February 22
Today I saw tanks passing by my building. They looked dirty, outdated and out of place. Although I knew they must have been on the way to the military base right outside of the city, it was unsettling to see. Our home is in the south of Ukraine. Life here has not been affected as much by the war in the Donbas (Eastern Ukraine) that has been raging for 8 years. Across the country, the families of the fallen soldiers, the number of whom has exceeded 13,000 by now, have been suffering, mostly silently. Many more soldiers were wounded. Over 2 million Ukrainians became displaced. It was referred to as Europe’s invisible war that few outside of the country noticed or talked about, until recently…
I was born in Russia but grew up in Ukraine. My parents were students in St. Petersburg. For many people here with roots in both countries, the Russia-Ukraine conflict feels deeply personal and unfathomable. Yet, it is very real and very dangerous and can no longer be ignored. Ukraine is facing a lot of uncertainty but the people are peace-loving and very resilient and they will persevere.
February 24
Amidst the unthinkable and unprecedented, Ukrainian people are doing what they do best: uniting, keeping calm, staying civil, comforting each other and caring for one another. And thanks to you, they know they are not alone. They do. Let peace prevail.
February 25
Dearest, you have not lived long enough to see the tragedy that is unfolding in your homeland. You were such a positive spirit but I know that your eyes would fill up with tears at hearing this. We feel your presence. You are protecting us from above. The pendant. With your fingerprint. Wherever I go. I remember you, Andrew.
Proud of you, Ukraine! Character, honor, courage and commitment make up the nation. You have them in abundance. And nobody can take that away!
February 26
Tick-tock-tick-tock. Since Russia launched a full-scale military invasion into Ukraine, time here is no longer measured by hours, days, weeks, months. It’s by the second, by the minute. Listening intensely. Counting seconds of calm. Tick-tock-tick-tock. Are they still bombing?
Do I still hear the sound of fighter jets flying over? Using every second of calm to rest: physically, emotionally.
To hug loved ones. Tick-tock-tick-tock-tick-tock.
February 27
Sadly, we are witnessing the disappearance of “good morning,” “good afternoon,” “good evening,” and “goodnight” in Ukraine. Ukrainians no longer know what to tell each other! There is only one word we want to say and hear, the most important of all: PEACE
February 28
War makes for great stories, photos and videos. Ukrainians are not interested in making great war stories. Ukrainians don’t want to star in war movies. Ukrainians want PEACE!
March 1
Love thy neighbor! With all your heart. Extended family is not there. Neither are business partners. Amidst the shelling, the shooting, and the missile attacks, to the non-stop air raid siren sounds, no one but your neighbors are standing with you shoulder to shoulder, sharing food, shelter and conversations. Stronger together, with neighbors.
March 3
Do you see what we see? Do you hear what we hear? Do you feel what we feel? I hope you never do. That’s why Ukraine keeps fighting with all her might. And she won’t have it any other way!
March 4
Don’t ask Ukrainians what day of the week it is. Wars have neither weekdays nor weekends. We only know that it is Day 9 of war. Don’t ask us what time it is. There are only two time periods here: in shelter and out of shelter. Every moment is a gift. Every morning is a gift. Every day is a gift. We heard it before. We know it now. Let peace prevail!
March 8
Global community,
THIS IS GENOCIDE!
Moral and financial support has been unparallelled and much appreciated. Growing sanctions, global protests, illuminating landmarks in blue and yellow, musical performances of the Ukrainian national anthem, fundraisers… Yet nothing slows down the pace of the atrocities.
Putin’s troops are wiping Ukraine, its people and its culture off the face of the Earth, demolishing community after community, city after city, methodically, with unparalleled brutality. The lives of 45 million people are being crushed. Where is God?
ODESA – the Jewel of the Black Sea, is now bracing for bombings. The next one in the long lineup of peaceful Ukrainian cities and small towns subject to the devastating air strikes, artillery fire and non-stop terrorism for the past 13 days.
THIS IS GENOCIDE!
Appeal to your governments to do everything in their power to stop the Russian invasion into the sovereign Ukraine! Keep up the good work. Save innocent souls whose land is being tortured and burnt! Bring back the peaceful sky over Ukraine and over the world.
March 29. War and Work
This morning I had an important task to finish. The Ukrainian company that I write for is launching a fundraising campaign so they can resume production and get back to work, and I had to finish editing their campaign materials and call for action. The towns where the team was based became war hot spots. Many team members became internally displaced. When the Digital Group Head, also displaced, was assigning the task, she added that it was a stressful day for her because she had just learned that her street was bombed and her home likely ceased to exist. She now had to deliver this news to her mother…
I had to give my full attention to the editing but it was hard to focus. My mother kept screaming that something awful had happened in Mykolaiv and I had to hear it. I said: “Not now. I have to keep working. It’s a very tight deadline.” I was working away for another hour. I knew I could not get distracted and had to stay on the task no matter what.
Upon completing the edits and submitting them, I finally looked up the news. The regional government building, the face of the city, got hit by a Russian cruise missile. Many people were buried under the rubble. They were being rescued. I kept looking at the picture of what was left of the landmark in the heart of my hometown. The heartache was too strong. I put my phone down, turned away so my mother could not see my face and stared blankly at the wall. Tears went streaming down.
April 12. War and Groceries
It was Day 6 of the war when my neighbor and I ventured out grocery shopping. Actually, it was our second attempt to get to the store since the war began. The first one was the day before. But as soon as we joined the line outside of the store across the road, the air raid sirens went off and we had to hurry back home empty-handed.
This time things looked calmer, although the calm could change any moment. I wanted us to enter the first store on the way so we could stay close to home in case of sirens, but our neighbor had to get some pet food, which was only available at a supermarket another 500 meters up the street. Hesitantly, I joined her. On the way to the supermarket, we kept brainstorming what and how much to buy. This was no regular shopping trip. Do we buy as much as we can carry? As much as we can afford? How long will the stores be able to restock if the war lasts longer? How long will we be able to afford going to stores if there’s no income?
The supermarket was full of people hurrying up and down the aisles, sweeping up the shelves. Their anxiety was palpable. I caught myself thinking: “This feels like we are at war or something.” And then the horrific realization: “We ARE at war.” My neighbor and I managed to complete our shopping trip uninterrupted. The sirens started when we were already half way home.
P.S. In the following days, a lot of people in Kharkiv, Mykolaiv, Mariupol and many other places in Ukraine got killed trying to get groceries, lining up for bread, running out to find water…
April 15. War and Go-Bag
It took me a couple of days to start packing my emergency go-bag. The shock was too strong in the first days of war: regular activities stopped and new habits had not formed yet. The preferred option was to freeze and hope that when you unfreeze, the nightmare will have gone away and life will get back to normal. Frozen, I could not reach for a bag on the first day of war, or the next one, or the one after, but once I did, and started thinking about what to pack in case we had to leave the house at a moment’s notice, I realized that out of all the things ever owned, I did not need that much at all. In fact, I only needed one thing: PEACE. But that’s the one I could not have. And so I packed one change of clothes, a towel, a roll of toilet paper, personal hygiene products, basic medicines, an orange, some nuts and crackers. A bottle of water. Phone and charger. My favorite childhood photo. Passport, credit card, and my UBC degree. Under any circumstances, these will become life savers, I knew as much. For the following weeks of war, this go-bag would be next to me at all times: at my bedside during the night, within an arm’s reach; next to the chair at the kitchen table where we ate, in my arms when sheltering from the air raids.
April 18. War and Water
THIRSTY. Over 250,000 residents stayed behind in my hometown of Mykolaiv. The Russian invaders damaged the central water supply pipeline and left residents without running water. The city cannot start repairs because of increased military activity.
This is Day 7 when the people of the city that’s been shelled daily since the start of the war have to collect water from the river, from the rain, from the city trucks stopping by.
Thirsty are those who cannot lift, carry, and stand in lines for hours to get their cans filled.
Bottled water can still be purchased.
Thirsty are those who cannot afford buying drinking water.
How long can the sewage system hold up until it collapses?
Yesterday, nature had mercy and sent rain. Let it rain in the coming days! Cry Ukraine a lake, she cried an ocean over you.
Thirsty are those who are too frail to leave their homes.
Thirsty are those who cannot speak for themselves.
Thirsty for actions to speak louder than words.
Thirsty for PEACE.
April 20. War and Teachers
Three years ago, I had the privilege to serve on the team of trainers for the GoCamp Program in Ukraine. The program brought together English teachers from across the country for a week of workshops to enable them with skills and resources to run summer language camps. This is when I discovered the beautiful city of Irpin just 30 km from Kyiv and met hundreds of inspiring professionals eager to share and to learn.
The city, now the site of mass murder and utter destruction, was once straight out of a fairy tale. Newly built commercial and residential areas, green spaces, quiet streets, lively playgrounds.
As I was finishing preparations for the training sessions, through my window, I saw groups of teachers, from villages and large cities alike, walking around the property in awe, taking photos in front of the magnolia tree, admiring the cherry blossoms, and inhaling the pine-filled air. It was a place of peace, education, and rejuvenation that we all crave so much. Conference Hall Irpin: Now in ruins.
May 10. War and Lights
Please don’t call Ukrainians after dark. Every moment is used to rest, to sleep, because there could have been another attack today and there could be a sleepless night ahead. Or there is an attack happening right now and they are too stressed to speak to you. And the lights are off.
When the night curfew starts, it’s best not to turn on the lights in the house. No, it’s critical not to turn the lights on. It can save lives. If one person in the building leaves the lights on, it makes the rest of the residents very worried. They don’t want to be discovered by the enemy just because of one light.
They stand quietly in the dark: new modern houses, old Soviet style buildings, entire cities and villages. As if electricity has never been invented. They hope to survive this way another night. They wish they were invisible, but they are not. They wish they were safe, but they are not.
May 20. War and Vyshyvanka
Before leaving our home for what would be a long, uncertain and risky journey on a bus full of evacuees from Mykolaiv, Ukraine, I snapped one last photo. It was a photo of my maternal grandfather’s vyshyvanka. My grandfather, a WWII veteran, who was wounded multiple times during the war and passed away before his time because of poor heart, as many vets did, loved wearing this vyshyvanka for public holidays and special occasions. Labor Day and Victory Day would be the top and much awaited occasions to wear. It was the only piece of clothing of his that we had kept in our closet, always washed and neatly ironed – a family relic indeed.
I took a long, hard look at it before leaving and considered taking it with me. Our luggage was very limited and we could only take along the essentials, leaving everything else behind. Things like water and snacks and meds were the essentials. I could not risk more luggage. And so I put it back in the closet to do what my grandfather has always been doing for his family and his homeland. Protecting it and celebrating it. To do what vyshyvanka can do best.