By Walter Kish

I finally had the opportunity this week of seeing John Paskievich’s superb feature-length National Film Board documentary “My Mother’s Village”. As the title implies, the film revolves around his visit to his mother’s ancestral village more than fifty years after war and circumstance made her a DP (Displaced Person) and forced her into “exile” in distant Canada. The film though, isn’t really about the village and his extended family that live there, though their lives and stories do provide a picturesque and often touching background and context for the film’s central focus. The real purpose and substance of the film is a psychological and sociological exploration of the experiences and memories of the children of all those DP’s growing up in Canada and their attempts at reconciling the often conflicting cultural demands of being both Canadian and Ukrainian.

Paskievich lovingly portrays scenes of Ukrainian village life and its sturdy, plain-spoken inhabitants, traversing a broad spectrum of emotional perspectives, from the sentimental and idyllic, to the tragic and the horrific. Into this, he interweaves the insightful and often painfully honest commentary of a handful of accomplished Canadian descendants of those “exiled” DP’s. Their recollections of the cultural burden that was imposed on them by their parents and the Ukrainian community to be dedicated and patriotic Ukrainians and to carry on the struggle for the Ukrainian cause, has a special resonance for almost all Canadian born Ukrainians. While Ukraine was subjugated and oppressed, it was almost a sacred duty to preserve its language, culture and traditions, and this burden created tensions and demands that were often unbearable for many in the long run. They were caught in an untenable psychological borderland where they were neither “real” Canadians, nor could ever really be genuine Ukrainians. Much as their parents were displaced geographically, they were displaced culturally and psychologically. For many, the answer was to shed this burden and lose themselves in the anglicized Canadian melting pot.

For those of us that grew up in the comfort and prosperity of a liberal and democratic Canadian environment, it is hard for us to understand the deep and almost sacred devotion of our immigrant parents’ to Ukraine as “Ridniy Krai”, and their expectation for us to share that devotion. Being comfortable with our natural “Canadianess”, we are unable to comprehend their kind of passionate idealism that arose from the cauldron of extreme and cruel oppression.

In a way, it is ironic that centuries of oppression only made Ukrainians more tenacious and determined to maintain their identity and culture, while only some two generations of prosperity and freedom here in Canada has eroded both the need and the desire for most Canadians of Ukrainian descent to hold onto their heritage.

On a personal level, I believe my own interest and dedication to my Ukrainian identity is largely due to the fact that my own parents never pushed me into being a good and patriotic Ukrainian. My father, faced with grinding poverty and a hard uncertain future, emigrated to Canada in the twenties of his own free will, seeking to find a better life and better opportunities across the seas. Though he valued his Ukrainian background and culture, it was not a passionate “cause” to him and he never tried to impose it on his children. Being Ukrainian was something that I chose for myself after I had attained the age, knowledge and maturity to be able to appreciate for what it was and not because it was a sacred duty to be borne.

I felt sorry for some of those “displaced” Canadian Ukrainians in this documentary who were so traumatized by the cultural baggage and expectations imposed upon them, that they were, and still are afraid to visit their mother’s village, or who are glad that their children identify more with the culture of their non-Ukrainian spouses than with the Ukrainian side of their heritage. Yet I also sympathize with their plight since I have not been immune to those same influences as I have traversed the landscape of Ukrainian society here in Canada and felt the heavy hand of Ukrainian history bearing down.

I too have been to my mother’s village, and for me it was a rich and meaningful experience, much as I am sure it was for John Paskievich. What I realized however, was that though we were very much the same as human beings and individuals, our life experiences also made us different in perspective and cultural make-up. Yet those differences need not and did not separate us. Diversity and exposure to other ideas and cultures can be a positive and creative force in enriching interpersonal relationships, and we should exploit this reality rather than succumbing to the divisive tendencies of cultural purity or exclusivity.