Maybe you’ve never heard of a bandura. There’s a reason for that,
and I’ll get into it shortly.
I was first introduced to the bandura by Yarko Antonevych
(pictured), the son of a Ukrainian émigré, at the Florida Folk Festival. I’d
been playing the hammer dulcimer for a couple of years and was really getting
into learning more about musical instruments that were less “mainstream.”
Yarko taught as he performed, explaining that the bandura of today
had “evolved” from a lute-like instrument played in Ukraine during medieval
times. Although the strings are plucked, rather than hammered, I noted a
definite similarity of its sound to a hammer dulcimer, and was fascinated to
see another instrument that had so many strings – and was probably similarly
difficult to keep in tune.
Beautiful as the music was, my main takeaway from Yarko’s
performance was the tale he told about the persecution of Ukraine’s Kobzars – a
unique class of itinerant musicians who earned their living singing and playing
traditional Ukrainian music. In the late 1800s, Imperial Russia banned stage
performances by Kobzars and bandurists; the intent was to prevent any musical
performances in the Ukrainian language because the repertoire typically
included aspects of Ukrainian history and culture. Kobzars, who had once
enjoyed status in society, turned to street performance but in some cities were
arrested and their instruments destroyed. They were relentlessly persecuted and
all but wiped out.
A few of them survived, however, and a rekindling of interest in
them and in the bandura sparked a rise in Ukrainian
self-awareness. There was even a brief period during which the
Russian government showed tolerance to Ukrainian language and culture.
Then, the Communist Party launched a fight against nationalist
tendencies. Kobzars, and even the manufacture of banduras, were once again
restricted, all in an effort to quell a movement for the liberation of Ukraine.
Bandurists were harassed, arrested, exiled, tortured, and even executed.
In 1932 (or 1933; accounts vary), on the orders of Joseph Stalin,
Soviet authorities invited all Ukrainian Kobzars to attend a congress in Kharkiv.
All who attended were taken outside the city and put to death. According to
Yarko, the only reason that anyone knows about the bandura today is because of
a bandurist who figuratively “missed the train to Kharkiv.”
No documents exist – or at least none have been found – to
substantiate the story about the mass execution of Kobzars and other
traditional Ukrainian performers. But there’s plenty of evidence that SOMETHING
happened, that bandurists died or disappeared in significant numbers around
that time, and with all that we now know about Stalin, the story is more than
plausible.
And isn’t that the way to subjugate a culture? Over and over
throughout history … Irish, living in Ireland, yet forbidden to speak their own
Irish language. Native American children sent off to boarding schools, in order
to “Kill the Indian in him, and save the man.” The playing of bagpipes banned
in Scotland by the Act of Proscription of 1746. Obliterate any semblance of
cultural identity.
Historically, Imperial Russia, the Austro-Hungarian Empire, Poland, and Lithuania all have claimed jurisdiction over Ukraine. I don’t pretend to understand all of the complexities that have led to Russia’s current attempt to once again annex Ukraine. But my sympathies lie firmly with Ukraine as they fight, yet again, to maintain their identity as a culture and as a sovereign state.
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