My journey to Ukraine started with my arrival in Warsaw, Poland. I knew the trip crossing over wasn’t going to be easy, I was unsure how I was going to cross the border to the war-torn Ukraine where more people were seeking a way out, rather than in. I quickly learned the direct route from Warsaw to the Ukrainian capital Kyiv was not going to be possible, so the first leg of the trip was to Przemysl, Poland near the border by train. Originally my train was at 11pm, but Russian missile strikes on train lines in Ukraine delayed my departure. By noon the following day I was in Kyiv in my hotel, and the first evening, tired and weary after my long journey I was awakened numerous times throughout the night by blaring air raid sirens alerting me to take shelter. My third day in Kyiv one of those missiles struck a location a 10 minute drive away from my hotel, and was my first exposure to the ravages of the Russian invasion.
Soon after I found myself experiencing first hand the destruction the war had dealt in the countryside surrounding the Ukrainian capital. Villages such as Irpin, Bucha, Borodyanka all devoid of life, and destroyed by Russian shelling, tanks, and soldiers. I visited all of these locations with humanitarian teams helping those left in the ruins, people who chose to stay, or could not leave. Those who survived. Death was all around me. In central Kyiv I attended the funerals of Ukrainian Army Commander Andrii Kotovenko and journalist and soldier Alexander Machov. I attended a private service at St. Volodyr’s Cathedral also, in Kyiv. A private ceremony for women who lost sons, husbands, and brothers during the early days of the war. I also spent a day with a Ukrainian Army battalion outside of Kyiv.
During the next leg of my journey, I went closer to the frontlines, to the eastern city of Kharkhiv, vewing firsthand the bombed out remains of the city, including the Kharkiv Regional State Administration Building on the main plaza. I spent many evenings in bomb shelters as the relentles Russian shelling continued to rain down in the region. There I also joined humanitarian teams bringing food and other necessities to outlying villages such as Zolochiv, Lesnoje and Vilchivka. I was in the village of Mala Rohan near the Russian border in a campsite abandoned by Russian troops, an artillery position that was used to shell the city of Kharkhiv. All that was left in the Russian’s wake, gutted remains of tanks, and trash. An hour outside of Kharkiv is the picturesque spa and resort town of Berminvody. Normally these complexes of resort hotels are bustling with tourists, now they are shelters providing housing for hundreds of Ukrainian refugees. Back in Kharhiv a residential building complex known as Saldivka, I spent time with the residents, who were living in bomb shelters below the buildings.
My nearly two month trip ended with 15 year-old Dasha, helping her escape the destruction of her hometown of Kharkiv, her country of Ukraine, and to seek refuge in Europe where is going to complete her education in safety, away from her parents and family, but hopefully one day to return.
©Nadezda Tavodova Tezgor
