Sloboda Ukraine. There’s too much darkness…

It’s often said that one of the highlights of Western Ukraine is its many legends and folklore. Stories of gallant knights, noble szlachta, or malevolent ghosts draw tourists to castles and ancient towns, lending them a certain air of mystery.

In the cities of eastern Ukraine, things are even more interesting. Lacking even a basic understanding of the past, people often begin to invent that very past, presenting their fantasies—made up on the spot—as “urban legends.” Although, in my opinion, this is actually closer to literary creativity (alternative history, historical fiction, fantasy, and sometimes even horror).

At the same time, the authors themselves—who create such modern myths and fairy tales—make no secret of their creative work, for which they deserve credit and praise.

Boris Pavlovich Kraush, a member of the National Union of Writers of Ukraine, candidly admits that he writes his own fairy tales in the style of the folk tradition.

Now, unfortunately, the late member of the Writers’ Union, winner of the “Golden Calf” Award, and longtime participant and organizer of the Kharkiv “Humorin” festival Saveliy Tsypin, in his book *Kharkiv in Tales and Anecdotes*, writes:

Much has been written about Kharkiv and its famous residents—ranging from major works to short essays. In this book, however, I wanted to compile remarkable stories—both amusing and tragic, tales and legends—that reflect the life of our city and its inhabitants, as well as their fates. The collected notes are presented here just as they have been passed down to us through the memories of generations. It should be noted that the author does not vouch for the accuracy of these notes (except for those he witnessed himself). The events are recounted as they were presented by their publishers and narrators. Other versions are certainly possible.

Crucially, at the end of the book, the author provides a list of sources used.

Although most people outside of Kharkiv know Savely Tsypin’s name from his scripts for the film magazines *Fitil* and “Yeralash,” as well as for the monologues, skits, and routines he wrote for the once-very-popular television show “The 13 Chairs Tavern.” For this show, Tsypin created a character—a literary critic—and the show’s editor selected an actor (G. Vitsina) and named him “Mr. Tsypa” after the author’s last name.

First, a little about classification:

  • Superstition is a preconception that involves a belief in supernatural, otherworldly forces.
  • A legend is a genre of non-fairy-tale folklore prose that explores historical themes from a folk perspective.
  • A myth is a narrative that conveys people’s ideas about the world, humanity’s place in it, the origin of all things, and gods and heroes.
  • A legend is a type of non-fairy-tale prose folklore. It is a written account of certain historical events or figures.

The distinguished Kharkiv ethnographer Nikolai Sumtsov writes quite candidly in his book *Slobozhans*, published in 1918:

The dark side of a people’s life consists of numerous superstitions, remnants of ancient demonology, and beliefs about devils, witches, vampires, the evil eye, and so on. Some of these superstitions are very harmful; sometimes they surface in villages and lead ignorant people into sin and into prison. For example, they say that one shouldn’t put out a fire if it was started by lightning—I heard this, for instance, in the village of Boromlia in the Okhtyrka District from an elderly, respectable, literate man; there were also references in periodicals to the same superstition in the Zmiiv and Bilhorod districts. In 1886, a strange incident occurred right near Kharkiv: some foolish young man from Osnova (a suburb of Kharkiv)—perhaps while drunk—rambled on about how a witch had taken to visiting him, and nearly the entire village, led by a police officer, set out to catch the wicked witch. In that same year, 1886, in Okhtyrka, when there had been no rain for a long time that summer, people dug up the grave of a drowned woman in the cemetery and drove several stakes into it. Isn’t it strange that in 1894, in the wealthy settlement of Merefa, 30 versts from Kharkiv, the volost court heard a case involving an old woman to whom a snake was said to have flown? In the settlement of Boromli, about ten years ago, some young men dug up a grave and cut a piece of fat from the deceased to make a candle. There is a harmful superstition about a dead hand: if you make a tallow candle from it, you can steal from any house at night while everyone is asleep—as long as you have the candle made from the dead man’s tallow. Such nonsense, yet the offense is serious and punishable by law, and those foolish, ignorant young men were sentenced to settlement in Siberia. In 1896, an identical case was heard in the Ostrogozhsk Criminal Court. There is still far too much ignorance in Sloboda Ukraine, and a great need for education and schools.

Even in the Age of Enlightenment, superstitions influenced the daily lives of the people in our region and, in a way, governed them. The people of Sloboda Ukraine living at the beginning of the 20th century knew quite a few of these stories. Legends ciculated around town about ghosts that could be encountered at night in the cemetery near what is now Dzerkalnyi Strumin’. On Kholodna Hora, a poltergeist had taken up residence in one house. However, the Civil War, Soviet rule (repression, the campaign against superstition), the famines, and the German occupation mercilessly destroyed both the bearers of these legends and the very memory of them.

For this reason, the vast amount of ethnographic material on Sloboda Ukraine—collected and recorded by researchers in the 19th and early 20th centuries—is invaluable to us. For the past three years now, I’ve been piecing together extremely scattered material on this topic bit by bit, rediscovering for myself our beautiful Slobozhanshchyna, filled with legends and tales of witches, ghosts, and buried treasure. I’ve already shared our traditional lullabies about cats. Today, however, I’d like to touch on—even if only briefly—how various superstitions influenced the daily lives of our ancestors.

Sleep.

When you go to bed, you should lie on your left side for at least a little while at first, because an evil spirit is on your left side, while your guardian angel is on your right. You want him to be on top of you.

Bohodukhiv District, Kharkiv Governorate.

Say it as you go to bed.

Beyond the mountains, beyond the rivers, that’s where we lay down to sleep. The Mother of God at our heads, Jesus Christ at our feet, and guardian angels on either side—they protect my soul until morning from the knife, from the sword, and from the wicked man.

Nyzhnia Syrovatka village, Sumy County.

A lively Monday.

On “Zhilavy” Monday (the first Monday of Great Lent—author’s note), women do not sell beet kvass. People pay attention to who is the first to enter the house that day: if it’s a man, it’s a good sign; if it’s a woman, trouble will come to the family. This Monday is called “Zhilavy” because nothing is cooked; instead, people eat radishes and flatbreads mixed with just water, which are called “zhilanki.” On this Monday, you must not sew, because the threads will break.

Bohodukhiv District, Kharkiv Governorate.

When the Jews were pursuing the Savior to hand him over for crucifixion, all the birds—especially the swallow—tried to lead them away from the place where Christ was hiding. But a sparrow revealed that spot to them with its shrill chirping; the Jews saw the Savior and led Him away to be tortured. Therefore, the Lord cursed the sparrow and forbade its meat to be eaten.

This story was recorded in the Kharkiv Governorate.

If a gray spider comes down, the news will be good; if it’s black, it will be bad. (Kharkiv Governorate).

To be a good swimmer.

If you have whole-grain bread, you’ll be a good swimmer.

Nyzhnia Syrovatka village, Sumy County.

From a drinking binge. Incidentally, it’s a real shame—not for the poor woman, whom these remedies didn’t help, but for her husband, on whom all of this was tested to no avail.

Many of us love cats. Well, it turns out they’re also helpful when you have a cold.

When you have a runny nose, you can sniff a cat’s tail or its warm fur.

And I definitely wouldn’t go to a dentist like that from Sloboda Ukraine.

…when I had a toothache, she would trace the outline of my head and cheekbones with a knife, and then place a piece of incense on the aching tooth after whispering over it.

d. Zhikhor.

I suppose it’s a tried-and-true remedy for a fever:

And here’s a look at how women follow safety rules:

In the Kharkiv Governorate, it was believed that if a married woman stepped out onto the porch without a headscarf, the house spirit would drag her by the hair up to the attic.

But I’m not afraid of witches—I’m the youngest. A witch never scares those who are the first or last born in a family.

The village of Velyka Danylivka in the Kharkiv District.

It’s a real shame that there’s no information about the people who used this “miracle” advice. I guess they just didn’t survive.

If you take three threads from the “shroud” used to cover a dead person’s face, a thief can use those threads to enter anywhere without hindrance, and no one will hear a thing—everyone will be asleep.

Olshana

And all of this is just a small fraction of what I’ve discovered. There’s no need to make up legends about Kharkiv and Sloboda Ukraine. Our land is simply overflowing with them! The most interesting part is just beginning.

Anton Bondarev