National Tradition A Century Later
Have you ever heard the thundering of a distant waterfall? You are sure to experience the same sensation in the whirlpool of a village fair. There is so much noise, people yelling, cattle bleating, braying, and bellowing, all merging into a deafening cacophony. Oxen, sacks, haystacks, Gypsies, pots, loud peasant women, heaps of gingerbread, and brightly colored hats all parade before your eyes.” This is how Nikolai Gogol described the Sorochyntsi Fair. If he were to visit Poltava oblast today we would not be likely to learn about Velyki Sorochyntsi the way it was in his time, about all those strange mystifying sounds. Also, I assume that the fair held there recently would have never been the way it was; the tradition would have sunk into oblivion, as did the fairs of Ilyin, Romny, and Golotov. In other words, the Sorochyntsi fair would not have had its current national status, a tradition upheld for over a century.
True, with each passing year the event leaves fewer true impressions of Gogol capable of exciting everyone’s imagination. Instead, the experience becomes increasingly modern. The fair still offers a stunning array of goods, from mineral water and baby food to cars and farm equipment. Last year the latter was the only thing that made the Sorochyntsi fair different from any other fair anyplace else; there was practically nothing by way of colorful folk marketplace practices.
Skeptics and people living in the neighborhood said the organizing committee was to blame; its members were replaced too often, and few could afford to buy space to put up stalls at the fair. Rank-and-file visitors late for the opening ceremony, with its invariable pomp but also with an indisputable national coloration, were further disappointed not to find the much-advertised local watermelons. Instead, they were amazed at the multitude of garbage heaps and the absence of handicrafts. At a press conference, Premier Anatoly Kinakh, having been treated to Sorochyntsi varenyki (Ukrainian dumplings), spoke of the fair as “a vivid example” of Ukraine “gradually rising from its knees” and “enhancing its economic potential.” He said he was sure there was a great deal of that potential.
Each year Sorochyntsi acquires greater scale (last year, the fair involved some 450 industrial entities, this year it was 700). This year, among the participants were a greater number of businesspeople from Russia, the Baltic states, Belarus, Central and Eastern Europe, France, and Germany. Hopefully, given proper management, the backwater Sorochyntsi province glorified by Gogol will have a future – and not only because, according to Vice Premier Leonid Kozachenko, more than 12 million hryvnias’ worth of goods were sold last year. This year the number of participants was larger by one-third and the organizers expect proceeds to be 16 to 18 million hryvnias.
One could cite hundreds of examples, from Brazilian carnivals to the Slavic maslenitsa (Shrovetide), when certain events, either world- renowned or of local importance, are used by local administrations and central governments to make money. And everywhere national traditions are an invariable component. In this sense the Sorochyntsi scope does not seem overly impressive.
All kinds of shows, folk craft exhibits, and games, meant to lend national color to business, were lost among the merchant rows three times last year’s number. Instead of pavilions with domestic products there were the usual makeshift flea market rows. Ukrainian songs were performed by a handful of folk groups dressed as Cossacks, but their sound was drowned out by blasting rock music. Jeans, track shoes, leather jackets, cheap perfumes from China, Poland, Turkey. Was this a sign that the Sorochyntsi fair has won international acclaim? Leonid Kozachenko expected the fair to be visited by two million persons. Let us hope that this number will be complemented by their good impressions of it.
