Ukraine Part One - Train Stop
It was a typically chilly February morning in the Ukraine when our
train slowed to a stop at the station in Sumy.
The small city of Sumy was a far cry from Kiev, the city
where I’d boarded.
Kiev, the Ukraine’s capitol, is one of Europe’s largest and most
beautiful cities. Sumy
is a much smaller town near the Russian boarder of the North Eastern
Ukraine, sitting on the Psel River, with a population of about
200,000. Given that
Sumy is a manufacturing center for metal, machine building, and food
and chemical industries, not to mention the fact that it’s set in a
country abounding in natural resources, I found it ironic that a
city with so much potential could be in such need of help.
I hardly needed a wakeup call at six a.m. following a bumpy
overnight train ride from Kiev.
The train station was one of the first incidents that
reminded me that I would not have all of the luxuries that one would
expect when traveling in the U.S. Earlier that day I had been in
dire need of a toilet, but the train station wasn’t opened yet, and
the plumbing on the train was out of order.
I was allowed to relieve myself near a tree at the far end of
the station, and got into no trouble for doing so.
The interpreter who had accompanied me on the train ride was a tall,
lightly build 28-year-old man named Igor.
He was wearing brightly
colored Western styled cloths, which stood out against the
traditional dark trousers and coats worn by most Ukrainians. As I’ve
learned from my travels, not all cultures put the same emphasis on
individualism that the United States does.
In Ukraine, the average child is taught not to dress in ways
that make him stand out.
Igor continually fed me information, and was glad to answer my
endless string of questions.
I noticed that this train station had four sets of tracks.
When I questioned Igor about this, he explained that Sumy had been a
military deport for the Soviet Union during World War II, but
nowadays there was only one passenger train a day.
Our driver Dimitri arrived in a light green Lada. Unlike Igor,
Dimitri was dressed like a typical Ukrainian, in a dark winter coat
and a black stocking cap pulled down over his ears.
He was a chain smoker, and was never chagrined for this by
anyone, as virtually all of the men in the Ukraine smoke. He spoke
no English, and conversed softly with Igor in Ukrainian during the
trip. He insisted that Igor pay him before we took off.
After a quiet but intense conversation between Dimitri and
Igor, we finally loaded our luggage and sped across town to a Soviet
era styled hotel, on a hillside overlooking the river.
No lights were on in the hotel, but the doors were unlocked. I
waited in the car while Igor and Dimitri went inside.
The hotel soon lit up, and I could see my driver and
interpreter conversing with an older, heavyset woman who yawned as
she spoke to them. As
she walked across the room to the counter, I saw the scarf wrapped
around her head and couldn’t help but think, “Babushka.”
Shortly after that I was motioned to come inside.
The dimly lit lobby didn’t feel very inviting to me. I
crossed a wooden floor patched with small carpets.
Glancing around the room I saw a cobweb covered pendulum
clock behind the counter that apparently had stopped some years ago
at one-thirty. Next to it hung a portrait of Vladimir Lenin, the
first leader of the Soviet Union.
The only other guest in the lobby was an enormous scraggly
cat snoozing near the fireplace, which Igor said was for catching
mice. Leaning over the
cracked glass of the mostly empty gift counter, I asked “Babushka”
for the price of the Matruska Stack Dolls.
She explained that the items on the counter weren’t for sale,
just decoration. So I
asked for a cup of coffee and some breakfast, since I hadn’t eaten
since we boarded the train in Kiev and jet lag was getting to me.
Then I was told that the hotel did not serve food.
The “Babushka” didn’t speak a word of English, but managed to
communicate to us that her name was Ludmilla—Luda for short.
Luda gave me the government registration papers and required
payment for the lodging.
Igor helped me in translating the Ukrainian forms while Luda
studied my passport, Visa, and USAID documents.
The said papers would be authorized by the authorities later
that day. Igor helped
resolve the issue, and I was given my room key. I needed to warm up,
the cat seemed to have no intention of letting anyone share his
space by the fire, so I headed upstairs to my room.
My room was up two flights of stairs, at the very end of a long
hallway. (As anyone who
has traveled to Europe will tell you, many European hotels do not
have elevators.) I opened the door to a musty little room with a
single bed. The only
luxury was a twelve-inch black-and-white TV set with snowy reception
sitting below a blurry bathroom mirror.
After some hissing and sputtering, I finally got the rusty
brown water in the sink to start running. This quality of tap water
was not unusual in the Ukraine, where the environment has suffered
from industrial pollution and the Chernobyl nuclear power plant
disaster of 1986. I
made a mental note to buy some bottled water, and opened up the
mini-Snickers bars my wife had packed for me, just for these sorts
of emergencies. It was now nine o’clock, and jet lag was really
kicking in. My
biological clock thought it was midnight and I couldn’t keep my eyes
opened. Since coffee
wasn’t an option, I convinced Igor to let me sleep for a while.
It seemed that the culture here didn’t place the same emphasis on
individual entitlement that ours in the United States does.
Train stations were not going out of their way to provide
luxuries like multiple passenger trains every day, or peak-condition
restrooms; the people walking down the streets were not acting or
dressing in any way that betrayed an effort to stand out and be
remembered by those who saw them. To what extent this culture
discouraged individual entitlement, and how greatly this value had
contributed to the poor living conditions of many citizens, I could
not yet be sure.
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Everil Quist - President & CEO of QuistSpeaks, LLC
"Enjoy this story about the noble peoples of third world countries. I've truly enjoyed working with them and have many heartwarming and entertaining stories to tell.
I enjoy sharing my adventures with my audiences, where I feel I am truly 'Creating Positive Change'."
“Everil Quist delivers with knowledge, humor and compassion. His trials and tribulations during his stints in Former Soviet Union countries impart the difficulties and perseverance these dynamic people have to overcome—difficulties we seldom experience here in
-Virginia Dessart, N2 Area Governor, District 35, Toastmasters International