I've spent 10 years pursuing people who left little in the way of a paper trail. Today, finally, my labors bear fruit. After leaving my grandmother Cicik's village, we travel a short distance down the road to Hubici, my grandfather Wasyl Wojtowich's hometown, which is a stones throw from the Polish border.
5 years ago someone took pictures here of 3 women in a field and sent them to me. I wrote a letter but never received a reply. Now to my amazement one of the women approaches me in the church yard and tells me she had researched my people and gives me the stunning news that my grandfather had a brother and that two of his children are still living! I do not connect with this side of my family for another week but in the meantime my new friend takes us under her wing and shows us charming Hubici.
This village is both larger and smaller than I had imagined. There are about 200 small square homes very tightly packed together. Each home has a surrounding compound with buildings just footsteps from the house. These contain cows, fowl, pigs and farm equipment. Kitchen gardens, fruit and nut trees as well as bee hives are also in the compound. The farmers' fields, however, are a distance from the village. A well provides water and an outhouse is the only plumbing. Electricity is the one thing the Soviets brought to everyone. The rural people are waiting for gas lines so they can stop chopping wood for heat and cooking. It seems to be a very meaningful and self-sufficient life but certainly a hard one.
I saw the house where my grandfather was born although it's now a Roman Catholic Church. We also walk for miles through verdant fields to see a 550 year old Boyko wooden church my people have been attending for generations. Closeby is a lovely little chapel with amazing sculptures. After two lovely homecooked meals (terrific borsch and pierogies!) we ended the day singing with the widow of my great--uncle's oldest son--what a day!
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