I spotted the chopper in the middle of that street in downtown Kyiv; no one could’ve missed exiting the Metrograde. And there was a mounted militia detail to make the scene even more memorable. The whole thing was the rear detail of the parade shortly to take place.
A woman ran into a nearby drugstore, asking for caffeine ampoules. She was told they didn’t have it on sale. Why? She said she had a horse that was in a bad shape and needed the medicine.
That horse was suffering a sunstroke. All the other horses were exposed to the abysmal heat, too, and the loudspeakers blaring with the song “Night Time Kyiv” didn’t help any.
Hundreds of children and teenagers were clustered on the approaches to Khreshchatyk. They were made and dressed up as cyclists, wizards sporting black robes and colored stars, several clowns were using stilts. And there were roma women marching down the street, presenting a memorable view matched only by Cossacks boasting blue billowing trousers and shades, looking exactly what they wanted to look like: Zaporizhia Mafia.
The cheerleaders — pretty girls with their drums, floral garlands, and somewhat frivolous red pantyhoses — were practicing on Khmelnytsky St., marching round followed by young soccer players who were vividly out of sync, trudging along boasting white T- shirts and red boxer shorts.
There were support groups on the sidewalk, with multicolored balloons, mostly parents of the girls.
And then the parade was brought to a sudden halt at 10:50 Kyiv time — the political leadership hadn’t arrived.
“Can you imagine, they made my daughter and the rest of the girls practice the hopak dance four times at the stadium yesterday,” a woman complained to another one, “and the girls nearly dropped dead, I mean they had to dance, not just march!”
It was so hot the children’s shoes sank in and stuck to the asphalt. Fifteen minutes later the columns started falling apart. At 11:30 the girls had to squat, their enthusiasm almost exhausted. Some of the boys spent the time kickboxing, lacking the spirit because of high temperature. The horses suffered the worst. Everyone was waiting for the political leadership to make their appearance. The European tourists had left, so the powers that be were taking their time...
I was joined the support group and was given a leaflet with the composer Shame and lyrics of the popular song Kiev may [My Beloved Kyiv]. The line reading “The tired city is sleeping...” was marked so we had to let the balloons fly. Sleep was mentioned again, something we all needed badly and would succumb to it if the leadership didn’t appear now after 40 minutes of waiting.
We heard the drums at 11:40 and it was a welcome signal!
A mustached district functionary, sporting a vyshyvanka, blew his whistle and his detail rose as one, having been trained to abide his commands that lacked romanticism but were quite effective.
I elbowed my way to the center of the site, right under the rostrum where children were now dancing. I took a closer look at the functionaries upstairs and was impressed to see the mayor, the president, the prime minister, head of the NSDC, head of the presidential administration. They were all there.
Viktor Yushchenko was the only one to take off his jacket, displaying his blue shirt. The rest stuck to their formal attire. Yulia Tymoshenko wore a beige jacket and pink skirt. She kept her clothes strictly formal, including her traditional braided hairdo.
The entourage would start applauding only after Yushchenko clapped his hands a couple of times. Other times they would start clapping after the premier.
Viktor Yushchenko’s daughters were all businesslike. The little one, clad in a white dress and wearing white sandals, stood on a stool and viewed the parade obviously displeased with what she was seeing. She must have been sick and tired with all that. The senior daughter, wearing pink clothes, perched on the stool and was watching the show with interest. She was obviously not chagrined by the official procedures as her younger sister.
The leadership became obviously interested when the marionettes appeared, perhaps because they could drew certain parallels with politics and remember something from their childhood. After the helicopter’s flight and the horses’ march down the thoroughfare, Viktor Yushchenko and Yulia Tymoshenko left the rostrum. Oleksandr Zinchenko took over, shaking hands with the Kyiv mayor and cabinet members. Yet this display of loyalty to the new administration wasn’t as spectacular as the previous events.
