Far from family in war-torn Ukraine, ballroom dancers in Durham watch, worry and pray
Before the dancing started, the instructors all checked their phones to see whether their hometowns were still standing.
Whether their parents were still safe in bomb shelters.
Whether their wives and children were still huddling in cold basements.
At the Fred Astaire Dance Studio in Durham, the entire staff of 12 comes from Ukraine — some only a year or two removed from their war-torn country.
And on Tuesday night, they held a special master class to benefit Ruslan Golovashchenko, a two-time Ukrainian ballroom dancing champion now stranded in Durham.
A week ago, Golovashchenko flew from Kiev to spend a long weekend in Durham for his friend’s birthday. Before he woke the next day, his wife called to say the Russian army had invaded — to everyone’s disbelief.
Never seeking war
On Tuesday, his wife, Olena, drove their 7- and 8-year-old daughters 200 kilometers west of Kyiv, hoping to reach the Polish border after a week of bombardment in their home city.
Golovashchenko showed everyone in the studio the pictures of Annalisa and Annamaria in an unfinished Kyiv basement, huddled against the cold in heavy coats and stocking caps.
And as the tango class began in Durham, with each participant paying $50 to help him fly to Poland and hopefully reunite with his family, Golovashchenko thanked them all, explaining that Ukrainians are friendly and open — never seeking war.
“This has, of course, broken my heart,” he said Tuesday. “The family is split. You can’t help. Physically, you can’t help. Of course, my brain is not concentrating so much. Still, I am professional.”
‘We’re praying every day’
Yuriy Simakov and his wife, Oksana Klyuchnyk, came as dancers from Ukraine nearly 20 years ago, taking over the Fred Astaire studio in west Durham near Old Chapel Hill Road.
On a normal night, the place is filled with dancers learning to cha cha, tango and salsa, often happily preparing for their weddings.
“We love to talk about dancing,” said Klyuchnyk, “but we have to talk about war.”
Her parents live in Poltava in central Ukraine, a city she describes as removed from the drama, but nonetheless scarred. Her elderly parents run to a bomb shelter several times a night, but she notes that, being older, they tend to stock up on food.
“Every night it’s a danger,” she said. “Every night it’s a siren. So we’re praying every day for them. My dad says he’s not leaving. My mom doesn’t know how to drive.”
‘They’re just hiding underground’
Simakov’s elderly parents live in Severodonetsk, near the Russian border, where Ukrainian news reported one dead and several wounded in an artillery attack Tuesday.
Russian forces have nearly surrounded the city, he said, and grocery stores are low on food as Simakov scans the pictures he sees from Durham.
“Now it’s not safe to take them out,” he lamented Tuesday. “I’m only child. My mom is 82. My father is 80. They don’t have help. They’re just hiding underground in their homes, like a basement.”
At the studio, the Ukrainians agree on three things:
▪ Russia is waging total war rather than a “conflict.”
▪ news footage in the United States shows maybe 10% of the devastation they are seeing from family and friends.
▪ nobody expected such a catastrophe to come.
“I think Ukrainians desire to be part of Europe,” said Klyuchnyk. “They desire to have a life like people have in Germany and Russia.”
‘Nobody could believe it’
Asked if the war came as a surprise, Golovashchenko took three steps backward with his eyes wide-open.
“I say, ‘Of course,” he said. “We are with Russia like brothers. We were together in the second world war, like with your country. We are very close. We have had good communication. We have a lot of friends. That’s why I came here. Of course, somebody will say it was possible, but nobody believed. Nobody believed.”
Simakov echoed this, speaking from the perspective of his friend.
“Nobody could believe it,” he said. “I am in Kyiv. I’m in a European city. No way.”
The instructors are speaking Ukrainian more around the studio, wearing the traditional embroidery instead of leotards. And at the end, they all posed with students holding a pair of Ukrainian flags.
“I think you can see we are friendly,” Golovashchenko said. “We are very open. We are giving help to everybody. We are not conflict people. We come to help you dance, to enjoy your life.”
This story was originally published March 2, 2022 at 10:17 AM.