IN
ZAPOROZHYE IN
ZAPOROZHYE A compilation of memories from Essex County people and beyond who took part in the MENNONITE HERITAGE CRUISE Sept 21 to Oct 3 1995 KIEV - ODESSA
with Cruise Leaders AL REIMER - PAUL TOEWS - RUDY FRIESEN
and Cruise Organizers MARINA and WALTER UNGER
to the Vienna dining room people aboard the MS Viktor Glushkov who came
up with the one-liner I lost my heart in Zaporozhye! for
the breakfast video interview. (Editor's note: the reference is to Howard
and Maggie Dyck plus Rod and Lorna Sawatsky who performed new words to
I lost my heart in San Francisco)
for our insert ideas:
to Max, our decorous and completely captivating tour guide on Sept.25th. He informed us, among other things, that the cathedral in Dnepropetrovsk could be built only 1/6 of its intended size because Katharine the Great's favourite, Potemkin, had frittered away the building money on This and That.
please note: This and That inserts are snatches of information picked up from fellow travellers, tour guides and historians. They are not direct quotes.
editing committee Irma Janzen/Gisela Schartner/Astrid Koop volunteers Mennonite Heritage Centre 31 Pickwick Drive Leamington Ontario N8H 5C4
"Once in my life I want to take a big trip," Freda said, "to Europe." Instead we went to the Ukraine. We wanted to see the houses where our parents had lived, and hear the nightingales sing. I was curious to view the streets of Chortitza and Molotschna to see where it had happened, what my Aunt Tina and my parents had been talking about over their tea cups on Sunday afternoons, long ago. So, on the twenty-first of September, 1995, we journeyed to a land that had existed only in our imagination.
However, much of it stayed in our imagination. At Tiegenhagen Freda and I discovered an empty field, and imagined how our jovial uncles, Peter, Jake, and Henry might have massed the straw in those long piles. Somewhere in this vicinity also, Freda's grandmother had stood, dressed in a long black skirt, head covered in a black cloak, in front of the coffin of a young woman. The rest of the sombre-faced Reimer family were beside their mother.
Freda and I imagined how her relatives had arrived at the train station at Lichtenau: Mary, Helen, John, Peter, Jake, Henry and grandfather and grandmother Reimer, with their suitcases, shuffling around, waiting nervously. In our mind we saw Freda's twenty-one year old father taking leave of his family on the very platform we stood on, promising to write soon, hopefully having found a farm so that they could all come to Canada.
The plaster was on the floor of the school at Fischau, which Freda's father had attended. There was red graffiti on one of the walls. Somewhere in the distance, where the dogs were barking, an old man had been taken to the field and shot. "I was just a sixteen year old boy," Freda's father had told me. "Why should he shoot this old man?"
The Zentralschule in Chortitza and the neighbouring Lehrerseminar were not left to our imagination. Neither was the Mädchenschule. I was thrilled to see the institutions my parents had talked about so often. After having walked down the steps at the Lehrerseminar, where we had our picture taken, my twenty-one year old Uncle Rudy had said, "Mother, if that is what they demand of me, I will leave." Grandmother Penner had said, "Then you must go."
My grandfather's house was no longer in the courtyard. A flagpole marked the place where it had stood, and where he had listened to his sister Anna singing Schubert lieder. In the shadow of those trees was the place where grandfather Penner had died of pneumonia. Uncle Peter of Chilliwack said to me, "It was not an easy death. I wish that I had not witnessed it."
Along the road that we walked now, the Machnovsje had ridden to enter my mother's house. An empty plot with rubble marked the place where it once stood and where the marauders had confined my aging great- grandfather Koop to a small bedroom. Grandfather Koop had said, "Now I will die," and he lay down and did just that. In the place where we looked for bricks, my mother had listened to the story of Der Grosse Klaus Und Der Kleine Klaus, as was told to her by the maid.
An officious lady told me, in an unmistakable fashion, that great-grandfather Koop's factory was off limits to us. I imagined how the cranky grandfather Koop's workers had prepared metal adornments for his horses in the factory. I saw in my mind how the horses, pulling the wagon, bearing the casket of his wife along this very road, had threatened to bolt and how the coffin had nearly slid off the wagon. When we showed our pictures to my mother, Freda and I were astounded to hear her say: "Warum sind wir eigentlich von da mal weg gegangen?" I didn't know what to reply.
This and That: The former Molotschna Mennonite villages of Ohrloff, Tiege, Blumenort and Rosenort have been incorporated into one town with the Ukrainian name of Orlovo. And the former Mennonite village of Ladekop has merged with Tokmak, pop. 60,000.
Not in my wildest dreams would I ever have thought that I would some day go back to the land of my birth. Seventy years ago we left our beloved homeland to find a new haven far across the ocean - Canada. And the years have been good ones.
And now I was privileged to go back and see, I had been too young to remember anything. It was a good experience, the long flight, the cruise on the Dnieper and the visits to the villages. I set foot on the street of Rudnerweide, where I was born, and brought a little flask of Heimat Erde with me, it gave me an exciting feeling.
A group of 12 rented a bus to take us to Schönfeld, where my parents were born and lived the first eight years of their married life, before they fled to Rudnerweide. Everything was destroyed, how sad.
Everyday was a highlight, the singing in the Russian Orthodox church, like a heavenly choir and we didn't even mind standing for over an hour: they have no benches.
The 75th MCC service with its beautiful singing, messages of church revival, and the string quartet under the direction of Howard Dick - Wachet Auf ruft uns die Stimme, Wehrlos und Verlassen - and more - magnificent. Thank you God.
This and That: The Jacob Hoeppner grave marker - it was shipped to the Steinbach (MB) Mennonite Museum many years ago - should it be returned to Hoeppner's grave site on Chortitza's Rosenthal cemetery?
- watching Maria Voth (St.Catharines) meet her sister (who, along with her husband, had stayed in the former Soviet Union) at the Kiev dock and just several moments later, talking to a Ukrainian woman (she understood the German language) pacing nervously as she waited for her Neufeld relatives to board our ship.
- touring the Mennonite Colonies (and beyond) and thinking all the while that our relatives could be walking these very streets, unknown to them or us. - crossing the bridge to Chortitza Island and the Rosenthal Cemetery and feeling joyful and sad at the same time when I discovered a marker of my ancestors, Ruhestätte der treuen Eltern, Isaak Driedger und Helene, geborene Klassen.
- viewing the Dnieper at Chortitza Island where, 75 years ago, my mother had often crossed to visit her grandparents.
- visiting with Tante Tinchen Loewen, a 94 year old family friend, in Marganets (1 hr. west of Zaporozhye). And wishing we had packed yeast, more sewing thread and German reading material into her carry-on bag and later wondering why we hadn't asked more questions while we were there.
- seeing the Muntau, Molotschna hospital where Astrid's mother was born 88 years ago. - explaining to the puzzled Ukrainian guide why we were taking the Peter Braun Archival Collection tour in Odessa 3 times in one day. - enjoying the evening entertainment aboard the Glushkov, followed by visits late into the night with old and new friends. - becoming a closely knit "Mennonite community" of 161 persons and looking out for one another, especially for John Sawatzky. - marvelling at the Ukrainian guides, drivers, interpreters, organizers, and crew, who all went the second mile to make this a memorable trip for us and in all likelihood, a stressful trip for them! - digging through my Schönwieser Janzen information late into the night upon my return to Canada and uncovering my great-great-great, greatgrandfather Ältester Heinrich Janzen, born in Prussia, 1752; died in Chortitza Colony in 1824. A year ago I said I'd never visit the former Soviet Union; today I'm considering a return trip for a closer look!
This and That: One afternoon our guide told us the following Russian joke: A man approached a second man fishing in the Dnieper, "What do you do when you catch a very SMALL fish?," he asked. "I throw it right back", the fisherman replied. "Then what do you do when you catch a very BIG fish?", the first man asked. "Oh, then I put it into a mayonnaise jar!"
Menno Epp came into our bus upon leaving the Oak St.Church parking lot and bade us farewell with Psalm 121 and a prayer; wishing us all a nice trip. That to me was very meaningful. After landing at Kiev airport, we were put on buses to go to the ship and our rooms. We were welcomed on deck with music, as a band was playing. A woman was standing near the door, holding a loaf of bread, offering it and motioning us to break a piece and eat with her. To me it was a fine way of saying, "We are all one in God's eyes. Let us break bread together".
I have just good things to tell about our trip. It was wonderful. I thank God for good health. I have only good memories. This and That: I wish I'd at least learned the Cyrillic alphabet before going. Saying Spaseebah (thankyou) was not enough. We met many Russians and Ukrainians who spoke the English language fluently
When I think back to our cruise on the Dnieper, I must say I am pleased and very amazed at how well it was planned and how smoothly everything went, except for losing a fellow cruise member for an evening and a night. We always had buses waiting for us when we needed them and informed tour guides to direct us. I think of the excitement of going to Schönfeld with a group of twelve on a special bus and our guide doing all she could to please us. It was exciting to see the beautiful black soil in large, gradually sloping fields, surrounded by straight hedges. What an opportunity to see the area where my parents had their farm or better known, their estate! The friendliness of the people in the small villages, or visiting the school in Chortitza, seeing the children willing to share the goods they had displayed was very pleasing. The busy social life and meals with different people left us no time to get bored. The entertainment, the drama, Koop en Bua, the debate about the Selbstschutz, the WWII stories our fellow cruise members shared with us were interesting and made me thankful that I hadn't experienced anything like that. The singing we did together and the privilege of celebrating the 75th MCC anniversary on the spot where it once started was moving. Our attendance at the three hour ballet in the beautiful opera house in Odessa for approximately 50 cents US is very memorable to me.
I will never forget the meal the Delta people served us, or the lavish captain's dinner we enjoyed on our last night aboard.
Who of us can forget when Frank Wall met his cousin so unexpectedly and the emotional story of his cousin's past?
Truly, this trip was emotional, exciting and memorable!
This and That: Thankyou, Walter Unger, for the delightful announcements over the ship's PA system. Especially the one where you had Albert Willms (Hamilton) motivate my husband to visit yet another museum via the Low German message "Onn nü woare wie de Tsar's Schlorre bekjikje onn fleijcht soogoa de Tsarina's Unjabekjse"!
We had high expectations for this trip with its promise of Mennonite history lectures by Al Reimer and Paul Toews, and architectural information by Rudy Friesen as well as various cultural perfomances. These expectations were more than fulfilled. Every day not only brought all the scheduled events, but unexpected and treasured surprises. After a warm welcome by the band and hostess aboard the MS Viktor Glushkov, our first pleasant surprise was the view of our bright and roomy cabin, complete with private washroom and the beautifully lit dining room. Then came Kiev, the city of contrasts; in the distance, the modern highrises, but on closer view the crumbling balconies and diplapidated condition of blocks of apartment housing, the sombre site of the memorial to war-time atrocities and then the glorious view of the gilded cupolas of the Church of the Annunciation set among green trees on the banks of the Dnieper River.
The Dnieper River itself, with its immense width, white sandy shoreline and long stretches of green on each side was such a tranquil setting, that it was hard to imagine the terror that had surrounded it.
The Sunday morning service, on the sparkling river while we were gathered in the Dnieper bar, a large room on top of the ship which served as our auditorium, is now another cherished memory. Darrell Fast's "Singing the Lord's song in a strange Land" was an inspired choice for the theme on this occasion. The choir under the direction of Howard Dyck singing familiar German hymns, as well as our first congregational song "Grosser Gott wir loben Dich" produced a feeling of deep gratitude.
Monday and our visit to Dnepropretrovsk, the former Ekaterinaslav, brings to mind a poignant meeting with a slender young Math student of the university near the museum we had toured. As we prepared to have a quick picnic lunch on the museum grounds, he approached rather hesitantly. When I asked him whether he was looking for someone, he responded by expressing his wish to converse in English. We invited him to do this if he would come and join us for lunch. He agreed finally after repeatedly expressing his concern that we might go hungry if we shared our lunch with him. The concern for the next meal, we realized, is an everpresent one - a sad fact in such a fertile country. The healthy condition of the trees is proof of the good soil. Tall chestnuts, maples, beech, linden, elms and what are called acacias, a type of locust, flourish in the parks and along some of their very wide grandly laid-out central avenues.
The Ukrainians are in the process of reestablishing their culture after the long Communist oppression and were enthusiastic about showing us, North American tourists, their museums and national shrines. A prime example was the beautiful Shevchenko museum and monument high on the banks of the Dnieper River.
At 6:00 a.m. on the bright warm morning of September 26 we approached Zaporozhye, having first passed through the deepest lock at 36 metres, of five locks. The emotional three days at Zaporozhye started out with the wonderful announcement that John Sawatzky who had gone missing on a walk in Dnepropetrovsk the day before, was waiting for us on the dock. What a relief!
We boarded a bus right after breakfast and made the aquaitance of Olga, our fluently English and German speaking tour guide, who amazed us all with her willingness to accommodate everyone's wishes as we headed for the Molotschna colony. After about an hour and a half we passed the Tokmak sign meaning that we were nearing what had been home area to Mennonites for more than a century. On this sunny morning we passed mile after mile of gently rolling fields that were empty after harvest, except for an occasional sunflower or beet field. Some people were busy gathering walnuts from the roadside trees or picking up seed, watermelons and beets. Most of the activity seemed to be on small, garden-sized plots where various cabbage crops were visible. In the distance we also noticed large barns and herds of cows, obviously belonging to collective farms. The immense fields, by Essex County standards, were uniformly enclosed by locust or acacia wind rows. As we drove from village to village which now had Russian names, the resemblance was striking. Tiny white stucco houses lined the roads. Each one was surrounded by fruit or nut-bearing trees and enclosed by a slat fence. In front of these roamed chickens and geese while goats were tied to a tree or stake. In most yards beside the house was a small shed. We learned later that the house was usually divided in half and served two families, while cooking was done in the kitchen located in the shed.
An occasional neglected, larger house or public building was the only reminder of the more properous Mennonite presence in by-gone days. The people lived here now as they might have done nearly a hundred years ago, bringing milk to the dairy in hand-drawn carts, herding cows to the communal pasture and storing away winter supplies of vegetables in a root cellar, doing their best to be self-sufficient.
Since we had been warned that we would not find many Mennonite sites, we were not really shocked by the few we did find in a state of collapse. However, it was still sad to see a once progressive and very productive colony almost totally erased.
For most people on our bus this was the first ever trip to their ancestral homeland and for a few like George it was a return to their birthplace. It came as a jolt when our tourguide Olga, announced the well- remembered names of Ladekop, Petershagen and then Halbstadt. We had been asked to make a delivery of Bibles to a couple in Halbstadt and wondered how that would come about. By inquiring among the villagers, Olga soon found the young woman living along a side road and our parcel was personally handed over, much to the surprise of the young Sweta.
In Halbstadt and Neuhalbstadt we probably found more original buildings than anywhere else - the Zentralschule, Mädchenschule, Volost building, Neufeld Brewery, Willms Mill, Schröder factory and several others.
Following that came a number of villages with bitter-sweet memories attached to them - Fabrickerwiese, the village where George's maternal grandparents had operated a brick factory and raised a family of nine children of whom only the two girls survived the war years. Then Schönsee, with its remnant of the red- brick Gothic-style church, which they had attended. Another real jolt as fellow passengers pointed out the Stulnjewo Railway Station, and the fields across from it, where George as a five-year old among thousands of people had witnessed the gunning down of a Russian plane which had been sent to bomb them.
Village after village with very personal memories attached to each by one or another of our passengers, then Landskrone, the place where George's older brother and sister were born and which now could only be recognized by the remnants of its large brick church. Another church still standing in Rückenau and George was eager to see what might be there of Nikolaidorf, the only village he remembered and which he left as a seven-year old.
Our Olga again showed remarkable willingness ot co-operate as she persuaded the bus driver to take us for miles down a field lane, until after passing acres and acres of winter wheat it became obvious that nothing of Nikolaidorf remained. However, the hospital at Waldheim where George was born, was still there, and just before 6:00 p.m. and total darkness he managed to get a shot of this landmark. The most emotionally charged day of our trip had come to an end. The second day in Zaporozhye is memorable for the MCC celebration at the site of the first Chortitza church and the third day for our visit to the former Mädchenschule, where the entire student body came out to greet us and shower us with presents of produce of all kinds. As well, the evening Cossack equestrian show was breath-taking in its daring and showmanship.
The time had come to say good-bye to Zaporozhye - the city of foul air and beautiful views of the Dnieper, of memories that go back to the Machno terrors and happy times of unexpected reunions. It was now time to follow the river down to Odessa. Along the way another unique experience awaited us. In the fishing village of Kuzminki, the villagers had organized a market along the shore and a feast in several of their vegetable gardens. The variety and beautiful presentation of their dishes was a real delight. For the villagers the income from such tours as ours was their main means of survival.
September 30, our last weekend in the Ukraine started out cloudy and cool with three metre waves in the Black Sea. In spite of this, one could easily sense the grandeur that was present in Odessa at the turn of the century. Much of the Italian-style architecture is still in good condition. A prime example is the magnificent Opera House, where we had the extraordinarily good fortune of seeing the ballet "Sleeping Beauty". It was easy in this fabulous setting to become totally absorbed into this fantasy - a rare experience.
Our last day, Sunday, was again bright as we ventured into the city to attend a Russian Orthodox service at the stately Assumption Cathedral. Surrounded by biblical scenes, gold carvings and hundreds of candles, we stood with the regular parishoners throughout the one and one-half hour service and tried to cope with the smell of incense as the priest and choir in the balcony produced what can only be described as a heavenly sound. An afternoon visit to view the Braun files and an appealing buffet supper with our captain signalled the end of a short trip but a very large experience.
This and That: We spotted a stork's nest on an electrical pole near the former Mennonite Brethren church in the village of Rückenau. Apparently the parents and three young had left for Africa in mid-September. The building houses presses to make oil from sunflower seed.
Preparations for this trip began in early January 1995 with an initial meeting at which Marina and Walter Unger, tour organizers from Toronto, presented information and a slide show about the forthcoming trip. Twenty-seven of the 161 cruise members came from Essex County. The other members of our tour group came together from California, Kansas, Illinois, Michigan, Pennsylvania, British Columbia, Alberta, Saskatchewan, Manitoba, other places in Ontario plus England, Italy and Holland.
On September 21, 1995 we left from Toronto with Swissair to Zurich and from there to Kiev, where we were met by Intourist buses which took us directly to our cruise ship, the Viktor Glushkov, docked at Kiev harbour.
On arrival at the Viktor Glushkov, we were greeted by a three member Ukrainian musical folk group playing rousing music on the dock and a Ukrainian hostess on board ship welcoming us to break and eat from a common loaf of bread. Marina and Walter Unger were also on board where they extended a warm welcome to all of us. After settling into our roomy cabin with private washroom and shower and a large picture window, we met for dinner to enjoy the fine food in a beautiful dining room among friends from home and new aquaintances. Eating and conversing with each other were equally important. The atmosphere was charged with feelings of excitement and anticipation.
Following dinner on our first day aboard ship, we were treated to a most entertaining concert by a Kiev Children's Music Ensemble.
The tour of Kiev on September 23 was very interesting and provided great opportunities for taking slides of places I had heard about but never dreamed that I would ever see. When our tour guide pointed out a monument set up in memory of the many people who had lost their life during the difficult period of 1941- 43, I recalled that I still lived in the Molothschna at that time, not far away from this scene of death and destruction. At the thought of our narrow escape, I was once more deeply grateful to God for His protection.
I could hardly wait to see the Dnieper River landscape as we began our cruise downstream from Kiev to Odessa, a port on the Black Sea. I was interested in seeing first hand the cities of Kiev, Dnepropretrovsk, Zaporozhye, Kherson and Odessa. But most of all I wanted to see the land and villages where my grandparents had lived, where my parents and our family had been born, and from where we had miraculously escaped in 1943.
As we cruised along the calm water of the Dnieper, I noticed that this river was quite narrow in some places and very wide in others. The river banks were covered with trees and lined with white sandy beaches at numerous points along its course. Only a few houses could be seen between the cities along the route. Further downstream, this waterway became broader, deeper and dotted with many islands. Along its thousand kilometre length, between Kiev and Odessa we had to pass through a series of five locks. The greatest drop was near Zaporozhye, where the lock was thirty-six metres deep. As we approached the Black Sea, the river became very wide and a storm whipped the water into three metre waves that rocked our ship and made us unsteady on our feet for a few hours.
The activities on board the Viktor Glushkov such as the concerts, the historical lectures by Al Reimer, Paul Toews, and Rudy Friesen, the Sunday morning worship service on September 24 with the theme "Singing the Lord's song in a Strange Land" in which the singing was conducted by Howard Dyck, the delicious watermelon and Rollkuchen treat on Sunday afternoon, the daily social dining experiences and the nightly visits with friends to talk about the day's events were all highlights that I found to be most enjoyable and unforgettable.
As we toured the cities, visited monuments, museums, cathedrals, palaces, and parks we were able to observe the beauty of the Ukraine and at the same time see the poverty that was evident everywhere. The people were friendly and hospitable and appeared resigned to the fact that living standards and conditions in their recently declared independent democratic country were very fragile and difficult and would likely remain that way for some time to come.
Tuesday, September 26, we boarded four buses to visit the former Mennonite villages of Chortitza and Molotschna. Gisela and I joined a bus load of members destined for the Molotschna where we hoped to find the places where I had my roots. About eighty kilometres from Zaporozhye we came upon the city of Tokmak with a population of 60,000 people. In this city my parents had done their shopping for food staples and clothing many years ago. Our bus passed by Fabrickerwiese where my grandparents had operated a brick factory. I was deeply moved when I saw the land where my grndparents had lived. In haste, I snapped a few pictures through the bus window as we continued on our way to Schönsee where we visited the remaining ruins of the church in which my mother and grandparents had worshipped and where mother was baptized. As I looked at the remains of this church, took pictures of what I found, and picked up a brick from this important landmark, my thoughts went back to stories my mother had told me about this period in her life. Now these stories came to life and took on far greater significance than they ever had in the past.
I was thrilled to stop at Landskrone, where my parents had lived shortly after they were married and where some of my siblings were born. Here I was able to find and take pictures of the remaining walls and floor of the church in which my parents had worshipped. As I picked up a piece of ceramic floor tile, I visualized my parents walking upon this floor as they had entered this building many years ago. A quick visit to the hospital in Waldheim, where I was born and which is still used today as a medical clinic, brought a sense of reality to stories I had heard many years ago about this part of the world and my place in it. I was determined to take a picture of my birthplace even though the sun had set and darkness was almost upon us. With the aid of a flash and a time exposure I was successful in capturing on film this important landmark. Words can hardly describe the feelings that passed through my mind as I thought back to what life was like in those troubled times in this faraway country we once called home.
A visit to Gnadenfeld where my sister, Elizabeth, was born and the search for remains of Nikolaidorf where my family and I lived from 1936 to 1943, but which was apparently completely destroyed during the Second World War, brought further memories to my mind about life in this country. As our bus travelled along a country lane beside a long hedge of locust (acacia) trees in the area where Nilolaidorf had once been, I took a picture of the setting sun that adorned the beautiful landscape now as it had done many years ago when my mother and father worked long hours on these very fertile and gently rolling fields to provide food for their growing family.
The experience of revisiting the homeland of my childhood was much more emotional and meaningful to me than I had ever imagined before the trip. At one point along our route we passed an old train station at Stulnjewo, dating back to the Mennonite presence in this area, and a large field across the road from this station where in 1941 my family and I, among six or seven thousand people were gathered to be transported to Siberia. While we were waiting to be loaded into boxcars for this evacuation, we saw a plane overhead followed by a second plane which shot the first plane down just beyond the gathered crowd. Later we heard that the first plane, manned by a Russian pilot, had been instructed to bomb the area where we were situated. The assigned mission failed when a German plane came in time to prevent this disaster from happening. As we passed this point along our route, a woman passenger in the seat beside me, who had been thirteen years old at that time, identified this place and clearly recalled that occurrence. I too remembered this incident which I witnessed as a five year old boy many years ago.
As I looked at the countryside of my former homeland and recalled the difficult times of those years, I was filled with gratitude to God for having protected us and made it possible for us to come to Canada. The special MCC 75th Anniversary Celebration on September 27, organized as a worship service in the former Chortitza Mennonite Church, where in 1920 MCC began its distribution of food to the starving people of the Molotschna and Chortitza colonies, was a very meaningful event for me. My parents and grandparents were among those who received nourishment through this act of Christian love for which I am very grateful.
Our visit to the former Mädchenschule in Chorititza where the students and staff had prepared a special reception for us, the entertaining riding display by the Cossacks on Chortitza Island, the visit to the Ukrainian fishing village with its unforgettable garden picnic and very colourful riverside market display prepared by the residents of this small village, our attendance at a masterfully presented ballet of "Sleeping Beauty" in the renowned Odessa Opera House, and our Ukrainian Orthodox worship experience in the Assumption Cathedral in Odessa on Sunday morning, October 1, all stand out for me as significant highlights that I would not have wanted to miss.
This trip provided us with unusual learning experiences, great food and social interaction, excellent accommodation on board the cruise ship, a variety of very pleasant entertainments, a sobering reminder of the vast difference between the standards of living in the Ukraine and Canada, a new appreciation and understanding of our Mennonite history and heritage, and aroused in me a deep sense of gratitude to God and those who seve others in the name of Christ.
This and That: Legend has it that Chortitza got its name from the god Chor who needed sacrificial offerings to guarantee safe passage on the Dnieper. Other sources claim that the word is Turkish for a fortress in the middle of the river.
This and That: Dnepropetrovsk was founded in 1789 and had become a cultural centre for Mennonites by 1905 with a small but dynamic Mennonite presence. Johann Esau was city mayor from 1905 -1909.
It was 1926 when my parents with three little girls emigrated to Canada.I was two years old and have no memories, and never had any desire to go back to where I was born. When the invitation to go on a cruise on the Dnieper river came up, it sounded interesting. John and I together decided to join the cruise.
During the drive to Toronto on the bus the excitement was great, one heard comments like, "When did you immigrate", "What memories do you have?", "What do you expect to see?" Flying across the ocean, we were reminded of some 70 years ago when our parents and grandparents were driven out of their homes, persecuted, families separated and killed and then to go to the unknown. It was their Faith and Trust in God that kept them alive and gave them courage and hope to start a new life. We were now making the crossing in such peace and comfort.
There were so many highlights on this trip. One of the first that left an impression on me was the moment when we stepped on to the boat, which was docked on the Dnieper river, and musicians on board played a welcome for us. There was also a Ukrainian lady (probably a crew member), with a big loaf of bread. As we walked by, each of us broke off a piece and ate it; a token of welcome. That warm welcome accompanied us all the way.
The Lichtenau train station was very meaningful to me. It was from here that most of the Mennonites leaving Russia would have departed and it was here that buckets of tears were shed as they said good-bye to loved ones, not knowing if they would ever meet again. Father writes in his journal, "It was always like a funeral when saying good-bye". Mother told me I was very sick, my little stomach bloated, as they were to appear before the doctor. She gave me cough medicine so I would sleep. The doctor took one look, shaking his head, as if to say, she'll never make it across the ocean - "Go ahead" - he nodded while mother said a silent prayer. These moments came to me as we stood watching the train go by. Here I am 70 years later. I too said a prayer, thanking God for all that He has blessed me with.
The captain, the crew, the village people and our fellow passengers on board, all made our ten day stay in the Ukraine a memorable holiday.
This and That: Three generations of the Peter Dick family took part in the Heritage Cruise, namely Peter Dick (Vineland, author of All the Days of Our Lives), his daughters Marina Unger (Toronto, cruise organizer), Elfrieda Heinrichs (London, Eng., Vern's wife), Debra Classen (California), and grandson John Dick (Colorado).
Best Wishes from Menno Epp. Best Wishes from Victor Kliewer. Entertainment by Kiev Children's Music Ensemble on board MS Viktor Glushkov. Singing with Howard Dick. Singing the old, familiar German songs with members of the tour. It was a thrill to hear and see people from all parts of Canada joining in and being able to sing the same songs. Listening to Al Reimer and Paul Toews as they presented talks on Mennonite History. Walking through parks and seeing their beautiful trees. 60% of Kiev is covered with forest. They consider the trees to be their lungs. They are a necessity because of all the pollution. Seeing the Red Cross building where Dad Janzen worked in the pharmacy. Actually seeing former Mennonite villages, their size and distance from one another. Driving across the fields trying to find Mariawohl. Being part of the first service in over 50 years in the former Mennonite Church in Chortitza. Visiting the Willms estate in Halbstadt, the Neufeld Brewery, the Zentralschule, the large, impressive building which was the school for the deaf and dumb, built in 1881. Visiting the former MB church in Rückenau and smelling sunflower seeds as they were being pressed. Visiting the Chortitza cemetery, Kroeger Clock Works, the Wallman castle. It was exciting to be entertained by the children at the former Mädchenschule and eat the goodies they served. Walking with Vic and Vern Heinrichs as they showed us the birthplace of their mother. Visiting with an elderly Ukrainian lady near the old oak tree. This lady recited: Lieber Heiland, mach mich Fromm, das ich in den Himmel komm. Then she sang Gott ist die Liebe. Her relatives, the Koops and Reimers had migrated to Canada. She knew no other German. We all joined her in singing Gott ist die Liebe, as well as How Great Thou Art, which she had started in Russian. It was a very moving experience. Watching the wonderful exhibition of the Cossacks. Seeing the reunion of Frank Wall and his cousin. Witnessing the baptism of a small child in an old church in Kherson. The poor child was naked and was slowly covered with water before being marked with crosses in various parts of his body. He sobbed throughout the experience.
Sharing lunch with the fishermen. The food was plentiful, delicious and very filling. The garden contained many healthy-looking plants. There was also a wide variety of crafts from which we were allowed to purchase.
Reliving a story as told by Tina Block Ediger. Visiting Odessa and attending the performance of Sleeping Beauty in the opera house. Walking the streets of Odessa and mingling with its inhabitants. Purchasing halva. It tasted similar to that purchased in Canada, but it looked like a pile of mud. Viewing a few of the documents from the Braun archive in the Golden Hall of the Odessa Literary Museum. Finally, being able to eat the sweet watermelons of the Ukraine. All of the above proved to make this Mennonite Heritage Cruise a memorable and enriching experience.
This and That: Marina and Walter Unger were a perfect study in contrasts: We seldom caught a glimpse of Marina, yet Walter was everywhere at once. We heard Walter's booming, reassuring voice regularly; but we don't remember that Marina said much of anything. When we occasionally spotted Marina, she had a look of grave concern on her face. On the other hand, if Walter had cares, it appears that he had left them back in Canada. Ah, the life of a travel agents' spouse!
Special moments that I am gleaning from my journal - I like to think of these moments as spiritual or holy moments - also known as "magic moments".
As I heard the welcoming music of the Ukrainian band and ate the bread and salt that was offered to us as a welcoming symbol, I was emotionally overwhelmed. I remembered how our parents had left this country with Nun Danket Alle Gott on their lips. Now I was being welcomed back to the Ukraine and I was filled with gratitude for this privilege.
On our second day in Kiev, we visited the beautiful, old St. Andrew's Orthodox church. A service was taking place. The rich voices of the choir singing "Lord have mercy on us" enveloped us, as we stood in silent reverence. We were able to bring some of that sound home with us on our video recording.
Sunday morning, about 50 members of our group were part of the choir directed by Howard Dick. We sang old favourites, such as Gott ist Gegenwärtig, Schaff in mir Gott ein reines Herz, Herr, Dein Wort, die Edle Gabe. Darrell Fast's message focused on the fact that we are pilgrims on this earth and wherever we are, we are singing in a strange land. They were holy moments that we experienced that morning as we worshipped together in the piano bar of our ship. In the afternoon, we feasted on Rollkuchen and watermelon. We found that Russian watermelons really are sweeter than our Canadian ones - as many of our parents had always told us.
The historians Al Reimer and Paul Toews told us many facts and stories about our ancestors - how they settled and then lived in the Ukraine. Rudy Friesen made us aware of the different styles of buildings in the different eras.
One of the highlights in Dnieperprotrovsk was the mill of Heinrich Thiessen, great grandfather of Elsie Dick, built at the end of the 19th century and still standing. Elsie was able to bring a piece of crumbled brick home with her.
We visited a dark and eerie room in a museum. It showed the repression of the Stalin years. A huge pyramid of 1,000 photos of men killed in those years dominated the room. his was only a small representation of the thousands whose life was taken from them mercilessly. Five of my father's brothers were among them. The former headquarters of the KGB in the Ukraine was pointed out to us. Our guide told us that probably many of our relatives would have been judged and condemned to death in that grey building. The highlight of our heritage trip took place September 26-27-28 as we visited the villages in Chortitza and the Molotschna - the houses of our parents and grandparents. Some members of our group were coming back to the land of their birth and also to visit relatives still in the Ukraine.
We shared a "magic moment" with Frank Wall when he met a long lost cousin.
Henry walked on the street of Sparrau - the village of his father. I spent a "magic moment" on the street of Blumstein - the village of my mother. It was wonderful to share many special moments of our fellow travellers on our bus.
My overwhelming feeling was one of sadness - the homes and buildings of our Mennonite ancestors were either destroyed and gone or they appeared in poor repair. Through our guide we learned that they appreciate the freedom they now have and live in hope that they will be drawn out of their poverty.
We also experienced a number of Ukrainian cultural events. On our first evening we were entertained by a group of young music school students. We were delighted by the classical music they produced on their violins, flutes and harpsichords. A second group entertained us dressed in national costume and played a variety of instruments. The two soloists favoured us with traditional Ukrainian songs.
On the Island of Chortitza we attended a Cossack horse show where we were treated to a rice dish and Samahou - their homemade vodka. We also had the opportunity of buying souvenirs from the many artisans who displayed their wares.
Our Friday noon meal we enjoyed at the richly decked table of our Ukrainian host family from the Dnieper River Delta fishing village. The more we ate, the more they brought to the table and we were encouraged to eat, eat, eat.
On our journey we heard many stories about the glorious past, about the suffering during the Machno times and the Soviet times. Often it was about mothers left with little children when their husbands disappeared. Tina Block Ediger's portrayal of her mother's violent rape brought us to tears and in touch with some of the horrible things that occurred during the time of Machno in 1918-19. Our final two days were spent in Odessa. Saturday evening's highlight was the "Sleeping Beauty" ballet at the Odessa opera house. We were awed by the performance as well as the elegance around us - red velvet, much gilt, chandeliers and paintings.
The last day culminated in the captain's dinner - a richly and beautifully decked buffet table. It was our final experience of the wonderful service we had on our ship. At 9 p.m. we gathered one more time for singing and thank yous to many people, especially Marina and Walter Unger for making this a truly marvellous heritage experience.
This and That: I followed the rules about avoiding jet lag: no alcohol, eating lightly and all that. Even so, I would have fallen off my chair in a stupor during the first night's entertainment on board if it hadn't been for the regular standing ovations we awarded the young Ukrainian entertainers.
On Saturday evening, at 5:30, we boarded two buses to go to the opera house to see the Sleeping Beauty Ballet. The orchestra played beautifully. The building, we were told, was one of the most magnificent in the world - a copy of the Vienna State Opera - the stage just took my breath away!
After the second act I thought it was over - I looked up in one of the cubicles where Henry and Katie Brown sat - they were all getting up so, Aggie and I grabbed hands and beat it, following some people we knew. Even Paul Toews (from Fresno) was leaving - but when we got to the stairs a big Russian lady grabbed my jacket saying "pause, pause" or something like that, while Aggie moved on. She wouldn't let go so I yelled to Tante Gata to wait for me! She came back and so did the others - by then even I knew it wasn't over. Was it ever funny? - Katie said it happened to them too!
There were only two buses to take us home and on ours they had said: "It doesn't matter which one you take, it will come back to get the rest. Some people will take longer getting to the bus". Ah, I thought, they probably think us forgetful! Just remember your buddy system!
"Let's go", we said as soon as we knew it was over. Once outside, Aggie stumbled on something and almost took a flip, still hanging on to my hand, she fell but got up as fast as she could - said she was okay. We got to the empty bus, sat down on the first seat. The bus got fuller and fuller with people standing in the aisle. How come - this bus is the bus I was on before - its full! We were told to get on any bus. So off we went to the boat and a very late dinner!
This and That: Health concerns while travelling in the former Soviet Union: My doctor suggested I take Pepto Bismal, Immodium and anti-biotics with me. AND I DID, BUT I DIDN'T NEED ANY OF THEM! I felt perfectly healthy the entire time. I did have a tetanus booster shot one month in advance of the trip. Better safe than sorry, as they say.
The former Schönfeld community (Vollost or County), was located about 50 miles east and a bit south of Zaporozhye. This area encompasses approximately a 40 mile radius. Here about 2,000 Mennonites lived at the beginning of the 20th century.
They lived mostly on estates (Khutor), somewhat isolated and included a number of Russian villages. There were also several small villages such as Schönbrunn and the larger village of Schönfeld. The village included the administrative centre of the Vollost, the church, Zentralschule and a general store.
As a result of the 1914-1917 war, the Revolution that followed, the anarchy, plundering and pillaging, the entire community fled to the more established colonies in the Molotschna area and the Schönfeld community was no more.
On our trip to the Ukraine, none of the planned tours was to go to Schönfeld, because, as we were told, there is nothing there to see. We already knew this, but a group of 12 had a strong desire to confirm this for ourselves, or at least to see the countryside where our our ancestors had lived.
September 27, our tour leaders had arranged a small bus for us with driver and German-speaking interpreter. It was a bright, sunny day, as we started out and after a bush stop outside the city, we were soon in the beautiful countryside, with its rich-looking soil, fields of sunflowers, winter wheat, some hedges and rows of trees; just as our folks had always told us.
A short hour and we arrived at the Terza river, along which many of our people had lived. Here we had a picnic lunch with food provided for us by the staff on the boat.We took some pictures and off we were, heading south. The road was hard-topped and in some places trees lined the roadside.
When we asked our guide, "Do you think we will be able to find some evidence of our people?", he said, "We will ask some of the older people in the area for directions". When we stopped to do this, we were warmly welcomed and after helping as much as they could, they would want to give us gifts (watermelons, grapes, etc.) After several such stops we were told, you go to the top of the hill, there is a man there who knows everything. As the interpreter talked to him, I saw the man nodding and my heart started pounding. Would we really find something?
He showed us the road to take and then to go down a country lane and there would be some ruins. We drove down this lane. On both sides of the lane were areas of high grass and some small bushes. On the north was a stream which helped us to identify the site. With beating hearts we got off the bus.
What excitement when we found the first pieces of bricks.We found pieces of tile roof, some evidence of foundations, and some cave-ins where we believed must have been the old wells. At the westerly end of the site we found footings, which we thought could be the remnants of the Zentralschule. At the back of the site was an Acacia hedge and behind it a field of sunflowers. I went into the field and without the a shovel scooped up some soil with my hands, beautiful, black, crumbly soil. As I stood there, I tried to visualize the site as it must have been some 75 years ago. I felt sad and yet I felt a strange thrill to think that this was where our parents had lived, gone to church and school and had married there. They had gone through such persecution that they had to flee only a few months after their marriage, never to return again. And now we were here and in a sense honoring them with our presence. I would have liked to stay longer, but it was time to leave and as our bus took us back to the boat, we reflected on our experiences.
Today, as I write this, I can hardly believe that I was actually there, but I treasure the experience that I had.
This and That: 400 - 500 Mennonite families in the Ukraine lived on estates before WWI.
This and That: Russian education was enforced in the Mennonite schools in the 1870s, yet by 1914 few Mennonite women spoke Russian fluently.
MARINA (DYCK) LEPP: A Unique Experience in the Ukraine (a cousin discovers us)
Before we left on our trip, a cousin in Saskatchewan had informed me of our cousin living in Ekaterinoslav (Dnepropetrovsk). But he had apparently taken his Russian wife's name and my cousin couldn't find the address, so I had very little information to go on. Then, when I saw the size of the city, I realized I'd never find him.
After we had been to the MCC service in Zaporozhye on September 27, 1995, we were on our way to find Neuhorst in the Chortitza colony - the village my Dad was raised in. However, when I checked with our guide, she said she had worked with the Mennonites for 15 years but had never heard of it. She offered, "We'll check with the local people".
When we arrived at Neuendorf, the village before Neuhorst, a local man asked whether he could come onto the bus. Everyone was was taken aback: "What does he want here?", we thought. Then the Hildebrandt sisters recognized him as a man they had met at the MCC service. They spoke with him and he showed them their homestead. I asked our guide if by chance this man would be able to show us to Neuhorst. She had already spoken to him and he would go along to show us Neuhorst! Well, the road became a rugged trail and there was some question as to whether it was wise to go here with a bus. But our local guide said that it would only be dusty, so we went. After 7 km. of rough road we saw Neuhorst. It burnt down at one point but was now rebuilt. I could hardly grasp the fact that I was standing on the soil that my Dad had grown up on! The emotions and thoughts that went racing through my head were unexplainable! Could this really be true? Then a local man said that the school and store were still original buildings! We took pictures and gazed at the long main road. If only my Dad could see this! The decision had been made to go back to Neuendorf by another way and we were off.
I went to talk to this local man who had become our guide. To my surprise he said his name was Heinrich Dick. My Dad was Isaac Dick and his grandfather was Abram Dick. "Was there a connection?", I asked. "Yes", he said, "I knew Abram Dick". Not only that, he also knew the cousin in Saskatchewan and had been to Canada a few times and was the cousin in Ekaterinoslav whom I never expected to find! We talked some more, exchanged addresses and by this time we were in Neuendorf where he was staying the night. We had our picture taken together and had to say goodbye. I didn't even find out how he had gotten around to the different places. Time was so short! I sat dumb-founded all the way back to Zaporozhye. How wonderfully God works things out! I spoke with Frank and Nettie Dick, pastors of the Mennonite church in Zaporozhye and they said that this Heinrich Dick attends their church regularly. If it hadn't been for him "hijacking" our bus, I would not have found Neuhorst - the very purpose of my trip to the Ukraine!
This and That: The 700 year old Chortitza Island Oak has died. According to the September Mennonite Historian, even chicken dung and goat carcasses couldn't save the famous tree. The 36 metre landmark started dying when a drainage system around it broke and remained unrepaired last year. The tree lost all its leaves in June and by midsummer was pronounced dead. A transplanted acorn from the old oak is growing well at the Kaufmann Museum in North Newton, Kansas, however.
Saturday, September 23, 1995: Kiev. Up at 6:45 a.m. breakfast at 8 a.m. - porridge, egg, bread, sweet bun, orange juice. 9 - 12 noon had city tour of Kiev. (Vladimir's Town, the Hill, St.Sophia's, Golden Gate and the Czar's palace where we saw a wedding party). First saw St.Andrews church. Foundation of Vladimir's church after it was destroyed. St. Sophia's church and the square in front - now the Bell Tower, the Golden Gate which was once the entrance on the Main street to the town of Jarislavl the Wise, son of Prince Vladimir. The foreign embassies are located in this area. Saw St. Vladimir Orthodox church, built 1862-92. Our guide earns 2.5 million coupons per month. (150,000 coupons= $1 US). Her husband earns 8 million coupons per month. He is an engineer. Their apartment of 2 rooms plus bath and hall costs 1 million coupons monthly. Sugar - 200,000 coupons per kilo. Yogurt - 60,000 coupons for 1 litre. Potatoes - 60,000 for 1 kilogram. Cabbage - 70,000 for 1 kg. Meat 560,000 per kg. Visited Babi Yar and monument surrounding a ravine where thousands of Jews and others were shot and buried in the ravine during WWII. Babi means older woman and yar means ravine. Saw Czar's summer palace where heads of state are received today. Also a wedding party being photographed. Statue of general who liberated Kiev in Nov. 1943. Many chestnut trees line the streets of Kiev. Ate lunch with Don and Elsie Steelberg. Soup, salad, mashed potatoes, meat, ice-cream. Left 2:15 for Pechersky Lavra, a monastery started in 1015. Saw the buildings from outside and walked through man-made caves where monks lived. Also saw small church where monks worshipped. Returned to boat by bus and rested until super at 7 p.m. Ate with Elsie and Margaret Enns - cucumbers and tomatoes, pizza squares, filled peppers and cake. 8:30 p.m.- Kiev Philharmonic Folk Ensemble, excellent with male and female vocalists. Went on deck with others to watch ship sail at 10 p.m. Ukraine consists of 75% Ukrainian, 21% Russian people.
This and That: Ted and Lina Friesen (Friesen Printers) of Altona, Manitoba celebrated their 50th wedding anniversary aboard the MS Viktor Glushkov. The ship's kitchen baked a cake which the Friesens shared with all 161 of us. Ted currently chairs the Mennonite Historical Society of Canada.
We appreciated the pleasant weather, sleeping quarters and relaxing meals on board. I especially enjoyed the tours to the various villages and was impressed by the helpfulness and friendliness of the people there. Visiting villages where our mothers and fathers had lived was very exciting. The bush stops were a comical experience. I marvel at how the people survive with so little income and so few conveniences.
The MCC celebration was also a highlight. Our trip to Schönfeld was very enjoyable, but too short. I would like to have explored the area more thoroughly.
I enjoyed the children at the Chortitza schools. Our tour group included people from many different occupations and we had many opportunities to get acquainted.
It stirred our emotions to see people meet relatives whom they had never met before, or whom they hadn't seen for many years.
I very much enjoyed the time we spent at the fisherman's island and the delicious food and the hospitality of the people.
I wish I could have gone on all the Mennonite village tours. It would have been nice to spend more time in the Mennonite villages and less time touring museums.
I enjoyed cruising down the Dnieper, which was so familiar to our parents. Also our rather rough trip on the Black Sea was exciting, as was the Opera House performance and the time we spent in Odessa.
This and That: The English translation for the word Molotschna is "milky". Because the sky in that part of the country is often hazy, the water of the Molotschna River takes on a cloudy or milky appearance.
There I was, thousands of miles from my home in Leamington, Ontario - in a strange country, a strange city, together with eight relatives, and surrounded by busy city traffic and I wanted to be alone! Why? It all began many months before when Henry and I decided to join the 1995 Mennonite Heritage Cruise to the Ukraine with special emphasis on visiting the various villages of the Old Colony, Chortitza and Molotschna areas.
Preparation included studying maps, reading various books and reports and so on. I am fortunate that my mother, age 94 is still alive and well enough to be able to remember and recall her own, as well as my Dad's birthplace. We spent a lot of time going over the 1915-1925 map of Chortitza. She pointed out her home yard which was right next to her grandfather's factory (Koop); her schools: Mädchenschule, Zentralschule, Lehrerseminar, Dad's home and gardens and so on. Carefully, and sometimes with pauses which were, I'm sure, filled with bitter-sweet memories, she recalled those schöne Jahre (good years). She drew my attention to the path, Alte Reihe, now a busy street - which led from her home to the Mädchenschule - a path where she had walked as a young girl and later as a teenager and a young adult. She pointed out some landmarks, for example, where a pear tree had grown and to which she had often fled when chores were to be done, and she really felt the need to read, as well as eat some of those delicious pears; and a brook into which stones had often been carelessly tossed; places where she with her cousins had played and so on.
Our evenings of togetherness were an added bonus to my trip, but sometimes she would simply say Jetzt ist es genug, (this is enough) - I think perhaps reminiscing at this point was too painful, and we would close the topic for the night.
Now it was September 27, 1995! We had just attended the 75th Anniversary of our MCC and my first cousin (Oleg Penner - Zaporozhye), whom we had met for the first time in our lives the previous day (another story?) was going to give us a tour of Chortitza. There! before me was the architecturally beautiful building of the former Mädchenschule! My mother had attended there! She had walked those same halls, she had run up and down those Lepp-Wallman factory steps which were now carrying my feet to her former assembly halls and classrooms. Oh! if those walls and steps could only talk!
Then on to the Zentralschule and Hof - Dad's home place! Here we decided to walk to her "house" and that's when it hit me! Leave me alone, give me space, give my silence, give me a chance to internalize these emotions! If Mom could have come too - what would she had said now? Or would she too have wanted peace and quiet?
We didn't find her "house" - (the functioning factory was still there, though), but that was O.K., I felt. I had touched her/my roots!
When I came home and showed her the snapshots of the various places and buildings, most of which she recognized immediately, she kept asking: Ihr seid wirklich da gewesen - du hast Alles gesehen - auch wo Papa wohnte und wir aufgewachsen sind? Ja! Das ist gut! Vergess sie nie - unsere Heimat.
Will I go again? In my memories many, many times.
This and That: Preparation is a vital and fun part of a trip such as this. Firstly, there is much reading to be done; Marina mailed required reading lists to us well in advance. These books were not only interesting and informative, they helped set the mood for our Heritage Cruise. The Ungers also suggested that we compile information about our Russian Mennonite past ahead of time - for instance, one should, at the very least, know where one's ancestors were born. We were encouraged to "debrief" relatives.
I happened to be one of the few in our group of 161 people who was born in the Ukraine - in the Molotschna, to be exact. Leaving at 5 1/2 years of age, it's surprising how many memories I retained of our immediate villages: Ohrloff, Tiege and Blumenort. My father's memoirs reinforced the interest in the land of my forbears. An opportunity to see the villages, towns and cities mentioned in his life story increased my desire to take the cruise. And to share this journey with my older son, Gary, would make it doubly exciting. Since reading his grandfather's memoirs, he too showed a keen interest to tread the land of our ancestors.
I enjoyed the entire cruise down the Dnieper, but there's no doubt that the highlight of the trip was the journey to my home village of Blumenort. The initial contact by bus had proved to be disappointing because of the changes wrought by famine, war and the Communist Regime. I was looking for familiar scenes, buildings, yards, etc. which were no longer there. Everything I remembered was gone, or so it seemed, except the school for the deaf and dumb in Tiege, which was recognizable even with the busts of Carl Marx and Lenin displayed in the front yard. At present, an agricultural department is housed in part of that former school.
The next day, via car with driver and guide, Gary and I returned from Zaporozhye to the above mentioned villages, taking time to question "older women with memories". Old men are very scarce because the majority were killed during World War II. We found an old Mennonite lady, Mrs. Unger, living alone in Blumenort, who had been born there and remembered my family, uncles, aunts, grandparents and also the exact location of our house and grandfather's house. Both were destroyed during the war. Perhaps the reason she - a Mennonite and the only one - was still in Blumenort was because her second husband had been a Russian. She was 88 years old, bent over a cane, not a tooth in her head, but a twinkle in her eyes and still able to converse in German. Our interpreter helped out when Russian became necessary. What a find! Unkown to me, my son recorded the whole conversation on the camcorder. She ended by saying, that, at her age, "It was time to go". But hopefully my Christmas card will reach her before that happens.
As Al Reimer mentioned at the beginning of the cruise, something happens to us when we walk the lands of our ancestors. And something did!
This and That: Wheat is Ukraine's main crop, followed by corn for feed, sunflowers for oil and sugar beets for sugar. The average Ukrainian eats 130 kg bread annually. Average annual Canadian consumption is 40 kg.
I had not expected such an emotional impact - I could actually feel
it - from our Mennonite Cruise. Strangers before, now became united by
a depth of feeling for our Mennonite Heritage. The bus drivers and guides
were exceptionally accommodating to their passengers, thanks to the detailed
organization of the whole tour. As I left Ukraine, I realized again, truly,
God's grace had been with us.
My great, great grandfather, Peter Lepp built a farm implement factory in Chortitza in 1865. He died at the age of 54. It was then that his son-in-law Wallman took over the business - thus the name Lepp-Wallman. Even today the steel steps bear the name Lepp-Wallman.
In Chortitza, almost across from where we celebrated the MCC 75th Anniversary, stood the Lepp factory, yet we were not even allowed to set foot on the yard.
On the first day of our three-day excursions we were on the Chortitza Generic tour bus which took us to the villages of : Nieder-Chortitza: (1803) Saw some old Mennonite homes, villages, schools and church. We visited the cemetery where every grave was individually fenced in, covered with flowers and most of the stones bore a picture of the deceased. We had to walk through the bushes to find Mennonite grave stones. Burwalde: We just drove through since no one had family connections here. Rosengart: Here we visited a former Mennonite school house. The children there were ready for handouts - candy, gum, pens, etc.. It was surprising how modern and well-dressed they were. We saw several typical Mennonite homes with their two small gable windows. A stone at the graveyard read: Ruhe sanft in deiner Gruft bis dich dein Heiland ruft. Kronstal: Stopped briefly. Osterwick: Saw the former Mennonite church. We sat on the curb to eat our bag lunches. The large, impressive school next door, formerly Mennonite, now had 80 students, 13 teachers. We stopped at the very large Schulz brick factory. Schöneberg: We noticed metal irrigation pipes overhead and on the ground. Every village had chickens, ducks, geese. Goats were tied up along roads or field edges. Schönhorst: One of the original 8 villages. Saw former Mennonite homes or newer home built on Mennonite foundation. From back of bus came "If you build on Mennonite foundation you should do alright". Neuendorf: Established 1819. We viewed buildings and visited the cemetery and always, in the bushes, we found old, often not legible, Mennonite stones. The following day we continued on our tour of former Mennonite villages: We stopped at the Bergmann (he had been a member of the Russian parliament) estate at Solonye, used by his son-in-law Hooge. It still had the original 150 year old oak floors. Here the state-run farms average 112,000 acres, the collective farms about 10,500 acres each. About 400 families live on a collective farm. Neuenfeld (or Nicolienfeld): The former Mennonite church is now used for a school gym. Our guide informed us that the Ukriane has the lowest birthrate in the world. Franzfeld: One of the best-kept (had not been destroyed) villages. Painted fences, fruit trees, vegetable and flower gardens. Hochfeld: We stopped for our bag lunch under an Acadia tree. In villages, public buildings run parallel to the road, private homes stand vertical to the road. Eichenfeld: Inhabitants had been murdered, village burned down, there was nothing left. Neuendorf: Four Hildebrand sisters on our bus had roots in this village. Surprisingly, a somewhat aggressive man (who was, in fact, Marina Dyck Lepp's cousin, see Marina's account elsewhere in compilation) showed them where the home their father had built still stood.We were drawn into their story: they had left Neuendorf in the 1940s. Having experienced the Hildebrand and Lepp (Dyck) find, we felt as though we had discovered America!
This and That: It would have been nice if everyone had worn name tags (this has happened: cruise passengers now wear a badge card on a string - Walter Unger). Sometimes it was hard to put names and faces together. And also, perhaps we could have exchanged dining rooms half way through our cruise (this has also happened: passengers switch 3 times during the cruise).
The memories of our ten days on the Dnieper River this fall will remain with me and continue to draw me back. This experience was like no other as we turned back the pages of our own family histories.
My first exciting moment came on board ship when Rudy Friesen, who as an architect has studied our Mennonite architecture in the Ukraine, informed me that the Thiessen Mill would be part of our tour of Dnepropetrovsk. I remember my heart pound because I had had no idea that this mill still existed. After all, this old city had just been opened to tourists after being closed for twenty years.
The day of our tour of the old city that had been Ekaterinoslav when my ancestors lived and worked there, seemed to drag on endlessly for me. The Thiessen Mill was our last stop. I could feel my heart begin to thump again and I didn't want to let on because I still could not believe that this particular old building in whose offices my grandfather had worked as a young man, could really still be there.
Finally we stopped on the sidewalk. Between two tall buildings were a pair of iron gates. We passed through, walked down a cobblestone alley and there it was. It was not a crumbling pile of bricks as I had imagined, but a huge five story that had stood there for over 100 years.
Our young Ukrainian guide told us things about my ancestors that I had never heard before. He also said that this mill served today as a school for young Ukrainians who were learning the trade of milling flour. As I found a piece of brick take home with me, I was filled with a feeling of awe and thankfulness. This old building was still in operation, building a bridge between the past and the future.
This and That: Your name is more than a computer card or a social security number, it is your heritage. It is the vital link with your family: past, present and future. It gives you dignity - identifies you in the vast community of mankind.
One of the many highlights of the cruise was our visit to the Cossack performance on Chortitza Island. My father spoke very fondly about them. As our bus rounded the corner and followed the road down the long avenue of trees, it just hit me. I have seen a picture of this somewhere. As we watched the equestrian show, more of the stories he had told me came back. The Cossacks were humorous, but also experts in riding and handling horses.
When we left the grounds, I spoke with Frank Wall (a cruise member) about a melody I remembered - the Cossacks Song - Ne Chernis Von (Evening Bells). He also remembered the song and we sang pieces of it. Years ago, many of our local Mennonite homes had a recording of that song.
This and That: For me, the Heritage Cruise was a pleasant, dream-like experience. Al Reimer said that he could recapture that feeling every time he returned to the Ukraine. Should I risk it and go again?
My three Major Mennonite Heritage Cruise Highlights, as I like to call them, (I have a good list of secondary highlights, as well) consist of the following: Tchaikovsky's Sleeping Beauty ballet at the Odessa Opera house, the discovery of what has since been identified as my maternal grandparents Gerhard and Anna Wiebe Wiebe's home near Kuruschan, Molotschna, and our visit to the former site of Felsenburg.
I will tell about the Felsenburg experience because it involved our driver Stas, making it a double highlight. One morning, despite last minute jitters on my part, Walt and I left the safety of our MS Viktor Glushkov home, docked at Zaporozhye, to meet our driver for the day. Sergei, our dependable organizer, was waiting on the pier with Stas (who may have had a few misgivings of his own), checking out Marina and Walter's carefully charted map.
We sped north in Stas' red Audi, weaving left and right to avoid ducks, chickens, goats, cows, pedestrians, trucks and cars. Walt sat in front with Stas; I was in the back, clutching the map. At first I feared for the animal's lives. But soon I prayed that God would spare at least us, so that we could return, with forever grateful hearts, to Canada, our home and native land.
Two noteworthy things happened on the way. Firstly, we were stopped at three check-points, all manned with armed, uniformed officers. We watched as Stas displayed his array of papers to them in a quick and efficient manner. And secondly, the car's engine sputtered and stalled. At this, Stas pulled out his toolbox, cleaned the filter (we think) and in 15 minutes we were on our way again.
Once the car ran smoothly, Stas offered us each an apple.Walt relaxed and struck up a conversation. By mid-morning, we knew that our driver (a slim, blue-eyed young man in Levi cords) spoke English fluently, was quick-thinking, persuasive and mechanically minded.
24 year old Stas told us that he was an unemployed engineer whose parents, since their move to Israel, were able to supply him with necessities. When I asked if he was married, he waved his right hand to display his wedding ring. "In a Wedding Palace", I asked? "No, no", he said, "In a church"! And he and his wife were the proud parents of five month old Michael. It was almost noon when Walt, Stas (who had completely disarmed us by this time) and I arrived at the junction of the Osokorowka and Dnieper rivers, the former site of Felsenburg. We stood at the water's edge in silence. Felsenburg. My father, Jacob Gossen's, birthplace.
It was here that great-grandfather Neufeld's (who had a mentally retarded brother, Klaus, in his care and keeping) sawmill had stood. It was in this mill that Makowski, a trusted employee of great-grandfather's, had lost his left hand, and years later became grandmother Katharina Gossen's farm manager when grandfather died of stomach cancer.
We drove two kilometres to the east. Here, on the Osokorowka, my grandparents (and Onkel Heinrich Wiensen and Onkel Gerhard Neufelds, just to the north) had built homes after their marriages. Near here, the Gossen's adventurous driver had delighted the children when he took them to school (at the Wiens's, where Louise Braun taught the cousins) by horse and sleigh on an exceptionally muddy spring morning! Not far away, grandfather Gossen had arranged a marriage for his young brother-in-law when the latter promised to reward him with a special shotgun imported from America (the marriage proved to be a happy one).
And finally, it was near here, when my father was nine years old, that grandmother Katharina Gossen was brutally murdered. Grandfather and Grandmother were buried in their little family plot near the Osokorowka River.
This and That: Our Ukrainian tour guides were accommodating in every way - fluent in the English (and sometimes even German) languages, well-versed in Russian Mennonite history and open to suggestions. The Mennonite and Ukrainian guides on the 14 Molotschna and Chortitza tours were well-prepared, patient, and displayed a wonderful sense of humour.