Dublin from the inside: three golds through the choreographer's eyes

Three Dance World Cup 2026 gold medals are the part everyone sees. Here is how that same Dublin looked from the side of the choreographer who prepared the children for it.

First — about what Liza did not have

The most unexpected thing in Liza Sahalai's story is where it started. Asked when she first saw "it" in the child, Yuniia answers without any romance:

"Would I say she had some sort of unbelievable natural gifts? No, there were no such gifts. But there was a desire to work very hard. And it was not the parents' desire, it was the child's own."

Yuniia names Liza's main quality in one word: discipline. Part of it came from the gymnastics Liza had done before: composure, poise, extension. Even to excess — "she had no ability to release, that came later, with time".

And here is something important for any parent: there were children in the group with better flexibility who had been training longer. "But she wanted to do this — and her progress multiplied a million times over. She is extremely hard-working."

Yuniia adds the condition without which, in her experience, nothing works: "Progress happens when there is synergy — when everyone is involved. The parents want the child to train, and it is the child's own wish." With Liza that was there from the very beginning. Even at her first competition it was clear this child was different from her peers — not physically but mentally. Today Yuniia puts it like this: "Liza competes only against herself. In practice she has no one to compete with."

"If gold medals are your only goal, we're probably not going the same way"

Before telling the Dublin story, Yuniia sets out a frame she considers fundamental: "Medals have never been an end in themselves for us. Our goal is the child's development. I tell parents straight away: if your only goal is winning gold medals, then we are probably not going the same way."

The reason behind this is not pedagogical theory but specific stories: talented children who went to the Dance World Cup for a medal alone, lost their motivation after a poor result — and left dance altogether. More on this position in a separate piece for parents.

So the goal for Dublin was framed differently: a great experience. "It really is an international competition, 60 countries. Extremely talented children. You meet other choreographers from all over the world. It is simply incredibly inspiring."

One minute before going on

Everyone was nervous in the wings. But Yuniia most of all: "I thought I would lose consciousness, my knees were giving way. And I keep saying — winning isn't my goal. Yet I was as anxious as if I were at the Olympics."

Before the first performance she saw that Liza was more nervous than usual — and suggested something she had never done before: that they ask for a blessing together before going on. Not for a medal.

Then something happened that Yuniia had not planned: before every subsequent performance Liza asked for it herself — and even reminded Yuniia when she forgot. Before the trio's performance she told the other girls: "let's pray, it helped me twice." And here Yuniia immediately set the frame — the same one as in everything else:

"Girls, that's not how it works. You are not praying for a gold medal. You are praying so that you can relax and enjoy yourselves on stage. You might get gold, you might get nothing at all — but you can still take pleasure in it."

She admits it calmed her above all: "It let me let go of the situation." And afterwards they deliberately took their minds off it: went to eat, walked around, met people, collected other countries' pin badges.

The first gold, and the anthem

"I hadn't been counting on this medal for years," says Yuniia. "I wanted to get there some day. Those are my personal ambitions, which I don't broadcast to anyone — not to the parents, not to the children." When the medal happened, she read it as a sign that she is moving in the right direction.

But the strongest moment was not about the medal: "I cried at the moment the Ukrainian anthem played. Because all of this is done so that people hear about us, see us." She speaks about the flag separately: "Everyone else's flags were crumpled, lying on the floor. And we hold ours, we look after it — because it is the symbol of our independence."

"I ran out from the wings into the auditorium, and I'm standing there sobbing, my hand shaking so much that the video came out like that. Nobody rejoiced the way I was sobbing. Because for me it is huge proof that everything is possible when you do it with a pure heart and great love."

The children's reaction, the thing she is proudest of

The most valuable part of this story, Yuniia says, is how the children themselves took the medal. More calmly than the adults.

"The children didn't pin their hopes on gold medals the way we did. One of the girls, when she got her gold, said to me: this gold medal is for you. I said — maybe you could do this for yourself? And she said: no, for you."

"And I'm so glad the children's attitude to gold medals is like that: great, a gold medal, brilliant, a lovely award, a lovely gift — and no more than that. I'm sobbing, mum's sobbing, grandma's sobbing. And we just meet up with red eyes, hug and give thanks that it all happened this way."

And the hardest part was not on stage

The question of how much invisible work lies behind those three medals Yuniia turns in a direction you would not expect. The hardest part is not the rehearsals.

"The hardest thing, I suppose, is everyday life. Ukrainian everyday life. When you have to do everything as if nothing were happening."

And then, concretely: "When you couldn't wash at home because there's no water, no electricity, nothing. You spray yourself with every deodorant and perfume you own and go to work. Because you have no right to show the children how hard it is for you, how bad you feel and that you want to sleep."

And the journey, which an audience never thinks about at all: "We travel three days to a competition — compared with children who got on a plane and arrived in 10 hours. And in those circumstances our children go out and take their gold."

What it means for a choreographer from Irpin

Asked what it means to her that children from her group compete for the Ukrainian national team on a world stage, Yuniia does not talk about status:

"These children have a hard life — and still they have the boldness, the character to compete with children from everywhere at international level. For me that is unbelievable gratitude. Because I know that this moment will stay etched into each child's life forever."

And the conclusion she returns to in different words several times during the conversation: "For me it is a privilege to work with children. To work with their souls."

Liza's full story — from her first class to three golds: "Liza's road".