Refugees from Belarus and Ukraine play, learn, and perform at a place with “unlimited possibilities.”
“Today is Saturday, so we have classes with six groups of different ages,” Natalya Lokitsa says.
“Fireflies – children from three and a half to eight years old. Then youth: Stars, New Moon, Fire, Green Light. And Diamond for ‘actors’ aged 60 and up – in all, about a hundred people,” she continues as she welcomes children and adults to a rehearsal hall in central Warsaw.
Lokitsa is director and manager of Kupalinka, a theater and school where Belarusians and Ukrainians of all ages learn all the skills required to run a theater, from building sets to acting, and give regular public performances.
“It is very gratifying that this year people of an older age began to join – and also outstanding professional stage masters” from respected Belarusian theater companies, she says.
Founded in Warsaw by Belarusian political refugees, later joined by Ukrainians fleeing the war in their country, Kupalinka brings together children and adults, Belarusians and Ukrainians alike, who are adapting to forced emigration and starting new lives outside their homelands.
With many of these children and parents unlikely to return to their homelands any time soon, for them the classes and performances at Kupalinka are also a way of keeping alive their native languages, national cultures, folk traditions, and everything that defines their national identity.
Lokitsa, a mother of five, left Belarus in 2021 after being arrested and persecuted by the authorities. She used to manage the Dar theater in the city of Zhodzina.
“I had a dream for the theater in Zhodzina – to have a real studio theater, to have many teachers and an art studio and visual arts for young people, in addition to stage language and stage movement and dance. So that children and teenagers could invent and create posters, leaflets, stage costumes themselves,” she says.
“And the most impressive, but also very pleasant thing is that this dream is being realized with Belarusian and Ukrainian children. Unfortunately, not at home, but the opportunity arose here in Warsaw.”
The two communities share a common bond of suffering from oppression and violence in their countries, Lokitsa says.
In 2020, Belarus held a presidential election that was widely seen as rigged in favor of Alyaksandr Lukashenka, who has ruled the country since 1994. His claim to victory sparked massive protests across the country and a brutal crackdown by the security forces, which has continued unabated, with thousands sent to prison for periods of a few days to many years for any expression of dissent. Thousands of Belarusians fled the country to escape persecution, many of them young people and children who accompanied their parents.
Ukraine saw a much larger wave of emigration when millions of its citizens fled the Russian advance in 2022. The greatest number, nearly 1 million as of November, ended up in Poland, the overwhelming majority of them women with children, leaving fathers and brothers behind to defend their homeland.
Ullyana, a 21-year-old Belarusian, joined the Kupalinka youth group along with her Polish husband, Matevush. The man was so interested in the national culture of his Belarusian wife that he came to Kupalinka to learn the Belarusian language.
“I don’t want to lose my Belarusian roots and national traditions. And I’m very glad that my husband not only supports me, but also took a liking to the Belarusian language and culture, and now we are together in Kupalinka,” Ullyana said during a conversation with child and adult Kupalinka participants.
Prison or Exile
“Imagine the feelings of a child whose whole world has suddenly collapsed,” says Kupalinka’s founder, Olga Hardziejczyk-Maziarska.
A Warsaw resident of Belarusian origin, theater director, manager, and psychologist, Hardziejczyk-Maziarska says that in her experience, this describes the mental state of most Belarusians who have arrived in Poland since 2020, whether children or adults.
Unlike those whose choice to emigrate stems from economic reasons – giving them time to prepare, sell their property, and build up a financial security cushion – political refugees from Belarus are forced into making an instant decision. For many, the choice is between prison in their homeland or escape abroad. And so thousands of families suddenly took what they could, closed the doors of their houses, and left “to nowhere” with their children.
“Children do not understand everything, and no one can help them cope with such a profound change in reality. After all, the parents are focused on how to survive, where to find an apartment, how to get insurance, how to learn the Polish language in order to get a job and the means to support the family,” Hardziejczyk-Maziarska adds, explaining the root of the problem.
Her previous job as a psychologist at the Warsaw Multicultural Center brought her into direct contact with Belarusian migrants and the human dramas they carried. This led to her offer to set up a children’s theater group. Thecenter gave the idea its blessing and made a room available.
As parents talked to each other about the new theater group, word spread and the initial cohort of five children soon grew to dozens.
The group chose a name that resonates deeply in Belarusian culture. “Kupalinka” is a beloved folk song adopted by the 2020 protesters. The word is derived from the name of the folk holiday Kupalle,a midsummer celebration of the sun and fertility, when, it is said, a fern blooms in the forest, and the young man who is unafraid to enter the dark woods and find the flower will be endowed with supernatural skill and wisdom. The revered 20th-century poet Yanka Kupala derived his pen name from the celebration, and in turn, a venerable Minsk theater renamed itself after him.
The Yanka Kupala theater troupe, popularly known as Kupolavtsi, gave up their jobs in 2020 in disgust at the repression of Belarusians who peacefully demonstrated against the Lukashenka regime’s lawlessness.
“If the children come here at the age of seven, by the time they are 17 they will speak Polish without an accent and forget their roots,” Hardziejczyk-Maziarska says. “But if I asked an eight-year-old child to attend Belarusian-language or history classes, he would quickly become discouraged. Through the theater, you can do the same thing, only live, in an interesting and exciting way, through games, and children love it very much.”
Kupalinka’s teachers undergo special training for working with children and grounding in the European theater tradition. This is possible thanks to the Mazovia Institute of Culture in Warsaw, which “sheltered” theBelarusian-Ukrainian troupe when it outgrew its original space, making available a hall for rehearsals without charge.
When Kupalinka approached them, says Anna Mizinska of the Mazovia Institute’s theater and literature program, “we realized that this community was ‘homeless’ – they had no space for rehearsals and classes. … We wanted to give this group shelter, at least temporarily … so this Belarusian-Ukrainian group could integrate and develop on an equal footing with the Poles.”
“We have an eight-year-old girl from Ukraine, Kira Shevchenko – she is very lively and active,” Lokitsa says.
“Now, when we choose the parts, she asks for everything: ‘Me, me, me!’ And she is not bothered by whether she will speak Belarusian or Ukrainian. It’s the same with adults: we have complete trust and understanding between Belarusians and Ukrainians.”
Kira confirms her teacher’s words.
“I don’t care what language my role will be in – I understand all languages. I want to have the main role. I was already a bunny, but this role was not the main one. We are currently preparing a new play, and there is a boy in the main role. Well, I want to be that boy.”
Natalya is a political fugitive and mother of two daughters and, like Natalya Lokitsa, a native of Zhodzina, where she worked as an otolaryngologist. She and her 21-year-old daughter were jailed for participating in peaceful protests. In Warsaw, she works as a cleaner and is studying to obtain a Polish medical diploma. Her two daughters attend Kupalinka; the youngest, 11, is autistic.
“It is more difficult for children with autism to be in a team than others. But here it’s different – she likes it and wants to come here. I am very satisfied, but the most important thing is that my girl is satisfied and happy,” she says.
Learning From an Alien
“I started by listening to the children: they told me they didn’t want to go to school, because everything was different there. No one understands them. They don’t have enough friends; they miss home, their abandoned pets, their old rooms and toys,” Hardziejczyk-Maziarska says, recalling the beginnings of Kupalinka.
The children themselves, by talking of their experiences and fears, provided the material for the first show, about an alien who accidentally lands on Earth. Able only to say “tu-tu-tu,” bit by bit he learns to make his way on the unfamiliar planet, communicating with a look, a gesture, a touch of hands, or a melody of sounds.
Rehearsals began at the Multicultural Center, until the COVID lockdown dispersed the young actors to their homes. This forced Kupalinka’s first show to open on the Zoom platform. Only after the lockdown eased could many of the company meet in person for the first time and perform Alien on a real stage.
The Belarusian regime’s continual persecution of opponents since Lukashenka claimed victory in the 2020 election means that political refugees have been making their way to Poland for more than three years.
These young Belarusians and Ukrainians “have experienced severe emotional stress” and, compared with other migrant children, the Kupalinka kids are “even more vulnerable,” says photographer Yevgenia Prigodich, forced to flee Belarus because of her professional activities. She teaches at Kupalinka and in one of Warsaw’s schools.
“That’s why fun games, entertainment, friends, and friendly teachers are especially important: they give positive emotions, set the mood for trust and peace,” she adds.
With new acting apprentices arriving all the time, Kupalinka soon grew too big for the space at the Multicultural Center. At this point, the Polski Theater and its acclaimed actor-director Andrzej Seweryn stepped in, making their professional stage available for rehearsals while the company went on a summer tour.
When the flow of refugees to the Polish capital ballooned after Russia’s full-scale invasion of Ukraine in February 2022, Ukrainian kids were soon clamoring to join Kupalinka. It happened as people speaking closely related languages and with the shared experience of forced emigration naturally gravitated to each other.
Kira Shevchenko – the little actress with big ambitions – and her mother Olga came to Poland from the Ukrainian city of Kremenchuk. Olga says Kupalinka helped her daughter not only to survive the stress of a sudden escape, but also to find new friends and develop her leadership qualities.
“In Warsaw, I was looking for refugees like us, in order to make contact with people and to adapt more easily in a new place. Then I saw a notice about Kupalinka on the internet. There are more Belarusians, but there are no problems with the language: our Ukrainian, Belarusian, and Polish languages are very similar and only enrich each other. And Kira is so good and comfortable that she has been working in the group for two years now. The atmosphere here is really very friendly, and the teachers are good,” she says.
A separate group was formed for the Ukrainians, but it soon became obvious that this wasn’t needed: using a mixture of Belarusian, Ukrainian, and Russian, the actors understood each other well.
These days, every group in Kupalinka is mixed Belarusian and Ukrainian, and the performances concentrate on the language of gestures and movement. The actors deliver short speeches in both languages. As a result, the performances are understandable even for a Polish audience.
“After all, fleeing home is a challenge not only for the refugees themselves, but also for the receiving party: how to establish friendly contacts and community life,” Hardziejczyk-Maziarska says.
The company plans to work with Polish children and tour its multinational shows in schools, cultural centers, and other public places in Warsaw and across Poland.
An Amateur Theater Gets Professional
With success came an organizational challenge. As the size of the children’s groups grew by the dozen, help was needed, and it came with the children: some parents had professional experience as directors, screenwriters, or actors and did not have a job.
They were joined by some of the artists from Minsk’s Yanka Kupala Theater who left for Warsaw, like Sviatlana Zelyankovskaya, known for hundreds of stage and movie roles. And Belarus Free Theater actor Roman Shytsko, who has extensive experience working on the stages of European theaters; photographer Prigodich; and Kateryna Zemlyanka, a director and choreographer who fled the war in Ukraine.
Today, children, young people, and older adults from Belarus and Ukraine – about 100 in all – take part in one of the six groups for performers aged from 3 and a half to 60-plus.
Both very young and adult actors participate in every performance and appear on stage together. Several “integrated” Belarusian-Ukrainian plays have already been staged in this way. After Alien, the troupe staged two plays based on the works of Belarusian writers.
Kupalinka puts on shows each year on 25 March, marking the first declaration of Belarusian independence back in 1918. There are also special performances for Christmas and for the midsummer Kupalle festival, on the green banks of the Vistula in Warsaw.
This season, Kupalinka is offering groups on theater skills and improvisation, dance, vocals, stage movement, and Belarusian language, culture, and art.
Kateryna Zemlyanka, together with her 5-year-old son Misha, fled the war from the city of Kostiantynivka in eastern Ukraine. She found work at Kupalinka teaching what she was trained for: stage movement and dance.
“I am very grateful that I was given the opportunity to do my favorite things in a very welcoming and friendly environment,” she says.
Tracing a similar path, Sviatlana Zelyankovskaya again found herself in a creative circle. She teaches stage language and sings Belarusian and Ukrainian folk songs with children.
Unlike her adult students, she says, “Children keep their attention focused for no more than 10 minutes, and we have two hours of class. And that’s why it should be interesting, not just meaningful, like for adults.”
“As an actress, I’ve found a new experience here and a professional occupation, which we were deprived of in Belarus in 2020,” the actress adds.
Natalia Lokitsa is convinced that other professional teachers and performers would come to the theater. For now, though, there is no funding to pay them. About 90% of Kupalinka’s expenses rest on the shoulders of parents and adult participants of the studio through monthly contributions. Not all can donate, however: the means of political refugees and those who fled war are very modest, and many need help themselves.
‘To Feel Free and Feel Like Belarusians’
Most of the Belarusian parents do not mention their surnames or former places of residence, because Lukashenka’s special services persecute the relatives of political refugees who remained in their homeland.
Ales Lahvinets from Minsk is one of the few who dared to give his full name. He brings his 7-year-old son Volodzka to Kupalinka.
“We come here because this is one of the opportunities for children to feel free and feel like Belarusians. It is very important for us,” he says.
“There are wonderful professionals and wonderful people here, and children want to come here – and you can’t trick children.”
“I like everything here,” Volodzka chimes in. “There are beautiful and kind teachers. And mainly, there’s only a little studying and a lot of fun.”
“All of us were stressed from realizing that we could not return home to our normal way of life,” says Artem, who came from Belarus with his wife and daughter.
“And then Stefania found herself in an environment where she is genuinely happy, where she is taken care of – hugs, smiles, jokes – such sincere human acceptance. Both my wife and I are very happy and satisfied that our girl goes to Kupalinka,” he says.
“The best reward for a teacher is to hear in passing from parents in the corridor that their children can’t wait for Saturday to come,” a smiling Lokitsa interjects, rounding out the group conversation.
Accentuate the Positive
Kupalinka has made ends meet through donations from parents, and now adult actors, in its three years of life. Paying for costumes, scenery, moving or other necessary financial expenses is the sole concern of parents. The teachers also receive small payments from this source.
Others make donations of useful items. Once, someone from the Yanka Kupala Theater sent a gift from Belarus: board games, which the children played almost until they fell apart. The donor did not give a name. Lukashenka’s regime considers any support for its opponents as “financing of extremist activities.” For this reason, asking for help from Belarusians at home is both difficult and risky.
“That’s why we have now registered as a public organization, because otherwise it is simply impossible to win a grant or receive other support or funding. Otherwise, we can’t expand, because we can’t employ our teachers,” Lokitsa says.
This hard-earned experience inspired the founders and teachers to compile a practical manual on how to start a children’s theater or other creative collective for anyone with a hankering to emulate their achievement. Aside from a love of children, says the manual – available on Kupalinka’s Facebook page – the No. 1 criterion is to put together a team of like-minded and enthusiastic people.
Location is also crucial: accessibility for all is important. The training facility must have good sanitary facilities, and − since kids will be kids – a first-aid kit with plenty of band-aids.
Setting goals is another criterion in the Kupalinka handbook. The goal must be clear and achievable by the whole group – whether it be a performance, art show, or sports competition.
And advice for teachers and parents: tune in to a positive approach to any situation and bounce it back to your children. Then both you and the children will be productive, comfortable, and will enjoy the experience.
In photographer Prigodich’s experience, informal games and entertaining activities have proven to be the easiest and fastest way to integrate children in multicultural groups.
A theater setting is ideal for this, she believes, as it brings children from different backgrounds together for group activities that foster both individual talents and a sense of common purpose. At Kupalinka, performances may feature the music of different nations, or poetry, dance, costume, and more – even national dishes and drinks.
“In the case of astudio-theater like Kupalinka, the possibilities are practically unlimited,” Prigodich says with conviction.
Searching for a Place to Call Home
Kupalinka’s current space at the Mazovia Institute of Culture is not permanent. At some point the theater may need to find a new home. Lokitsa keeps theatrical scenery and stage costumes in her rented apartment. The director jokes that now her place looks like a “theater warehouse.”
When the wave of protests began in 2020, Belarusians showed great mutual solidarity and support. Lokitsa is counting on such informal ties to get Kupalinka over any humps that may lie down the road. The troupe already has a weekend rehearsal space in the parish house of a church serving the Belarusian Catholic faithful. Church members also help out with high-quality social media posts plugging upcoming Kupalinka events.
Lokitsa also wants the children’s parents to be more closely involved in the studio’s work. “Because there are so many talents! You dig in, you open it up, and you’re just delighted,” she says.
“In general, theater is perhaps the most valuable form of art, because it is creative, and it unites everything and everyone. And our Belarusians are talented and united – I am proud to be Belarusian and proud of my Belarusian Kupalinka,” she says.
…
Belarusian journalist Galina Abakunchyk works for the Poland-based Belsat TV. She has reported for Belarusian and international broadcast outlets for almost three decades. After spending several spells in jail while covering the disputed 2020 presidential election, she was forced to leave Belarus in 2021 following a police search of her home.
Photos courtesy of Kupalinka.
This article was produced with the support of the International Visegrad Fund.
