Uprooted by War

Olena Gorduz is from Mariupol, an important industrial city close to Russia. Shelling from Russian forces almost totally destroyed the city. Enemy troops took full control of Mariupol in May.

I always told my friends, “Guys, there won’t be any war.” I can’t understand how people in the 21st century can make war. Then I woke up on the morning of February 24 and saw that the sky was red. I thought that it was because of emissions from the Azovstal plant [a huge factory nearby]. Then I heard a boom. A few seconds after that, I heard some more explosions. I took my phone and read that the war had started. 

Olena and her family took refuge from Russian bombs in their basement. One day, Olena learned that a classmate had been killed. 

We were very shocked that it could happen to our friend. For us, it was like a final realization that this is no joke. It’s really a big, horrible war. Soon after that, the lights went off, then the water, the phone. We couldn’t call each other. 

On March 15, the family decided to make a run for it. They got in their car and drove to Poland. 

When we were leaving our city, I was praying. My mother was crying. We saw so many burned houses, burned military vehicles, and dead people on the streets. It was horrible. 

The family made it safely to Poland. An aid organization found shelter for them.

Now I am a refugee. My city is destroyed. When people from other cities in Ukraine come to Poland, they ask me, “Where are you from?” When I tell them that I’m from Mariupol, they look at me with their eyes full of pain.

I hope that the war will finish with a Ukrainian victory. I’d like to be a politician or a diplomat one day so that in the future I can protect my country.

Irina Kiselyk is from the village of Shklo, close to the western city of Lviv. As news of the Russian invasion spread on the morning of February 24, she and her family began preparing for the worst. 

I remember that first night was the scariest night of my life. I didn’t close my eyes even once. The next day, when I was at home, my mother called and said, “Stay calm, but pack up your backpack, for yourself, for your brother, with everything you need the most.” And then I felt so bad, I started crying. When you ask if it is possible to put everything into one backpack—your whole life—you understand that you can’t. 

Dad drove us to the border, and then he went back home. We went by foot, not by car, because people in cars waited in line at the border for three days. It was so mentally hard, really. I would not like anyone to feel how I did then.

My dad called later and said, “I’m sorry for everything. If something should happen, remember that I love you all.” I told him, “Don’t say that. I don’t want to hear it, because in one, two, or three weeks we will come back home, and everything will be fine.” 

From the border we were taken in by friends, and now we live with them in Warsaw. We all live in the same room—my mother, my sister, and my brother. But we don’t think about this when we read the news about what’s going on at home. When Dad calls and says what is happening. When you read that our army has nothing. 

My friends who stayed in Ukraine worry about their lives. They don’t know what could be next. Will you survive the night or not? Now my father is fighting in the war, and when I ask what will happen, he says he doesn’t know. I am proud of all of them. We are Ukrainians, and we should have freedom.

Rostyslav Sheichenko is from the town of Kostiantynivka, in the eastern region called the Donbas. One day in early March, he learned that he and his mother would have to evacuate by train to Poland within the hour. 

Was I afraid? I do not think so because it happened too fast. In situations like this, you do not feel a lot. However, you do know that now you are going to sit in that train and that evacuation lines often are bombed. So that is still not safe enough. 

Hours later, their train reached the Ukrainian city of Kharkiv.

I heard a lot of explosions in one second. I counted 10. Our train was stopped in the railway station, and some people who weren’t able to get on were hitting it with stones and with their own hands. They were crying, screaming. We put two mothers and two children into the train compartment with us, and two cats in bags. The whole train was full of people, sitting on the floor, in the corridors.