For Olha Seredyuk, the distance between her Stone Mountain home and the crisis in her native Ukraine seems to be shrinking day by day.
From her room, the 21-year-old felt the fervor of the protesters rallying in the streets against the old, pro-Russian regime. Some of her friends were there, in the thick of the demonstrations.
In the kitchen, her family has a virtual 24/7 Internet news feed from Ukraine, where Russian troops have asserted control in some parts of the country, inflaming tensions between Washington and Moscow that echo the Cold War. Between classes at Emory, Seredyuk checks news and social media sites for anything new.
More than that, she has, in her own way, taken up the cause of Ukrainian sovereignty. She joined in demonstrations here in Atlanta, and has helped organize a vigil Thursday to honor protesters who were killed.
At times, she said, “I feel like I’m there.”
For those metro Atlantans with roots in Ukraine, the political strife threatening to tear that country apart is more than just a news story. They see the lives of family and friends hanging in the balance, as well as the fate of a nation still dear to them.
On Sunday, at St. Andrew Ukrainian Orthodox Church in Cumming, people stayed a little longer on their knees, said the Rev. Bogdan Maruszak. He led his small congregation in prayers “for those who’ve suffered and those who had the courage to stand up to the government’s regime.”
Privately, he has followed the escalating political crisis through the eyes of an old friend, Paul, who lives with his wife and kids in the western city of Lviv. In recent years, Paul has complained of the corrupt government making it increasingly difficult for him to run his construction business. Then Paul joined in demonstrations in his city.
In their conversation Saturday, Paul said he was taking medical supplies to a makeshift hospital the demonstrators created in Kiev, where scores of protesters were gunned down. Communicating through Skype, Maruszak could see the deep concern in his friend’s face.
“He was sad for the whole country,” he said.
Roughly 10,000 people of Ukrainian ancestry live in the 28-county Atlanta Metropolitan Statistical Area, according to census estimates. But the metro area also holds 30,000 people of Russian ancestry. In Ukraine, many people with Russian ties want the country to align itself more with Moscow than the West.
In a Roswell church that is split between Russian and Ukrainian members, Father John Townsend has a simple but unshakable rule: Talk of politics is forbidden.
Still, the leader of St. Mary of Egypt Orthodox Church offered prayers for the situation Sunday.
“We pray for love and peace, and that everyone do what Christ taught us to do,” he said.
Such hopes notwithstanding, many metro Atlantans with ties to the region fear what its future holds.
From his Alpharetta home, Volodymyr Ivaskiv and his wife, Halyna, have been speaking daily to her father in Ukraine. He’s 85 and he fought both the Nazis and the Russians. He’s ready to fight again, they said, fearing that his country is once again in danger of coming under Russian control.
“He’s been protesting in his city and elsewhere,” Ivaskiv said. “Definitely they’re going to fight and they’re going to win. They’re very strong and very emotional.”
Over at the Seredyuk home in Stone Mountain, Olha and her family join in communal prayer with people in Ukraine. One of her cousins there has sent his children to live with relatives in the countryside, just to be safe.
Monday morning she received a Facebook message from her friend, Viktoriya Shevchenko, a college student like herself, who took part in the protests.
“Hello from troubled Ukraine,” Shevchenko said in Ukranian. “It’s so nice to see you remain a true patriot, even at such a distance from your native land.”
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