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Conclusion: Dyferentsiatsiia, Democracy, and Development “It’s too early for us to die” I spent four months in Ukraine during 2005, and in late April I called Sofiia on the telephone. We had not spoken in some time, and there was a lot to catch up on. I asked Sofiia how she was feeling. She laughed, “Well, as I told my doctor last week, even though I’m nearly seventy, it’s hard for me to get used to the idea that I’m getting old.” I asked how she felt about the Orange Revolution—did it produce some changes? Sofiia was not optimistic: I have been working in this sphere for eighteen years, and I don’t see it getting any easier. On the contrary, things are getting harder and harder. From the tribune everyone is talking about “democracy,” but there is a lot of dishonorable conduct [Rus. neporiadochnost’] nevertheless. Now it’s even harder for us to get our voices heard than it was before. It doesn’t smell of democracy around here. A few days later, I attended For Life’s weekly meeting. I entered the hubbub of the organization’s office and immediately spotted Sofiia, seated at her customary spot at the head of the long conference table. She was wearing a lovely periwinkle turtleneck sweater that accentuated her blue eyes. She motioned for me to go sit next to her, and another chair was pulled round to the head of the table to accommodate me on her right. I noticed that she had lost weight, and she brought this up herself when she briefly told me that she had been ill during the winter and had to have heart surgery. During the two-hour-long meeting Sofiia was a woman on a mission. Little was said about the group’s current projects, letter writing campaigns, and upcoming events. Rather, Sofiia stood up for about half an hour imparting a pointed and impassioned plea that the members of For Life think hard about what contributions each of them was making to the organization’s work. “Don’t come here unless you are ready to work. I don’t want to see a single one of you coming in here out of habit, just because you felt like it. This is a collective, but most of the work has always been left to me.” After going on in this vein for some time, Sofiia realized that she had dampened the mood of the gathering, which was to include a birthday celebration for three members with May birthdays. So she ended on a note of encouragement: “Let’s all use our knowledge, of which we possess a great deal, for the benefit of our group!” That said, the birthday congratulations began. Fancy canapés and small pastries were produced, and everyone was offered a tiny glass of fortified wine. Sofiia drank only mineral water and quietly placed most of her treats on my Conclusion 155 plate. The three birthday girls were all very dressed up: they wore jewelry, makeup and pretty hairdos, and had donned their finest blouses and sweaters . They were congratulated with flowers, cards, and chocolates, and several women read original poetry they had written for the occasion. These emotional gestures lent an atmosphere of mutual respect and support, and the three honorees reciprocated by giving short speeches.They stressed the importance of the organization’s members in their lives, and mentioned by name special women whom they especially revered for their various excellent personal qualities and the good examples they set for others. The lone man in the organization, a musician , began to play tunes on his bayan (button accordion), and the women all sang along. Everyone’s favorite was a song from the Second World War about marching to the front: “It’s the road to the front, yet we fear no bombs. It’s too early for us to die—we still have work to do at home!”1 During the last chorus the women sitting closest to me at the table changed the words to,“It’s too early for us to die—we still have work to do in the fund!” During the birthday celebration, Sofiia and I continued to talk in low voices. She confided to me that she had grown weary and could no longer devote so much of her energy to For Life. She felt overburdened by her activist duties and said she wanted more time to spend...

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