Back in August 1991, everyone in our family was in a good mood. At the end of summer we finally moved from the outskirts of the city to a new apartment building in downtown Kyiv. Our new home on Shovkovychna Street was not finished yet. But we moved right in.
Back in August 1991, everyone in our family was in a good mood. At the end of summer we finally moved from the outskirts of the city to a new apartment building in downtown Kyiv. Our new home on Shovkovychna Street was not finished yet. But we moved right in.
There would be no reason to write about this private event in the life of our family if this house, situated in the very heart of an emerging state, was not such a good witness and an example of what we have lived through during the last 20 years.
And I had a view of it all from my street-side balcony in this six-story, 28-unit house. Symbolically, the street we moved to had been given back its original name, Shovkovychna.
However, street addresses with the old title – in honor of German communist Karl Liebknecht– still could be seen on some buildings. Almost the same as our new state, our house had a new sign and a freshly painted front wall.
The house was built in 1914 by General Mavrin’s wife, who lived on the third floor and rented the rest apartments out. Soon after the 1917 October Revolution, the house was nationalized and converted into a block of communal flats, a truly Soviet solution.
After Mikhail Gorbachev’s perestroika campaign in 1986, the battered building finally got a long-awaited overhaul. In 1989, the Youth Residential Complex was founded to reconstruct the building. All the repairs were done by the hands of young scientists who later received housing there as their rewards.
These construction workers with higher education did their jobs pretty fast. Some of them were even able to find some free time during lunch to go to demonstrations, which started mushrooming in the capital.
Workers participate in the reconstruction of an apartment building on Shovkovychna Street in Kyiv. In return for their labors, they received apartments. The father of Kyiv Post staff writer Oksana Faryna is fifth from left, standing. (Photo from author’s family archive)
So, in August 1991, wallpaper in our apartment was not hung, parquet and tiles were not yet placed, and the gas and even water were not turned on. But we had to suddenly move in.
My mom hated the dust and mess made by the reconstruction, which went on for about 13 years. This chaos in our home resembled the general climate in our new country.
My mom used to say she would be very happy if we lived until the time when we would not have to count every kopeck. Nevertheless, I had a happy childhood.
I remember as if it was today what a beautiful turquoise jacket I used to wear at that time. It was made from the fancy imported raincoat my mom used to wear when she was a student.
As for the lining, we took a diaper from my younger brother. Our neighbor, Aunt Halya, sewed this jacket at home and ironed a label with the Tom & Jerry cartoon characters on the back. I was thrilled.
My brother wore this marvelous jacket after me, then several of our cousins did. Now my brother dresses very fancy. Some of my girlfriends look him over and say: He is a metrosexual!
He says he is the only one in our family who knows how to dress well. Nowadays many young people of his generation dress very chic, taking revenge on childhood spent in the poor 1990s.
Despite difficulties, our family always had enough to eat. However, my mom used to tell me that I was not allowed to eat sour cream with a spoon because it was only for borsch, and mayonnaise could not be opened because there was only enough to make Olivier salad. Eggs could not be eaten either, because they were for cutlets.
We had all the basic goods because my dad had to do several jobs which had nothing in common with his professional background as a physicist. My dad did repairs for other people and other odd jobs.
Those families who did not adjust faced poverty in newly independent Ukraine. A friend of mine, a native Kyivan, told me recently that as a child in the early 1990s he did not see meat for months.
They ate from the cheapest cans and found toys among the trash. A favorite game played by his classmates at the time was called locust. The main aim was to eat everything in the refrigerator as fast as possible. They liked to play this game at home of one of their classmates whose fridge was always full.
Each spring my friend picked lilacs growing near his house and sold them at Demiyivskiy market. Now, everything is fine with my friend. After a successful real estate deal, he got two apartments and two cars.
He still does not like to recall the hardships of his childhood right after Ukraine proclaimed its independence.
I don’t remember what my family did during the historical day of Aug. 24, 1991.
Residents of 16A Shovkovychna St. not only mark the 20th anniversary of Ukraine’s independence, but also 20 years in the renovated building. (Oksana Faryna)
When we moved to a new apartment on Shovkovychna Street, I was six years old, and my brother was two. The only thing I know is that we were not able to go for a walk to Mariyinskiy Park near Verkhovna Rada and feed ducks in the fountains as usual with my brother and mom, because that day this territory was occupied by a cheerful crowd waving yellow-and-blue flags.
Since then, many other protesters have passed by our house. First were coal miners in helmets who in the mid-1990s protested against huge debts in salary payments. In the early 2000s, we witnessed participants of the Ukraine Without Kuchma movement, followed by supporters of the 2004 Orange Revolution, to name a few.
During the events of autumn 2004 – winter 2005, special military forces were hidden in our yard while an orange flag “Pechersk – for Yushchenko” was unfurled from our balcony on the fifth floor.
Thanks to its location, our house saw the motorcades of all four Ukrainian presidents who passed by on the way to the presidential administration.
Leonid Kravchuk drove; I don’t already remember how.
Leonid Kuchma, an early bird, arrived before everyone went to work.
Viktor Yushchenko drove late as he usually was late, while Viktor Yanukovych is seen now moving extremely fast.
To provide comfort for our presidents, asphalt on our smooth street was changed twice.
As often happened in the age of wild capitalism, our house even survived a raider attack. A firm which used to sell vodka and rent an apartment on the first floor for use as an office put its own lock on the door and decided not to let owners in.
If the residents of our house, including a parliamentary member, were not united in their actions, the bandits would not have given the apartments back to their legal owners.
In two decades, one young woman has died in our house, and two girls were born. Only one bride wearing a white wedding dress went out of the building, leaving the staircase splashed with coins and candies. It was a daughter of the lawmaker who helped to kick out the raiders.
Over the last 20 years, many neighbors undertook European-style renovations in their apartments and installed plastic windows. Many bought cars, and plenty of them occupy our yard now. Someone got a thoroughbred dog. Someone took advantage of high real estate prices before the 2008 financial crisis and sold an apartment.
Many in our house have broadband Internet and wi-fi service. Fewer people use landline phones, and the Ukrtelecom monopoly cut those from time to time for non-payment of the bills, no matter how small the overdue sum.
Not long ago, containers to separate garbage collecting, for dry and organic wastes, appeared in our yard. That’s an environmental step that should have taken place years ago.
One of the announcements near the entrance door informed recently that meters for hot and cold water would be installed in our apartments soon. That’s something that also should have happened earlier.
Another announcement on the building says that each resident should come to Khreshchatyk, a housing and utilities enterprise, and sign new agreements to receive utility services despite the fact we had been receiving them for the last 20 years. It looks like a beginning of a housing war.
But let’s think about it tomorrow, after having a housewarming party and celebrating the 20th anniversary of our life in a new place.
Kyiv Post staff writer Oksana Faryna can be reached at [email protected]
