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Palats “Ukraina,” which was preceded by the biggest cocktail party I had ever been to. A veritable “who’s who” of Ukraine, the creme de la creme, “sama smetanka” (use your metaphor of choice) was there that evening. The concert was a masterfully executed production that brought all the luminaries of the mu sical world of Ukraine from various genres to the stage. It was attended by the First Family, who elected to sit in the middle of the hall, not up front in the first few rows where VIPs are traditionally placed. We heard a saxophone quartet, a jazzy ver sion of “Shchedryk,” a few duets by the famous sing ers Mariya Stefiuk and Dmytro Hnatiuk, an unusual a capella rendition of the koliadka “Nebo I zemlia” by a vocal group with the playful name of “Mansound,” and an achingly beautiful violin rendition of Skoryk’s “Melodiya.” If it seems like a hodge-podge of genres and performers, it was. Nevertheless, it worked. The unifying concept was music that was historically and thematically Ukrainian in its essence. There was not a hint of Soviet style culture, not a single note of Rus sian based popular kitsch. The grand finale of the concert was also the emotional culmination of the evening. As three combined orchestras and a multi tude of choruses performed Beethoven’s “Ode to Joy,” two huge screens at the front of the theater showed images of the crowds gathered on the Maidan during the past two months. And as the final chorus of Beethoven’s symphony was played, the screen was filled with pictures of the spectacular fireworks on the Maidan on New Years Eve and close-ups of peo ple enchanted by the sight. Interestingly enough there were very few images of the new President. It seemed to be all about “the Maidan”. There is no tradition of inaugural balls in Ukraine, however, there was quite a spectacular unof ficial ball. It was billed as “the Black Tie and Orange Ball,” echoing the name of the most famous U.S. In augural Ball of the Bush administration, the “Black Tie and Boots Ball.” The Orange Ball, subtitled “Life in an orange instant,” was free and it was an extraor dinarily fun evening. Orange feather boas seemed to be the accessory of choice of many ladies, and every one entering the ballroom received a small orange lapel pin. There were stage performances by the art ists who had supported the campaign of candidate Yushchenko, an exhibit of life size photographs from the Orange Revolution, students dressed up in cos tumes—kozaky on stilts and divchata in flowered wreaths—and, of course, huge towers of oranges for people to eat. And then there was the dancing ballot box. Someone decided to dress up in a cardboard box with a large tryzub painted on the front and a slot at the top for slipping in ballots. The ballot box (there was no way to tell whether the person inside was male or female as all one could see was a pair of feet) spent the entire evening in motion, dancing to the music. Although I tried to take a picture, I couldn’t get the box to stand still for even a second. Well after midnight, I stepped out into the Kyiv night. It was snowing lightly and there was no one around except for a few couples strolling lei surely down Khreshchatyk. It looked so beautiful I hated to disturb the freshly fallen snow with my heavy boot prints. A single step, it seemed, would bring me back rudely to the difficult reality of life in Ukraine. Yes, Viktor Yushchenko is now President, but getting elected was the easy part. Now comes the hard part: fulfilling the enormous expectations of the world and keeping the promises he made to those who had gathered on the Maidan. As for me, the elec tion in Ukraine had already fulfilled one promise: the promise of hope. Author Marta Zielyk on the Maidan, just minutes after the Inaugural Speech, January 23, 2005 “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, БЕРЕЗЕНЬ 2005 19
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