You're reading: My stint as a Peace Corps volunteer in Ivano-Frankivsk

Kyiv Post staff writer Mark Rachkevych recalls his experience in the corps.

The full reality of entering the Peace Corps sank in at pre-service orientation in Washington, D.C., on the eve of Valentine’s Day in 2002. I arrived somewhat disappointed after an opportunity to serve in Kazakhstan was missed due to the Sept. 11, 2001 attacks.

I was disappointed because I had already been to Ukraine twice and had Ukrainian roots. The point was to serve in a country I had never seen. But after a lengthy application process, there was no turning back.

My reasons for joining the Peace Corps were mostly selfish. I wanted to experience a foreign country while I was still young and had no obligations. I was 25, living in Chicago as a commercial real estate manager. The plan was to volunteer for two years and return to my hometown.

Colin Purdy and I were roommates in D.C. He was a Midwesterner and fresh out of college. Eventually I’d visit him at his site in Chernvitsi, where he was teaching environmental awareness.

My fondest memory of Purdy was seeing him after he had just cashed his post-service Peace Corps bonus check in downtown Kyiv.

He carried thousands of dollars through the streets, but was afraid somebody would find out. He decided to rip the bank receipt into pieces and deposited each shard in separate trash bins to evade discovery of the transaction.

Only 26 of us (out of more than 30) would complete three months of in-country training and 24 months of volunteering. I served an additional year to finish projects in Ivano-Frankivsk.

I almost missed the connection to Boryspil because I wandered around the Frankfurt airport. That lax attitude towards time plagued me during three months of training in the city of Zhytomyr and put me at risk of getting thrown out.

Our group lived in cluster communities throughout Zhytomyr Oblast. I was presumably kept in the city to be kept under the watchful eye of the Peace Corps training staff, given my Ukrainian and Russian language skills, and ability to “make friends” quickly in Zhytomyr.

Another trainee, two houses down from me, became my best buddy during training. Brent Hayduk, a former Andersen Consulting executive and baby boomer, was a father figure who kept a cynical yet mature perspective.

He always knew the purpose and reason for every training exercise, task and policy. We’d often share a beer after our daily internships. This is when he’d bring me down to earth and quell any suspicions I had of being spied on by the Peace Corps staff.

I visited him in Vinnytsia one Thanksgiving. He had ordered a turkey delivered to him from Kyiv. But the bird showed up too late to cook in time. He told the driver to drop it off at the next church he sees driving back.

Instead, Hayduk and I walked to the chicken rotisserie stand and purchased three whole chickens. It was one of the best Thanksgiving holidays I ever had.

On the day I travelled back, I had to run to catch an already moving train because Hayduk and I had gotten lost in a conversation at the station. The train attendant had already folded the metal staircase so I had to throw my bag into the train car, grab onto the sidebars and hoist myself inside listening to her scream my ear off.

I worked mostly at a women’s business center. We trained women how to start and run small businesses and promoted entrepreneurship. I gave mostly customer service training as well as one on time management that Hayduk and I wrote. Our organization started a sister city search committee.

Today Ivano-Frankivsk’s sister city candidate is Arlington, Virginia. We worked with the city government to devise a user-friendly computer database of bylaws that regulate business operations. There were other side projects, like organizing a river cleanup, teaching conversational English to high school students on Saturdays, securing a small grant for a chess club to purchase a computer.

It was fun. One memorable achievement was introducing pizza delivery in Ivano-Frankivsk. I used to call my favorite pizzeria and had them then call a taxi company to make the delivery. Once when I had friends over my apartment, I impressed them by calling a taxi service which, in turn, replenished our dwindling supplies of chips, dried fish and cold beers.

Initially, there was a lot of solitude. Although my outer American appearance didn’t afford me anonymity, I spent a lot of time alone. I read a lot and explored the city. Sometimes on weekends, craving McDonalds, I’d make one-day trips to Lviv just to stuff my face.

This is when I forced myself to cook homemade food. I’d call my mother for recipes based on the available ingredients at the time. Or I’d go to the local market and ask the babushkas for their borscht recipes. But usually my refrigerator was empty. I scoped out places where I could eat for Hr 15, sometimes less.

Many of us lost weight from walking a lot and eating healthy, home-cooked food. We got leaner and fit.

Soon, I got to know many people in the city. If I went to the philharmonic the night before, visited a night club or played chess at Mickiewicz Square (where I eventually met my future wife), my colleagues at work would know.

The experience opened up a Ukraine I had never seen before. I was amazed at how diverse the country is in terms of religious views, political opinions, on national identity and other topics studied by sociologists. It was interesting seeing a country grow up and witness firsthand what kind of 70-year legacy the Soviet Union had left Ukrainians and much to their detriment.

Knowing Ukrainian and Russian was a blessing and a curse. It offered an entry into more meaningful working relationships. It also brought upon unwelcome conversations and at times, accusations of imperialism, espionage and an overall resentment at a time when many were seeking ways to leave the country while I was here to work.

It was a delicate line to not come across as condescending or paternalistic and instead convey information or offer advice in a friendly, diplomatic way.

After the Peace Corps, I left for Chicago, but my girlfriend didn’t want to wait for me to secure a fiance visa. So after three months I returned, this time to Kyiv and found work relying on former volunteers and friends for job leads. She eventually joined me once an apartment was found, moving from Ivano-Frankivsk.

The city grew on me. I miss Ivano-Frankvisk dearly and still have friends there. I look forward to retiring there and playing chess on park benches for hours on end.

Staff writer Mark Rachkevych can be reached at [email protected].