“Why us? We are Russians too!” Report from Old Believer village in Odesa region

This is a village on the modern Ukrainian-Romanian border on the Danube. Several centuries ago, it was founded by Russian Old Believers. For centuries, they were so zealous about their separateness that they would even throw a cup in the trash if a Ukrainian drank from it. Now, in the village of almost three thousand people, 70% are ethnic Russians.

“When the Russian ‘Shaheds’ first flew above us, I thought: ‘God, why are they doing to us? We are Russians too!’” recalls Mila Antonivna, a resident of Stara Nekrasivka.

Her son-in-law is fighting in the Ukrainian Armed Forces. So is Tetiana's brother, Serhii Kozakov. And up to a hundred other men from Stara Nekrasivka, including many Russian Old Believers.

hromadske went to Stara Nekrasivka to find out whether the war with Russia is changing the views of the Old Believers and how their ancient traditions coexist with modern Ukrainian realities.

Instead of a spoiler, here are the words of Pavlo Bondariev, an Old Believer. “During the Soviet era, we considered ourselves part of the Russian land, because where there is a Russian church, there is Russian land.

Now I have a Ukrainian passport, but it does not say that I am Russian by nationality. But wearing a Vyshyvanka would be insincere. Who am I? A Bessarabian? A Ukrainian?” he asks me, and in a moment he answers: “We are Russians, but not from Russia.”

There is Ukraine and there is Bessarabia

It's three kilometers from Izmail to the village. Stara Nekrasivka is now the center of the headman district, and Serhii Zaim is the head of it.

According to the Ukrainian language teacher, Ms. Svitlana, Serhii Petrovych was one of her best students. But he speaks Russian to me.

He tells me that he is a Gagauz by nationality and came to office in 2020, when the locals were very active in voting for the For the Future party. He emphasizes his non-Ukrainian origin as if the Gagauzes of Izmail district are not citizens of Ukraine.

“I could have left for Turkey a long time ago, the Gagauz language is similar to Turkish. But I stayed here to restore some order. Do you think it's just during the war? We also help the army. Every week we send food to the units where our guys serve, and we have sent them 26 jeeps,” says Serhii Zaim.

Stara Nekrasivka has long since become a de facto suburb of Izmail. Its residents work in the district center — at the ship repair plant, grain terminals, and the port. No one is engaged in industrial gardening or viticulture anymore.

“We used to be famous for our gardens. Now traditions are being lost in everything. For example, not so long ago in Bessarabia it was like this: you would come to a Bulgarian village and hear the Bulgarian language and songs and taste Bulgarian cuisine. In a Gagauz village, everything was Gagauz, and the Old Believers had their own. And now all the villages are the same, everywhere only Ukrainian,” Serhii Petrovych reflects.

Pavlo Bondariev shows me Old Believer icons painted by his grandfather, a former priest. He teaches me how to cross yourself in the Old Believer's way: thumb, little finger, and ring finger are put together, middle finger is bent and pressed against the index finger, which means that God the Son worships God the Father. He gives me candles blessed in Jerusalem and calls me “daughter.”

“We lived peacefully here for many years, we did not get involved in politics. But under Poroshenko, the school principal began to hang portraits of Bandera and Shukhevych in front of our children.

We do not deny Lviv, but we want Lviv not to deny us. ‘Glory to Ukraine!’ is for Lviv, not for Odesa region. Bessarabia cannot become Ukrainian overnight. Everything is being done without reason, to help the devil Putin,” Pavlo Bondariev tells me.

Old Believers started singing koliadkas

Although the date of foundation of Stara Nekrasivka is considered to be 1814, Old Believers appeared in this area much earlier. Lipovans and Nekrasov Don Cossacks lived here. Now the Old Believers of the village call themselves “Lipovans”.

Lipovan and Nekrasov traditions coexist even in the smallest details. For example, many elderly Lipovan women still bequeath that they be buried in Russian dresses of ancient cut. Until recently, however, local amateur performers wore Don skirts and blouses.

“We are now performing in Ukrainian national costumes, and our repertoire has changed — instead of Russian folk songs and ditties, we sing Ukrainian folk and patriotic songs. I write the work plan, reports, and scripts in Ukrainian,” says Mila Antonivna, the head of the Stara Nekrasivka club.

She admits that when she, an ethnic Russian, has to address the audience, most of whom are Russians, in Ukrainian during events at the club, she feels a certain discomfort. And when she holds non-Old Believer holidays, she feels the same way.

“Old Believers, for example, do not sing koliadkas or shchedrivkas. But we organize a Christmas and New Year’s Eve caroling — the last time we raised 3000 hryvnias for the Armed Forces. Now in Ukraine, Christmas is celebrated on December 25 instead of January 7. So we do caroling according to the new calendar, and we celebrate Christmas in the Old Believer's church according to the old calendar. Now we have two holidays in the village,” explains Mila Antonivna.

Valentyna Silakova was also once a member of the village amateur theater, and she shows me her old stage costume and pink cap.

“A married woman has to hide her hair under the cap, and only then tie her head with a scarf. During the wedding, brides still wear a cap under their veils. And men always wore white shirts with tasseled belts. They didn't wear suits; if you came to the church in a jacket, take it off before the church,” says Valentyna Silakova.

After a little hesitation, the woman takes a package with clothes for the burial from another room and unwraps it.

“I decorated my shroud with lace to make it beautiful. And you have to wrap it so that the right hem of the shroud is on top. Then you have to tie the body in the shroud with a ribbon three times in a cross, and again so that the right ribbon is on top,” the woman explains.

She used to prepare the dead for the burial, but now she doesn't have the energy to do so.

“Nowadays, few people prepare shrouds and long shirts for death. They bury women in dresses,” says Valentyna.

“There is only one church in Stara Nekrasivka, an Old Believer church. You can come here no matter what your faith is, even if you are Orthodox. But a funeral service for a person will be helld in the church only if they were baptized in the Old Believer's way. That is why many villagers who are not Old Believers take a baptism in the church in their old age.

A man is like a cross in a church

And as for the religious wedding ceremony, it is the same: non-Lipovans cannot stand on the wedding towel in the church.

There are many mixed marriages in the village. Tetiana Kozubovska, a kindergarten teacher, has a Ukrainian father. The father of Alona, a saleswoman at the local Fresh Market, is a “khokhol”, as she called him. Valentyna Silakova's daughters married Ukrainians. There are sons and daughters-in-law in the village who are Moldovans, Romanians, Bulgarians, Albanians, Greeks, and Russians.

Those who don't want to be baptized in an Old Believer church before the wedding go to the Izmail church to have a religious wedding ceremony. Those who do not want their children baptized by Lipovans also go to Izmail. But there are also those who want to keep the traditions.

Viktor Silaiev says that two years ago, when he and his wife were both over 60, they decided to hold a religious wedding ceremony. His wife, a non-Lipovan, was baptized in the Old Believer's way before the church marriage.

Unlike other Lipovans in the village, Viktor quickly agrees to be photographed. He didn't have a long white shirt to wear, so he used a belt with tassels to tie up his ordinary sweater. It's not a big deal. But he has a magnificent beard — he hasn't shaved it for four years, as an Old Believer should.

“A man should have a beard like the saints,” Viktor explains to me.

According to Nina Husliakova, an Old Believer from Stara Nekrasivka, not all Lipovan men wear beards these days. But even those who do, if someone in their family has died, must not pick up a razor for up to 40 days.

“I used to be a teacher and secretary of the Komsomol organization of the state farm, I wore pants and short skirts, cut my hair. And after 40 years, wisdom came to me. I don't cut my hair anymore, because before God you have to be in your natural self. And a woman should cover her head, because showing your hair for a woman is a visible sin,” Nina Husliakova tells me.

At the age of 20, when she had a religious wedding ceremony in secret from the Soviet authorities, her husband bowed to her waist, and she bowed to the ground.

“Because a man in a family is like a cross on a church, he is the head, he is responsible for the family. And a woman is a family keeper. They live in mutual respect and raise children. Our ancestors used to follow the Ignat Covenants and had strong families. Now we have moved far away from the Ignat Covenants. But has our life become better?” reflects Nina Semenivna.

Old Slavonic and prayers for the military

Father Dmytro, the priest of the Stara Nekrasivka church, did not want to talk to me. He said he was very busy on the eve of Demetrius parental Saturday.

We approached the church before the service began. None of the skirts offered by the parishioners suited the photographer Olena and me. Olena covered her legs in her jeans with my scarf. I had nothing to cover my sin. I stood in a corner of the church in jeans under the icy gaze of the Lipovans.

The Lipovans themselves wear long skirts and headscarves, with lace caps peeking out above their foreheads. By the way, they do not knot their headscarves under their chins, but pin them with pins, as in paintings from the life of the Moscow kingdom.

Traditionally, on the eve of each parental Saturday, Old Believers bring buns to church — the so-called kukushechki, candies, or kutia. Lipovan kutia is wheat cooked in a liquid soup with honey. Lipovans do not cook kutia at Christmas. Instead, according to Tetiana Kozubovska, they make lean dough cakes, which, after baking, are broken into pieces, poured with boiling water, and, once softened, seasoned with poppy seeds and honey.

The service in the church is conducted in Old Slavonic. And the so-called hook chanting is performed-when the melody is marked with special hooks instead of notes. Prayers for the Ukrainian military are also heard.

According to Nina Husliakova, until 2022, the Russian Old Believer Church was subordinate to the Moscow Metropolis. But after the outbreak of a full-scale war, Old Believers in Ukraine condemned Russian aggression. And the Old Believer Church is now called the Ancient Orthodox Church of Ukraine. It is headed by Archbishop Nikodim of Kyiv and All Ukraine.

Life is getting easier

There are almost no traditional Lipovan houses left in the village — narrow, with passage rooms and built-in sheds, deaf, windowless walls, and reed roofs. Now these houses are being rebuilt so that the rooms are separate, the windows are large, and the inside has running water, sewage, and modern appliances.

The Lipovans of Stara Nekrasivka do not shy away from civilization. Valentyna Silakova deftly shows me photos of her grandchildren on her tablet; her fellow villagers have mastered cell phones and the Internet. And Lipovans eat from their own bowls, not from a common one, as they used to. There are no longer 10 children in families, and the Old Believers' language is different from their great-grandfather's.

“In the past, when people wanted to ask who was at a wedding, for example, they would say: “Who is di who?” That 'di' was everywhere. Now neither the young nor the old speak like that. But the Romanian Lipovans still have it, and they now speak the way our grandfathers did,” says Valentyna Silakova.

According to Tetiana Kozubovska, following the ancient traditions, everything has become very simple nowadays.

“My grandmother Agrippina has been preparing for Easter since the fall. When the new wine was fermenting in September, she would collect the foam from it, mix it with corn flour, make cakes from this gruel, dry it, and in the spring, before Easter, dissolve the cakes in a decoction of wild hops to make the dough for Easter cakes.

Now we either bake with store-bought yeast or buy ready-made cakes. And so it is with everything. We understand that traditions are disappearing, that everything is being lost, but not all of our children attend Sunday school. Life is changing,” says Tetiana.

Teacher Svitlana Mykolaivna believes that the changes in the village are especially felt in the school. In the early 90s, Russian was the language of instruction there. Now it is Ukrainian, and children participate in Ukrainian language competitions and speak the state language fluently.

For the Lipovans, who had been in deaf opposition to any government for centuries, Ukrainian statehood became a serious matter with the outbreak of a full-scale war. Until almost the middle of the twentieth century, they did not serve in any army at all, and now they are joining the Armed Forces.

We have a war

“My son has three children, he could have avoided going to war, but he was infected by our propaganda, he told me about Buryats who torture Ukrainian citizens. He received a summons, and he said he would not hide. I told him, ‘Losha, the Russians are coming, you are Russian, think about it.’ But he left on March 3, 2022. He said that he may or may not have killed anyone, that he hadn't shot at anyone at close range. We should have made a deal with the devil back in 2014, because a mosquito will never defeat an elephant. Instead of agreements, we were offered an army, a language, and a faith. And now we have a war,” Pavlo Bondariev sighs.

“Serhii, my brother, mobilized as a driver on Christmas Day 2023. He said that he could not kill a person. But he doesn't tell us anything. Our mom is from Russia, her sister still lives there. She calls us and asks about Serhii, but we only talk about everyday things,” says Tetiana, a resident of Stara Nekrasivka. She and her husband Ivan hung a Ukrainian flag over their house.

By the way, there are not many flags in the village. Stara Nekrasivka residents are reluctant to talk about the war and “politics”. In particular, because the priest did not bless them to talk.

Some told us how their son or son-in-law fought on Zmiinyi island, and a few hours later they call asking not to mention their relatives. Veterans who had returned from captivity also preferred to avoid communication. Sometimes Lipovans would sneakily threaten headman with their fists, saying that he shouldn't have let a journalist in...

“Lipovans are really a little bit... reserved. I remember, at the beginning of the war, I went around the yards to sign a petition to close the sky over Ukraine. I would knock on people's doors, and they would answer me through their doors that they didn't want to sign anything. But when I invited veterans to speak to students, they agreed. It is interesting that some Old Believers switch to Ukrainian after the front, and their families do too,” says teacher Svitlana Mykolaivna.

Two soldiers, Andrii Anokhin and Viktor Potapov, are buried on the Alley of Glory in Stara Nekrasivka.

“There is one more killed, but his body is still on the occupied territory,” says Serhii Zaim.

Shahed raids have long been a common fear in Stara Nekrasivka. The downed Russian drones sometimes fall into the Danube floodplains of the local Lung reserve, and then they are retrieved with the help of swamp trucks.

This is how the grave of 15-year-old Yaroslav Krasnobaiev appeared in the village cemetery. In July 2024, the boy retrieved a piece of a Shahed with an unexploded bomb from a canal in the floodplains. He brought it home, tried to disassemble it, and burned to death in a matter of seconds... Now, like the soldiers who died at the front, he bears an eight-pointed Lipovan cross.

The material was created with the support of Mediamerezhi