(essay)

Mykolaiv. How much do you know about this city? Perhaps you think there is a sea there. Perhaps you know that majestic ships were once built there. This article is a guide to a city on a wave that overcomes all storms. Here, I want to share my love for the neighborhoods I grew up in, which Russia has been mercilessly trying to destroy. But something that can be never destroyed is the memories of home.

My family was in Mykolaiv a long time ago. My grandmother grew up here, and her father built the family home. In their cozy nest, Ukrainian songs always sounded even though they were russified and spoke a foreign language.

1944. At that time, the Soviet government was conducting mass deportations of Germans and Ukrainians. My grandmother’s mother was German, and my father was Ukrainian, so the big hand of the red government touched my family. My great-grandmother was not so lucky, and together with her children and sister, they were deported to Kazakhstan. Through her trauma, she still recalls with disgust the country where they were sent. At the same time, Russia was able to get away with it and become a second home for my grandmother when the family’s father finally found them and brought them to the Urals. There, she studied, grew up, and received her education.

You may wonder how Mykolaiv re-entered this story of one family. It was all down to a chance that made him remember his native land and start his “old” new life there.

Fate turned out to be unpredictable when my Russian grandfather was offered a job in the city of two rivers, and his little son got the opportunity to hear a Ukrainian song again, which his mother had lost.

Already here at my grandmother’s house, I found a large book about Mykolaiv. Its presence spoke of boundless love for him, despite the clumsy Soviet propaganda in its pages. And after brushing off a layer of dust from the false slogans of the past, I found the beauty of the city on the wave in the present.

And this is my attempt to share it with you.