Stories from the refugee camp on Polish-Ukrainian border April 14-April 29 2022

From San Francisco to Przemyśl

Traveling from a sunny state to a Polish border town is quite an adventure: with three huge bags of medical supplies, I left SFO on the plane to JFK (New York). From New York, I had to transfer to a Polish airlines plane flying to Warsaw. The flight was about 8 hours, it was quite comfortable, but the jet lag showed up at the Warsaw Chopin airport. I was falling asleep literally on the go, and by the time I transferred to the next plane ( it was only 1 hour overlay) I had to activate all the reserves in order to get to the gate. My last flight was from Warsaw to Rzeszow, which lasted less than an hour. It would seem that the most difficult part was behind me, but no… they forgot to transfer my luggage, precious medicines and turnstiles to the plane from New York to Poland. The worst thing to do after a transatlantic flight is filling out paperwork for lost luggage.  But bad experience is also an experience, so now I know how to get my lost luggage back after a flight with numerous transfers.

Rzeszow was not the final destination.  It took another hour by car to get to Przemysl. On the way to the house of volunteers, we (newly arrived volunteers) observed beautiful landscapes with air defense equipment, columns of armored vehicles, etc. Without a compass, it became clear where the Ukrainian border lies.

Snakes

The brave owner of snakes came for them and showed us those 6 beauties!

There was a king python but as a home pet version, they were much smaller and calmer than their bigger relatives.

They were rescued from Kharkov, traveled to Lviv and then crossed Polish border.

They eat mice but not every day, they need environment temperature around 103-104F and they are very friendly.

The Owner and his wife are trying to rescue other snakes but are having problems at the border. Snakes need a lot of documents to cross the border and during the war it is hard to get some of them, but their owners are not giving up. They failed to cross the border today but they will try it tomorrow.

I admire those people who during darkest hours when their own lives are in danger do not forget to take care of their pets.

Despite the lost house snakes owner was very optimistic: “we are alive and have no injuries, we will rebuild our houses and will return to normal lives”.

First 3 days

The first three days here I was on duty during the night shifts -  from midnight to morning. At that time, it was usually relatively calm. People try to sleep while the lights are on (they are never turned off even for an hour), some cannot fall asleep and ask to turn it off, others cannot sleep because of the horrors experienced and separation from their relatives. There are also those who sleep soundly. Apparently after cold cellars and constantly howling airborne alarms, they are so exhausted that they are already immune to such minor issues as lamplight and other noises from outside.

On the way to get some coffee, I pass a long corridor and see babies clutching soft toys, sleeping quietly and peacefully on cots arranged in long rows, as they would have been asleep in their own cribs if there was no war.

Next to one of the cots is a large pet carrier and a boxer sleeps in it. Animals understand everything - they do not bark, do not growl, but they refuse food and water, the owners often come to us for syringes so they can at least give water to their pets. These animals, too, would’ve been asleep on soft carpets in their warm homes, if there was no war.

I returned to my post with my eyes to the ground. I don't want a sleepless person to see a tear on my cheek. I would like to sit by the bed of everyone: tuck in the blanket of an older woman wearing a scarf over her head, straighten a stray strand of hair from the forehead of a little girl, stroke a frightened cat that huddled under the owner’s cot.  But there are so many people. There are thousands of them in their restless sleep. But at least they sleep and I don’t want to bother them. They need to gain strength because many have a long road ahead of them to other countries.

The dawn will come, and with it people will start coming up to us asking for paracetamol and other medicines for the stomach andmotion sickness.  Someone will come after  a sleepless night asking for valerian or valocordin, and to measure their blood pressure. And someone will just come to tell their story and hug, show photos of their grandchildren and remember the life... when there was no war...

Easter morning.

I'm sitting in the kitchen in our volunteer home, chewing on a sandwich. "Christ has Risen" flashes through my head. This is the first Easter that I’m not celebrating, I did not bake Easter cakes and did not paint Easter eggs the day before.

The days go by at a speed I don't quite comprehend. The first 4 days dragged on like one long day, then suddenly the whole week flashed by. The morning begins with questions, what day and date is it today?

Days are remembered not by dates, but by events, people, stories.

Yesterday, for example, someone brought a little dog that in a frenzy barked at all the dogs. With some difficult we gave  the dog 12 mg of diphenhydramine. The animal was not hurt and did not calm down much.

Middle-aged male, broad-shouldered and tall came in.  He asked for a compression bandage for a knee injury he has had for a long time. While putting on a bandage, I asked where he came from. Instead of answering, he hides his eyes, tears running down his cheeks onto his chin.

"Odessa was bombed today." I stand on my tiptoes and try to hug him. Having calmed down a little, he shows me a video and a photo of a burning city with pillars of black all-consuming smoke. A bit of valerian, a little conversation, hugs and I could see he feels a bit better.

Our already well-known "snake dad" brought more snakes. They have just been transported across the border and need to be warmed up. In plastic boxes with holes for ventilation, they stand on special heated mats. I was introduced to a "bald" snake which in the process of selection lost her scales and her skin is soft and tender to the touch.

A lot of things happen in the hallways of the refugee center - someone is napping on sofas, someone is playing chess and checkers with volunteers, kids are riding scooters, improvising with soccer balls. One elderly woman named L. asked me to bring her a bracelet with pebbles. So we are looking for it now. Little things delight and distract people: a kind word, a soft toy soaked in lavender oil, and a bracelet with a pebble also has magical powers. It could return a smile to a person who has lost everything except his life ...

 One day in Lviv.

Sergey and I knew each other for a couple of days, exchanged a couple of phrases if we crossed paths in the house. Sergei came to Poland from the USA to help people. He transports humanitarian aid to Ukraine, to hospitals and organizations, gets medicines in the USA and European countrie.

Many many times in the past month, he crossed the Polish-Ukrainian border to deliver the necessary assistance to Ukraine,  and took people back: women, children, the wounded, the sick. He’s an absolutely amazing person.

I really wanted to get to my homeland, at least for a day, and I managed to along with him.

We agreed to leave in the morning, and at 8:30 we were already on our way to Ukraine. The refugee camp is located 15 km from the border.  We passed the border quickly enough and the first stop was a small village near Lviv. Having loaded the defibrillators into the boxes of volunteers, we drove towards the city. It’s quite difficult to envision that Lviv is part of the country where the war is raging. But you can see “hedgehogs” on the roads, roadblocks, military personnel with machine guns, building destroyed by a missile attack and an air raid alert. I still remember Lviv well since my last trip and it hasn't changed much, except for more Ukrainian patriotic symbols everywhere around and more people on the streets.

Street musicians sing folk and popular songs, singing along with a dozen passers-by who watch this street performance.

After we finished everything we set out to do, with a clear conscience and an empty stomach, we decided to visit several tourist places.

One of my favorite restaurants in Lviv is a place called Meat and Justice. The only problem with the place is that every time I forget how to get into the courtyard of a small fortress where the restaurant is located. But after 5 minutes of searching, the road was found.

After a hearty dinner, one should follow with a nice drink, and for that purpose I brought my new friend to the cave of "Under the blue flask." I have some very funny memories from the peaceful past associated with this place, but the main value of this place is the atmosphere. This is not a basement, but looks like an 18th-19th century basement, located in a building from 1501. People of Lviv call this place "kneipa" and say that this kneip has been opened since the 16th century.

It's raining outside, there's nothing left to do but go on a shopping spree. There are a lot of shops in the center of Lviv. Coffee, chocolate, liqueurs, clothes embroidered with traditional embroidery and much, much more. The number of packages with souvenirs in hands increases as the rain get stronger – it’s almost a downpour.

“Now let's go to my favorite place,” says Sergei. We go to a small cafe with a delicious smell of pastries. Here, the entire menu consists of freshly baked croissants with various fillings. I choose cherry. Approximately 20 minutes after the order was brought to us, an air raid alarm begins to howl and it is accompanied by an announcement that it is necessary to turn off the gas, water and electricity and proceed to the shelter with the essentials. During the siren, some cafes and restaurants are closed, visitors must leave the premises and proceed to the shelter (almost none of the passers-by and visitors go to the shelter, people continue to go about their business as if nothing is happening). I am not afraid of sirens, as such memories brings back memories of Donetsk - the rumble of an airplane, the whistle of a shell, the roar of an explosion and the trembling ground under my feet. The hair on the back of your head starts to move, but you can’t panic. Breathe in, breathe out, back to reality.

I'm in the rain, with a cup of tea in my hands, rainwater drips into the glass, the siren no longer howls, but the tension hangs in the air. After walking a couple of steps, I see a wide and bright rainbow between the houses (I still regret that I didn’t take a photo of it). Rainbow is a good sign...

We returned to Poland without an incident, quickly crossed the border, saw an absolutely unreal stormy sky on the way to the border, sighed thoughtfully and sadly, longing for Ukraine in peacetime.

All the same, being a Ukrainian is something at the genetic level, it does not necessarily manifest itself in every generation, but if it does, it manifests itself very clearly. It's not just a language or culture, it's spirit, will and power. We are united by war, common goals, desires and common love for our homeland.

In one day I got to know the wonderful and caring Sergey better, helped the country's economy by buying souvenirs in Lviv shops and found medicines that our refugees really need that Europe does not have, since they are produced in Ukrainian factories.

That's it – the two weeks are over.

I became very attached to my fellow volunteers. I didn’t even get attached, I soldered with all my heart. We had no time and no reason to pretend to be who we are not. There are no masks and double standards here. We are all here as we are, each with their own story, their own dreams and opinions.

Thanks to the team of two Alexandrovs (Smirnov and Zharov) for this opportunity to be really needed. For gathering under one roof such different, but at the same time such similar in spirit people.

It was two sleepless weeks with the best breakfasts, the warmest friendly hugs, the kindest words of support and care, the most beautiful poems and songs. Two weeks that answered the question "what is the meaning of life?". It's only two weeks, but it's like a lifetime.

Thanks to the #GDRT team for your work!

Back to the ‘real’ world

The hardest part of coming back is not Przemysl-Rzeszow-Warsaw-Chicago (missed flight; night in Chicago)-San Francisco. The hardest part is getting back to the real world.

On the border with Poland, I met different people. There were absolute angels in the flesh, they were irritated, nervous, sometimes a little aggressive, cheerful and sad, everything was there, the whole range of emotions and human qualities except for selfishness. The real world hurts backhand with unhealthy egocentrism and indifference. I will not give examples, everyone understands what I mean.

I miss and worry about the old man with a fistula for hemodialysis - he often came for various small help and did not take this help very boldly - for some reason it seemed to him that someone needed a pack of wet wipes and vitamin D more than he did.

How is the woman who celebrated her 67th birthday in a refugee camp? She said it casually, and we only had cookies and a battery-powered candle, but it was enough to relieve the pain in her chest. And no nitroglycerin.

Why can't the world be so kind and open? After all, it requires so little - just to treat others as we would like people to treat us and not pass by, pretending that this does not concern you.