Hello my dear friends and family.
A few weeks ago, I travelled with the rest of the Calvin group to the Ukraine for a weekend of new sights, flavors, traditions and peoples. Although just across Hungary's north-eastern border, our time spent in Ukraine was a world away from life in Budapest. Once again, we spent most of our time travelling from town to town in our trusty and ever-so-rickety VW vans. It was wonderful to spend time away from the city and take in the views of the countryside. Small gardens behind white-washed homes speckled the dewy, green landscape. During the weekend, we spent time hiking through the countryside, tasting delicious local wines, visiting numerous ancient churches, and goofing around with beautiful Roma children in a small gypsy ghetto.
Like every day in Ghana, as we strolled through the muddy street of the Roma ghetto, I was struck by the immense poverty in action all around me. Giant piles of burning trash, bare-footed, smudged-faced children and toothless women and men create a world that seems like an alternate universe. No matter how many times I have seen these sights or smelled these smells, I am always struck by the incredible disparity between the privileged and the underprivileged. I was blessed to be born into a middle-class American family--a family who has supported my dreams and goals in life both emotionally and financially. No matter how frustrated I become with political issues or unnecessary wars, as an American, I am constantly blessed with immense liberty, freedom and affluence.
It is hard to walk away from raw poverty without becoming angry with the very reality of social injustice in the world today. The Roma are a people with a vibrant culture--filled with music and song and artistry. We were lucky enough to spend a short time in a worship service at the local Reformed church in this particular ghetto and had the privilege to hear the joyful praise and unabashed voices raised in song. Women sang in high-pitched, loud, piercing phrases as a young Romani man strummed a worn guitar. Small children peeked over church benches, stifling giggles. These men, women and children, like so many others all around the globe, deserve the same healthcare, the same educational opportunities and the same freedoms as you or me.
Beyond witnessing the world's immense inequalities once again, I was struck by Ukraine’s beauty. We were lucky enough to be in Ukraine over the Catholic holiday, All Saints Day. Traditionally, on this day, family members of the deceased visit graveyards with arms full of flowers in full bloom and colorful glass jars filled with tiny candles. Families spend hours decorating long, cement and stone graves--breaking off tiny buds and creating beautiful flower mosaics throughout the cemetery. In recent years, Catholics are not the only observers of this day. Instead, All Saints Day has become a cultural tradition in which all members of society participate. In fact, it has become so popular that Robbie, our Johnny-Depp look-alike guide, told me that decorating the graves has turned into a competition between families. And, even beyond the competition, families are expected to decorate these giant graves. Either way, because of all this cultural expectation and competition, not one grave is left untouched. Even the smaller, more humble graves marked by a single metal cross are given some sort of adornment. A simple bouquet or a few small candles, pushed into the earth.
In the day time, cemeteries all over the Eastern European landscape are bursting with color. The grey stonework laid out across acres of land is transformed by human hands into a meadow in the spring time—flowers bursting from every corner. At night, the sight is even more spectacular. Small votive candles illuminate the cemetery with glowing red, green and white light. It feels like Christmas time, everything bursting with color.
Here are a few photos to help explain these wonderful sights. Thanks for reading.
Peace and Love.
