My Hope Hit: The song that carried Ukraine across borders​

When I think of hope, I think of ‘Shchedryk,’ a Ukrainian folk song that many people around the world know as ‘Carol of the Bells.’ Before I knew it was a global Christmas classic, it was a song I sang as child in Ukraine – knocking on doors, singing carols, wishing neighbours blessings and joy.

Back then, I didn’t think much about the lyrics or the history of the song. It was just tradition, something festive and familiar. When I discovered that ‘Shchedryk’ had travelled the world a century ago, just like me, I was stunned.

Mariia.

In 1919, as Ukraine fought for its independence, a choir was sent to Europe and America to sing Ukrainian songs and show the world that we are a real country with our own language and culture. ‘Shchedryk’ was part of that choir’s repertoire. It touched hearts everywhere, playing a major role in breaking Ukraine out into the wider world. But even then, the composer, Mykola Leontovych, was killed by the Soviet Union. The song survived, but he didn’t.

Of all the Ukrainian songs that the choir performed, ‘Shchedryk’ was the only one that stuck, and eventually an American choir director wrote new lyrics in English. The Ukrainian folk lyrics about a bird returning home in springtime were changed to lyrics about bells. The song is everywhere – in the UK, Australia – but it has deep roots in the history of Ukraine.

Music is a language without words. It doesn’t matter what language you speak – you’ll understand the meaning and the purpose of a song. Sometimes, it gives you answers before you know what the lyrics mean – it’s like a key.

Winter in Ukraine is cold; minus 15 degrees is not unusual. But nothing prepared me for the winter of 2022. I had no clue what was ahead. I was at home with my seven-year-old son when the war began. At 4 am, a massive explosion shook our house. I thought it was a military drill. We lived between two bases, so we were used to distant sounds. But this was different.

I called my mother and brother, who lived near the Russian border. No answer. For two days, I didn’t know if they were alive. I had no food, no fuel, no plan. I wasn’t prepared because I hadn’t believed that war could happen again.

When I finally heard from my mother, I knew we had to leave. The Russian army was coming. I packed what I could – three pillows, a few blankets, a helmet I found for my son and his Scooby-Doo teddy bear. I taped a sign to the car window: “Child inside.” I didn’t pack clothes. I didn’t think about myself. I just drove. I knew I had to keep going because he depended on me to survive. They were the most stressful days of my life.

We made it to Romania, then eventually to the UK. My son still sleeps with that teddy bear. He speaks English now. He has friends here. But he still draws pictures of war, of Ukraine protecting Scooby-Doo.

When you hear the word ‘refugee’ or ‘migrant,’ it’s nothing. It’s like a zero. But when you say ‘neighbour’ or ‘friend,’ you see someone who has their own stories, their own troubles, similar to yours.

I never wanted to leave Ukraine. I had two businesses, a home with a view of the pine woods, a river nearby where I swam in summer. Life was good. I didn’t flee for opportunity. I fled for survival.

Now, I use my voice and my art to tell our story. I’m not a singer, but I’m a filmmaker. I made a documentary called ‘Children’s Voices’ about Ukrainian children who are refugees in the UK. It was screened in Parliament and won awards at festivals. But more than that, it gave our children a voice.

I feel like it’s my responsibility to raise awareness about Ukraine, talking about our history, music and culture to change the way that people think about my country. That’s why I started my podcast, Ukrainian New Identity. We talk about language, land and history. We talk about what it means to be Ukrainian. Because we are a nation with our own culture, our own stories, our own songs.

When I arrived in the UK, I didn’t know what to expect. But I found a community here – Ukrainians, but also English people who welcomed me and supported my projects. I realised that the UK is a mosaic of cultures, just like Ukraine.

If you hear ‘Carol of the Bells’ this Christmas, remember its roots. ‘Shchedryk’ is a symbol of resilience. It survived war and censorship, it crossed oceans and borders. It became part of the world’s soundtrack, even if people forgot where it came from.

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