Holy Collusion! A Personal Account of My Trip Downriver With Ukrainian-American Missionaries, Known as The Russians
Whizzing along with just enough velocity to pass a couple of men floating a raft of lumber downriver, we reached the first milestone on our way to Sawa long after our projected ETA. Someone got the idea of throwing little bags of candy at the women and children washing clothes and bathing at the water’s edge. Pretty soon, the sky was raining candy and the whole village—grannies and old men with staffs—were scrambling down the embankment and diving into the water to recover small treasures before the current swept them away. Nothing like this had ever happened there before. The glee that overcame givers and receivers alike was magical. We repeated this spontaneous action in the other villages also, announcing our arrival in a way that set the stage for so much more.