In the days and weeks following the start of the war, Ukrainian churches in Montreal were overwhelmed with donations. A year later, the generosity of Quebecers has not wavered, but all the material donations are now grouped together in a single church, rue D’Iberville. The others now only accept cash donations or gift cards. Overview of the situation.
At the corner of boulevard Saint-Michel and rue de Bellechasse, in front of the Ukrainian Orthodox cathedral Sainte-Sophie, a sign that time is passing, the huge blue and yellow signs inviting passers-by to make donations have given way to a simple poster laminated signaling the disappearance of Truffle, a feline on the run.
A cellphone rings in the magnificent cathedral, where the smell of incense hangs. The priest Volodymyr Kushnir pulls the device out of his trouser pocket, under his black cassock. Regularly, he receives calls from people who wish to make donations: furniture, household items, non-perishable food. Some even offer apartments for rent, which he will announce at the end of mass, after prayers for all family members of parishioners who are at the front or who have died.
Volodymyr Kouchnir plays the middleman, but no longer stores anything in his church. For months after the outbreak of war, the parish hall in the basement was overflowing with donations. “We had it up to the ceiling,” he recalls. Containers were sent to Ukraine, but the majority of the goods collected were intended for new Ukrainian arrivals who had to start from scratch in Montreal.
need comfort
The latter went down to the basement after mass and helped themselves in the bazaar then returned home. But this fall, the priest realized that the space occupied prevented him from responding to another need, just as urgent. “People needed to talk, to share their story, their sadness. They no longer wanted to take things and go home, they wanted a place to trade. »
To make room, the priest decided to send these material goods to the Saint-Michel-Archange Catholic Church, rue D’Iberville, which still accepts donations. From now on, after the mass, the parishioners are instead invited to come and have a coffee in the parish hall in the basement, where they stay for hours.
“It’s hard to carry this weight all the time here,” confides the priest, putting his hands to his heart. People are happy to have a comfortable space to share their suffering. I am there to listen to them, to offer them spiritual support. »
The fact that fewer refugees have landed in Montreal since the boom last summer and the exhaustion of the troops also played a role in the decision. Receiving and sorting such a quantity of objects and clothes of all kinds requires a lot of energy, explains Anna Malynowsky, head of donations at Saint Sophia Cathedral. “We had been there since day one, but we were tired, we needed to slow down. »
A few streets away, at the Sainte-Marie-la-Protectrice Ukrainian Orthodox Church on Rosemont Boulevard, a few coats and clothes are piled up pell-mell in a corner of the community hall. It’s all that’s left of the mess since the church stopped collecting non-financial donations at the start of winter. “Money is the best thing, it allows them to buy food and the things they really need,” summarizes Rozalie Grishina.
The Smaha sisters
The newly arrived refugees, who need everything, are sent to the church on rue D’Iberville. Knick-knacks, kitchenware and bedding, toys, diapers and non-perishable food are piled up on two floors in this Aladdin’s cave. The clothes are so numerous that they are classified by category and size, like in a real thrift store.
Here is the kingdom of sisters Doris and Janie Smaha, two Quebecers born to a Ukrainian father. It was only natural that they decided to come and lend a hand at the start of the conflict, a year ago. “We were baptized in this church,” says Doris proudly. My father experienced the 1945 war, it came to get us, we needed to get involved. »
Warm clothes and sleeping bags have been sent to Ukraine to relieve the cold of the soldiers and the population, who live long periods of the day without electricity. Medicines were also sent to the country. But the vast majority of the things collected are used for the women and children who have come to take refuge in Canada. “People take what they want,” explains Doris. They speak neither French nor English, but you can see from their big smile that they appreciate it. They show a lot of gratitude. But Doris regrets not being able to meet all the needs. “We need mattresses, bedding, towels, pots, dishes, mittens and non-perishable food. »
Doris and Janie do not speak Ukrainian. They have learned a few words since volunteering at the church, but they mostly communicate by acting out their intention. In the “bedding department”, particularly balding, Doris meets Tamara, a volunteer who arrived in Quebec at the start of the war. “She’s here all the time, she’s bored at home, she needs to socialize and be useful,” she says.
Hope
Through it all, Ukrainians are trying to find ways to raise money to help their compatriots at the front. When passing the Duty at St. Sophia’s Cathedral, priest Volodymyr Kushnir was busy preparing for a benefit concert for Valentine’s Day in the parish hall. “I’m going to sing a little piece myself, because I love to sing,” he says proudly while presenting a CD of Ukrainian songs he recorded a few years ago.
The event will have served to raise funds, but also to appease hearts, he explains. “New parishioners need that. Music is therapeutic. But there will be no dancing. Under the circumstances, with the war, it would be very out of place. We’re going to dance – and drink, and eat, and celebrate – when the war is over. »