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Children in Ukraine are being given a chance to realise there are many cultures in the world. Photograph: Anna Voitenko

In February 2014, 100 people now known as the heavenly hundred were shot dead by riot police during protests in Independence Square, Kiev. The revolution of dignity began as an outcry against the then-president Viktor Yanukovychs rejection of a trade deal with the EU, but it quickly spiralled into violence. The revolution became symbolic of a shift that has turned Ukraine away from Russia and towards Europe.

The three years since then have been among the most difficult in the recent history of Ukraine, with Russian military aggression and enormous economic losses aggravated by corruption. The country needs reform and it needs solidarity with its neighbours more than ever.

Mustafa Nayem was at the heart of those protests, having posted the original call on Facebook for people to come to the square. Now an MP, he has launched a non-government initiative, GoGlobal, to improve Ukrainians English language skills, and GoCamp a series of residential camps where volunteers from all over the world come to Ukraine to teach children how to speak English.

Take 12-year-old Maksym, who joined GoCamp last summer having never seen a foreigner before in his life. He is from the town of Kostopil, 360km west of Ukraines capital Kiev, and was learning English at school but struggled to use it in conversation. After just three weeks at GoCamp, Maksym could chatter away quite happily with Eril, an Indonesian volunteer, while they played football.

GoCamp is as much about cultural awareness and exchange as learning a new language. Spanish volunteers cook paella with the children. Chinese volunteers make paper lanterns. Last year the British staged plays by Shakespeare. Meanwhile every volunteer lives with a host family, to learn more about daily life in Ukraine.

In summer 2017, GoGlobal is planning to bring 1,000 foreign volunteers to more than 600 schools, to teach 100,000 pupils all over the country. It is our aim that by 2020 all children aged 10 to 15 will speak English.

It doesn't matter where you're from or what language you speak: the kids are all happy studying and playing together

Volunteers not only work in big cities but also in small villages, where parents cannot afford to enrol their children in language courses. After spending three days in Kiev learning how to work with kids, volunteers set off for their camp destinations all over Ukraine. And along with this training, we encourage volunteers to share activities they enjoy. Camps focus on one of four areas: Steam (science, technology, engineering, art and maths); civic education; leadership and careers; sports and fitness. We want our volunteers to teach children how to become leaders, how to think critically and how to be tolerant and compassionate towards others.

GoCamp plays an even more important role for the children of families resettled after the conflict in the east of the country. Schools located close to the frontline take part in GoCamp East, which takes place between July and August, and brings children from the conflict zone to camps in Kiev. They are children of war and over the last three years, their lives have been lived to a background of shots and explosions. Almost all of them will have lost a relative.

We bring these children together with other kids from around Ukraine to show them that it does not matter where you are from, or what language you speak they are all happy studying and playing together. Were giving these children the chance to realise that there is another life in Ukraine that there are many cultures and that the world is global.

It is the next generation of Ukrainians who will have to overhaul the country. If we want to change the world, we have to inspire the kids.

Tetiana Kyrylenko is head of communications for GlobalOffice, which runs GoGlobal and GoCamp.

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Volunteering in Ukraine: 'If we want change, we have to inspire kids' - The Guardian

Loudspeakers blared bubblegum pop as latex-clad contestants rubbed glittered cheeks with fawning television hosts. Balloons bearing the participating countries' flags soared into the sky over this capital city's golden onion domes.

Around the same time, roughly 450 miles east, a more somber procession was taking place, as the bodies of three Ukrainian servicemen killed fighting Russian-backed forces in eastern Ukraine on May 1 were brought back to government-controlled territory.

Some 10,000 people, including 2,673 Ukrainian servicemen -- at least five since Eurovision preparations began last week -- have been killed in the conflict, now in its fourth year, according to the military.

Nothing suggests that an end is in sight for the fighting, which has affected pretty much everyone in the country in some way. And some Ukrainians are upset that attention is being diverted from the battlefields to observe a week-long festival of camp.

"It's absolute madness," said Alina Anatolyevna, a uniformed member of the Donbas battalion. "People desecrating sacred ground and behaving like a war isn't happening and people aren't dying -- this is not normal."

The sacred ground she was referring to is central Khreshchatyk Street and Independence Square. Today it's the site of the Eurovision Village, where visitors lounge atop beanbags and puff hookah. Three years ago it was where more than 100 Ukrainians died in clashes with the security forces of the former Moscow-friendly president, Viktor Yanukovych. The uprising forced Yanukovych to flee and sparked Russia's annexation of Crimea and the conflict in eastern Ukraine -- and set off the worst confrontation between Russia and the West since the Cold War.

But it hasn't been completely glossed over. Amid the Eurovision Village and fan zones -- with their beer gardens and big screens, selfie stations and LED-lit stages erected to entertain the 20,000 foreign visitors expected to arrive for this week's competition -- stand billboard-sized photographs of wounded veteran Paralympians. And hundreds of uniformed Ukrainian servicemen help make up the 16,000-strong security force protecting the event.

It all strikes a jarring note in the otherwise celebratory atmosphere.

After Ukraine's Eurovision victory in 2016 won it the right to host the event this year, there was talk about relocating it because of the country's security situation. But Vilyen Pidgornyi, a Ukrainian defense ministry spokesman, told CNN that would have been a mistake. He sees Eurovision as "a demonstration of the West's trust in Ukraine" and an opportunity to unveil a reformed country that has endured continental Europe's deadliest conflict since the Balkan Wars in a bid to become "more European."

"People may ask, 'Why are we holding festivities when there are battles every day and people die?' Yes, but isn't this what the people die for?".

And Eurovision, often a microcosm of politics in Europe, has itself become a front in the Russia-Ukraine conflict.

The first shot came from Ukraine, with its 2016 winning entry, "1944," sung by Jamala, about Stalin's deportation of Crimea's Tatar population. It began: "When strangers are coming/They come to your house/They kill you all and say/We're not guilty, not guilty."

This year, Moscow fired back, choosing as its representative the wheelchair-bound Yulia Samoilova, likely knowing that her performance in annexed Crimea in 2015 would irk Kiev. Sure enough, shortly after she was selected, Ukraine's security service announced she would not be allowed in the country -- the first time a Eurovision host nation has taken such a step -- citing her violation of Ukrainian border laws.

As a result, Russia's main broadcaster, Channel One, pulled out of the contest, saying it would not broadcast the event this year.

That's fine with many Ukrainians, including Alina Kosse, whose cottage sits smack on the government side of the front line in war-ravaged Mariinka. Once a sleepy bedroom community, much of the town has been reduced to rubble by artillery fire from Russian-backed separatists. Not that she could watch the song contest anyway, as Ukraine's far eastern regions receive only Russian television.

"Personally, Eurovision doesn't matter when we're under attack every day," Kosse said. "Everything is empty and meaningless, as well as the war."

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Eurovision's glitzy pageant jars with pain of Ukraine conflict - CNN

The Associated Press has found that Ukrainian soldiers are being bombarded by text messages likely dispatched by cell site simulators. Some are crude threats, while others play on allegations that Ukraine's billionaire president, Petro Poroshenko, sometimes nicknamed Parasha, is lining his pockets as soldiers fight in the field. Several of the roughly four dozen messages collected by AP and other journalists and activists carried spelling mistakes typical of Russian speakers trying to write in Ukrainian. Others came from nonsensical numbers (such as 77777) or were sent at impossible times (such as the year 1995), hinting at electronic fakery. A few even tried to mimic payment alerts in a bid to trick soldiers into thinking their accounts were being emptied by their commanders.

Here are a few of the messages, which have been edited for clarity:

"Guys, Parasha sold us out to the Yanks. Let's go attack Kiev instead!"

text message received on Feb. 12, 2015, at Debaltseve, Ukraine.

"Your account was charged 10 hryvnias (then about $0.50) to support the Anti-Terrorism Operation."

text message received on Oct. 6, 2015, at Schastia, Ukraine.

"Are you ready to die for Poroshenko's golden deposits!?"

text message received at 12:58 a.m. on Oct. 16, 2015, at Checkpoint 29, an hour from Luhansk, Ukraine.

"Who is robbing your family while you are paid pennies waiting for your bullet?"

text message received at 11:46 a.m. on Nov. 11, 2015, at Checkpoint 29.

"Murderer from the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The East won't forgive you and the West won't remember you!"

text message received on Nov. 17, 2015, at Checkpoint 29.

"Ukrainian Armed Forces, you're just meat for your commanders."

text message received at 9:32 a.m. on Jan. 31 in Avdiivka, Ukraine.

Online:

All the text messages collected by the AP and others have been gathered here: https://goo.gl/ap2O7C

Raphael Satter can be reached at: http://raphaelsatter.com

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'You're just meat' - Ukrainian soldiers get chilling texts - ABC News

Ukraine has banned the American action movie star Steven Seagal, who last year received Russian citizenship in a ceremony from President Vladimir Putin.

A spokesman for the Security Service of Ukraine, or SBU, confirmed the blacklisting of Seagal, a martial arts expert whose father was a Jew of Russian descent, in a statement sent last week to the Apostrophe news site.

Seagal will be barred from entering Ukraine for five years according to an SBU directive not to admit anyone it deems to have committed a socially dangerous act, irrespective of the territory of its commission, which is contrary to the interests of ensuring the security of Ukraine, the spokesman wrote in a statement dated May 5. It was a reply to a query about Seagal by Apostrophe from last month.

Seagal visited Crimea shortly after it was annexed by Russia in the spring of 2014. The actor, who is also a musician, performed in Sevastopol. Under Ukrainian law, visitors to Russian-controlled Crimea are committing a felony unless they receive permission from Ukraines government.

In November, Putin presented Seagal with a Russian passport at a news conference at the Kremlin in Moscow, calling him one of Russias many friends.

Vadim Rabinovich (Cnaan Liphshiz/JTA)

Separately, the Facebook page of an SBU general on Tuesday featured anti-Semitic statements written under his name. According to the Unian news agency, Maj.-Gen. Vasyl Vovk, the former head of the SBUs main investigation department, recently retired to the reserves from active duty.

I have everything against the Jews, the text attributed to Vovk read. You are not Ukrainians and I will destroy you and Rabinovich. Let me tell you again go to hell, k****, the Ukrainian nation has had it with you.

Vadim Rabinovich is a Ukrainian Jewish lawmaker.

Continued here:
Steven Seagal, Putin ally, barred from Ukraine - The Times of Israel

A different Euro vision there are hopes that Kievs hosting of the annual pop-fest will tempt more British tourists to visit. Photograph: RastislavSedlak/Getty Images/iStockphoto

Kiev is sparkling and radiant as spring sunshine sets the gilded baroque churches ablaze. Snow banks begin to melt; shoulders drop and faces soften. The city, and its people, look newborn.

Kiev may have a reputation for political unrest (gained during the Maidan protest-cum-revolution of winter 2013-14) but todays visitors are unlikely to see it. Instead, this city offers tourists a taste of bar life with an edge, softened this week at least with a dollop of Eurovision kitsch.

Visitor numbers to Ukraine were never huge 81,000 Brits came in 2013 but Kiev deserves more, and hopes the Eurovision Song Contest, staged there this week will reignite interest, and that cheap Ryanair flights from Stansted (starting in October) will tempt more British visitors. But what could really boost visitor numbers is the citys creative edginess: it has a lively underground arts and nightlife scene, and an underdog atmosphere.

We have young people looking outwards, while living in a messy place

On a Saturday night out, the Alchemist Bar on Shota Rustaveli Street announces itself through a twang of soundchecking guitar. We follow the noise into the basement, where a man with an Amish-type beard foot-stomps on stage as he tunes up. Tonights band, The Good, the Bad and the Ugly, kick off with a cover of Return to Sender. Its an ironic opener but it gets the crowd mainly dressed in vintage clothes on their feet. Over cheap Old Fashioned cocktails (3.50) we talk of the lineup for Kievs new Atlas Weekend festival in June. This year, British performers Nothing But Thieves and The Prodigy will play with local bands such as the Hardkiss and Pianoboy.

In Kiev, we dont get many top pop stars visiting, so we tend to focus on our own performers, like Dakh Daughters [the avant-garde, seven-piece, all-female group who played to protesters at the Maidan, and will play Atlas Weekend], says Bohdan, himself a musician. Its one of the best cities for techno and underground parties, adds his friend, Pavlo.

Next morning, indie bookstore Kharms, in a courtyard off Volodymyrska Street, is crammed with people browsing old LPs. Vintage cameras sit on shelves and abstract Polaroid photos line the walls. I chat with a couple on the next table who are fans of Pianoboy, real name Dmitry Shurov, a local composer and musician.

Later on, Shurov and I order tea in his favourite cafe, On Stanislavsky. Its a busy, bohemian place with rug-strewn floors and ironic art on the walls. Shurov tells me culture is one of the only things not in crisis in Ukraine, and that musicians are more trusted than politicians. Its not meant to be that way: its painful.

He also sees Eurovision as a positive force: The only things people know about Ukraine are Chernobyl and the war. Eurovision is about having something that is Ukrainian and good. Kiev is like the India of Europe. It is mystical and unpredictable, and has a chaotic energy. Hidden talents are everywhere. We have young people looking outwards, while living in a messy place, dealing with war and revolution. In spite of it all, its a great city for people to get creative in.

And sitting in this bohemian cafe, with winter drawing to a close, it is hard not to share Shurovs optimism. More people should come.

Regent Holidays has a three-night break to Kiev from 520pp B&B, including transfers and flights from Gatwick with Ukraine International Airways

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Kickin' Kiev: Why the Ukraine city is looking to Eurovision to jump start tourism - The Guardian