Наталія Вишневська Natalia Vyshnevska

“At school, on the Left Bank, school No. 65, of course, things were buzzing because… perestroika was happening. We started listening to rock music. We began protesting the Soviet Union and against the dominance of Soviet teachers, who were all over our school. For example, our Ukrainian language teacher would turn on the USSR anthem during our class and shed a tear. When we’d come to her class, she’d tell us, “Children, our father had died,” referring to the passing of [General Secretary] Brezhnev and then Chernenko. And every time, it was such a torment because we, as pioneers and Komsomol members, had to stand as honor guard… Downstairs, on the first floor, we had to take turns standing, saluting with the pioneer salute, to honor the deceased leaders. First at school and then at the Lenin Museum. We had a special trip to the Lenin Museum and had to stand there for half an hour by the portrait of a deceased communist leader. It was very awkward, and everyone was chuckling, and no one there was sincere. It was all clear; you’ve got to do it, that’s it. I protested intensely in school. I didn’t wear a red [pioneer] scarf. I always had to be reminded to take it out of my pocket; it was always so wrinkled. Sometimes, on Sunday nights, my Mom would ask me to iron and wear it. I still remember how we ironed those scarves — you had to dampen it with a lot of water and go over it with a super-hot iron. Only then would it be smooth. Also, we had to sew collar inserts on our uniform – that was a nightmare. As far as Komsomol goes… You couldn’t refuse to join — you’d get expelled from school. So, of course, I joined Komsomol. After I got accepted to a university, I skipped paying membership fees, so I got expelled from Komsomol. And it totally didn’t change anything. I still have my Komsomol membership card as a relic of that stage of my life.”

“Nobody was ready for that. In those first days, no one grasped how dangerous this is for people’s health. Early in May I was lounging on a riverbank, tanning, and prepping for finals. And my parents didn’t know enough to warn me that I shouldn’t do that or even be outside at that time. Our family never left. I suppose the understanding of consequences started sinking in after more detailed information emerged, and <…> it was more transparent. I mean, we had a May Day parade, marching down the Khreshchatyk [street], which was not canceled, so all those people got exposed to radiation. It wasn’t until years later that I realized just how dangerous it was for all of us. Schools were not canceled. We had our finals. Life went on. There was very little information coming in. For example, all that my parents and I got was, of course, through listening to the Voice of America. It presented more reliable, relevant information and understanding of this disaster that happened pretty much in our backyard. My family's biggest loss was that after Chornobyl, we could no longer go to our favorite [camping] spot on the Dnieper River in the Gomel region. Because it ended up contaminated [by fallout].”

“Yes, we all had orange ribbons, orange hats, orange scarves with embroidered ‘Yes — Yushchenko.’ We had thermoses with hot drinks, some spiked, because standing around in the cold was rough, but overall, it was fun. It wasn’t dangerous. My artist friends even managed to organize a few artsy hangouts at the Maidan for artists to gather and chat and poke fun. Obviously, they got things to joke about. I remember we were cheering ‘Yes — Yushchenko’ so loudly that my vocal cords still have issues. It was so bright and beautiful, I can’t find the words. The color orange still comes to mind whenever I [think of those times]. Whenever I’m asked what I think of when remembering Maidan 2004, the orange color comes to me… At the end of Maydan, the time came to pack up and go home because we had accomplished what we had come for. Yet some folks didn’t. It wasn’t so pretty then; we saw that some people were just squatting there, living in tents by the drum heaters and woodpiles. I remember it turning ugly when people were asked to leave, but they didn’t. I recall just mounds of trash left behind… Well, those are just some things I remember. Of course, during the speech rallies, especially by Yushchenko, there was this feeling of unity, probably this emergent understanding that you are finally a citizen of Ukraine, not the USSR, although I’ve never identified as a Soviet citizen. Right there and then, these incredible feelings, thoughts sinking in that you are becoming a part of a united nation. We had such high hopes… and were sorely disappointed.”

“I remember that day. I don’t remember the date but I remember how it smelled of fire, of smoke <…> It was quite well-organized. I was listening to the words coming off Maidan’s stage, and it came to me that this Maidan will not be the same as the one in 2004. And even though in the first few days there still was that giddiness, I still had that feeling that things would be much more serious. Quite a few people were coming from Lviv, staying at my place. People from Lviv who were a part of the Maidan movement, people I knew well, and others they knew. It was all so serious and organized. I had two large thermoses, so I’d fill one with coffee and one with tea. And at some point, I went to Hrushevsky Street, right in the heart of the barricades. I had a badge, so they’d let me through. Someone from Lviv had sent me a hard hat, so that’s what I’d wear there for protection. This was one of the things I did at the Maidan — going round and round, serving piping hot coffee and tea. The entire time, I did what needed to be done. I didn’t just come in just to stand around near the stage and watch. Sure, there were days when you weren’t busy — that’s when you’d go to show support to the people there, find out the news, and hear the politicians speaking from the Maidan stage. The mornings would start with turning on the news, figuring out what’s happening, and then planning your day around it. I remember vividly that before the shooting happened, my friend and I were on Khreschatyk Street, where the store ‘Notes’ used to be, and that’s when they began the offensive. I felt really sick. We were there up to the point when people started tearing up roadway paving blocks. And that’s when I went home. And that night, or rather that morning, the terrible happened — the shooting [of the protesters]. It was tough emotionally then and still remains a painful memory for me… As those dates come around every year, those days reverberate deep inside me. I sense the approach of these dates like the approach of the horrors that happened.”