BALTIMORE — As she watched passersby peruse the painted wooden eggs, hand-beaded necklaces and vibrant belts at her table, Kalyna Nedilsky knew she was doing more than selling precious artifacts of Ukrainian culture.
After Russia invaded Ukraine on Feb. 24, inciting a brutal war that has waged for seven months, Nedilsky, the daughter of Ukrainian immigrants, felt moved to volunteer as a vendor at the 45th annual Baltimore Ukrainian Festival. Having only intermittently attended prior festivals, Nedilsky said she was drawn to this year’s event as an opportunity to raise money on behalf of war and relief efforts in her ancestral home.
“It’s been a very emotional year,” said Nedilsky, a 50-year-old stay-at-home mother from Columbia. “I’m tired of my 13-year-old [son] coming to console me when I’m crying and seeing all the terrible news every day. I felt like there are things that I can do to help in some shape or form. I know my impact is very limited, but I want to be here for my community to support Ukrainians back home.”
The ongoing war was at the forefront as the Ukrainian festival returned to Baltimore this weekend following a two-year, pandemic-related hiatus. Held at St. Michael Ukrainian Catholic Church in Patterson Park, the festival brought back the pierogies, folk music and embroidered costumes that have long been its trademarks. But the usual traditions took on a different tone.
“Our slogan for this year is ‘Stand with Ukraine,’” said Jullie Humeniuk, who has co-chaired the last 27 festivals with her husband, Steve. “I have so many more vendors this year that are coming to promote stuff for Ukraine and donate money over there. Of course, we’re going to open our arms to anyone who wants to celebrate our heritage and support Ukraine in these difficult times.”
References to the war were everywhere at the festival and ranged from lighthearted to somber.
Alongside bumper stickers with slogans such as “Pray for Ukraine,” vendors sold T-shirts playfully lionizing Ukrainian President Volodymyr Zelensky. While waiting in line for pierogies, potato pancakes and stuffed cabbage, attendees contributed loose change to a donation jar for the Ukrainian military. A large banner facing Eastern Avenue read “Stop Putin. Stop War.” in blaring capital letters, a pointed reference to Russian President Vladimir Putin.
Meanwhile, across from a fallen heroes tent, Tessa Zilderbaum and her older sister Melanya Kozak worked side-by-side preparing freedom drinks: lemonade mixed with blue Curacao liqueur in a nod to the colors of the Ukrainian flag.
For Zilderbaum, a 37-year-old stay-at-home mother and member of the festival’s organizing committee, the event served as another demonstration of Baltimore’s support for the Ukrainian community.
“We always have a huge turnout, but [this year,] I can feel it,” Zilderbaum said. “The community has been awesome in coming out and supporting [during the war.] They’re not religious or anything, but they just want to be here [at the church] to show support.”
Humeniuk noted that since the start of the war, community members have left flowers at the gates of St. Michael’s and donated goods ranging from binoculars to baby strollers to the war effort.
“It’s kind of like St. Patrick’s Day: Everyone’s Irish on St. Patrick’s Day. Since the war started, everybody feels Ukrainian,” Humeniuk said.
Above all, the festival remained a colorful showcase of Ukrainian pride, something that was especially meaningful during the war.
“I still consider Ukraine my home – even though I [was] born in the United States – just because it’s such an important part of who I am,” Nedilsky said. “It defines me.”
You must be logged in to post a comment.