EDMONTON, Canada — They are second-generation Ukrainian-Canadian, but a visit to their home leaves little question that they hold true to their Ukrainian roots. It’s not the Hutsul art, the vyshyvanka embroidery, or the barely hidden Taras Shevchenko portrait (disguised within another Ukrainian painting). It’s not even the basement chest full of Ukrainian-language texts and storybooks, many of which were written by the family’s matriarch.
It’s the food. The seemingly endless platters of food wheeled out for the guests, that shows we are visiting true Ukrainians.
The family of Borysa Struk is always ready for guests. It’s no surprise since Borysa has been working as an Edmonton-based event planner for years and knows how to put together a soirée — from conferences to white-tie galas to impromptu fundraisers. Since the COVID‑19 pandemic hit the country and Borysa’s business and erased events from her calendar, her days look a bit different — and a bit more relaxing — giving her a chance to enjoy time with her two daughters and numerous friends.
It’s Monday afternoon on a cozy sunlit patio and Borysa talks with her younger daughter Mateya about supper plans. Their language is a mix of English and Ukrainian, a secret code they share. “Sometimes we talk about something in Ukrainian in the street and don’t even realize there are people who understand it too. It can be embarrassing,” Mateya, 17, says laughing.
Her older sister Kiara is running late but still comes home for the family dinner — a tradition they keep while both daughters spend the summer at home.
Growing up in a tight-knit diaspora, and being a part of the Plast scouting movement throughout their formative years, Mateya and Kiara say their ties to Ukraine are strong.
“I loved (Plast) when I was growing up, it’s where I met my friends, where we went out for camps and spent weeks in the wilderness. It was and still is a big part of my life,” says Mateya. “We joined it not because mom said so, it was natural.”
Their first language was Ukrainian thanks to Borysa’s effort to spark the love for Ukraine and the language her parents — born in Ukraine — taught her. An endless amount of books in the basement came in handy too, she adds. Thus, Plast became an inevitable step to embracing their heritage.
“We learned quite a bit of history, religion, had to stay up to date with current events. That’s how you feel this connection to Ukraine,” Kiara, 19, adds.
The Ukrainian scouting movement known as Plast was formed in 1911 in Lviv. It survived many difficult years of Ukraine’s history thanks largely to its strength and popularity among the diaspora and is still popular today all over the world. Throughout its more than 100 years of activity, Plast has endured challenges from world wars, when Plast scouts showed their endurance under extreme circumstances, to a period of underground activity when Plast was outlawed by the Polish state in 1930.
When the Soviet Union took control of Ukraine, it banned the organization, but the Ukrainian diaspora revived Plast after World War II in Canada, the United States, the United Kingdom, Australia, Argentina and elsewhere that the long arm of Soviet totalitarianism could not reach.
Plast is only one of the facets of the Struk girls’ life. Both also enrolled in Ridna Shkola (Native School), a Saturday Ukrainian Heritage School that has been operating in Edmonton for the last 60 years.
“It could be hard, you have regular school week, then Ridna Shkola starts on Saturday morning and Plast,” Mateya recalls. “But this way you feel you are a part of the community.”
Practicing language was difficult for some students who didn’t grow up in a Ukrainian environment unlike the sisters, but teachers always encouraged them to use “Ukrainian only” and both agree — they are grateful for such effort. It paid off in another way, too — making strong friendships.
The dinner table becomes busier as Mateya’s and Kiara’s friend Sofia Ovcharenko joins the group. The girls met at Plast and have been friends ever since. Being all second-generation Ukrainian means a lot to them. They didn’t have a chance to spend much time in Ukraine, yet they keep this connection to their ancestral homeland they are still trying to understand — after a few visits as part of Plast movement.
“Even though the way of life in Ukraine is different, somehow more relaxed, despite overall situation there, you still connect so much to it, because you see the same teenagers, hear their slang, they party just like us, so there are a lot of similarities,” Mateya says. There are a lot of differences, too, they noticed when they first visited the country a few years ago.
“It comes as a bit of surprise to see that people are not wearing vyshyvankas all the time like the books here show. But they do sing a lot, so we were prepared for that,” Mateya said laughing. “We also decided to dress in our best clothes while riding a train in Ukraine because we noticed people there take lots of pride in their appearance, way more than we do in Canada. I guess it was not the best idea to do so in an overnight train with no air conditioning.”
Gender expectations are also quite different, Ovharenko says. “Like the role of a woman in a family, for example. But they do share the same ideas and values that we have been growing up with.”
Being Ukrainian-Canadian definitely comes as an asset, the girls think. “It gives you a chance to connect with your relatives. I think I would be sad if I wasn’t Ukrainian,” 17-year-old Ovcharenko says. “It gives me something to identify with.”
Even though none of them witnessed Ukraine’s years of independence, born on a different continent years after Aug. 24, 1991, they are still children of Ukraine, in a way.
“Being Ukrainian-Canadian is how I identify myself, always. I want my kids to know it as well,” Kiara says. “It stays very important in my life and I owe it to my family. Maybe one day I could have a place in Ukraine where I can spend time.”