Student of the Prairie

In Andrian Makhnachov’s first nine days as a Winnipegger, he immersed himself in the city’s most distinctive delights. He went to the Goldeyes’ Ukrainian Night, toured the Manitoba Museum and cheered the Sea Bears at Canada Life Centre.

He sampled boxes of treats from local institutions such as Baked Expectations and Oh Doughnuts. He tried pickerel for the first time, and even a Jeanne’s Cake. (His diplomatic verdict on the city’s most intensely debated dessert: “I think it’s a very interesting experience … maybe there’s some special way I should eat it and it’s going to be better.”)

Still, the rising social media star encountered a few challenges. When Makhnachov first planned his move here from Regina, he’d picked an apartment in the Exchange District, not realizing there were few grocery stores within walking distance. For now, he’s making do with Giant Tiger.

For all the ups and downs, there is no doubt in the Ukrainian-Canadian’s mind that he made the right decision to move his life, and his burgeoning influencer career, to Winnipeg.

He had first come here in 2023 when he was invited to attend the Manito Ahbee Festival; right from that moment, it felt to him like a place where all Canada’s stories flowed together.

“I really like that Winnipeg is not hiding its culture,” Makhnachov says, chatting one recent afternoon at a picnic table in Old Market Square. “You go to The Forks, and there is this Oodena Circle. You see this and it’s very inspiring.”

Our conversation is briefly paused when a man, walking by the square with his family, strides over to shake Makhnachov’s hand: “Welcome to Winnipeg,” he says.

The young man smiles shyly; he’s still getting used to being recognized most places he goes.

Just five years ago, Makhnachov could never had imagined he would be TikTok-famous in Canada. He’d grown up in a tiny village in western Ukraine. After high school, he moved to Kyiv to study international relations. That’s where he was in February 2022, when Russia launched its full-scale invasion.

The first days of the war were chaotic. Russian forces were bearing down on the capital. At first, Makhnachov fled to his home village, thinking, like many Ukrainians at the time, that the war would not last too long. After it became clear that wasn’t the case, his father urged the young man to go stay with his brother, who had been living in Regina for years.

At first, Makhnachov struggled in Saskatchewan. Having come from the dense, lively neighbourhoods of Kyiv, the sparse and car-dependent urban landscape of central Canada left him feeling disconnected. At home with his brother, those frustrations spilled into tension.

“We were fighting and arguing a lot,” Makhnachov recalls. “And he was like, ‘I cannot listen to your complaints anymore. Go talk to someone on TikTok.’”

Makhnachov had not, until that point, thought of becoming a social media figure. But he had always been someone who was open about his thoughts and feelings, willing to voice even the smallest curiosities about the world around him.

His first video was a lighthearted observation of something that confused him about Canada: why can’t you detach shower heads here from the wall? (In Ukraine, shower heads are usually of the handheld type.) It was a quirky, mundane observation, but something in the genuine excitement of his delivery made it go viral.

Soon, the video had racked up tens of thousands of views. The comments overflowed with Canadians raving about other surprises his new country might offer: “You haven’t had ketchup chips yet!” “You haven’t seen milk in bags!” (He actually had; supermarkets in Ukraine commonly sell bagged milk, yogurt and sour cream.)

Energized by the response, Makhnachov started creating new content at a breakneck pace, marvelling at life in Canada with equal parts skepticism and wonder. He tried Kraft Dinner for the first time. Then he tried it with hot dogs, as fans advised. He went to a Saskatchewan Roughriders game, his first Pride parade and searched for the best poutine.

Over the next three years, he would build enough of an audience to make doing those videos his career: nearly 430,000 followers on TikTok, 120,000 on Instagram, and an exuberant Facebook community.

Soon, the direction of his channel would change forever, as he began to explore and embrace Indigenous culture.

The connection started from another curious observation. Among the cheerful comments on his earliest videos, there were scatters of uglier thoughts. Some comments pushed racist stereotypes, warning Makhnachov to stay away from Indigenous people on the streets of Regina.

At the time, Makhnachov knew almost nothing about modern Indigenous life in Canada. He can remember being in grade school, reading over a list of foreign countries. Beside the entry for Canada, there was a photo of an Indigenous person in traditional regalia. That was it.

“If there was something, maybe there’s like one sentence. It’s not something you’re paying attention to,” he says.

The first time he saw a dancer in regalia, at a rodeo, he was transfixed. At first, he was nervous to ask questions, but soon found Indigenous folks welcomed his interest.

So when one follower invited him to come to a powwow, he quickly agreed.

Makhnachov was dazzled by the dancing, the regalia and the warmth of the people. Everywhere he went at the event, he was introduced as a “Ukrainian nephew.”

Above all, he was drawn to the drums. Their rhythms reminded him of wedding ceremonies in his little village in Ukraine, where residents would line the streets while musicians drummed and played. In that moment, he realized, his culture and this one from the other side of the ocean may be more similar than he realized.

“When the drum started, it was super emotional,” he says.

From there, Makhnachov threw himself into showcasing Indigenous culture, and documented the journey in dozens of videos and social media posts.

After learning about kookum scarves — the vibrant floral wraps beloved by Indigenous grandmothers for generations, originally shared in trade by Ukrainian newcomers — Makhnachov had an idea. In April, he released his own limited run of silk scarves, designed by Indigenous artist Brianna LaPlante and manufactured in Ukraine.

(Stay tuned — he has a new project in the works that will connect with his newly grown Manitoba roots.)

In the joys and struggles of Indigenous community in Canada, Makhnachov recognized a deeper connection. Ukraine had also been colonized; Ukrainians too have fought for centuries to preserve their language and culture. With his Indigenous friends, he discussed their historic experiences of survival, from residential schools to the Holodomor famine.

Through his awe in the beauty of Indigenous culture, Makhnachov showed what the spirit of reconciliation can look like, when not burdened by preconceptions.

“(Indigenous culture and community) is something super unique. I feel like Canada could do a better job of showing it to the world in different ways,” he says.

He can’t quite say what the future has in store; he’s learned, over the last four and a half years, that everything can change all too quickly. He carries the weight of what’s happening in his homeland: just two days before we met, one of his closest friend’s apartments in Kyiv was destroyed by a Shahed drone. Thankfully, she survived.

“When I was a kid, I had a plan: school, university, then I will have a job,” he says. “But then it was all ruined. Now I still cannot build plans for the future, and then it turned all in different ways with social media. I just want to do something mindful. I’m getting inspired from people, and culture, and the energy here and all the feedback.

“It’s a very big reward for me.”

melissa.martin@freepress.mb.ca