It’s clear that seven-year-old Ramon looks forward to Santa Claus the most. Because he brings gifts. And the boy from Kyiv is off again, through the wood-panelled hall “Unterm First” in the monastery building yard in Ebersberg. Ramon has been in the county seat with his parents since February, having fled the war in his home country – like around twenty other children who have gathered here with their families this afternoon. The twins Sascha and Vlad, both five and a half, are looking forward to St. Nicholas: “We’re not afraid of him, never,” they say in Ukrainian and shake their heads vehemently. The two have been in Ebersberg with their parents since March, having fled Odessa.
Fairy lights and Christmas decorations hang from the wooden beams in the hall, a small Christmas tree has been set up in front of a semicircle of chairs, with the Ukrainian flag in the background. Although January is already in its third week, Ukrainian Christmas is celebrated on this day. The children’s festival was organized by volunteers with the support of the city of Ebersberg.
Organizing and moderating the children’s festival: Animator Lidiia Nitzora, Leoni Jörg, Alla Budnichenko, Melanie Eglseder, Olga Siegel and Mayor Uli Proske (from left to right).
(Photo: Christian Endt)
Olga Siegel, who was born in Ukraine herself and has been living in Ebersberg for many years, came up with the idea. “In December there were Christmas parties everywhere, in kindergartens, in clubs,” she says. “We asked ourselves: And where are the Ukrainian children going?” Also because of language problems, the Ukrainian refugees hardly took part in local Christmas celebrations. So Olga Siegel and the other volunteers decided: “We need a party.”
Because it didn’t work out in December for organizational reasons, the Ukrainian festival now falls on January 13th. Not so bad, Olga Siegel thinks: This year there are no rules for Christmas. According to a decree by President Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the Ukrainian Christmas celebrations are now to be brought into line with the European calendar – a clear sign of emancipation from Russia. This year, all Ukrainian families were still free to choose which day to celebrate, on the European December 24th or on the Soviet January 7th. Alla Budnichenko, one of the volunteer initiators of the children’s festival, says that 65 percent of Ukrainians have already decided on December 24 this year.
Little Felix thinks the nutcracker is a nice man – maybe because he has a bushy beard like Santa Claus.
(Photo: Christian Endt)
The parents of the twins Sascha and Vlad are very happy about the celebration. “There aren’t enough meetings like this,” says the father. Like many other families here, they are struggling with the problem of not having places in kindergarten. The two boys were supposed to go to pre-school, but now there is a lack of contacts. The five-year-olds clearly enjoy the hustle and bustle and the touch of home.
When Ukrainians party, there can’t be a lack of good food. And so, on this afternoon, Ukrainian specialties are available on Bavarian beer tables. One eye-catcher is Schuba, a pink layered lettuce that at first glance could be mistaken for a dessert. “No, no!” Say a couple of Ukrainian women standing in front of the beer tables and laugh. They explain with hands and feet what’s in the shoba: fish at the bottom, then grated potatoes, mayonnaise, boiled carrots and beetroot on top – a poem. There are also vareniki, filled dumplings, and blinchiki, rolled pancakes filled with quark and meat.
Looks like a dessert, but Matjes is hidden underneath: “Schuba” is a typical Ukrainian layered salad.
(Photo: Christian Endt)
And because Ukrainians traditionally hold a kind of Olympics with their children under the Christmas tree, Lida encourages the children to play. Lida is a 24-year-old Ukrainian who was a teacher in her life before the war; She’s wearing a blazer and a festive expression, and the kids love her right away. Anyone who wants to play can come forward. The children are divided into two groups and now have to throw cotton balls into buckets. “Tre, dva, odin,” Lida counts down, and the cotton fight begins. A boy calls out to the audience: “Mama!”, proudly shows a ball of cotton balls – and throws perfectly next to it. Big laugh. But it doesn’t really matter who scores the most goals that afternoon, who wins. Everyone seems to enjoy the time together, the common culture and language.
The highlight is of course the arrival of Santa Claus. With a red miter, golden staff and bushy beard, he makes his way through the cheering crowd of children. In Ukrainian he calls out: “Were you all good too? Did you all listen to your parents?” Of course, all the children wholeheartedly say yes, and some mothers can’t help but laugh. Small packets of chocolate and tangerines, tied up by the volunteers and employees of the city of Ebersberg, are distributed to the excited children.
There are far too few such meetings, says a father: everyone enjoys the time together, the common culture and language.
(Photo: Christian Endt)
Rusudan, a young woman holding a sleeping one-year-old, smiles shyly. In German, she says: “I feel good here. A warm atmosphere, everyone talks to each other, the children play.” She has been living in Ebersberg with her husband and their two children for nine months; her hometown is Kyiv. Rusudan’s husband already works as a doctor in the hospital in Ebersberg; she herself is a radiologist and has applied for an internship at the clinic so that she can get back to her job as quickly as possible. Christmas is celebrated twice in Rusudan’s family this year, once in December and once in January. “But there are only one gift,” says Rusudan and laughs.
Hanna celebrated in the old style on January 7th with her husband and their sons Bagdan, 7, and Vrad, 5 years old. The four come from Kharkiv – and can’t imagine returning to Ukraine. Like many other Ukrainian children, Vrad was not able to get a place in a kindergarten here either and spends most of the time without social contacts outside of the family, says Hanna. She worries that her children are not socializing enough in Germany. It is important to her to settle into her new home and to integrate. It becomes difficult when she and her husband attend the integration courses – so far one person has always had to stay with Vrad and supervise him.
At home, says Hanna, the whole family always celebrated Christmas together, and the great-grandmother was there too. But because most of the relatives are too old, they could not have fled to Germany. “It’s difficult and my heart hurts,” says Hanna, trying to smile. What goes through her head when she sees the happy children probably occupies most of the adults here in the hall: It’s a nice party – but also a sad one.