The Three I Was Given

During my weeks in Burty, I learned a lot about the Ukrainian culture, language, and people. I also learned how to harvest beets, cabbage, and walnuts. My Mama Olea take me to cook and bake with a local lady and to scrub my clothes clean between my fingers. My Papa Volodia taught to clear our fields, select veggies, and cook it all together to feed the pigs. My 'older brother' Sasha taught me language, humor, and how to navigate Kyiv's metro system. Not every day was perfect. Among the four of us, some one was always confused or misunderstood. I am overwhelming grateful for their influence on my life. Between the three of them, I experienced aspects of personality that are also found in my own family. When preparing a short monologue about my family for my Ukrainian language exam, I wrote this sentence, "In America, I have a sweet momma, a hard-working father, and an older brother who makes fun of me. In Ukraine, I have the same." 

The Procoliy family, my Mama and Papa, opened their home to Sasha, myself and four other Americans each day. But for me, they opened up mysteries to a strange place and culture I have completely fallen for. For me, they taught me how to not only be a woman in Ukraine but an Ukrainian woman. 

Here are a few of my favorite photos of my Ukrainian family. These three are as dear to me as my own. 

Papa playing his accordion, his favorite past time. 

Mama doing what she does best: working hard.

Our last dinner together. 

Baking and counting in Ukrainian.  

They just came home from a wedding and wanted a fancy photo. 

So, they wanted to take a fancy photo of me!

Papa making fun of Sasha. 

This was the only day Sasha did chores. I did chores everyday. 

Learning to bake bread.

Helping with dinner preparations.