A FEW DAYS ago, an Irish friend asked, “How do they celebrate Christmas in Ukraine? Is it the same as in Ireland, or are there differences?”
This seemingly innocent question raised whole layers of pain in my soul. In addition to the fact that the traditions of celebration in our countries are indeed significantly different, Russia has torn from the hearts of Ukrainians the ability to celebrate, rejoice and plan for the future. All that has been left is pain, numbness and fear of the unknown.
“I feel gloomy at heart,” says one Ukrainian woman, Tetyana Komlik. “My children and I are left without a person we love for another holiday. This is the second Christmas when children write letters with the only wish, ‘so that my Dad comes back home.’
“But my husband and his fellow soldiers will meet Christmas in the trenches again. On top of the people in his position, the Russians use drones every day. Hundreds of times a day, I write to the husband, ‘I love you’, as if it would save him, as if it were some prayer. My godfather will “celebrate” in the very hell of the battles in Avdiyivka. Now I hate holidays. They are about my loneliness.
“For the children, I put up a Christmas tree, I’ll bake “polino” (a biscuit roll), and I’ll make kutya (a traditional Ukrainian Christmas dish made of millet, honey and dried fruits), but no more than three spoons… This Christmas, I want to fall asleep and sleep as long as possible. And for the New Year, I want to do the same because I can’t bear it when there is no man around who can give me strength and meaning.”
This year, Ukrainian children will not have as many gifts for the holidays as before the war because their mothers spend almost all of their money on drones and other military needs for units in which their fathers now serve. Even with the active support of the West, there haven’t been enough drones and other weapons, and in the midst of the electoral battles in America, volunteers provide a substantial part of the army’s weapons from their own personal funds, even when the issue of financial and military support for Ukraine is in question.
“There is a split atmosphere in Ukraine,” says Olga Moloko, a mother from Ukraine. “Children want holidays, so I try to create a festive atmosphere for them. But there is a constant feeling that we can die at any moment. I want to give the children good emotions while everyone in our family is still alive. Together with them, we make gifts to the military, as well as to families in difficult financial situations. After all, the essence of Christmas is not in decoration, but in doing something good for others.”
Nina Mishchenko, another Ukrainian woman says “Christmas dinner with loved ones is very similar to the Irish vision, but we have lost even this tradition”. Because many Ukrainian refugees are separated from their loved ones — old parents and husbands. And the Ukrainians who have remained in their country mostly do not want to celebrate.
“I don’t celebrate at all — neither Christmas nor New Year,” Nataliya Afanasyeva says. She is still at home in Ukraine and says, “Christmas normally for me is when I cook something delicious, meet my daughter, who is fasting until Christmas, and we enjoy the food and talk. But this year, the same as last year, I will cook delicious food only for the soldiers on the southern front. This is our volunteer initiative — to give something from the heart that would be able to provide home warmth. I will bake nut rolls, gingerbread, and pies with apple and cherry fillings. Charms and many children’s drawings will also go to our defenders. We collect drawings and letters not only in Ukraine, but we also receive many from abroad.”
Another question often asked here in Ireland is whether “Santa is the same in the holiday traditions of Ukraine and Ireland?” Also, no. We have a slightly different tradition. Santa as we know him in modern comes is descended from Saint Nicholas. But we celebrate St. Nicholas Day in early December, before Christmas. Therefore, our people associate Santa Claus, rather, with Ded Moroz (Father Frost) — the “Soviet Santa Claus.”
What’s wrong with that, you might ask? Well, as always, history is complicated. By imposing the character of Ded Moroz in Ukraine historically, the atheistic USSR tried to eradicate the tradition of celebrating Christmas.
This is what Ded Moroz looked like in the mythology of the ancient Slavic tribes. He was the lord of Winter and Frost. In the pre-Christian era, he appeared as a giant evil grandfather who froze people, cattle and all supplies.
To appease Ded Moroz, a sacrifice was made for him. Some tribes even made human ones. Young girls were tied to a tree in the forest. If they were frozen in the morning and covered with ice or snow, it meant Frost accepted the sacrifice and people would survive the winter. According to the beliefs of our ancestors, Ded Moroz walked under the windows from house to house at night in severe frost and called people by name. The one who responded had to die.
People believed that it was Ded Moroz who reaped the harvest. And in the bag “with gifts,” he carried the heads of the dead. His red coat is due to being splashed with blood.
It was this creature that was called “Ded Moroz” (Santa Claus), and this name was taken as a basis in the Soviet Union to replace St. Nicholas, whose tradition the earlier Christians had brought.
This character began being popularised in the USSR in 1935, at the height of Stalinist repressions. In the first instruction distributed throughout the Soviet Union, Ded Moroz appeared with a retitled tree, which erased the idea of “Christmas” and the term, “New Year’s Tree” was enforced on the people.
Why did it happen in 1935? This was the period of the most significant political repressions in the USSR, when the struggle was waged, including against the church, which the Soviet authorities had to eliminate somehow and try to minimise its influence as well as church traditions related to the celebration of Christmas, which began in the first Advent (Sunday) in December, namely December 6, the feast of St. Nicholas, a real hero, a bishop who secretly helped children from poor families.
I have been thinking for a long time. But there really are so many differences between Ukraine and Russia in how they celebrate Christmas, and most especially now. It’s as if we live on different planets.
“I have never seen the boys whom I helped as a volunteer. But they became dear to me” says Tatiana Komlyk, a Ukrainian woman living in Ireland. “The only thing I wish for them is quiet holidays. I understand that to ordinary Irish people, Ukraine seems to be something distant and incomprehensible, some kind of “almost Russia”, some kind of “under-Europe”; someone is being killed somewhere… It always hurts what is closer. It is natural.
“But we are not a picture on TV, we are not a photo in the news, we are alive, we have real blood, unlike in the movies. And after the shooting, these people do not get up and do not go home — they are taken for recognition and identification, and their death kills entire families. In our country, there are thousands of “dead” women whose hearts have been ripped out by the war.”
If our nation survives this war and is not entirely exterminated, we will create new holidays and new traditions of celebrating old ones because, psychologically, there will be no return to the past. In the meantime, just pray for us, please. This would be the best Christmas present.
Polina Bashkina is a Ukrainian writer and journalist. Her book 12 Months. A Year
of Sense was published at the end of 2021. Previously, Polina worked in business
and political PR and marketing. She headed the press service of the General
Prosecutor’s Office of Ukraine, worked in the Ukraine President’s Administration,
and also on elections in three countries.
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