Gymnasium Days
Irina Nenadkevich was sent to study by her mother, who absolutely refused to leave her beloved child in a small, unpromising village. In those days in Volhynia, the intelligentsia was represented by priests, teachers, and "freelance teachers." And since the family did not live in the regional center, that is, in Rivne, the parents had to take care of accommodation for the schoolgirl.
- I remember they searched for an apartment for me in vain, - recalls the interlocutor. - They wanted, understandably, to find good conditions. At first I lived with my father's acquaintances, then I moved to my own teacher. The landlady treated me tolerantly but showed no particular warmth. Even when my mother sent her a basket of apples, she did not offer me a single one. I wanted to study, but... Do you know how a child misses her mother, her family? Having left my own at age eight, I felt like a little bird that had been thrown out of the nest for some reason...
Irina enjoyed the gymnasium. Strict teachers, various clubs and meetings, cheerful carefree children - in short, there was no time to be bored. Moreover, in those days it was believed that the future intelligentsia studied at the Ukrainian gymnasium, so it was very difficult to get in. Even the daughter of Director Yakov Bychkivsky studied at a Polish gymnasium.
- How we had fun! - Irina Nenadkevich sighs dreamily. - Every Saturday all gymnasium students came to our building for games; we danced waltzes, quadrilles, played, and misbehaved. But guardians kept a close watch on our behavior. Incidentally, in America they also practice this kind of youth recreation (when adults are present at entertainment). And we also had fun, made friends, and quarreled, without even noticing how the school years were left behind.
At a Crossroads
Then Irina had to choose her own path. First, she and a friend went to Warsaw, where they submitted documents to the Główna Gospodarska Szkoła (a secondary agricultural institution). But then her mother intervened: "You had to finish gymnasium only to return to the village and physical labor!" The daughter obeyed and entered the Szkoła Główna Handlowa (that is, a trade school).
- These were difficult days of torment and doubt, - says Irina Tsegelskaya. - Red Army soldiers seized Yakov Bychkivsky, the director of our gymnasium, and shot him the next morning. His wife and children were deported to Kazakhstan without the right to correspond or return.
Blushing slightly and becoming more frank, the interlocutor notes that at that time she was not indifferent to the director's son, Vsevolod. No wonder - a young, clever young man from a good, respected family. Besides, they had been friends since the first grade. But fate decided otherwise. The paths of yesterday's friendly gymnasium students scattered across the world. Some went to try their luck in Poland, others had no choice but to travel around Ukraine, and many went abroad.
By that time Irina was already married - she had walked down the aisle while still a student. Together with her young husband, a nursing baby in her arms, and a small bag with essentials, she left first for Germany, then for America. Why? Because her husband had relatives in the States, and they advised: "Come to us, it is easier to live together." Thus began life without Ukraine.
Emigrant's Bread
- We emigrants were united by an enormous, simply incredible capacity for work. It could not be otherwise, because you come to a foreign country where there is no one to even give you a piece of bread, let alone say a kind word. My husband and I initially lived very modestly, in a tiny apartment with a minuscule kitchen. My husband worked three shifts, much money went for food and transportation, and the daughters (by that time Irina had another baby) demanded not only attention but also money.
Poverty oppressed but did not break the Nenadkevich family. At that time, Ukrainians living in New Hampshire were building their own church in Bound Brook. People who worked tirelessly all week found the strength and desire to devote their free hours and days to spirituality. And Father Mstyslav, the future Patriarch of the Ukrainian Autocephalous Church, cooked meals for the workers in the bushes near the construction site.
- Oh, I know Mstyslav, he is a true enthusiast, - says the woman. - Thanks to him and other worker-bee emigrants, America has spiritual and cultural places. Actually, when we first arrived, the Ukrainian community rented a small apartment in one of the poorest neighborhoods of New York, but now the Ukrainian Academy of Sciences owns its own stone building with a charming library, large and bright halls, and chic paintings and carpets.
Irina Nenadkevich-Tsegelskaya had to meet Mstyslav not only in the church.
- When I learned that a new museum was to be opened in Bound Brook, I immediately went to ask them to hire me. "My child," the wise mentor said to me, "you live in another city, why would you go back and forth every day? It is not easy. Think carefully, I cannot indulge your whim."
Irina had to go to the priest five times, but she finally managed to persuade him - the woman was hired.
Every day Irina had to drive for almost an hour, spend much time at work, leaving her five daughters to raise themselves. And each time she left a piece of her heart with her family, but she went to work with joy, because she was doing what she loved. Irina Tsegelskaya says she does not regret it, because in the museum she found a part of what she had to leave behind here, in Ukraine.
"I grew up with this museum; like it, I was replenished with new exhibits-impressions. Together with it, I expanded, was renovated, and yearned to become more interesting. Famous Ukrainians often came to us, and I sincerely rejoiced at this. After all, for an emigrant, nothing is more pleasant than communicating with, albeit distant, compatriots. I recall meeting Ivan Drach, Dmytro Pavlychko, and Rostyslav Bratun. I learned a lot from these epochal people, and began to see the world and perceive people differently. But the richest in impressions was my meeting with the first president of Ukraine, Leonid Kravchuk. Contrary to assumptions, he turned out to be an ordinary, simple, and pleasant person to converse with. He walked around our museum for a long time, listening attentively to the tour. Concluding the conversation, I said: 'And my father baptized you...' (He indeed was a minister of the Velykozhytin church, in the village where the ex-president was born.) Leonid Kravchuk looked at me attentively, smiled warmly, and said that he unfortunately could not recall me, but he had not forgotten his priest. He also said that he himself visits Velykyi Zhytyn infrequently - he has many affairs, but he does not leave his native church unattended."
"My children don't need this, but the gymnasium will find it useful."
"The air here is different, too," sighed Irina Tsegelskaya, leaving the gymnasium. "I want you to know: emigrants love their country. And we sincerely wish that it develops and that you, fellow countrymen, are proud of your origin."