Speaking the language has become a global symbol of solidarity with the victims of Vladimir Putin’s aggression
Last autumn, I started to learn Ukrainian. After a reporting trip to the country, I felt that on my return, I really should try to be less than totally linguistically helpless. The Ukrainian Institute in London offers group and individual lessons remotely with highly qualified teachers but, perversely perhaps, I decide I would like to learn from an instructor based in the country itself. I am recommended a friend of a friend, an internal refugee from the capital now living in Ivano-Frankivsk, western Ukraine.
Olya Makar, who manages to make her Zoom lessons fun and exacting, is carrying on her work despite many setbacks. Owing to Russian missile strikes on the country’s energy infrastructure, she has electricity only for three two-hour blocks a day – supposedly according to a schedule, but one that can shift unexpectedly – and a patchy internet connection. We reluctantly have to cancel a couple of sessions.
