Life in the Village

By Walter Kish

Every couple of months since coming to Ukraine, I have taken time out to go visit my relatives in the villages, which still to a large degree form the backbone of life in Ukraine. Although only a third of Ukrainians lives in rural areas, most people in the urban centres still maintain ties to the ancestral village, or have a dacha somewhere out in the country. 

Every summer, city residents send their kids to spend the summer with baba and dido in the village, while during most weekends from spring through fall, there is a mass exodus of people from cramped urban apartments to the green open spaces of rural Ukraine. There they work their garden plots, mostly with the same hand tools their ancestors used centuries ago.  It is amazing how these doctors, lawyers, accountants, engineers and professors, on weekends, are transformed into peasants communing with the land with spades, hoes and scythes.  With average salaries being as low as they are, and prices rising rapidly towards European norms, most people here grow as much of their own food as they can so they can lay in a good store for the winter months.

The most important crop surprisingly is potatoes.  Though Ukraine in folklore is associated more with vast steppe-lands with endless wheat fields, and though various grains are the primary crop in terms of acreage, potatoes are the basic staple.  No meal is served here without a steaming bowl of boiled or fried potatoes smothered in butter and sprinkled with dill.  Planting, weeding and tending to them is a labour-intensive task in which everyone from the youngest to the oldest takes part.  It is particularly important to protect the potato crop from the scourge of the Colorado beetle.  Effective pesticides are scarce and expensive, so the primary remedy is examining each plant periodically and picking off the beetles by hand and drowning them in a can of kerosene.

Throughout the summer, various berries are gathered and preserved in jars for use during the long winter months.   In the autumn, root cellars in villages overflow with potatoes, carrots and beets.  Barrels and large crocks are filled with freshly prepared sauerkraut and pickles.  Everywhere one sees garlands of onions, garlic and bunches of dill and other herbs hung out to dry.  The woods are scoured for mushrooms, particularly the cherished fragrant hryby, which are either dried or preserved in jars.  Although much is for local consumption, a good portion winds its way to family and relatives in the city, or sold by the villagers at roadside stands or farmers’ markets in the towns and cities. 

Surprisingly, the vast majority of fruits and vegetables consumed by Ukrainians comes from these small, private plots, cultivated by hand with little mechanization or technology involved.  An important source of power is the horse.  Since collective farms were disbanded and land privatized, the number of horses in the villages has multiplied exponentially.  Horses are ecologically friendly and although horse-drawn wagons and farm implements may seem anachronistic, they are a cheap and effective way of working the small four- or five-hectare plots that most people own here. A horse can be bought for a couple thousand hryvnias and does not require gasoline or spare parts.  A tractor and associated equipment, even a small one, is way beyond the financial means of most Ukrainians. 

Although this form of agriculture appears natural, organic and ecologically desirable, it entails many back-breaking hours of toil.  My cousins in the village, who are my age, typically look 10-20 years older and many suffer from numerous physical ailments that are the direct result of this punishing way of life.  This is why most young people leave the village at the earliest opportunity, looking for a more rewarding and less taxing life in the cities.  Older Ukrainians may still have a strong bond with the rich and fertile land of Ukraine, but it seems that they may be the last generation to hold on to this romanticized ideal.

There are signs that village life is being transformed.  Mini tractors, which are financially viable and suitable for garden-plot farming, are beginning to appear. Virtually every house now has a television, and though water may still come from a well, many now boast of a washing machine.  Occasionally, one can spy a satellite dish on the roof of a village hut.  The old state-owned village stores that used to stock only basic staples are being replaced by mini markets that sell everything from vodka to laundry detergent and lottery tickets.  Along with the ubiquitous rickety bicycle, the noisy moped is common on roads, and there are few villagers now who do not own a cell phone.  

Village life is beginning to catch up with the 21st century, though for many it may be too little and too late, and the Ukrainian village of many of our parents’ memories is not likely to last another generation. 

My father’s village, which at the time of Ukraine’s independence some 15 ago boasted a population of a thousand, is now down to 450 souls.  For the moment, at least, there is little to give one hope that this decline will not continue further.