“Like a Phoenix From the Ashes”: Passover in Ukraine

Growing up Jewish in the Soviet Union, Victoria P. faced one obstacle after another — but this Passover, she's focused on the freedom and well-being of Jews everywhere.

By Victoria P. - JDC Client; Odesa, Ukraine | April 17, 2024

Victoria P. (left) receives a JDC matzah box — just one of 30,000 such matzah boxes JDC delivered to Jews across Ukraine in 2024.

Victoria P. grew up listening to her grandmother speak Yiddish and read stories in Hebrew — a rarity in Soviet Ukraine. Today, at 73, she lives in Odesa, where she’s found life-saving aid through the city’s JDC-supported Hesed Shaarey Tzion social welfare center. Here, Victoria reflects on Passover, and connects the holiday’s theme of deliverance to her own hopes and struggles — and those of Jews everywhere. 

Victoria (right) embraces Elmira, her JDC homeware worker.

JDC came into my life a long time ago, when I was just a little girl. In the first years of Soviet rule, there was the Holodomor, a famine that killed millions of people here in Ukraine. My grandmother and her brother were orphans, and my grandmother once fainted on the street from exhaustion. 

JDC sent food packages, and they survived only thanks to them. 

Years later, my grandmother told me that there was an international Jewish organization, JDC, and said, “God bless them all — we need to pray for them every single day.” 

My grandmother was my main connection to Jewish life. She knew Hebrew well, and when she was in her late eighties, she would read it to me. I enjoyed her kneidlach and gefilte fish. And whenever she and my grandfather didn’t want me to understand something, they would speak in Yiddish. 

We tried celebrating the Jewish holidays, but we didn’t quite know how. All of us would gather for Passover even when it was prohibited. We’d have our Seder in a secret place, and a neighbor or family member would bring us matzah wrapped in cloth. 

Being Jewish was tough — but no matter what, I carried myself with dignity.

My father raised me like a boy — at least that’s what they called it in those days. What I mean is that he taught me to fight well. When I moved to Odesa, I had to use my fists to defend myself and the other Jewish children who were being bullied. I earned a B for “bad behavior.” The joke’s on them — I eventually became a teacher.

I was pretty skinny and miserable as a child. All of us students had to walk five or six kilometers to school in the snow and over slippery potholes. Once, I fell into a hole and couldn’t get out — it was huge, probably 20 meters deep. I was in the first grade. 

After the eighth grade, I began working. But I had other dreams. 

I wanted to be a scriptwriter. I was good at writing, but maybe I was just a graphomaniac — the kind of person with an irrational need to write. My mother’s dream for me was different, though; she wanted me to become a musician. She made me practice piano with the goal of going to conservatory. Eventually, I applied.

But the way the school treated its Jewish applicants — interfering with our entrance exams — was terrible. They did everything possible to fail me, and nothing worked. But the music instructors gave me a C and told me I hadn’t passed the admissions process.

It turned out that many people who had a grade or two less than me were admitted.

Still, nothing could stop me. I decided I would attend a different school. And I did. I got accepted into a different conservatory, graduated, and worked as a piano teacher. Today, I am still a certified piano teacher and accompanist (and later on, I became a psychologist, too). 

Victoria (right) lights Shabbat candles with Elmira.

As I got older, I needed more support. That’s when I turned to Hesed and JDC. I used to walk there and take part in Jewish programming — but then I fell, and now I’m nowhere near as mobile as I used to be. 

That’s why, a decade later, JDC’s support means more to me now than ever. They deliver all kinds of assistance, including food, medicine, and medical equipment — like a wheelchair, a walker, and a cane. 

Above all, they’ve provided me with a JDC homecare worker — Elmira, the most wonderful person in the world, and someone I now consider family. I’m not even buttering her up: She’s just a very, very good human being. When I recently broke my arm, she ran to me and seemed even more concerned than I was! She was crying and immediately sought medical help. She even came on Saturday and Sunday, though these are her days off.

What does Elmira do? I don’t know what she doesn’t do. She cooks, cleans, and brings me medicine. Most importantly, she keeps me company and makes me laugh. 

I need this support, because I receive a miserable pension, just awful. I’m even ashamed to tell my students, who say, “Victoria Semyonovna, they must have messed something up there. You can’t have a pension like that, less than $100 for more than 34 years of teaching.” I worked for decades, but without JDC, without Elmira, I probably wouldn’t have survived, especially these past few years. 

Since February 24, 2022, it’s been difficult to pinpoint what exactly has changed, though I know that everything has changed. Firstly, there’s a feeling of trauma, a feeling of fear, a feeling of uncertainty. Many people probably feel this. As a teacher and psychologist, I know we have severe psychological trauma. We are afraid, especially since we are not far from the sea — we constantly hear gunshots and the sounds of drones and missiles. 

Being Jewish was tough but no matter what, I carried myself with dignity.

Many people, of course, have left. I have almost no neighbors around me, and this is also very difficult. 

The things I tried to achieve in my life, I don’t know how successful I was. I used to walk a kilometer just to buy a pastry. I used to run. I could swim 500 meters. And now I’m afraid. I can’t walk. So, JDC helps me a lot. I can’t even tell you how much!

Spring is a time of rebirth, flowers, trees blooming, the primroses I love, and of course, Passover. 

For me, Passover is a symbol of liberation, independence, and dignity. It’s freedom from slavery. Despite centuries-long annihilation, exile from Britain and Spain, Egyptian and Babylonian bondage, Roman rule, and the Holocaust, the Jewish people rose like a phoenix from the ashes. And despite being scattered around the world, they’ve reached out to lend a helping hand to each other.

They say hope dies last. But I still hope — I hope the best for the whole world and for all people. I wish everyone happiness, peaceful skies, freedom, prosperity, and dignity. 

Victoria P., 73, is a JDC client in Odesa, Ukraine. 

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