Food: The Most Peaceful and Powerful Weapon

When I posted earlier about food on Maidan these days,  Leo Dvortsin of the Netherlands, a friend of both Ukraine and the Pickle Project, shared a link from someone's timeline on Facebook.  That someone was Zoya Zvinyatskovskaya, a journalist and culture expert.  Enormous thanks to Zoya for giving us permission to share it here and to Leo for providing the translation.   Read it, just read it--it's incredible.

Everybody agrees that the food takes an extraordinary place during this revolution, a special place in the organization of any event, slightest movement or displacement of people on the streets. Of course, this is not a coincidence, as food and its availability are the oldest and most simple indicators of the state of well-being of a given society. So, according to this indicator, the Ukrainian society unified by the concept "Maidan" is doing really well, something to envy.
 
Last Tuesday, that is a million years ago, I passed by fences set out by activists on the corner of Maidan (Independence Square), Institutskaya and Bankovoya streets. There were several dozen serious people and, as many simple sympathizers like me. I came close to the fence, stood on tiptoe and peered over it: at the other side there was an empty street, and a row of policemen in black uniforms further away. It was a fairly infernal display, but I was not allowed to enjoy it fully. Literally after 30 seconds of my observation I was approached by a very active and smiling young girl who in a very friendly manner asked, "would you like to have tea?" In her hands she was holding a tray with disposable cups from which clouds of steam were rising into the air. I politely declined her offer, but she insisted and repeated, "and with cookies?"  This meant the following: if you are at least for a minute doing something needed now by ‘gromada’ (Russian words ‘society’ or ‘collective’ are absolutely not equivalent, and I do not even want to use them), and so, if you work for even for a minute for the benefit of ‘gromada’ – ‘gromada’ immediately begins to take care of you. And you will not perish.
 
And today, I saw this mechanism from the inside, on a barricade closest to my home - a small outpost of the Maidan, one of many around the square. Around 6:30 PM, when a spontaneous gathering of protesters started near the barricade (speaker, standing on a car, tried to convince people supporting the government party who gathered in the park to go home ), I decided to show my daughter the revolution – luckily, the frontline came very close to my house. We arrived around 7 PM, warmly dressed and with a child-sized flag. Scene of the spectacle looked quite heroic: truck baffling the street, determined people in helmets, barricade made of benches from the nearby park, and an army tent. The only thing that slightly spoiled the romance - soldiers of the revolution, standing in a chain they were all eating bananas. It looked a bit strange and very funny at the same time. And then I saw the source of bananas - a woman in a coat with a bag from the Selpo supermarket chain. And then another one - with small pies, you know, ones that are sold on the street. She walked down the line with the package and offered them to everyone.
 
Hmm, somehow suddenly I thought that it would be necessary to bring some tea for the guys, and went home. At 7:35 PM my friends and I returned to the barricade with two buckets of tea, as well as with sugar and lemon. One of the benches has been brought out of the barricade, on the side. On it there was a box with homemade sandwiches and a grandfather poured coffee from a small thermos. Our tea was greeted very warmly, as we poured it, a man appeared with the patties filled with poppy seed (they were stored in the same box as the homemade sandwiches) and there were even more homemade sandwiches arriving, but different ones. Everything started to look very well. At 8:20 a car drove up, obviously from headquarters of the protest movement. A man exited from the car dressed in a fantastic sheepskin jacket, belted with Hutsul leather belt. He delivered three military jerry cans, each with up to 20 liters capacity, full with broth, soup and tea. Besides that the car brought a porridge made with millet and fried with lard. And a real aunty cook began to serve it with a huge ladle on disposable plates. A woman volunteer who called the aunty cook ‘mother’ started distributing the plates. First to the ‘soldiers’ in the line. Then to everybody around the barricade, including supporters, onlookers and Titushki who came from work on their way to sleep. Titushki (government backed young men who are responsible for provocations) recoiled in horror and accelerated pace. At the same time, people brought baguettes, sandwiches and more patties. Porridge of oatmeal was still warm. By 8:50 PM all were full, the music continued to play, and two beautiful and cheerful girls began to dance and sing along at yet another Svyatoslav Vakarchuk`s song. Picket turned into something that usually happens during our revolutions. It became some sort of wedding , and in its phase when the newlyweds have already left, and the table is just bursting from the weight of food, and the guests are already full of fun and are assessing which songs they should start singing. Ten meters from the protesters stood a row of policemen, and right behind them a row of riot police who looked like astronauts. They were standing too far from the barricade, but the cops sadly smelled tasty vapors, shifting from foot to foot, staring morosely at what is happening in front of them - the smell of porridge was just intoxicating and filled the street. I trudged home with an empty bucket in order to put my child to bed (second bucket, still full with tea, I left as my present for the revolution), on my way home I saw at least three couples with plastic bags in which I could clearly recognize stacked sandwiches . Based on the amount of food the picket could have stood there for several days. And we have not even shown our best. 
 
Well, you understand what I am trying to say. Of course, this barricade is purely symbolic. And the ‘fighters’ occupying it are not real fighters, but just simple guys in construction helmets and without the slightest hint of weapons in their possession. And this barricade can be dismantled in blink of an eye. But, you know that it will as easily restored in no time. As many times as required. Pledge for this is the amazing self-organization of our people, most clearly evident in the supply of food anyone, even random people who are sympathizing with the protest movement. There is abundance of food. But the main thing is that I have seen where this food comes from. It is instantly supplied by ‘gromada’. And this is demonstration of force, the most peaceful and the most powerful at the same time that I have ever seen.

Photo:  hot tea on Maidan, photo by Anastasia Vlasova

Tea on a Summer Afternoon

We recently had the good fortune of spending the afternoon with my friend Nataliya’s family in Yanif. Located northwest of L’viv, Yanif (also called Ivano Frankove) sits at the edge of the Roztochya Forest Preserve and on the shores of a sizable lake historically known for the salty, smoked fish produced there.

From the marshrutka stop, we made our way through the village, along the dusty roads and winding alleys, past raggedy dogs and fenced yards filled with chicken coops, roses and potatoes to Nataliya’s grandparents house. Cheerful and generous, Pavlina and Volodymyr Litynski are are in their 70s and maintain an energetic and lively household.

They live in a simple house with a small but bountiful kitchen garden, a little greenhouse made of windows for growing tomatoes and a few fruit trees. It is there that I have learned much about Ukrainian food traditions. In addition to being industrious vegetable gardeners and orchard keepers, three generations of this family, including my friend Nataliya, her mother, Halya, and her grandfather, Volodymyr, are all foresters and are knowledgeable experts on native Ukrainian berries, mushrooms and wild herbs.

It was one of those clear, blue summer afternoons and we found Volodymyr sitting in the grass, sorting just-picked red currants. After surveying the various stages of vegetables and fruits in the garden, as we always do when I visit, Volodymyr carried the kitchen table out into the dappled shade of the yard, much the way my own grandparents would on a summer day.

Under the trees, we nibbled seernik, a light Ukrainian cheesecake, with fresh raspberries and sipped a refreshing herbal tea that Pavlina made. The tea was a local mélange of wild raspberry leaves, wild strawberry leaves, nettles, mint and the delicate fruits of basswood. (For the forestry geeks out there, they are technically nutlets with a thin leafy bract. We often see these marketed for tea in big Ukrainian city markets as well.) All of these were collected around Pavlina and Volodymyr’s garden and, then, hung and dried in the "shadow" of the trees. They store this mixture in a canister in their cool, dry pantry.

Despite the heat, we drank our tea hot and it provided that strange, cooling effect that warm and spicy foods produce. (Actually, I have always wondered about the physiological effects that spicy and hot foods precipitate. According to this 1999 Scientific American article, it has to do with the skin’s pain receptors, which can be stimulated by actual heat or by chemicals such as capsaicin, that simulate heat, to trigger a response from the nervous system.)

As we chatted and sipped, various neighbors passed through the yard, calling out greetings as they strolled by. Some carried borrowed garden tools, others bags of food or children. A few friends and cousins stopped to join us for a cup of tea, conversation and an idle moment during a busy season.

Special thanks to Pavlina and Volodymyr Litynski and Halya, Serhy and Nataliya Stryamets, as always, for their warm hospitality.