Luckily, Peace Corps sent people to pick us up. Not long after being swept away from the airport, I found myself at a sanatorium near Chirnigov. There, I was introduced to the Cyrillic alphabet and assigned the task of learning the Russian language. I spent only three days studying before I was again whisked away, this time to the city of Obukhov, 30 minutes by marshrutka from Kiev.

I lived with a Ukrainian family for two months. I studied the Russian language, taught English, health, leadership, journalism and about civic rights and responsibilities to students of School No. 5. I learned first hand about Ukrainian culture and traditions, partaking in holiday celebrations with my host family and their friends. On Easter, I lit candles and stood outside in the dark and cold at 4:00 in the early morning, waiting – unknowingly – to be doused with cold holy water as a precession led by a priest came strolling past. At a birthday party I toasted not once, not twice, but nearly a dozen times to a young woman turning 19 years old. “For Anya!” “For love!” “For family!” “For couples!” For friendship!” “For new acquaintances!” “For bud’mo!” “For Ukraine!” And so on.

Like the wind, my time in Obukhov passed quickly. In June I arrived in Artemovsk. No longer was I living near my American volunteer friends, nor was I living with a Ukrainian family. I would no longer have their help to guide me. I would be alone in a new place, with only a shred of knowledge of the Russian language to get me by.

I was assigned the task of working at a small village school. But because I arrived in June, my students were already out for the summer. I spent the next two months discovering my new city. I bought a bicycle, thinking that would be the best way of covering a lot of ground. In Portland, Oregon, where I lived in America, everyone I knew owned a bicycle. And most of those people used it as their main form of transportation. Thinking I could get away with that here, I hit the road on my new blue Ukrainian-made Doroshnyk. Moments later I nearly died when a bus passed within a meter of me, startling me and sending me off the road into a patch of tall grass.

So, on foot I set out to learn about my new home, the small eastern Ukrainian city where I’d be living for the next two years. I found a park, many cafes and an excellent bazaar. I met some English-speaking friends who helped make me feel welcome. I practiced my Russian with a bicycle shop owner and some of my babushka neighbors.

Before when Ukrainians asked, “Where are you from? America! Why would you come to Ukraine? Are you a spy?” it was difficult for me to explain to them my answer in Russian. It is difficult even to convey my reasons for coming here in my native tongue, as I still sometimes wonder about that myself.

What it boils down to is this: I am in Ukraine to help and to learn. I want to better understand your culture and, if you are interested, I would like to share with you mine.

Posted in Artemovsk, Culture, Encounters, Journalism, Kiev, Krasne, Life, Media, Peace Corps, Russian, Teaching, Travel, Ukraine |

I wrote last week about my experience at the local theater’s Art House Cinema night (Raffle Winner, Jan. 12), and how after the film I was approached by a journalist from «Вперед» to do an interview. Well, that interview was published yesterday and is now online. You can find it here. But I should warn you, it’s in Russian. Translating the interview with Google Translate won’t work perfectly, but it will give you the basic gist of it. It will also provide you with a few laughs, like when the state of  Oregon is translated as “oregano” and “Papa” is translated as “Pope,” unintentionally identifying my father as “Pope Stephen.” There are also times in which I’m referred to as a she.

Anyway, below is the introduction to the interview, which I’ll translate into English.

Крис Миллер хочет написать для газеты «Вперед»
серию статей о жизни американца в Украине

С Крисом Миллером из Америки мы познакомились в кинотеатре «Победа». Как выяснилось, наш американский гость очень любит кинематограф. Поэтому в среду, 12 января, с удовольствием посетил ARThOuSe sinema club, где демонстрировался первый фильм-катастрофа о стрит-арте «Выход через сувенирную лавку», кинодебют художника-вандала Бэнкси. После просмотра неординарного кино присутствующие делились впечатлениями. Крис также высказал своё мнение по поводу граффити, ведь в стране, где он живет, подобное увлечение уличных художников очень развито.

Крис с удовольствием посещал бы местный кинотеатр, но в силу языкового барьера, а также дубляжа на украинском языке, которого Миллер вообще не знает, делает это редко.

***

Chris Miller wants to write for “Forward” newspaper
a series of articles about the life of an American in Ukraine

I met with Chris Miller, from America, at the cinema “Victory”. As it turned out, our American visitor loves the cinema. Therefore, on Wednesday, January 12, he gladly visited Arthouse Cinema Club to see “Exit through the gift shop, the film debut of artist-vandal Banksy. After viewing the extraordinary film people shared their impressions. Chris also expressed his opinion about graffiti art, because in the country where he lives, street art is an accepted hobby and art form.

Chris would be happy to attend the local cinema more often, but because of language barriers, as well as dubbing in Ukrainian language, which Miller does not know, he does it rarely.

If you do choose to try and translate this piece from Russian to English, you’ll also discover, like the title says, that I accepted an invitation from «Вперед» to write a bi-weekly column about my experiences. I handed in my first one today, and it should be in next week’s edition. Once the columns go online I’ll post them to this blog in English along with a link to the «Вперед» website, where you can find them in Russian.

Posted in Artemovsk, Culture, Encounters, Journalism, Kiev, Krasne, Life, Media, Peace Corps, Portland, Russian, Teaching, Travel, Ukraine |

While dining at the local pizzeria last weekend, I noticed that Exit Through The Gift Shop was going to be playing at my local movie theater. I later learned that it would be screened as part of a monthly Art House Cinema event, in where the local cinema shows foreign films (usually dubbed in Russian) and holds a discussion about the context of the film after the showing. Tonight was the January Art House Cinema film, so I took my pal Igor along to check it out.

Attendance was sparse, which I find hard to understand, given the table full of champagne, wine and cheese. Before the flick started each person was given two slips of paper. One read, “I liked the film.” The other, “I did not like the film.” On the back sides were numbers. Mine, for example, was number 14.

After a short introduction from the host, a glass of red champagne and a triangle of cheese on toothpick, we settled in for the flick. Surprisingly, I understood more than I’d hoped. Perhaps it was due to the fact that I’d seen the film already. But I like to think it was because my Russian language skills are improving. Either way, the experience was enjoyable. A couple times during the film I even found myself translating for Igor.

Afterward, each attendee dropped one of their cards into a jar. I put in my “I liked the film” card. Once everyone had dropped their card in, a drawing was held. The host read the chosen card. ”Number 14,” she said.

“That’s you!” Igor said, his finger pointed at me.

“Someone?” The host said.

Igor pushed me forward. “Me,” I said. “I have number 14.”

And so, in front of a crowd of non-English-speaking Ukrainians, I walked up front to accept my prize. But that wasn’t it. Once there, the host began asking questions. Who was I, what did I think of the film, yada, yada, yada and more in Russian that I didn’t understand.

“I liked the film,” I said. “But I’m sorry. It’s difficult for me to explain why I like it in Russian. I’m American, and I speak Russian poorly.”

But my attempt at being coy was met with extreme exuberance, something I should have expected.

“American!” the host said. “So, you came all the way from America to see this film here tonight?”

Laughter.

“No,” I said. “I live and work here in Artemovsk.”

“We know!” the host said. “You are Chris, yes? You work at the Krasne Village School? And where in America are you from?”

I said, “I’m from Portland, Oregon.”

The host said, “And tell us what you think about the film.”

With Igor translating, I went on to explain the unique role alternative art plays in America and Western Europe, that it’s not for everyone, of course, but some people really connect with it. I elaborated on some of the Banksy pieces shown in the film, explaining how one could view them as social commentary. This raised some eyebrows. Luckily, it didn’t prompt any questions from the audience. I wanted to step out of the spotlight as quickly as I could.

“Thank you, Chris, for joining us tonight,” the host said. “Are you ready for your prize? We are giving you a gift certificate worth 70 griven to use at City Pizzeria. We hope you come back for the next Art House Cinema. Everyone, congratulate Chris!”

Applause.

A moment later, as people began filing out, I was stopped by a young man inquiring about private English lessons. Then a woman from the local paper approached me for an interview. I didn’t mention this earlier, and perhaps I should have, but this whole time I’d had a bladder full of beer. Before the film Igor and I killed an hour’s time by drinking in the pizzeria. Now I really had to release the demon, but was forced to chat.

After scheduling a tutoring session and a newspaper interview I finally made it to the toilet.* As I relieved myself in the urinal I couldn’t help but think that this might be the first time I’ve won a raffle or lottery of any sort. If I’m wrong, and I have won before, I certainly couldn’t tell you when that last time was. But anyway, as I stood there, this prideful feeling came over me. I was being recognized for having my number drawn, sure. But these people knew who I was even before that. I was more than a raffle winner; I was a member and valuable asset of the community.

(*Note: Read about and watch my past encounters with the Ukrainian media here, here and here.)

Posted in Artemovsk, Krasne, Life, School, Teaching, Ukraine |