August 28, 2020

Marta Kolomayets

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Chances are if you’re reading this column, you’ve encountered Marta Koloma­yets either directly as a friend or colleague or, without being aware of her role, through someone whose life she influenced. She’s another of the “golden friends I had,” whose loss I now mourn. Marta died August 16 in Kyiv.

Marta Kolomayets was one of those rare persons who truly made a difference: a journalist, administrator, mentor and inspiration to many as a lifelong activist for Ukraine. Marta loved life and, as tributes to her pour in, we also know that she loved hundreds of people who loved her in return.

I first met Marta when my then-fiancée, now wife, Chrystia, introduced me to her best friend. They grew up together in the same Chicago neighborhood in the shadow of St. Nicholas Cathedral, attended Plast and shared an untold number of experiences. Marta was the maid of honor at our wedding in 1988.

Marta’s 40-year professional resume lists half a dozen influential leadership positions at the intersection of U.S.-Ukraine relations, beginning significantly in 1990, when she established the first press bureau for a U.S. publication in Kyiv, her reporting providing essential information not only to the readers of The Ukrainian Weekly and Svoboda but also to journalists from mainstream U.S. publications covering the unraveling of the Soviet Union and Ukraine’s move toward independence.

A few years later, as serious work toward decommunization and Ukraine’s national consolidation was taking place, Marta, with her typical energy, friendly smile and unrelenting tenacity, was at the center of those efforts: at the U.S. Ukraine Foundation, the Ukrainian Catholic Education Foundation, the National Democratic Institute and, for the last eight years, heading up the U.S. Fulbright Program in Kyiv.

Marta was never one to promote herself. Instead, she promoted others, initially reporting in The Ukrainian Weekly on those who were working on Ukraine’s push for sovereignty and then again putting in long hours every day, using her personal skills to bring people together to build social, political, cultural, commercial links between America and Ukraine.

In 1993, I was a member of a U.S. Commerce Department trade delegation to Ukraine. That’s when visiting the Ukrainian National Association’s Kyiv Press Bureau just off the Maidan, I first met Danylo Yanevsky, who went on to be a prominent Ukrainian journalist and historian. He and Marta had become close by then. A year or two later, Chrystia and I were at their wedding in Chicago and often welcomed them in our home in Cleveland, vacationed with them on Lake Michigan and were guests at their home in Kyiv.

Back in 1993, Ukraine was going through difficult times, working to transition from communism to free market capitalism, from censorship to a free press, from dictatorship to democracy. America was supporting that process; hence the Commerce Department trade mission where I accompanied a Cleveland pharmaceutical company that was considering investing in Ukraine. Our hotel had a casino in the basement and my client invited me to join him at the black jack table. I’m not a gambler and demurred. “Here,” he said, shoving five $20 chips my way. “Play these. If you lose, don’t worry about it. If you win, pay me back and keep the rest.” Well, I won. I paid back my $100 stake, pocketed $170 and quit. The next day, Marta told me a publisher of children’s books in Kyiv, Ivan Malkovych was looking to publish a new one and needed $1,000. She was helping him raise the money. I gave her the money from what I considered ill-gotten gains and the book was published, listing my son – then 2 years old – as a benefactor. Malkovych went on to publish many other books, including the Ukrainian translation of the Harry Potter series, scooping Russian publishers.

That was Marta – supporting Ukrainian culture, not just with words but with practical deeds, putting her arm on friends who had a few dollars to spare. Upon Marta’s passing last week, Mr. Malkovych wrote: “She was one of the most brilliant people I’ve ever known.” Her loss, he said, creates “an irreversible vacuum… Marta had the informal gift of both befriending and then linking people from different continents, enveloping them with her concerted attention.”

Over the years in Kyiv, Marta and Danylo collected works of contemporary Ukrainian artists, attended cultural events and socialized with leading figures throughout Ukraine – in politics, journalism, the arts. Marta curated an exhibit of her father, Anatole Kolomayets’ paintings, arranged for her grandfather’s Holodomor memoir to be published and distributed, organized an exhibit on “Women of the Maidan” and so many other projects.

And, above all, Marta as director of the Fulbright Program for Ukraine for the last eight years, mentored, guided and encouraged people to pursue their dreams and aspirations in service of Ukraine. My son Michael was a Fulbrighter in Kyiv in 2012-2013 studying Ukrainian political systems. Today he continues that interest with a foreign policy job in Washington focusing on the former Soviet states. My niece Zoe Ripecky was a Fulbrighter in Kyiv in 2016 studying the aspects of Ukraine’s energy policy. She’s now at Duke University pursuing a graduate degree in the same issue. When they were in Kyiv, Marta was a constant presence, treating them no differently than she did the others who passed into her orbit. Another Kyiv Fulbrighter now working in Washington posted: “Marta made a huge impact on my life and hundreds of others.” Indeed, she did.

The last time Chrystia and I met with Marta was in Washington this past January for lunch at DuPont Circle when she was in D.C. for a Fulbright policy conference. Bubbly as always, she mentioned numerous projects and people in Ukraine and the U.S. she was working with. “Andriy,” she said, “You should apply for a Fulbright. You’ll have to teach, but given your background that shouldn’t be a problem. You can get to know all sorts of interesting people and still work on your personal project.” How many similar conversations did Marta have over the years? Countless.

Chrystia spoke with Marta on Facetime the Friday before she died. Through tears, Chrystia told me, “I’m glad that will be my final memory of her.” We called Danylo to express our condolences. He told us Marta took ill suddenly and died in his arms. He’ll never give up, he said, but will continue working in her memory. May we all.

 

Andrew Fedynsky’s e-mail address is [email protected].

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