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10 WWW.UNWLA.ORG “НАШЕ ЖИТТЯ”, КВІТЕНЬ 2019 Bidding Farewell to Nadia Diuk Born in the United Kingdom, Nadia Diuk was the daughter of refugee Ukrain- ian parents, a daughter who loved and fought for the ancestral homeland they were forced to flee. Nadia moved to the United States in 1984 after marrying Adrian Karatnycky. A researcher, teacher, author, and community act ivist, she was a vocal and enthusiastic advocate for Ukraine and a staunch ally of those who worked and fought for Ukraine’s sovereignty. She was recognized for her leadership qualities as well as for her diligent scholarly work and served as senior adviso r of the National Endowment for Democracy. Nadia died on Jan- uary 23, 2019 , at the age of 64. The day before, Ukraine’s President Petro Po- roshenko had recognized her devotion to Ukraine by awarding her (in absen- tia) the Order of Princess Olga. Following her death, numerous news outlets published her obituary, highlighting her work, her advocacy for Ukraine, and her passion for making things right. But like all public figures, Nadia also had a private persona, one aspect of which was being a true and loyal fr iend. One of her close friends has gra- ciously shared her memories of Nadia with us, a lovely and loving tribute. ___________________________________________________ Remembering a Dear Friend by Marta Kolomayets Most of you knew her as Dr. Diuk, the Oxf ord University PhD, the historian with a passion for Mykhailo Drahomahiv and the 19 th century spring of nations, or as the senior vice president at the National Endow- ment for Democracy, who painstakingly followed events in Eastern Europe and provided exper t commen- tary on democracy and human rights in the post - Soviet space. But to me she was just Nadia, the quirky British girl from Coventry, who liked her tea from Har- rod’s, preferred drinking the finest champagne out of crystal flutes, waited with bated bre ath for the next episode of Dr. Who, was a fan of BBC’s “Hard Talk” and NPR’s “Car Talk” and shared her delight in the fact that she had such long slender fingers that s he had been asked to be a hand model on a number of occasions. Nadia came to New York C ity as a young bride to start a new chapter in her life in the early 1980s. Her husband wanted her to have a girlfriend in her adopted count r y and introduced me to Nadia . . . for that moment I am eternally grateful. We became fast friends and found common interests immediately: the story of Ukraine, our ancestral homeland; the fate of dissidents fighting Communist rule; the protests of student activists clamoring for change behind the Iron Curtain. It was the period of glasnost , and we lived with the feeli ng that anything was possible. We were young and energetic and loved the opportunities and challenges the times brought. Whether it was preparing a press conference after the Chornobyl tragedy in 1986 or looking for translators for Mykola Movchan (the youn g sailor who had jumped from a Soviet ship in New Orleans in search of freedom), or writing letters in support of the underground Ukrainian Catholic Church, we rolled up our sleeves and got to work. Nadia means Hope, and Nadia always lived with that feelin g as a guiding force. Our friendship lasted 35 years. Nadia was not warm and fuzzy, but she was loyal and kind and would always be a shoulder to lean on. She offered advice but in a gentle manner and with quiet style. Like her surname Diuk, she was a nobl e woman, her personality characterized by grace and dignity. And she was a great listener . . . whether comforting friends or taking notes during high - level meetings with leaders of Poland or Azerbaijan or at board meetings at the NED. She was pedantic in her notetaking and had what she called “a system,” which always allowed her to refer back to conversations and observations. Nadia rubbed shoulders with political leaders in Washington. D.C., as well as with anti - Communist activists and human rights defen ders throughout Eastern Europe and the former Soviet Union, but she always showed humility and respect , never boasting as to who her lunch companions were or whom she had sipped cognac with on cold dark evenings in Soviet hotels. She was much more eager to show off the jar of honey Ukrainian President Yushchenko had given her or the green boiled wool slippers she had
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