I went to get my replacement hearing aid this morning and on a whim put on a gerdan I haven’t worn for awhile: one made by a woman who lived in Kherson near the beach.
It has waves lapping the vertical shore on one side, and on the other, crabs, shells, a pearl, and as if written in sand, I love sea. (The photo doesn’t capture the depths of its shimmeriness.)
I went to check in and the receptionist was just so taken with it that I took it off so she could get a closer look.
She wanted to know how it was made; handwoven, I told her, strung with beads in the process. Glass. It’s an art form in Ukraine. I kind of laughed over the fact that Slavic languages don’t have articles, so no ‘I love the sea,’ it was just, ‘I love sea.’ I explained how Etsy had waived all fees for sellers in Ukraine at the start of the war so all that you pay goes directly to supporting them. This one had probably taken about 50 hours’ work.
She thought the price well worth that kind of time and artistry. She dearly wanted to see the seller’s shop.
But her town was on the other side of the river from Russians firing on them daily and she apparently evacuated and I’ve lost track of her.
But there are others; search for gerdan and Ukraine, I told her (and avoid the cheap string-breaking knockoffs from India), you’ll find them. And if you wear one of these and someone from Ukraine sees you they will know exactly where you got it and what it means. Support.
That meant a great deal to her.
She brought me pen and paper, wanting more. I gave her Olha’s information (that red rose!) as a good place to start.
She was so thrilled to have something she could do to visibly support Ukraine, and with something so beautiful.
My work here was done.
So is theirs: it’s such a relief to be able to hear again.