More days, more moments

March 25, 2024

The smoking area is not just the smoking area, it’s also the play area mostly when the adults aren’t around.

Tatiana’s daughter runs inside while Mila and Tatiana talk.

During the day when the adults are mostly at work or trying to find work, the younger children are left to their own devices. Mila and Tatiana are the ‘house mothers’. While Tatiana comes to the Foundation with her daughter M-F, Mila lives at the Foundation. They’re there to make sure everything runs smoothly and keep an eye on the kids. Valentyna had arrived fairly recently to the Foundation and she wasn’t sure yet about leaving her daughter alone. She was somewhat unique in that her family was Russian and she was born in Russia, but had lived with her father in Ukraine from a young age. Her father was no longer alive, and she had no family in Ukraine. Her daughter’s father was fighting in the war and they did not have a close relationship, so she left. She worked as a seamstress in Ukraine and could take her daughter with her, but was not able to find similar work in Poland. She experienced some issues crossing the border into Poland from Ukraine, where she was told to go back to Russia, to her family- but she does not consider Russia home. She said ‘ne moye vina’, meaning this war ‘it’s not my fault’, they’re not her people.
Here she sits with her daughter while the kids draw. She draws a dog from a kids tutorial on the phone.

People stop by with donations, clothing, some food. The biggest issue at the time was food- while they bring some baked goods, some canned items, what was needed was to be able to go to the grocery store. Here a woman had just come by with bags of kid’s clothes. The girls were excited.

Finding a bunch of things she liked, she pushes her goods down so she can fit some more in.

Revisiting Mogilany

March 18, 2024

I returned to this refugee center in the village of Mogilany in April 2023, about 12 miles from Krakow’s center and and 45 minutes to an hour by bus, it is an old country villa owned by too many descendants to agree on what to do with it, so it’s managed by the village and when its days as a private home were over, it became a hotel, and most recently a refugee center. I met Nataliia and her parents there in October 2022. When I first met them, they had arrived recently from Snihurivka, a town about 35 miles north of Kherson. Their town had been occupied by Russians almost immediately. She described living through the occupation, disbelief, expecting that it would end soon- the internal negotiations of getting used to frequent missile strikes and considering it a good day when there ‘weren’t as many’, sleeping in her clothing to be immediately ready to take shelter in the basement. At last they couldn’t take it and headed west to Poland. She, her husband, his mother who was on kidney dialysis, and her mother and father. Her husband and his mother drove in one car, she and her parents drove a yellow Lada that her father had bought on a whim to take on vacations to the sea. Instead they were using it to flee a war.

The yellow Lada. With a cracked windshield due to shelling, and a couple of bullet holes, it made it across Ukraine and into Poland.

Nataliia fills me in on how it’s been going since I spoke with her 6 months before. When I first met her, she and her family had just arrived. They were in shock, traumatized. She described to me in detail how Russian soldiers told them if they became part of Russia things would be better for them, but she had said to them- things are good, we don’t need anything from you here. And the soldiers marveled at the flat screen televisions and indoor bathrooms and asked if they were rich to have these things, she said to them no, she was just a teacher. She missed home, she had never wanted to leave Ukraine, she had had a good life there, a life that made her happy. Now she said she was in a country where things looked like they did at home- trees, cars, buildings- but it was not home. Six months later, she had a new energy about her. She was figuring out how to make money. She told me the Polish government was pulling back funding, that staying in the refugee centers would begin to cost money. She told me they would begin charging $1500 zl for their shared room (between $300 and $400 USD, this may not seem like much, but in Poland, it’s the price for a modest apartment). She was concerned, but optimistic. She had a lot of ideas and wanted to start her own business. Kherson and her village had been liberated in November 2022, but she did not want to go back. She knew that she would need some money to go back and rebuild, but her father and husband wanted to return immediately. She resisted, her husband would be conscripted, and with no money to rebuild her father wouldn’t get very far. This time she said she knew it would be ok- she saw the trees, the cars, the buildings and they reminded her of home and now this brought her a sense of peace, and a feeling that they would be ok.

Her father shows the interior of the Lada. He calls it his sparrow.

Her father has had many people approach him to buy the Lada. This gentleman said he had a friend that wanted to buy it and tour it around Poland and try to get donations for Ukraine from such an installation. Her father held out for a while, but in recent communications, I was told he agreed to sell it.

Orthodox Easter

September 01, 2023

The week following Roman Catholic Easter was Orthodox Easter. This was a bigger celebration in Fundacja Nidaros (Nidaros Foundation) than Roman Catholic Easter. I arrived late Sunday morning to find the house bustling, the kitchen full and women preparing food. Everyone seemed to be in good spirits- lots of jokes and lots of laughter.

So much food was prepared. There were tea sandwiches, with spreadable cheese topped with just cucumber and cucumber and sausage, plates of cheeses and various sausages- kabanos, wiejska- or country sausage- (it’s not all just Polish sausage! Sausage in Poland is like snow in northern Scandinavia- there are many varieties and more words to describe the subtleties and nuance than we commonly have in countries with less snow and less sausage), there were veggie plates, and dishes of herring and olives, and deviled eggs.

This is a traditional Ukrainian shirt, a festive shirt for a festive day.

Most everyone gathered in the dining/ common room to take an Easter picture, to be together for a bit before dispersing again.

This young girl is the performer of the house, always ready with a poem or a song- usually Ukrainian in theme and language- she did not disappoint on this occasion.

A visit from a former Foundation resident, who now has a job and an apartment in another part of Krakow, she frequently comes back to visit.

A traditional Ukrainian Easter cake called paska.

Moving Back

September 01, 2023

When I arrived, I learned of a few people returning to Ukraine. Tatiana and her daughter Sasha planned to return to Kryvyi Rih and Julia to Nikopol, both cities in Eastern Ukraine. Julia’s daughter, mother, and sisters planned to remain in Poland. They had been here since I came in October 2022, and even earlier. Julia left during the day and I missed saying goodbye to her, but I went with Sasha and her mother and a caravan of friends from Fundacja Nidaros (Nidaros Foundation) to the bus station for their bus that left at midnight.

Sasha sits on her bed talking with friends, it’s her last day at the Foundation, she and her mom will return to Ukraine that night. When I first met her in October, I would often see her with a baby, pushing a stroller, helping out. When I returned in the Spring, the baby was no longer there, and I expressed my surprise because until that moment, I thought it was her sibling, I had seen her so often with that red stroller. She smiled, told me it wasn’t hers, and how much she missed that baby, and that family had already returned.

Julia on the morning she leaves, spirits are good for everyone. Julia seems happy to return.

Sasha and the daughter of Tania, also Ukrainian, who works at the Foundation.

Elwira helps her mother Julia pack some final pieces.

Tatiana readies herself for leaving that night while Julia packs last minute items for her departure that afternoon.

Julia left in the afternoon, and the group got together in the evening ready and waiting to take Tatiana and Sasha to the bus station.

On the way to the bus station, everyone helps.

So late at night, the bus is mostly empty except for our crowd from the Foundation. Tatiana takes a call and starts to smile and laugh. I imagine this is someone who is waiting for her at home.

There was some initial confusion about where the bus would be, but at last they found it. Most of the transportation going into and coming from Ukraine are small cargo vans.

There are a few people heading east, back to Ukraine, some children. The TV is on in the van, they’ll be driving all night. Tatiana and Sasha hand the driver their luggage.

And the group heads back to the Foundation. Since I’m writing this a few months after this trip, I have been in contact with Sasha. They are home and everything seems to be going ok. My biggest question was, what will they do once they get home? Both Julia’s and Tatiana’s cities are in Eastern Ukraine, close to Dnipro, Zaporizhia- and while their cities have been somewhat spared, those regions haven’t. Is there work, is there food? Tania, who works at the Foundation, explained that they’ll probably be able to find work. But the inflation on food- 3x what it normally costs- the scarcity of food- this will be the struggle. Sasha says her mom is working and they are doing ok.

Moving on

September 01, 2023

Mila’s son, Nazar, whom I met in October 2022, is close to being 18. May have turned 18 in the time since he arrived in Poland. Like most young people at the shelter, he spends much of his time on his phone and it took a little while to get to know him through broken English. He and his sister, Nataliia, are here with Mila, and their story is similar to many other stories. While they’re from Western Ukraine, an area that’s not an active war zone, there are still random missile strikes, sirens and warnings, causing anxiety and disrupting life. Mila’s husband is in the war and, like many women who come to Poland, they are trying to save their kids. Save them from the anxiety of war, save them from fighting in a war, save them from crimes committed during a war, save some semblance of a childhood.

When I returned in the Spring, their living situation had shifted within the Foundation- they had lived in a large room on the second floor, sharing the space with about 15 other people. Now they had their own space, a converted office on the first floor. Much needed privacy, but I was told that Nazar was unhappy, he had become depressed due to an altercation at the Foundation with someone who, as a result, was asked to leave. He felt powerless and vulnerable and he often didn’t leave their room. He wanted to return to Ukraine to fight alongside his father, but Mila wouldn’t allow it and instead arranged for him to live with his godmother in Portugal. This happened a few days after I arrived in Poland and Nazar was packing the last of his things. I planned to meet them in the morning before he left- his bus was to arrive as early as 4 AM but that time could shift if there were issues on the Ukrainian/Polish border. I said my goodbyes and expected to see him in the morning, but he asked me to stay, to wait until he had showered- there is a daily queue for the one shared shower- and he told me his story of what happened in between Fall and Spring. He was thoughtful and I couldn’t tell if he was happy to leave, he’s technically an adult, but has lived around and with his family his whole life. Was there anxiety about leaving his sister, his mother? Their lives had already changed so drastically in one year.

Nazar describes the altercation between himself and an older man who’d been staying at the Foundation for a bit. The older man was immediately required to leave once Krzysztof understood what happened.

I arrive in the morning to find Mila, preoccupied, checking for texts from the bus driver on arrival updates.

It’s 5:30 AM, the bus is a little late, and Nazar gathers his suitcases for his trip to Portugal.

If there was a question about how Nazar felt about his trip, this photo answers the question. This is the happiest I’ve seen him since I met him. He was optimistic about this new chapter.

Nazar boards, he’s the only passenger on the bus that originates in Ukraine and stops around Europe, picking up mostly Ukrainians who want to go farther into Europe, and those who are returning home to Ukraine.

A wave of emotions- happiness and relief that Nazar is going to Portugal, to his godmother, where there will be work opportunities and safety, but immediately after the bus leaves, tears come.

Easter Sunday

August 31, 2023

I arrived shortly before Easter Sunday, though many Ukrainians celebrate Orthodox Easter, which this year was a week after regular Easter. Roman Catholic Easter Sunday fell on Orthodox Palm Sunday. Mila took the pussy willows I brought and went around the foundation from room to room tapping everyone with the branches and in Ukrainian tradition wished them health, wealth, and happiness: “Bud' velyki yak verba, zdorovi 'yak voda, bohati yak zemlia”. It translates to “Be big like a willow, healthy like water, and rich like the earth”.

A photo of one side of the kitchen which is also different from when I was there in October 2022, on the far wall there had been a bathtub, with a drying rack to dry dishes and pans, and a small sink next to it. Now the bathtub is gone, in its place a heavy duty sink and dishwasher. Too, one of the biggest improvements was the additional water tank which could hold more hot water and allow for a shower and washing dishes at the same time- before the tank was so small that a shower or washing dishes could easily deplete the hot water reserve. Showers are also a challenge, there is one shower for 45 people, maybe a third of those folks are adults.

Tatiana sits in the smoking area, the phone area, the community area- the area that provides shelter and privacy outside.

The Foundation is always full of children. This time when I visited there were exclusively young girls which brought a completely different feel from the wildness of little boys. She makes herself a snack of condensed milk on bread.

When there’s a camera around most of the kids immediately want to pose and show off their tricks and skills.

Mila tries to get to the bottom of shenanigans, thought I didn’t completely understand what was being said, I witnessed elaborate explanations from both sides.

This room used to be the dining area, but now that there’s more privacy in individual rooms, many people cook their meals and eat in their rooms. This space now serves as a community gathering space, play room, activity area.

Krakow, Spring 2023

August 31, 2023

I returned to Krakow at the beginning of April just in time for both regular Easter and Orthodox Easter. Ever changing is the refugee situation in Poland, but Duchacka has mostly stayed the same. Some women returned to Ukraine and there were some new family groups in their place. I learned Krzysztof took a frenzied weekend and put up some quick walls dividing up the bigger rooms so now families could have some privacy and be together, and allowing smaller groups to share the same living space. And, as always, and maybe most importantly- Krzysztof’s Fundacja Nidaros (Nidaros Foundation) continues to be free which is an important distinction now.

When I returned in April, it had been one year, one month, one week and a few days since Russia escalated the war in Ukraine. Around the world, people and governments are growing tired of this war. What this means in Poland is that state wide incentives for Ukrainians are beginning to be withdrawn. Poland is still a poor country and was met with a population surge in the hundreds of thousands, if not millions- almost overnight. There are countries that continue to offer incentives for Ukrainians, but most don’t want to leave Poland because of the proximity and similarities in language and lifestyle. That desire to stay in Poland, to stay close, is one thing that remains unchanged. So, while state run refugee centers are dwindling at a rapid rate, Nidaros Foundation continues to provide a haven for refugees, for as long as they need to move on or move back, or even stay. A couple of women whom I met last year decided to return to Ukraine while I was there, tired of waiting, unable to find solid work in Krakow, or work that pays a decent wage. I asked if they’d be able to find work once they return. Both groups of women were going back to Eastern Ukraine, Kryvyi Rih (birth town of Zelenskyy) and Nikopol. I was told, yes, they’ll find jobs somewhere, somehow but inflation and lack of goods was the biggest issue. A bag of salt could cost 3x what it costs in Poland- where prices are already lower than the US- but 3x more than Poland in a country that used to have prices even lower than Poland’s, is significant.

The one thing I’ve heard from many women when I sheepishly ask - and sheepishly, because what kind of question is this?- about their plans and their next steps is still shock. Mila said the future had always been clear to her, as were the actions she needed to take to get to the next steps. She believed she’d be able to find a job quickly once she came to Krakow, find an apartment for herself and her children, but that didn’t happen, adding massive amounts of uncertainty to their displacement.

Mila and Tatiana share a quiet moment outside in front of the Foundation, now with a new anti Putin sticker on the door.

These two women - Tatiana and Julia were getting ready to return to Ukraine the following week. Struggles with finding work that pays well in Krakow and feeling like they had been away from home for too long pushed them to return. Both of these women were here in October 2022 when I visited and Tatiana, on the left, was at the Foundation when it was at its first location at the start of the war. About nine months of living an in between life was long enough for them. In Ukraine, life is uncertain too, but it’s not in between.

This gentleman was new at the Foundation. The Foundation hosts mostly women and children but when I went this last time there were a few older men, most with families that were also there.

Valentyna and her daughter, also new to the Foundation. Valentyna has family in Russia but grew up in Ukraine and described that she got some push back when trying to come to Poland- I’m unclear if it was from the Ukrainians or Poles- to go back to Russia and her family, though the family she has there is distant and not anyone she maintains contact with. Her father was Ukrainian and she and he moved from Russia when she was young, so she considers herself Ukrainian. He is no longer alive and she has no family except for her daughter.
This room is different from the way it was when I was there in October. Previously one large room with about 15-20 beds, a wall was put up by Krzysztof and transformed into two rooms, allowing for smaller groups and a little more privacy.

A new family at the Foundation. This man is here with his wife, daughter and his 4 granddaughters. Another room that has been divided so the family can have their own room.

Most everyone pitches in to help load up a van that is going into Ukraine to deliver supplies. Many supplies have been donated.

The current location of Fundacja Nidaros is in an old Catholic nursery school.

When I was at the Foundation in October 2022, they had just moved in to the space a couple of months before. The rooms were the original classrooms and offices- classrooms were large, fitting 15-20 or more beds per room with little privacy. When I returned in the Spring, Krzysztof had taken a weekend to put up more walls, dividing rooms into smaller spaces so rooms now comprised of family units or smaller groups. Many of the common areas were turned into sleeping/private areas, so the once open spaces for kids to play had been eliminated. Children now gathered on landings and hallways to play.

One of the three or four cats that came from Ukraine.

More scenes from Nidaros Foundation (Fundacja Nidaros)

November 07, 2022

The playroom at the new location of Fundacja Nidaros seems to be one of the most active rooms next to the kitchen. The younger kids gravitate to the large room that holds toys, sofas, and desks- all elements that lend themselves to their own new toy combinations.

Got hurt and getting a kiss, the small culprit who caused the pain watches from the entryway.

There are more questions for the older kids. Nazar was 17 when the war started and when he came here, now he is 18 and unsure about what to do- he is also from Tarnopol, even though there is no war in his particular area, there are also no jobs. He feels that his best contribution will be to earn money outside of Ukraine and send it back home.

Life is hard when you’ve been sick and now aren’t allowed to have a popsicle.

Lyudmila and Nataliia tackle cleaning some newly donated sofas.

Back in Krakow

October 31, 2022

I’m back in Krakow and haven’t been writing as much as I’d like- for a couple of reasons- the housing shortage here has been no joke. The place I stayed before is now being rented long term- I waited to hear back from a couple of people so I held off til the last minute to make a decision on Airbnb, there was a Backstreet Boys concert this weekend which apparently meant that most places which are reasonably priced suddenly weren’t, Backstreet Boys?, and it’s the All Saints Holiday this week. Not Halloween, but rather a time when people go to cemeteries and clean up and put out fresh candles- still not the same vibe as a Mexican All Saints which is joyful and sweet and celebrating those that have passed, this is typically Polish- heavy, Catholic, and somber. All of this has meant that I’ve switched housing four times in the past two weeks. Which really cuts into a day.

Besides that, I reconnected with Krzysztof Chawrona’s foundation, Fundacja Nidaros, which is in a new location! They made a recent - about three weeks ago- move from the busy streets of Kalwaryjska to an old nursery school on Duchacka. It’s still in the city, but has some green space, feels more homey, more peaceful and I’ve spent lots of time there. Currently the rooms are large and house lots of families in one big space, but their goal is to subdivide the larger rooms so that each family unit has some privacy. I’ve also visited other refugee centers which are mostly outside of Krakow- between 10-15 miles out of town- still on the bus line, but a less convenient/frequent bus line. The more frequent buses that drive there are short transport vans, they can get packed and stuffy and make me feel like I’m in a sardine can of Covid. Which is now all but forgotten here. When the war started, Covid fell to the rear view. Not dissimilar to the US. I guess you can only be exhausted and anxious about a limited number of things at a time.

Mostly mothers and their children of varying ages live in Fundacja Nidaros. Currently, the rooms are wide open filled with mattresses and bunk beds, many families living together in one space. Adults and teenagers hang out most up here, if they’re not cooking, working, or attending online school or Polish school.

Cats brought from Ukraine live here, too.

Lots of phone scrolling, there’s not much else for those who are in transition to do. This is what one version of waiting looks like. Love for the US, Ukraine, and not pictured, but also a Polish flag to the left of the US flag.

Maybe these cats sometimes wish they were still in Ukraine.

The kitchen in the new foundation, which is also a place of a lot of activity. I caught it in a rare empty moment between laundry and food prep.

Lyudmila and Nataliia are from Tarnopol, in Western Ukraine. While there is not much fighting, the air raid sirens and the constant fear prompted Lyudmila to bring her children to Poland for a while, where they don’t have to worry about air raid sirens and surprise attacks.

Lyudmila holds up her phone to show me how she feels about what’s happening in Ukraine. It’s impossible to try not to make sense of it.

The new foundation location on a dreary day.

Poland- Krzysztof's mission to deliver supplies into Ukraine

May 11, 2022

I am now back in the United States. I returned a few weeks ago but before I left had some things to wrap up. One of the most important items was for me was to check on Krzysztof who I’ve written about in other entries. When I last saw him, he was attempting a trip to Mariupol with a box truck full of supplies. Every time I went by the foundation and asked about him, I was told in very few words and without much description, that he was fine, still on the road. Based on his few and far in between Instagram stories, it was clear he was not fine, or not consistently so. In one story, he said he’d been shot at and that he was safe, but the Ukrainian military was making him stay the night with them- somewhere in the woods- for safety. And then no more stories for a while. And then suddenly a new story and he was deeper in Ukraine- on the east side of Kyiv, he wasn’t turning back. No one really had information except to say he was expected on the weekend, then Monday, then maybe Wednesday or Thursday, I didn’t detect concern. I don’t know that was an indication of lack of concern, I don’t think it was.

When I walked by on my last Saturday- my departure was set for Wednesday- I was greeted with the welcome site of the red box truck parked on the street. It meant he was back. I went to look for him to see how it all went. Did he make it to Mariupol, where had he been, what took so long?

The atmosphere was casual, I breezed through the entry room not seeing anyone and when I came into the dining space, I asked if he was here. Vaguely I was told, yes, he’s here but he’s out. I went back to the first room and found the typically gregarious man I’d met a week and a half before was sitting on the sofa alone, off to the side checking his phone. Though the exhaustion was palpable, when he spotted me, the warmth emanated from him, and he was happy to talk, if a bit distracted.

The story I heard was more than I expected. No, he didn’t make it to Mariupol. His trip started off as a tour around the western part of Ukraine, dropping off supplies. First stop was Lviv to leave food at an animal shelter, then Dubno to leave medication, Rivne to leave supplies for the military, and Khmelnytskyi to make a stop at a home for children orphaned by parents killed in the war. His goal was to get to a military hospital in Nizhyn, a town between Kyiv and Kharkiv, where he would deliver medical supplies, food and where he would take video to help raise funds for more of the same. He attempted the southern route through Vinnytsia, but just before he reached Nizhyn he found it blocked by Russians, he began to trace his steps back to try the northern route- a detour which took another 20 hours. Along the way he was shot at in Ichnya, where he was forced to spend the night in the forest with the Ukrainian military til the Russian aggression died down. Continuing along bombed out roads, he was, at at least one point forced to drive through a creek. The dampness of the ground concerned him so he sped over it as to avoid getting stuck, not realizing he had depressed a land mine into the mud which slowly resurfaced after he drove over it and exploded behind him.

A rough map drawn by Krzysztof to show his trip. The first leg is marked in pink, the second leg is in orange, and the third leg is just in blue pen.

Once he finally arrived in Nizhyn, he stayed two days. He delivered the medical supplies and food he brought with him, through short videos, he showed me the condition of the city. I heard air raid sirens in the background of one clip as he talked about corpses littering the streets, unmoved unless they directly block the road. Another shows soldiers in a hospital recovering and heading back out into the field. Still another video shows undetonated land mines, dropped there by Russians. In front of homes, around playgrounds, they remain until a division of the army can come and neutralize them, cordoned off with warning tape. More clips show apartment buildings destroyed, he describes a family having dinner when a missile was shot into their apartment killing them all, he shows the remaining shell of the apartment. A clip of cellars that have been converted into makeshift living quarters. And still more clips of soldiers asking for war supplies- night vision goggles, scopes. Finally, a short clip of two older women in an apartment on sewing machines, sewing the coverings for bullet proof vests.

Leaving Nizhyn, he was routed through a highway that is notoriously difficult to survive, the local soldiers tell him not to go, that he will likely not make it, and to wait it out, maybe something will change. Flabbergasted, I listen as he described the journey- specifically this portion, where, again, he is shot at but not shot- and truly, most of the journey has been beyond belief. It is difficult to imagine how he made it through this notoriously dangerous stretch of highway, this place where, as he tells it, only 1 in 25 make it. Too, his truck has the characteristics of a large, red, elephant- lumbering and difficult to miss. He doesn’t really reply to this, just looks at the photos he’s showing me as though it took place a year ago. He laughs when I bring up the adage about cats having nine lives, it is a familiar saying to him.

As he continued towards he Kyiv, he becomes aware that the tedious military checkpoint that he’s been so used to every 10-20 km, are no longer. For 2.5 hours he drove with only the sound of his tires on the road, a silence more unnerving than the sound of bombs exploding in the distance. The fantastic dark thoughts crept in, ricocheting around- what if I am the only one left?

This changed once he approached Kyiv and small signs of life appeared, military checks began again, though the streets remained empty. On his way back from Kyiv to Vinnytsia, a military escort that guided him part of the way, taking short cuts and navigating around check points. They remembered him from the days before, they heard he was successful in dropping off much needed supplies and food, they were happy and they thanked him. At this point of the journey there was more joy than fear. All were happy that he was alive.

When he arrived in Vinnytsia, he planned to head back to Poland but received word that there was a mother and daughter in an occupied town outside of Kharkiv and they wanted to leave. The Russians were willing to let them go for the price of $100 per person. He was asked to go and he did, so, leaving his phone so he couldn’t be traced, but taking a burner, he started back that night somewhat retracing the 700km back towards Kharkiv. What he described sounded like a deal being brokered beetween Ukrainian partisan fighters and Russian military. He hooked up with the partisan fighters about 20 km outside of Kharkiv, they all went together to a Russian checkpoint where mother and child werewaiting. It was as though the partisans and the Russians - at least in this part of Ukraine- have reluctant, mutually beneficial, off the record dealings with each other. Therewas an exchange of money, gears are greased with nicotine. He said the partisans speak Russian and try to get along with the Russian soldiers, the only way to get anything done in Kharkiv now is to talk your way through. Some Russians help because they want to, some because the bribes benefit them. The machinations of living in a war zone.

Though this trip was in many ways harrowing and filled with more unexpected dangers than usual on his trips, Krzysztof now wants to return to the Kharkiv suburbs and get as many people as possible. He says there are thousands there and when asked if he’s worried about the price going up, Russians suddenly charging $500 per person instead of $100, he says he’s less worried about that than them taking the deal off the table. He likens it to the roads earlier, you take one way but can’t return because within an hour those roads have been destroyed. He started the beginnings of a plan before I left- had an agreement with a Polish bus company called Flix to pick up Ukrainians in Vinnytsia and bring them over the border into Poland, while Krzysztof would make the trip from Vinnytsia to the outskirts of Kharkiv and buy as many people their freedom as possible. He would put them in the back of his box truck and he’d make the harrowing journey back to Vinnytsia so that they could stay one night to rest and then be transported through relatively safe territory into Poland. In the short time he was back he contacted a few businesses to sponsor this trip, to help buy these people their freedom. This mission’s lack of certain success makes businesses wary to invest, to put their name on it, to take a risk. More disheartening still is that at least one business didn’t want to help because they have branches in Russia and were concerned that if the Russia wins the war in Ukraine then they would be blacklisted from doing future business there if they were associated with helping to free Ukrainians.

Krzysztof, back and tired, with a little buddy.

Poland- back on the border

April 11, 2022

Last week I took a train back to the border possibly for the last time on this trip. Each time I go it’s a different experience. The first time it was fairly busy with Ukrainians crossing over and an incredible number of volunteers. This time it was a little less busy, more volunteers than refugees. I also heard that the busy hours shifted- before it was busy during the day and less so in the middle of the night, but apparently it flip flopped and now the middle of the night saw more activity. There are no real answers about why this happens.

I met Marcel as I was getting off my train and heard English being spoken. Needing a ride the few miles to the actual border, I asked if I could join. It turns out Marcel is a freelance journalist who has been in an out of Ukraine for the past few weeks. Most recently he had to return home to the Netherlands to attend to the matter of picking up his bullet proof vest, which are in high demand and low stock. He was going to be in Lviv for a week to do some photography for a nonprofit and then he planned to head south to Odessa to broadcast the situation down there, if possible. He’s covered wars in the past and said this just feels different, more unstable and unpredictable.

I stood next to this lovely lady at the train station for a bit. Eventually we struck up a conversation. She is from a town near Lviv and is going to visit her daughter in Poland for two weeks. Her husband stayed put. I asked if they had any plans to move to her daughter’s, where it would be more safe. She said no. She wouldn’t leave her home. She now receives retirement and if she moved to her daughter’s she would have nothing to do, she would be living off of another person and that’s no kind of life. She also told me that many women were returning to Ukraine. Women who had been living in limbo for a month, women whose husbands, sons, fathers stayed behind. Their lives were on the other side of the Polish border so they packed their children and the same bags they brought over one month ago and returned. I had noticed this on my train from Krakow, it was full of mothers and their children speaking Ukrainian, they had more bags than would fit in an overhead compartment, and it all looked exactly like the train station in Krakow and Medyka, they were just heading in the opposite direction this time.

A hallway in the Przemysl train station. After crossing the border in Medyka, refugees either come directly here or go to the refugee center in Przemysl. Even after they’ve stayed in the refugee center for a bit, most will eventually make their way here where a train will take them to their new lives.

I noticed this dog lying on the ground, almost catatonic, a demeanor that was deeper than peace, an unusually deep rest (because his eyes weren’t always closed) for a living animal in a very public and busy place. He was surrounded by his people and I asked if I could take a picture. I tried to indicate that he seemed unusually unwilling to stir. In response, his owner showed me a video of her apartment block near Kyiv, in the video it had been recently destroyed by Russians. People were moving around, some were huddled together. She pointed off to the left, out of the frame, and said she found him in a pile of rubble. After she showed me, she pulled his blanket out of her basket, he recognized it and slowly moved himself onto it because he knew it was better on the blanket than on the ground.

I’ve seen so much art work by kids- plastered up like wall paper at the hostel on Pilsudskiego and in train stations at the PKP and Caritas kiosks. This is hanging in the train station in Przemysl where many kids have spent many hours waiting for their parents- but really mostly moms- to work out their next steps. It says “Help save Ukraine”

A couple of nuns were drifting around the train station helping where possible.

The perils of trying to do a ribbon dance with a Ukrainian flag on a windy day.

Linda came with her husband from Kentucky for a week to volunteer and distribute supplies for which they’d raised funds. Here she is volunteering at the women and children’s tent.

A woman and her child who just crossed over.

This mom and her daughter had just crossed the border and I don’t remember her crying, the rubbing of the eyes seemed to be more due to exhaustion. Moments later a volunteer offered her a slice of pizza which she gladly ate.

This man is from Texas, he works in IT and took his annual vacation to help at the border. He was specifically moved to come and help because of the unprovoked nature of the attacks on Ukraine.

A piano player brought his portable grand piano to play for peace.

Poland- more shared stories

April 02, 2022

I met Nadiia at Soup for Ukraine, she volunteers there and she’s also from Ukraine. She came to Poland years ago but her parents are still in Ternopil, which is located between and south of Lviv and Kyiv, but closer to Lviv. She desperately wants them to come to Poland, but they won’t leave. She thinks it may because they somehow know once they leave, they may never return. The war and the news of it are a source of much anxiety, sadness, and despair for her. So much so that she said her 12 year old son started asking if he did something to upset her. She explained over and over that it was not him, she explained what was happening in Ukraine. He now knows not to ask, but instead has taken to comforting her. She says they talk about the war at his school and have brought in psychologists to help explain it more. There was a drawing exercise and he wrote that he hates the Russian soldiers, he hates the Russian language which is his father’s language. I’m sure so many feel this way. This is also how hatred of a people starts- one person starts a war and everyone else will now pay for it- not just the Ukrainians, but the Russians, too.
Nadiia carries the Ukrainian flag in her backpack, folded up, all the time. It’s a sort of talisman and it has become so imbued with meaning that she won’t go anywhere without it.

Magda, standing, center, is 26, is the day to day go to person for many that volunteer and work at the hostel on Pilsudskiego. A general organization of refugee help was formed in fall and winter 2021 to aid refugees on the Belarusian border, sending supplies that would be useful for life in a forest during winter. Eventually it came to encompass help for refugees in general who are waiting for a decision to be made about their residency status. When the war started on February 24, the organization as it is -mostly the result of the work of a small group of women in Krakow- immediately realized that a space would be necessary to provide refugees with a place to rest and figure out the next portion of their journey. She says they found the building- unused for many years, dirty, and in a very raw state, completely empty walls- and in 48 hours they had their first guests. Monday she was still cleaning windows and on Tuesday March 1, their first guests arrived. Word spread quickly- both as a refuge and also for people wanting to help. They were inundated with donations when they posted their need for mattresses, bedding, food. Now the World Central Kitchen provides their meals, but before that they were provided by school children and other individuals volunteering to bring in sandwiches.
While there, it felt predictably chaotic, it was the largest refugee space I’d been in - they house about 150 people. Children run around, parents after them. Women on their phones speaking in Ukrainian in the stairways and hallways, meetings downstairs in the main room with various volunteers and NGOs helping to place them in good work and living environments- whether that’s in Poland or beyond. The constant movement upstairs is balanced with pockets of quiet upstairs.

Anna came from Ukraine with her mother and is nearing the end of her time at the hostel as she heads to Austria for work and a place to live while her mother goes back to Ukraine.

Maxim, 17, left Ukraine with his cousin, Angelina, 19, , while his parents stayed behind in Ukraine. He brought his pregnant dog with him who gave birth last week. The typical amount of time for refugees to stay at the hostel is 15 days, but due to the birth of the pups, these guys, or at least Maxim, will stay 8-10 weeks so that the mother can finish nursing before moving on.

For now, the pups are an endless source of entertainment for the transient tenants of the hostel.

Viktoria, 18 is from Ukraine, a town near the Moldova border. She came to Krakow to study law and foreign relations before the war started and is now a volunteer at the hostel. Her family, including her brother remained at home, his vision is not good so he hasn’t been recruited to fight in the war. She expressed her frustration that her teacher from Odessa has not made any public comments about what is happening, and that he is pro Russia, but is pleased that her teacher in Krakow has been criticizing the war. She believes it’s up to local Ukrainian government and town officials to be vocal about condemning the war, their silence frustrates her. She hopes to eventually return to Ukraine.

A wall of children’s art at the hostel. The hostel is filled primarily with women and children. They average a 15 day stay there, the volunteers are constantly working to place them within or outside of Poland with work and housing situations that will help them earn money to eventually take back to Ukraine.

Martha arrived from Texas about a week ago, working with traumatized children in a therapeutic setting is her specialty. She will be here for two weeks playing with them and teaching them methods of coping with anxiety arising from what they witnessed and experienced.

A living and hang out space in the hostel.

A wall filled with information for Ukrainians.

This is a free pop up clothing store started by an artist named Paulina and her boyfriend. They realized a need for teen refugee girls and boys to feel good about the way they look, and how much clothing is tied to identity and self perception. Since many Ukrainian kids left most of their clothing behind when they fled, she organized a small free boutique behind the Hotel Cracovia, which is typically used as a carpentry workshop and was donated by the Design Forum- a store in Hotel Cracovia. Paulina says their boutique has been incredibly successful and they’ve received phenomenal donations, but the pop up will be coming to an end the first Saturday of April because it is a time consuming venture on which she spends all day everyday- unpacking donations, organizing them and being generally available. She said she is happy to pass the entire concept including the clothing on to someone else who can take it over, otherwise they will send remaining merch to a similar place in Warsaw.

Women and teens peruse the wares. Women shop for their children.

Poland- the border

March 27, 2022

I had the opportunity to join an American couple on a trip to the border. They came, like many others, to help. They rented a van and filled it with non perishables and while I was with them, distributed it directly to a refugee aid organization. These organizations are doing such good work, this particular one was in Przeymsl located in a massive old supermarket. There were beds set up, and they help guide people to their next destination- they don’t allow anyone that isn’t a refugee beyond the entryway and I didn’t have a conversation with anyone to tell me more about what was going inside. Outside, there’s a nourishment stand, they gave out food, drink, toiletries. Robert and Linda dropped their two full shopping carts at this stand. Many people were doing the same.

I’ve been thinking about this a lot, it is a big, unruly topic. When foreigners come to a place to help on the ground where they don’t speak the language, it often makes sense to go the most crowded place and give to that place. It feels good to have the immediate connection, to be on the receiving end of ‘the look of gratitude’ (this phrase makes me shudder, though I know it's not being said with intentional harm but it connotes a sense of otherness and separateness- I help and you need help. But what's to say that some version of this couldn't be any one of us at any moment? That someone will be looking for our 'look of gratitude' one day, and really, that doesn't feel great. It's a phrase, which may not be as loaded as I'm hearing it- but the truth is, I do see the difference between helping because it could be us, it is us (and this mentality is not only reserved for the locals, foreigners have it too) vs helping because it's 'never' us and we save the day. But! Help is still help. So, perhaps it’s unfair to parse it like this?)

Also, when you land in a new place, I realize these can be the easiest places to go and mobilize- where there are others that are around for the same reason. And it's true that help still seems to be needed at the border crossing itself, which is where most people are- Medyka. If you don't speak the language, getting hooked up with locals doing the work is challenging since they often don't advertise, even though the small local places and people are the ones that are most hurting for money and donations.

Before I left for the border, I saw these guys strolling the train station in Krakow. I could tell they didn’t belong to any country’s official army so I asked them if they were volunteer soldiers. They are. They were. Giulian, 22 and Marco, 26 both from Germany had just returned from Lviv. Marco said it was jarring, they were there during the explosions a couple of weeks ago. Giulian is returning to fight.

On the road to the Medyka border, we drive by Rzeszow, where there is a large military base.

The border, Medyka. It currently does not seem to be as busy with refugees as some of the images I’ve seen in the past. There are tents set up with cooked and also packaged food and supplies to take. Refugees who have been standing on the border for hours come through, exhausted. There is no elation of touching foreign soil, a dream of years finally realized. This is an unwilling migration. The border set up is slightly surreal. It’s meant to greet refugees with love and warmth, to make them feel immediately welcome on this first tiny step of their next 99 steps where they may not have anyone cheering them on. It’s a tent city of volunteers. Przemysl, the nearby town has very little accommodation available, so many volunteers sleep in tents behind the supply tents.

Volunteers in bright yellow and orange vests give toys and candy to children coming through.

Refugees just cross the line into Poland, many holding their most valuable possessions. The number of animals coming through shouldn’t surprise me any more or at all, but it still does.

A group of refugees just about to cross over the line into Poland.

A couple of Ukrainian women speak to volunteers.

An Italian clown stands at the border gates adding to the surreal atmosphere of leaving a home under siege and crossing on foot to another country with just a suitcase of your most valuable possessions.

Jared, from North Carolina in the US. Jared, like most of us, watched the news and felt he needed to do something. He says watching this event, the scale of it and how it has impacted the whole world, millions of people crossing the border and the Poles picking up slack. He thought he would find large international NGOs here but really it’s just small groups and individuals.

A French aid tent at the entrance, with an off road vehicle parked nearby. Blue elephant attached to the front.

A mural being painted in the midst of the aid tents.

I found Jay making soup in a tent. Though not a sikh, he is there with there with an organization of sikhs- there was one called United Sikhs- they had a clothing tent- but I don’t know now if the food tent was part of the same sikhs organization. Jay is an engineering management student in Krakow, and like most, he wanted to do something to help.

This is the woman who owns the dog above, I loved her nails and she let me take a picture.

Sam Davies with a Scottish charity called Siobhan’s Trust. He is a veteran of the British Army and as a current non military freelancer, he was able to get away and help manage this tent for a bit. He says he sees many young people coming over to volunteer for the Ukrainian army. When he gets the chance, he tries to talk them out of it. He counts it a success if they don’t go and some have even stayed on to help out in the tent.

This exemplifies how surreal, chaotic, but also welcoming and full of love the border set up is. Baby in a shopping cart, clown singing songs. The mom gets instruction on how the buses work. After having crossed into the border and walked through a boulevard of tents, she now stands in line to get on a bus to take her to Przemysl, where she will most likely go to the train station or to the center for refugee help.

Robert and Linda drop off supplies at the center for refugee help in Przemysl. He and Linda made the decision on short notice, coming from Kentucky in the US. When I asked why he wanted to help he said it was a rare opportunity when the world is standing shoulder to shoulder and he wanted to be a part of that. Linda has always loved Poland and Krakow, in particular. This is her fourth trip over- her first during the war.

Poland- more notes from Krakow

March 26, 2022

When I was directed to Krzysztof’s place I was only told the address and to go to Pan Krzysztof’s. I was given no name of an organization and no indication of what happened there beyond his connection to helping refugees. It turns out this is actually quite common with many of the places I’ve visited, there’s no name, nothing formal because they set up so quickly, they’re just known by their address. But it turns out that Pan Krzysztof does also have his own one man foundation, called Fundacja Nidaros (fundacjanidaros.org) which he set up long before the war started. He is a builder who employees Ukrainians and has, for years, been helping them come to Poland to work. His foundation helps process their papers and arrange living spaces for them among other things. Since the war started, he moved to a bigger space- and office front on a busy street- that can house about 50 refugees at any given time. Food, shelter is provided. He is a central point of contact for many who are going beyond Poland and can take refugees with them. He arranges transportation and he also drives into Ukraine to distribute medical supplies, generators, clothing, and supplies for bullet proof vests for the Ukrainian territorial army.
When I entered that building, knowing nothing about the place, and only asking for Pan Krzysztof he greeted me with an infectious energy and smile, and an incredible generosity of time and spirit - and food. I am not unique, he greets everyone in this way. We were interrupted countless times, he is the man everyone comes to for everything, he sleeps very little, because he says that’s how he’s always been- and now even less. He says he may run home to shower and close his eyes for a couple of hours, but he is immediately back. And especially at night, because he says that’s when the difficult questions come. When it’s quiet. The Ukrainians staying there, come when he’s alone and ask when it will be over, how long they can stay, where they will go, how this will all end. The questions that have no answers but are impossible to not keep asking.

Krzysztof was heading to Mariupol on the day after I visited. This is the truck he drives. He said he normally doesn’t keep in touch with anyone on these trips, but I’ve noticed that he’s updating his stories on Instagram (@chawrona)- the last update was that he was getting shot at and it was too dangerous to continue. The Ukrainian army had him in their care and he was waiting for morning, to either continue or turn back.

There were so many baby items heading into Ukraine.

Four guys from England came through the same night I first stumbled into Fundacja Nidaros. Former firefighters, some of them, they drove from the UK withe supplies for which they’d raised money. They gave many supplies to Krzysztof’s foundation and bought him a generator to take with him on his trip into Ukraine the next day. They spent the night and that morning re packed their van for items they took to Medyka - the busiest Poland/Ukraine border crossing- which would also then get taken to facilities within Ukraine.

A play room set up in Fundacja Nidaros. This mom was there with her five children. Her husband was also there. I was told men of fighting age were allowed out of the country if the family was too big for a single mom to care for on her own.

A living space in Fundacja Nidaros. I wasn’t able to speak with these women beyond asking if it was ok if I could take their picture.

Elina, came to Krakow from Ukraine a couple of years ago and now helps out at Fundacja Nidaros. She is putting away groceries from a donation they received.

Elina came to Krakow a couple of years ago with her husband and two children. She now helps out with the incoming refugees at Krzysztof’s.

Patrycja runs a bistro called Palce Lizac (@bistrosiepraw) just south of Krakow about 20km, in Siepraw. She continues to run her own restaurant and has now included cooking for about 60 refugees who are housed in her town. They all have different accommodations, some live with individual families, while others live in larger groups in donated spaces- like the tiny ski hotel that has given its space to 27 individuals. Patrycja cooks for as many as needed. So far, she has spent her own money on everything- she gets some help from places like Soup for Ukraine - but cooks more than just soup for each meal and also adds to the soup she gets.

We talked about how the Polish people have risen to this occasion but there is a real concern that it won’t and can’t be sustainable. The government has to step in and help because individuals won’t be able to maintain this level of time and financial commitment. I wondered if the government wasn’t feeling an urgency to step in because the people had done such a good job of taking on the refugees, but she is generous and says it doesn’t really have the money to help that much and it is waiting on assistance from the EU and the US.

She has resorted to her own fundraising strategies. A facebook auction group was created where people bid on things that others are selling. In her case, she bakes cakes, and announces that she’s auctioning them to raise funds and is able to get a bit of money that way.

The money raised goes towards food and supplies for refugees. Another issue is not just raising money for them, but helping them find work. Patrycja also employs some Ukrainian refugees in her restaurant. I met Lena and her daughter in the car when they picked me up. Lena is in Siepraw with her two children and her husband is in Ukraine fighting. She works at the restaurant in the afternoons and also bakes cakes. Patrycja gives her all the money from those cakes that are sold in Palce Lizac or other restaurants.

Lena’s daughter, Kasia and her brother. All three live with a Polish woman in Siepraw. They sit in their makeshift bedroom, which is actually the dining room.

Lena sits in the kitchen of the woman she and her children live with. Next to her is a meal that’s been prepared and delivered to the refugees in Siepraw.

Lena with the woman she and her family live with. They both expressed feeling lucky they found each other. This is a fortunate situation because many refugees are unwilling to move to places outside of the city because they’re concerned about being isolated and on top of that the possibility that they could find themselves in an incompatible situation with their host.

Lunch made by Patrycja for the refugees living in a ski lodge called Zajazd pod Sloncem (Inn under the Sun). In this particular place, there are 27 people, 15 of those are adults.

The former ski rental area now converted into a dining and play room.

Shelves are now filled with snacks and children’s toys.

Laundry hangs outside of Zajazd pod Sloncem.

This baby was born one week before the war started.

Of the 27 people at Zajazd pod Sloncem, all are women and children except for one older man that was above the age limit for being required to stay in Ukraine.

Another small hotel that houses refugees.

Poland- the helpers keep helping

March 23, 2022

When I asked about people making humanitarian runs into Ukraine- Kyiv and around- I was told it happens, and it happens a lot but people don’t advertise it. They just do it. They may announce the day or night before in case there are things they can take, but people are doing what they feel compelled to do and don’t showcase it. This rings true though I wonder if this is a characteristic of a people or the necessity of a time.

A Ukrainian family at the train station.

Bartolomeo, artist and one of the co founders of the artists collective, CCA Squirrel, the space where Soup for Ukraine is located. They are looking to host a Ukrainian artist - or more than one- to sponsor with a work space.

CCA Squirrel, where Soup for Ukraine is located

A special delivery of a few jars of pickled tomatoes in honor of the one the woman in Kyiv threw at a Russian drone last week.

Kasia, one of the founders of Soup for Ukraine

A volunteer makes a small child laugh while his mom delivers or picks up soup.

Udaj is volunteering as part of his company’s volunteer day. He told about how he’s suggested his company not just send out volunteers and donations to non profits but provide support for the Ukrainians that work within the company- for example a colleague lives in a flat that she rented for herself, but now has a sudden the sudden expense of buying/renting a bigger home so that she can accommodate her family from Ukraine.

Kamila came here with 9 jars and stayed on to volunteer. She says they are scared, make no mistake about it because Poland might be next. Some people aren’t excited about taking care of refugees because they fear it will anger and provoke Putin. She keeps herself busy to keep the worry at bay.

Krzysztof runs a place for refugees. It’s in the space of a vacant storefront on a busy street. Vacant no longer, the light is always on and there is someone to greet refugees at most hours of the night. He, himself makes humanitarian runs into the heart of Ukraine, leaving generators, medical supplies, food, toiletries and clothing. Showing me pictures I see that he wears a suit and tie and I asked why he would be so uncomfortably dressed for a trip that might be better in sweat pants. He says he dresses for his funeral, if he is killed he will be ready for burial. He has been shot once and his bullet proof vest saved him. He has guns that he buries in the forest on the other side of the border. And he’s been kidnapped by Ukrainian bandits. Tomorrow he goes to Mariupol. The way it’s been told to me, no one has made it in to deliver aid.

Krzysztof holds up the vest with the bullet lodged in it on the left and the vest he currently wears on the right.

A white board of needs for the facility. Krzysztof accepts everyone there and turns no one away even if it means putting them up in his own home.

The front room is packed with supplies to be loaded for delivery into Ukraine.

Locals deliver muffins and bread they baked for the refugees.

Poland- the helpers

March 23, 2022

Poland has been unusual in its response to Ukrainian refugees. About 2 million have entered the country and haven’t necessarily moved on. There are no refugee camps, no stadiums filled with hundreds and thousands of people - rather they’ve mostly been absorbed by individual Polish families, their own Ukrainian relatives, hotels, and makeshift hostels. The difference between the treatment of the refugees on the Belarussian border and the Ukrainian border is not quickly overlooked and is often brought up. The thing I’ve heard the most is - the attack on Ukraine is an attack on Poland. Ukraine and Poland have a mixed past and the borders separating the two countries have been fluid, so, in many ways they are versions of each other speaking two different languages. The fear here is real, and for many diving head firs into refugee assistance is a way to stave off the worst thoughts about what might still happen in this war.

One of the NGOs I was directed to - and I’m not even sure if it’s an official NGO- is called Soup for Ukraine. It’s in an old salt warehouse which now houses artist’s studios. A common space on the ground floor was donated by the artists that occupy that area and Soup for Ukraine has established their temporary home there. The striking thing about the help being given to refugees is it’s ground up- it happened so quickly and people mobilized. The idea of Soup for Ukraine is simple- people bring in soup they cooked and canned at home. The numbers people bring in vary wildly- 2 jars, 6 jars, 20 jars. They’re placed on shelves and refugees can come get as many jars as necessary if they have no kitchen where they’re staying, they can warm the soup there and eat it. People hosting refugees can come pick up soup, too. People filter in throughout the day dropping off soup and even sometimes baked goods or picking up soup.

A volunteer drops off a few jars of soup and some home made bread.

Kasia checks the wall of NGOs and other individuals that partner with Soup for Ukraine. She became involved when she saw on Facebook that they needed a printer, she brought hers over and as she says, four hours later she left as a member of the coordinator team.

Kasia drops off soup and tells a little about why she makes soup: it’s like helping your own, your neighbors- we all know Ukrainians, we work with them are friends with them- how can you not help?

Karolina is a volunteer and she feels it’s a moral obligation to help, you can’t avoid what’s happening because it’s everywhere. The fight is not just for individual Ukrainians, it’s for Poland, and for the world- but mostly for Poland, the war is so close physically.

Kamila cooked soup once and then decided to stay and volunteer. She helps because she thinks about what it would be like to be in the same situation.

A Ukrainian family picks up soup and some other needed supplies. The twins and their mother are part of a group of seven that are looking for accommodation.

This father and daughter come by with a larger group to Soup for Ukraine.

The group of seven and one pup that are looking for a place to stay. The woman on the far right had to leave her son in Ukraine because he was of the age that he was required to stay and fight.

The building where Soup for Ukraine has space.

Another shot of the room where Soup for Ukraine has space.

Volunteers hang out with the dogs brought by refugees.

Poland- the first few days

March 22, 2022

I arrived in Warsaw last Thursday morning immediately expecting to feel the effects of a war next door. It was not so, if I didn’t already know what was going on, I wouldn’t know. Before I left, if I mentioned my trip, eyebrows raised as though I were going into the war zone itself, a woman on my flight thought they’d discontinued flights into Poland, and the plane from DC to Amsterdam was blissfully empty which I thought foretold of people’s skittishness about Europe in general right now. Not so. The Amsterdam airport was packed as was my flight into Warsaw, not full of civilian soldiers or NGO workers but rather with boisterous businessmen.

In Warsaw, I heard the Ukrainian language spoken more than I’ve probably ever noticed it being spoken before and it was not with sadness or anxiety, women were laughing- there is a lightness to their tone. Talking to relatives and others about it, there may be a couple of reasons for this- these could consist of the first wave of refugees, before the war truly started and before death was a reality, people who already had homes and relatives in Poland who maybe had migration on the mind for a while and took the leap with the advent of war.

I am now in Krakow, I arrived a day later and so far my time has mostly consisted of trolling the train station, the major hub for refugee activity. I have pretty nearly given up on wearing a mask, not speaking Ukrainian or Russian I can’t imagine what it’s like to have someone try to take a photo of you in what might be the darkest moment of your life while they’re wearing a mask and also can’t explain their intentions. The mood is varied, shock and some light chatter, many people with animals. These have been some of the easiest to photograph just because they’d rather the focus be on their animals rather than their sorrow. I have since moved on from the train station to an NGO set up in Kazimierz in an old salt storage warehouse that is now an artists work space called Soup for Ukraine.