Tuesday was my birthday. As is customary in Ukrainian tradition, the birthday person plans the party, invites the guests, makes the food, etc. So I did that for my group of co-workers in the English office, and we had a good time. Afterwards I distributed the rest of the cake among other staff members, who had lots of praise for the “American” cake. It was a typical layer cake, by our standards, but quite different from Ukrainian cakes, which are sometimes soft and moist like ours, but more often a combination of various things like marshmallow fluff, layers of nuts, hard crunchy stuff, and cream filling. To be honest, I like many Ukrainian cakes better. But I digress. The other unique tradition on birthdays (but other holidays as well) is to give “wishes” to the honored person. Whereas at home we would say “Happy Birthday” and maybe write some nice things in a card, here “Happy Birthday” is just the beginning of a long oration of wishes. For health, for a long life, for good friends, for a loving family, for satisfying work, for a comfortable home, for wealth, for happy days, for beautiful children, and so on. In Christian circles, these wishes include lots of God’s blessings as well. Giving such birthday wishes comes naturally to people here, and they’ll stand and recite a long list to you as if it were nothing. In the past, being on the receiving end of such wishes, especially the long-winded ones, was a bit awkward. I suppose it’s because it was just something I wasn’t used to. I’d stand and grin, nodding, my hands usually in the sturdy grip of my well-wisher, trying to keep my smile from getting too plastic-y. Half-listening, because of my awkwardness and discomfort. And at the end, what to say? Thank you? It seemed inadequate after such an oration. Applause would be more appropriate. I truly do admire the natural extemporaneous speaking gifts many people here posses.
So at the start, Tuesday seemed no different than any other birthday. As I distributed pieces of cake among my co-workers, the well-wishing began. And although these particular wishes seemed to take even longer than usual, I found myself really listening and appreciating the words. My squeezed hands felt comfortable rather than swished in someone else’s. I saw the genuine feeling in their eyes. My awkward fidgety-ness was gone. I listened to what was said. After the cake was reduced to a pile of crumbs I walked back to the English office glowing, the kind words of my co-workers reverberating in my head. So this is how you were supposed to feel after someone wished you well. It was supposed to make you happy, not cringy. I felt blessed.
I could say that my change in attitude towards the well-wishers was because I’m finally getting the hang of some of this cultural stuff. But I know the main reason was the little voice in the back of my head that has materialized in the last several months. It occasionally pipes up to remind me of the “lasts” I’m experiencing in Ukraine. This was my last birthday in Ukraine. Exactly how, where and with whom I’ll celebrate next year isn’t certain, but what is clear is that it won’t be at Donetsk Christian University. Although this little voice often makes me sad and reminds me of how fast time is passing, I’m glad for it because of how it changes my perception and sometimes my attitude. Like on Tuesday. What I thought would be well-wishes to endure became well-wishes to savor and file away as happy memories. They’ll be there next April 3 when someone else has planned the party, baked the cake and handed me a card. Next year I’ll be immersed in familiar birthday traditions once again, but I’ll fondly remember the Ukrainian well-wishes, and maybe even miss them.
Laura
