Hanna (40)

Bratislava, March 29, 2023. The 398th day of the war.

Her fear of our meeting transferred to me as well. I was afraid that I wouldn't be able to handle another heavy conversation. I really wanted to be her support. In the end, she helped me. She gave me the strength to continue. She reassured me that what I'm doing makes sense. I admire her strength. How she can repeatedly find it within herself, how she never stops believing, and how she can constantly help those who need it the most. She wears a ring on her hand with the inscription "dream." I believe that Paris, as well as snowboarding, will not just be a dream for her but will soon become a reality. Dreams come true; we just have to believe!

"I was born and have lived my whole life in Kyiv. During the time of the Soviet Union, my great-great-grandmother and her family were resettled in Crimea. According to the communists, they were too wealthy. They had 5 children and 2 cows... (Author's note: Forced resettlement or deportation was one of the forms of repression in the former Soviet Union, mainly used during the period of Stalinism (1922-1953)). For me, the war didn't start on February 24, but eight years ago with the occupation of Crimea. That's why I haven't visited the graves of my ancestors for 10 years."

"I worked for a large energy company for 11 years, but I didn't enjoy corporate life. I wanted to be the master of my own time. I decided to start my own business. I started translating, interpreting, and teaching Slovak to those who went to work or study in Slovakia. I have been teaching Slovak for 9 years, so I didn't have to start from scratch like others. I worked, lived peacefully in Ukraine, and paid taxes there. Today, I have less money, no apartment, and all the comforts of home, but I live in safety, and that's important."

"In the company, we had a sense that something would happen for a while. We had a volunteer group that organized humanitarian aid for people affected by the war in Donbas. We watched as Russia gathered troops on the borders, but we didn't want to admit that they could attack us. When the war started, I didn't want to leave; I thought I would fight! I used to live on Rusanovka Island. On the first day, they closed the bridges across the river, and we couldn't go anywhere without a car. The bombs flying over our heads didn't worry me as much as those hitting the dam wall of the reservoir above Kyiv. If they destroyed it, we could all drown who live by the river."

"We hid in the basement of our apartment building. Every day, we heard the sounds of planes and exploding bombs. You can't escape from a bomb; you can't do anything, it just falls on you. After about a week, you get used to it and stop being so afraid. In the first few days, your body refuses any food. I am a very active person, and I had to do something; the hardest part for me was waiting to see what would happen. I felt helpless and useless at home. I started helping volunteers, cooking and distributing food. I didn't know how to cook for such a large number of people. Over time, professionals joined us, real chefs. We united with our neighbours, cleaned up and adapted basements, connected to the internet, slowly building our underground community. I also helped within my profession by translating documents. I lived in great stress and uncertainty. I had to leave. My mother had a friend in Lviv, and we agreed that I would go there. She lived in a village outside the city, but next to a military training ground that was frequently targeted by military attacks. I was nervous; I couldn't sleep. If I had stayed there longer, I would have developed mental problems."

"I needed to do something; translations weren't enough for me. I decided to join the volunteers at the train station. The landlady where I was staying didn't want me to leave the house. Her concerns were justified. On the day I was supposed to go and help at the station, they bombed a building right next to the platforms. A friend kept writing to me to leave, but I couldn't imagine leaving Ukraine, leaving my family. In the end, I changed my mind. I didn't take the evacuation bus; I didn't want to use the system while I could still pay for myself. I made it to Žarnovica, where my friend Júlia and her family were waiting for me. For five days, I calmed down after everything I had been through. I knew I couldn't stay there and wait idly. I wanted to be independent again, work and pay for everything myself. I'm not someone who came here to take advantage of the state. I do everything so that the available resources are used for those who need them the most. When I went to the authorities, they offered me financial assistance. But I refused it."

"Although I lived near the city center, it took me 6 hours to reach the train station from my home. Only one bridge was open among all the bridges. At the station, I realized that there was no way back. Gunfire was everywhere, and even if I wanted to, I wouldn't have been able to make it back home alive. No one talked about what I witnessed. Parents were throwing their children through doors and windows into the train, to complete strangers, just to save them. After each train departure, there was a pile of luggage left in the hall because there was no more space in the carriages. I waited there for about 6 hours. I had a ticket. Many people were waiting for evacuation trains. I saw a mother with a child who wasn't allowed to board the train because she didn't have a ticket, which was required for certain connections. They wouldn't open the doors for them. They let me into the train. It was half-empty, and outside, there was a woman with a child who couldn't get inside. I couldn't bear to watch it. I got off the train, approached her, and forwarded my ticket to her phone. It worked! They let her in!" "The situation at the station worsened, and people started pushing and shoving. The train left, and I remained there, standing in great uncertainty. Another train arrived, but the train conductor didn't know where it was going. Can you imagine the chaos at the station when no one knows where the train is supposed to go? I had only a few belongings with me, a computer, and a textbook. I managed to travel from Kyiv to western Ukraine. Near Fastiv, our train came under fire. It was insane. I lay in the train with other people's children, using my own body to protect them. We all just lay there. Without light. Without a toilet. Without water."

"My life here is in stark contrast to my previous life. I was independent, studying, going for coffee with friends, running, working. I was happy that the pandemic was over and that I was among people again. After COVID, I wanted to dive back into life and travel. On the very first weekend after the borders opened, I traveled to Lisbon for 10 days and then to Rome. I had barely caught my breath when the war started. It feels like it was just yesterday. I sit at home on the couch, with tickets I just bought to Paris, scheduled to depart on March 18. I wanted to learn how to snowboard; the night before, I borrowed goggles from a friend. Neither Paris nor snowboarding happened. However, this is far from the worst part. The hardest thing for me is when I think about all the amazing people I lost. I remember traveling by train, constantly receiving bad news. Among them, the news about friends - volunteers who went to one of the shelters to feed dogs, and that's where they found their death! They weren't soldiers, just ordinary people who didn't pose a threat to anyone; they just wanted to help."

"My mom was a teacher, and I inherited that from her. My mom taught younger students, and I teach older ones. It was in Slovakia that I started teaching young children. They are mainly children from the regions most affected by the war, such as Kharkiv and Kherson. It's very difficult; you have to control the topic of the lessons. Children like to brag about what they do with their parents in their free time, but not everyone here has a complete family. It's difficult to explain to those whose fathers are on the front lines how it's possible that their classmates went cycling on the dam with their fathers yesterday. In the beginning, you talk to them, they show you photos from home. It's a form of therapy, letting them release. At the beginning, we also have a psychologist helping us at work. Children draw, and you examine what they need. In their drawings, you see all the suffering and stress. They're not typical children's drawings, with houses, balls, and birds in the sky. Instead, there are tanks and blood. Fear doesn't reflect in their eyes. They may have angelic faces and blonde eyes, but that look reveals the desire to fight and win. Yes, even children want to defeat the Russians!"

"I also teach children who are here without parents. For example, Alina, whose father is a soldier, and her mother couldn't leave him. They sent their daughter to Slovakia to her aunt, who has been living and working here for 3 years. Another boy in the 9th grade is here with his godmother. I also offered to take my friend's children with me. She reassured me that only fighter jets fly over their homes, that there are no soldiers there. Many who stayed at home have become victims of energy terror. They are left without electricity, heat, trapped at home, hoping they won't freeze or get shot. Electricity is mainly available during the day, and at night it is reserved for businesses that need it more, like hospitals. When my mother underwent surgery, the hospital had to be connected to generators. The electrical current was so unstable that they couldn't guarantee a person's survival on the operating table without additional power support."

"I teach at school. Both regular and special at the same time. It's strange for me. I don't know if my colleagues realize how much they help me every day just by asking how I'm doing. I try to be carefree in their presence; I don't want them to pity me. I want everyone to know that we can handle it, just please don't stop believing! I remember sitting in the basement of our apartment building during the first few days and reading news from around the world. I was following the SME newspaper on Twitter. And every day they were just counting how many hours we had left..." "I wouldn't have anything to do in Kyiv now. Yes, I had a beautiful apartment there, I furnished it myself, I even painted the furniture with pictures. It would be a life in a cage. Beautiful, but... Here, I can work, pay taxes, pay for my apartment, help. From the money I earned and saved, I sent bandages, bulletproof vests, razor blades, and the like back home."

"I am in contact with my family, but I don't know anything about one friend whose 18-year-old son I am a godmother to. There are many people who are not on social media, and you don't know anything about them. Being online helps a lot. When you have social networks, you don't get lost. Without them? For many, you can be lost for a long time. I was lost for a while too. After arriving in Slovakia, I couldn't find my way back to my old tracks, to a normal life. I wasn't at home; I was practically without friends. I wasn't afraid of being hungry; I was afraid of not having a job and not being useful."

"Imagine that a stranger comes to your home, burglarizes your house, rapes your mother, kills your sister, and burns everything. This is what the Russians are doing in Ukraine. They try to devalue us and destroy our memories. North of Kyiv, they completely destroyed our museums. Many believed that Russia is good, but now that idea has collapsed like a house of cards. Propaganda exists everywhere in the world. What can wake you up from that dream and the world of propaganda is your own experience, but I wouldn't wish it on anyone. Society in Slovakia is so fanatized that they vandalized my friend's car with a Ukrainian license plate with a swastika. Some believe that only Putin is bad, that Russia is good. However, we must realize that it wasn't Putin who killed my friend in Bucha, who was six months pregnant. She was a Russian language teacher. She stayed at home because she thought no one would touch her because of that. During the exhumation, they found out that they shot her in the stomach first and then killed her. The whole world must know the truth. We have all seen how Russian soldiers stole washing machines, kettles, and other appliances, how they killed many people!"

"I didn't tell my parents about my pregnant friend, and even on Instagram, I only post photos where I look happy. I don't want them to know that I have difficult days too. The Russians even bombed some of the offices where I used to work, a historic building that I used to look at through the windows of my office. I can't return to Kyiv now. Kyiv is a beautiful free city. People there have gotten used to Kalashnikovs, anti-tank barriers, and can live in that daily terror. Once there were beautiful parks where children used to play. They are still there, but you never know where the next bomb will fall. The places where I used to go with my godchildren are burned and leveled to the ground. I wish everything could be as it was before, but it will never be the same. However, we must believe."

"Everyone copes with war in their own way. There are women who prioritize getting their nails and hair done first; it helps them regain a sense of normalcy, to feel human again. For me, I bought an electric kettle and baked a quiche. In the first months of war, you don't pay attention to how you look. I didn't know what to wear, what to eat... You deteriorate physically and mentally. You have to heal from it. Talking about it helps a lot, but it's not for everyone. I also pondered for a long time whether to agree to this interview, but my friend Julia convinced me that my testimony can help others. And now I'm very grateful for this opportunity. It still hurts a lot to talk about what I've been through, but speaking about it helps. With the war, a part of our future died. We've been building our country for hundreds of years, and now we have to sacrifice the best we have. There's probably no other way."

"We fight, and we will continue to fight. I'm very grateful to Slovakia; it's amazing that even less wealthy countries can offer significant help. I didn't think you would manage it this way. I didn't even think we could endure it! No one believed we would last this long. Tanks were not the only things coming at us from all sides; it was primarily human assistance. On the first day of the war, I looked at the sky dyed red, reflecting fires and spilled blood. Inside, I felt like I had nowhere to escape. Today, I sit here with you, alive, healthy, and more or less happy!"