Although my son is now an adult, I raised him as a single-teen mom. It was not always easy, but my country was not at war. I was worried about online predators or foolish accidents. Never once did I worry about a rocket landing on our home (even after 9-11) or invading enemy soldiers killing him. When I realized the Ukrainian people wer
Although my son is now an adult, I raised him as a single-teen mom. It was not always easy, but my country was not at war. I was worried about online predators or foolish accidents. Never once did I worry about a rocket landing on our home (even after 9-11) or invading enemy soldiers killing him. When I realized the Ukrainian people were going through the same atrocities that my great-grandmother would tell me about from over 100 years ago, I decided to do what I could to raise awareness.
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Olena and her son live in Kyiv. I first met her online after messaging her asking if she was related to Olexa Sorochenko (my great-grandfather). Although there is no apparent relation I immediately felt a kinship, not only through our shared Ukrainian heritage but for the amazing, strong person that she is. Olena has been kind enough, eve
Olena and her son live in Kyiv. I first met her online after messaging her asking if she was related to Olexa Sorochenko (my great-grandfather). Although there is no apparent relation I immediately felt a kinship, not only through our shared Ukrainian heritage but for the amazing, strong person that she is. Olena has been kind enough, even with limited electricity during war-time, to share her first-hand experiences so we here in America can better understand what is happening.
Our first text messages are below. Last one is recent.
As a girl my great-grandmother, Babi Nina, would tell me stories about her life in Ukraine. She taught me Ukrainian traditions and instilled in me Ukrainian pride, making sure that I fully understood that I was Ukrainian-NOT Russian. Now I know why!
When Russia invaded Ukraine the tenacity and heartbreak I felt was overwhelming. I found a
As a girl my great-grandmother, Babi Nina, would tell me stories about her life in Ukraine. She taught me Ukrainian traditions and instilled in me Ukrainian pride, making sure that I fully understood that I was Ukrainian-NOT Russian. Now I know why!
When Russia invaded Ukraine the tenacity and heartbreak I felt was overwhelming. I found a box of Babi Nina's items in my parents attic and uncovered a treasure trove of decades-old stories, newspaper articles, journals, and photos, to start. Many are posted on the Memoirs from Ukraine link.
My research & development partner, Serafina Fiore, discovered this...
Father Stalin look at this,
collective farming is just bliss,
the huts in ruin, the barns all sagged, all the horses, broken nags. And on the hut a hammer and sickle, and in the hut death and famine. No cows, no pigs, no bread at all, just your picture on the wall. Da
My research & development partner, Serafina Fiore, discovered this...
Father Stalin look at this,
collective farming is just bliss,
the huts in ruin, the barns all sagged, all the horses, broken nags. And on the hut a hammer and sickle, and in the hut death and famine. No cows, no pigs, no bread at all, just your picture on the wall. Daddy and mommy are in the kolkhoz, the poor child cries as alone he goes. There is no bread and no fat, that parties ended all of that. Seek not the gentle nor the mild, a fathers eaten his own child. The party man, he beats and stamps, and sends us to Siberian camps.
Nina Sorochenko was born in 1900, when Nicholas II was Tzar. Her family was part of the patriotic active bourgeoisie sector––the upper-middle-class of Imperial Russia. Her father was from Kyiv, and the son of a well-known church archpriest with noble roots. Her mother was a descendant of a “szlachta” family (meaning nobility in Polish) from the Chernihiv Region. Her brother, Valerian, was an actor and theater director in Kharkov, and her sister, Susanna, an accomplished pianist. Nina and her husband were both agricultural scientists, with multiple degrees in the field.
Nina’s paternal cousin was Yurko-Georgii Narbut. A partial list of his accomplishments include; Hans Christian Anderson, Nightingale illustration; Founder of Academy of the Arts, in Kyiv; Graphic designer of the currency, stamps, seals and coat of arms, when the Ukrainian National Republic was founded--right after the October Revolution in 1917. Her other cousin, Vladimir Narbut, was a well known poet and a prominent literary figure.
Nina survived three wars and three famines. During the Bolshevik Revolution, when Nina was just 16 years old everything was taken from her family. Also during this time her two Uncles, Aunt, and four cousins were executed. Her father would also be executed, and years later, her beloved husband.
Nina spoke 7 languages and at 75 years old attended Suffolk Community College to earn yet another degree.
"I and my family, my daughter, son in law and two babies, (my grandchildren) finally got visas, giving us the right to emigrate to America–– after we underwent all the terrors and atrocities of the war, persecution, labor camps, displaced person camps, hunger, repatriation (sending back to Ukraine). For me it meant to live in America, being already a grandmother at age 52 and living decades in Ukraine under the authority of Russian Tsar Nicholas II from 1900 to 1917 ( we used to tell under the boot of the Russian autocratic usurpation and Empress Tsarina Alexandra ( Nicholas II wife) and the infamy and disgrace of Rasputin’s power.) Then in February 1917 to live with and to take part in the so called February “ Bloodless Revolution“ when as if a fresh wind blew from Europe, the hope to get free rose in the hearts of all nations of the Russian Empire, the Ukrainians, Belarusians, Lithuanians, Latvians , Polish, Georgians and Armenians etc. The hope rose to return to the historically justified independence, liberty, and renaissance of the ancient, thousand years ago flourishing cultures of these nations. All these beautiful dreams, expectations and hopes didn’t come through though. They were crushed, drowned in the ocean of blood, tortures, exiled to the archipelago gulags of Siberia, or to the hundreds of labor camps, covered in secrecy, not marked on the maps, full of horror and torture, greeted with derision and the trampling down the human dignity. The Communists called “the Bolsheviks” shot all the best of the revolutionaries and grabbed the power. My motherland Ukraine after the Declaration of Independence in the spring of 1917 had already in October of the same year had to take action with guns in their hands defending against the bands of the Red Gaurdia, called to existence at first in Russia by Lenin and organized later by Trotsky as the Red Army. Only four years, from 1917 to 1921, Ukrainian people relished in understanding the sense of liberty, of being free, independent of Russia's Imperialism. The years 1917 to 1943 were the darkest, most terrible-filled sadness, deepest- grief in my family' life in the years being citizens in the Soviet Paradise."
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