Julia (38)

Bzenica, May 7, 2023. 437th day of the war.

She greeted me with a big smile. Slowly, she began to speak. Determination and energy shone from her, ready to face everything life had thrown at her. Her optimism was contagious. Then she started talking about her brother. The smile on her face was replaced by sadness. To fight every day with the fear for her loved ones, to act as if everything is fine at work every day, to be a support to her children, requires an infinite amount of energy. She knows she has to be strong. She knows there is still a long and difficult road ahead before Ukraine is rebuilt and safe. She knows the end is nowhere in sight and she is determined to fight. And when her time comes, she will fight with a weapon in her hand.

“I come from the city of Bila Tserkva, which is located 70 kilometers from Kyiv. The weekend before the war started, I was in the capital with my friends, looking for a suitable restaurant around Kyiv for the wedding of one of my friend's daughters. In the evening, on the occasion of one of my friends' birthdays, we went to Irpin. Since I was driving, we promised each other that I would come again in a week, but without the car, so we could properly celebrate her birthday in a karaoke bar. However, that didn't happen. On February 24, our lives completely changed. None of us expected it; we couldn't believe what had happened. Someone sent me a link to the Russian president's speech. I thought he had gone mad. He was talking nonsense, and no one could believe his words. Did Lenin supposedly create Ukraine? The city of Bila Tserkva was founded in 1032 by Prince Yaroslav the Wise, so it’s almost 1,000 years old. How could Lenin have founded Ukraine?”

“In the morning, I was awakened by the sounds of explosions, car alarms, and the barking of frightened dogs. We lived in an apartment complex in one of four 9-story buildings. Almost immediately, a traffic jam formed near the nearby gas station. I had the necessary documents ready; my father had taught me since childhood to keep all important things in one place. But it didn't occur to me to fill up the car with gas. The children asked me what was happening. I didn't know how to answer them; the only thing I was certain of was that we wouldn't be going to school that day. No one believed that something like this could happen in the 21st century. We spent the next day in shock, not knowing what to do, whether to leave or stay. There were traffic jams everywhere, and gunfire could be heard. We didn't know what the situation was at the borders. Leaving was not easy. My friends, who left the day after the war began, traveled with small children aged 4 and 5 years and a small baby from Kyiv to Lviv for an unbelievable 40 hours.”

“Our apartment building didn’t have a shelter; the only place we could hide was in my parents’ basement. If a 9-story building had collapsed on us, it probably wouldn’t have ended well. We decided to go to relatives’ house, which had a better-built basement where we felt safer. We spent the night in that basement. In February, in the bitter cold. We wrapped the children in everything we could find. We stayed there the entire next day as well. There was nothing left to buy in the grocery stores.”

“The adrenaline and anger I felt inside made me tell my husband that if I didn’t have children, I would go and fight. The adrenaline probably helped me manage the whole situation. It was only when I got to Slovakia, when I could finally calm down, that I fully realized what had happened.”

“I was aware that I was an adult, that I had to make a decision about my future life. When you have children, there’s no other option but to leave. Children will do what you do and live as you decide. We could have chosen to stay in the basement, in the cold, and with nothing to eat. We left on March 1st, and on March 4th, the Russians occupied Bucha. Bucha is about 70 kilometers from us. There was an old airport nearby that was bombed. When I watched the news, I saw how a tank ran over a car in Kyiv, in the part of the city where we had lived for years. No one knew what would happen next. When you see civilians being killed, and they’re shooting at civilian cars, you realize this is something you don’t want for your children; they can’t choose, but you can. The fear for my daughters, of what would happen if the Russians came and we found ourselves under their occupation…”

“We agreed that my mother would drive during the day, and I would take over at night. I needed to close my eyes and sleep for a while. I couldn’t; as soon as I closed my eyes, I started trembling, I couldn’t fall asleep. I couldn’t calm down. It was terrible; I wouldn’t want to experience it again. We told ourselves that we had to find the shortest route and get to the border as quickly as possible. I realized that only beyond the border would we find peace from the rockets, safety. Our journey took us through Moldova. At first, we thought about fleeing to Italy, where my mother’s sister lives. Four of us fit into our small Getz. Me, my mother, and my two daughters (Arina, 10 years old, and Masha, 14 years old). We packed only blankets and a small food package. We dressed in the warmest clothes we had. I didn’t bring anything else with me. We left in a hurry. My mother didn’t realize until after we arrived in Slovakia that she didn’t have a bra. For the first month, we wore other people’s shoes. It’s an uncomfortable feeling, but we survived it.”

"Before the border with Moldova, we found a volunteer center where they accommodated us in a kindergarten. We spent the night in a gym on small children's mattresses, with blankets meant for preschoolers. We woke up at every siren, at every unexpected noise. In those few days, we had developed a reaction. Although we were far from the battlefield, we still didn't feel safe. Even my daughters sensed it intensely. When we were leaving, we spoke with my husband on the phone. He told us that Russian soldiers had arrived in Bashtanka, the town where my husband's parents live. He told me that the town center was bombed when the Russian column arrived. His mother started stammering, not understanding what was happening. I felt a sense of hysteria. The next day, we crossed the border. I felt like I no longer had to be afraid, but I couldn’t stop thinking about everything I had left behind. My whole family, my entire life. I had no idea where my friends were or what had happened to them. We continued through Romania; our difficult journey took us through the mountains. On the third day, we reached a small town. We didn't know the local language, and we couldn’t find our way to a shopping center where we could connect to Wi-Fi and download maps. We stopped by a woman, but we couldn’t communicate. She got into the car and indicated for us to follow her. She led us to a shopping center, where we connected to the internet and, with the help of a translator, we were able to talk. Her husband, who spoke English, arrived. They provided us with shelter and fed us. They opened their home to complete strangers. I admire these people! We are very grateful to them!”

“The next day, we continued our journey to Hungary. It was a difficult journey. At the border, we were told that the wait time was 8 hours. We found a hotel where we stayed for another night. I was thinking about what I would do in Italy. I didn’t know the language, and the Italian mentality was too foreign to me...”

“Our journey took us 4 days. We cried at every border. My mom was driving, and I was the navigator. I didn’t expect her to manage it. We traveled 1,500 kilometers. Now she doesn’t want to drive anymore. Maybe it reminds her of that journey. She prefers to sit in the passenger seat. We agreed that we would rest a bit and then decide whether to continue. The gentleman who provided us with accommodation in Slovakia is like a second father to me. I’m grateful that he offered us this house; it’s quiet and peaceful here. When we arrived, I didn’t want to see people. I just wanted to be alone with my children. At first, we thought we would stay only for a month or two. But the war continued. The host helped us arrange school for the children, all the necessary documents; he helped us a lot. We were lucky to find good people. We experienced great evil, and he and other good people helped balance it out.”

"My husband had to stay home; he hasn't been called up yet. My father is no longer alive. I have a brother who is fighting in Ukraine. His wife refused to leave; she decided to stay with him. Years ago, after finishing high school, my brother wanted to continue his studies at a military academy, but he wasn’t accepted due to health problems. He’s not a professional soldier. However, he couldn’t stand staying at home, so he decided to go and help defend his country and his family. Now, he is fighting where the situation is the most intense. Every day, I wait for him to send me a smiley face so that I know he’s okay. He can’t tell me any details, nothing that could reveal their positions."

"My daughters heard the explosions and immediately understood what was happening. They naturally relied on their parents to take care of them, to keep them safe. Thankfully, that’s how nature arranged it. Over time, I realized that the hardest part for them was losing contact with their peers. My older daughter, right after our arrival in Slovakia, tried to find her friends. On March 1, 2022, she lost contact with one of her friends from Mariupol and didn’t know what happened to her for a long time. It wasn’t until May that this family managed to escape through Russia, and my daughter finally found out that her friend was safe. We cried together with joy. Situations like this are hard for adults, and even more so for children. Before the war, she had prepared a gift for another friend, but didn’t get the chance to give it to her. She brought it with her here, to Slovakia. Before Christmas, we traveled to Uzhhorod for medical visits and necessary paperwork, and my husband came to meet us. She gave the gift to my husband, and he delivered it to her friend. It reached her hands almost a year later."

"Many of my friends from Ukraine have left. My former neighbor and several acquaintances from school went to war and are no longer alive. Every time I read news of someone I know passing away, I experience shock. I try to live in the here and now, but sometimes I succumb to those sad thoughts. I try not to watch the news, not to read sad information. I’m in contact with my brother, and I wait every hour for him to call me. Yesterday, he sent me a video. On one hand, it made me laugh, but on the other, it was terrible. They have to keep their sense of humor. In the video, he said, 'They’re shooting at our car, we need to go faster!' Being in Bakhmut and joking around, it helps them cope with the situation. Sometimes we talk longer, but it’s not always possible. Usually, I tell him about how we’re doing. He needs to hear someone, to listen to stories about normal life. When the war ends, it will be difficult for everyone who was on the front lines. They’ve gotten used to the adrenaline. When there’s peace, they’ll feel useless. They will need psychological help, and I’m afraid of that. Every day they see terrible things, every day they see death. It will be hard for them to cope with it. It will be even more challenging because right now they can’t talk about anything. It’s too risky. Ninety percent of the people who stayed in the frontline area where my brother is fighting today are Russophiles. Those who stayed are reporting their positions. A 14-year-old boy told him that the Soviet Union is great. Because of people like this, we have problems today. I don’t understand it. Who did they come to save? Our entire family speaks Russian. We’ve never had any problems. Propaganda is a dangerous thing.”

"My father was a Soviet soldier, and my parents lived here in Slovakia briefly 38 years ago. I was born to them in Slovakia in 1985. We returned home a year later. Both of my grandmothers were Russian, and my grandfathers were Polish, but we all lived in Ukraine. I grew up there, studied there, and my children grew up in Ukraine, and I feel like a Ukrainian. I have no connection to Russia. It’s very difficult. I have to live, I have to work, I have to take care of my children. I came here for them, so they could have a normal life. I have to be strong because if I gave in to depression, the children wouldn’t be okay either.”

"My friends who have returned from abroad tell me that they have already gotten used to the sirens and constant power outages. But whenever something bangs during our phone calls, they immediately get startled. They live under immense psychological pressure. The children have online classes one day and go to school the next day, but during classes, they have to run to the shelters. What kind of quality of life is that? It’s not normal! Shortly after we arrived in Slovakia, there was a wedding in our village. The celebration included fireworks. I watched them and tried to calm myself, but inside, I was shaking all over. The sound strongly reminded me of what we experienced at home."

"The children wanted to return home, but when we were in Uzhhorod before Christmas, we experienced power outages. The elevators weren’t working. It was December and cold. Everywhere, backup generators were humming. After returning to Slovakia, they didn’t mention it even once. My older daughter already has friends here. She was accepted into the conservatory; she’s a pianist. My younger daughter and I plan to move closer to her as soon as possible. Back home, I worked in a dental office; here, I went to a restaurant and said I would do any job. I started as a kitchen helper, later did deliveries, and occasionally worked as a waitress. Gradually, I learned Slovak. It’s not easy work; I plan to move forward and find a better job."

"We should learn to use our reason and form our own opinions. Today, someone comes up with something and everyone believes it. We need to think and analyze information. We shouldn’t believe everything right away. Both of my mother’s cousins are in the Russian army. One of them communicates with us, asking how we are. We know that it’s complicated to get real information in Russia. The other says that when he’s called, he will go to kill ‘chochlov’ (a derogatory term for Ukrainians). We used to play together as kids. I said that I would dance on his grave if he dies in the war in Ukraine. I feel a lot of anger. I no longer know them, they are no longer my family, so it’s better this way."

"I am now set to think of the past as something that belongs to history. It was difficult when my brother said he was going to fight. It was hard to see with my own eyes a rocket flying and exploding near us, and it was hard to see children sleeping on the ground in the winter. I survived it, did everything I could to ensure we were okay. Sometimes, I still wake up at night to the sound of an airplane and wonder where I can hide. Then I realize it was the sound of a bus. It’s challenging not to cry and complain. But if I keep thinking about what we went through, it will be bad for me and for the children. Every morning, you have to get up and live as if it’s the last day. I’ve come to understand the value of life. Nothing should be postponed to the next day. You shouldn’t be afraid. But I had to experience what I did. I only post positive pictures on Instagram. Some people write to me about how well I’m doing in Europe and how much money we are receiving. I don’t show them the dirty pots and the conditions I work in. I have only two options – take care of my children or go and fight. When my daughters are older, I will go to fight. I can imagine it. When they are responsible for themselves, I will be able to go.”

"My brother told me that he doesn’t believe in God. I told him that he must have hope. He can’t afford to lose hope and faith. He has found himself in situations many times where he could have lost his life, but he didn’t. He doesn’t want to hear anymore that... without faith and hope, a person is like a robot, and that’s not good. It will be a long road for him to feel okay again after returning, to find a new sense of life, and to believe again. When we arrived here, Mr. Julius, our host, asked me how the war will end. I told him that the war won’t end quickly. We will have to fight the Russians, and then also deal with a lot of crime. The demining of the country will take years. Life will not be the same as before; it will be dangerous for a long time."