Дмитро Терзі Dmitro Terzi

* 1944

  • We lived in these Bulgarian villages. And all around the villages were Bulgarian, and there was one speech, one culture, one folklore, and practically one face, and you couldn't, nobody spoke Russian or Ukrainian, naturally. When school started, the first school under Romanians, they even obliged to learn the Romanian language, but while you are in school, when you leave, you can speak your own language. And when the Soviet power came — the school followed. And they even introduced to us, I remember, the Ukrainian language for one year. And then there was some governmental decision to introduce the Ukrainian language just a little bit to Crimea, Bessarabia, you know. In one grade, in the fifth grade, to familiarize them with the Ukrainian language — and then it disappeared. Now there is the Ukrainian language, of course. And that's how Bulgarians spoke, lived like in Bulgaria. One Ukrainian, one Russian would come, they would invite them to the table, hug them, have a proper drink, and part ways.

  • We joined the collective farm in 1949, [it was] one of the last ones. I don't know why it happened, but we were not persecuted, our family. My grandfather knew Russian, he went to teach at school — there were not enough teachers in the first grade to familiarize him with the alphabet, with the Bukvar [ABCs]. And then the military came, they were wearing side caps, military uniforms, [they were] Ukrainians. They were already teaching, and he became the school's storekeeper. He gave away his ploughs, this and that, to [work] at the school… [such things] were happening in all schools. Well, in short, the school was fine, the teachers were good, at that time, they... the war was over, they were military — they entered pedagogical institutes [universities] in Tiraspol, Odesa, in parallel they were studying extramurally and taught us and, of course, the school was weak. But they taught us to read, and they filled up quickly, they filled libraries with books. And this reading, I'll tell you, it aroused the spirit of competition. And the lamp was kerosene, and your eyes already hurt, and at night you sit and finish reading because you have to give this book to your classmate tomorrow. Well, in short it was beautiful, lovely, peaceful. And after the war everything was somehow being restored, restored. And it was much calmer and richer in Bulgarian villages than in the entire Ukraine. The war had passed there. And here, the war had passed through — the Romanians and Germans came in 1941. And they chose our house for some reason. We had a big room in our house, very big. And one German said, "Let's call the girls and make a dance party." They set up a huge gramophone, and these German records, you know, when you drop them, they break. I've forgotten what song it was, God. What was the name of this song that was popular at that time, German. They danced there in that house and left. And three or four years later, the Soviet regime arrived. And one of my (he died) relatives, Dimitr Peychev, an artist from Chişinău, from my village. And so he came one day and said to our grandfather, цell, the family is big — there are a lot of old people. He says, "Well, what are you going to do?" I said, "Well, I want to be a pilot." — "And you?" — "A painter." — "[You should] come and paint my fence." He became a national artist. And died. And a portrait of one of the tsars was drawn in pencil at their request. And I remember how an NKVD officer came in, looked, "And who is this?" My grandmother said, "It's the tsar, I think." He left, and we didn't get [repressed]. Because such things, that is, we were lucky, our village. Because the times were tough back then. And there were people who, well, how can I put it, there were people who wanted to be recognized, who wanted to distinguish themselves, to fulfill the plan. So they were mowing [repressing people] left and right.

  • In tenth grade, the teacher says, "What's going on?!" We went to see it. I won't tell you the name of the party secretary at the time. But he was kicking icons and destroying the altar. And he was so very cold-blooded. We, the children, schoolchildren, who had already got away a little bit from faith, from the church, looked at it with a certain interest and amazement. The older generation — not a single person came near the church. Not a single one. Didn't stand up for it. Either they were scared, or they all said: no, do what you want. In a word — it was 1961.

  • The country tried to present itself as best as possible. There were even such cases, here, let's say, normal behavior, you go into a restaurant, you are, let's say, Romanian or French, but you took a liking to a fork or a plate — you have the right to take it as a memento. It was included, you know, any memento. You come home, you start telling [stories] — you are propagandizing. That's the kind of department. First, I was an interpreter, I'm a man, and about 80 percent were women. And one gave birth, the second got pregnant, [the other's] child got sick. Take a group and fly, take a group and fly. By train, by airplane, on a big ship. Then, I was in charge of the special services department. For example, you come from the United States, and you want to meet some party worker or writer in Baku. Your visa has expired, we arrange everything and send you there. Or you want to visit some Soviet family in Odesa today. St. Petersburg, Kyiv, it doesn't matter. We have a whole list of these families. We pay for them, we have an agreement. Which one of them speaks the language. Let's say it's the French — we put a French interpreter there, take him to that family. There are three or four people there. They make some connections, exchange addresses, drink, take pictures. There was a thing like that, to visit a family, to have a look not only from the point of view of propaganda. But, of course, everything had been appropriately arranged there.

  • There are traditions and customs - this is very important. In the village, it's simple. Grandmothers telling each other one thing, another. Doing it. Children running around, grandchildren, "Let me try, what is it." They know everything. And in a city, a cosmopolitan city, it disappears. It disappears, and it's a pity, and we try to attract it somehow. Here, let's say we have between 5,000 and 7,000 Bulgarian students in the city today. Somewhere around 500 people are in the Sunday school. I understand that it is difficult to take a child [to school] on Saturday-Sunday, parents are busy, [they have] one thing or another. But still, people come. And with such pleasure, they run, make noise, learn, sing, dance. And they become richer - you know Ukrainian, you know Russian, you know Bulgarian. You get to go to Europe or somewhere else. You will end up in Europe anyway because you don’t know how [the events are going to unfold]. And our Sunday school gives you the right to study in Bulgaria for free.

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    Odesa , 30.01.2024

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    nahrávka pořízena v rámci projektu Memory of National Minorities of Ukraine
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We have always known that we are Bulgarians

Dmitro Terzi during the interview, 2024
Dmitro Terzi during the interview, 2024
zdroj: Post Bellum Ukraine

Dmitro Terzi is an ethnic Bulgarian and director of the All-Ukrainian Center of Bulgarian Culture in Odesa. He was born on February 16, 1944, in the village of Vynohradivka (called Burgudzhi until 1948) in the Odesa region during the Romanian occupation of Bessarabia. The village was home to a dense Bulgarian community, so his first language was Bulgarian. He learned Russian only after attending a Soviet school. After graduating from school, he dreamed of pursuing a career in acting, but all three attempts to enter theater schools failed because of his Bulgarian background. In 1963-1966, he served in the Soviet Army‘s missile forces near Pskov, RSFSR. After serving in the army, he studied at the extramural department of the Faculty of Romance and Germanic Philology at the I. I. Mechnikov Odesa State University and, at the same time, attended the Moscow Intourist School for tour guides and translators. In 1970, due to the pressure of his environment and the requirements for working with foreign tourists, he became a member of the Communist Party. He worked at the Odesa branch of the Intourist Association: he organized the visits of foreign tourists and accompanied Soviet groups abroad. After 1991, Dmitro became one of the founders of the Bulgarian community in Odesa. Since 1999, he has been the head of the All-Ukrainian Center of Bulgarian Culture.