«The biggest dream is that peace will come, our house will survive, and we will all return home together»
The beneficiaries of the Family to Family project, a family of internally displaced persons from Kherson region, talk about life under occupation, the difficult path to a free land, daily challenges, and hope.
“Everything is good here... Only there is no home”
Denys likes cacti. They remind him of hedgehogs from his favorite cartoon series. The boy has four small “thorny flowers” on his windowsill. In addition to cacti, he likes boxing – he goes to training every week. He says that he is fascinated by sports because he can “go to competitions and win first place”. Denys also likes to play soccer, hang out with friends, go snowboarding with his dad in the winter and cycling in the summer; he also likes to bake cupcakes with his mom. And school, he frankly admits, is not his favorite thing. Although he is eager to learn. He just dreams of returning to his native school. To return home.
...The boy left his native village of Tomyna Balka near Kherson with his parents in April 2022 because of the war. Denys is only 10 years old, but he already knows too much about life and its tragic sides for his tender age...
“When the war started, we were sleeping at home in bed, – the boy recalls – We heard explosions, and at first we didn't understand what was happening. Then my sister called from Kherson and said that russia had attacked Ukraine and that there were battles going on. War is very scary... Especially when you live under occupation. We lived like that for two months. We spent the night in the basement, hiding from the shelling. I really did not want to leave, to leave my home and friends. I miss my home very much... When we were leaving, my parents showed a certificate at the checkpoints that I had a heart condition. And with the help of these documents we managed to leave. We passed 30 russian checkpoints. I was very afraid that the occupiers would not let us through, that we would come under fire. The russian military at all checkpoints asked us for... food. Apparently, they were hungry. They asked us where we were going and why we were leaving our home. We said we were going to the hospital. I was lying there and pretending to be very sick. Although I was really sick... In the new place I was able to sleep peacefully. There was no daily shelling. Now there is often shelling here too. Both rockets and drones fly over the house... When the air raid is announced, I hide in the bathroom to be safer. I feel good here. But at home... it was much better at home".
The room where we are talking is bright and cozy. There is a small bedroom, a studio room, and a bathroom. It is modernly renovated. Here, in the village of Rubezivka, Bucha district, Kyiv region, a Polish construction company has renovated an abandoned former dormitory, creating comfortable living conditions for internally displaced persons. Denys's family submitted an application and documents and received the apartment in December last year.
Everything is fine here, says Denys, but it's still not home...
“Kherson has become like a safari... People can't even go out to buy bread”
In Tomyna Balka, Bilozerka district, Denys's family had everything. A solid house that the boy's parents built on their own; a farm, a garden, a vegetable garden. “My daughter studied at the university, my son went to school, my husband and I went to work, – says Denys's mother, Inna, – and then at one point everything turned upside down...”
Mr. Ruslan, Mrs. Inna's husband and Denys's father, recalls those days like this: "When my daughter called me from Kherson at dawn on February 24 and said that the war had started, I thought: it can't be... But almost simultaneously with her call, there were powerful explosions in Chornobaivka, which is nearby. There is an airfield and a military unit there... And Antonivskyi Bridge was shelled, it was very loud.
We lived under occupation for two months. The occupiers behaved aggressively. They went around armed, checking everything from jacket pockets to cars in garages. We realized that there would be no life here. It was hard to leave... But we gathered our courage, and our parents insisted that we should take the children to a safe place. We were on our way for three days. We spent the night wherever we had to: in the field and in people's yards. But with God's help we got out. When we left for the gray zone, there was a shelling, everything was on fire. When we crossed the gray zone and met our military, at first we could not believe that we were on our side. Everyone was crying – my wife and I, and our children..."
One of the most emotional moments was the white ribbons on the ground. "When we were leaving the occupation, we had to tie these ribbons on our cars... And only at our checkpoint could we take them off. People were happy to tear them off their cars and throw them on the ground. They tore them off and threw them... Everything around was white with ribbons" – the woman cannot recall those moments without crying.
The price of freedom is very high...
Ms. Inna's mother was captured and detained by the occupiers on “suspicion of being pro-Ukrainian”.
"There were lists of those whom the russians took right out of their homes without any explanation. And the reason was that my mother was a great patriot of Ukraine,“ the woman says. ”She was a participant in the Orange Revolution, she was on the Maidan. And in our village, it turned out, there were those who were waiting for the “russian world”. They were the ones who handed everyone over. The occupiers took the guys, former ATO soldiers, to the basement according to these lists. When the russians were withdrawing, all those traitors fled with the occupiers to the left bank of the Dnipro.
I don't know how my mother was released... She was held and interrogated. And she is russian by nationality. When we left the occupation, we went straight to our relatives in the Zhytomyr region. We lived there for some time. And my mother was taken there when we managed to rescue her from captivity. After Kherson was liberated, my mother returned to Tomyna Balka. She is there now. My mother-in-law and her husband left and now live in Mykolaiv region. The only way to keep in touch with my mom is through mobile apps: anyone who has Wi-Fi can contact her. But it's scary to live there... Drones, says mom, fly all the time, you can't leave the house. Bread is brought to the store once a week, so people run and hide to get it... Volunteers used to bring it, but when the drones started hunting people, they stopped. There is no work, no communication. There is no life... Kherson has become like a safari – only for people. It's sad..."
“On the morning when russian missiles hit Okhmatdyt, we were supposed to be there with our son for an examination...”
While we are talking, Denys is making paper airplanes. He likes to make various paper crafts – flowers, vases... He searches the Internet for tips and master classes. "When we lived at home, we made woodwork with my dad and metal knives with my grandfather. We did everything in the garage. It was great. Here, we don't have such tools... And my grandfather is far away now..."
Ms. Inna praises her son: he is kind, diligent in his studies, and conscientious. He set a goal to buy a bicycle and saved up for it: penny for penny, birthday presents, and pocket money.
The boy is active and fond of sports, but he has a health concern: he has congenital serious heart problems. “We often have to go to the doctors and undergo treatment,” says Inna. "He and I had to go to Okhmatdyt for another checkup last July. It was on the day when the russians attacked the hospital... It was a Monday. I remember waking up early and having some kind of feeling... Inexplicable anxiety. I said: I think we won't go today. Something was wrong with me... And then I went outside and saw those rockets flying towards Kyiv. They often fly through the village, over our house. When I heard what happened later, I couldn't come to my senses for a long time. I still feel cold inside when I think about it. After all, we were supposed to be in the hospital just when the missiles hit..."
The large color photo on the window in the room looks like a painting. “This is our legendary photo,” Inna smiles. She picks it up and looks at it. "My daughter is about to graduate, and my son is going to the first grade. It was a coincidence...
The school in our Tomyna Balka was a good one. It was restored shortly before the war, at the expense of the state: it was insulated, the roof was covered, and tiles were laid. It was the best school in the area. And now there is no school anymore... Three arrivals have passed by it.
There are no children. And even if there were, who would go there under fire. And the teachers have also left."
The couple's eldest daughter now lives in Mykolaiv. She works as a police officer and graduated from a specialized university. “It was her dream, my daughter was consistently striving for it,” says Mr. Ruslan, "She studied in Kherson. When the occupation began, we were very worried about her, because the russians were primarily looking for those who were associated with such structures. Only when we took our children out of the danger zone did we calm down a bit..."
“If it wasn't for your support, we wouldn't have made it.”
The main difficulties the family is facing today are constant job searches. "We need to earn money, live, and raise our children. Before the war, I worked at a large enterprise that employed more than 2,000 people. I was a machine operator at the Korabel company, which manufactured door panels and was known throughout Ukraine and abroad. The work was well paid. But the war destroyed everything. Now I work for a developer and have retrained. We lay and level walls. We work wherever we can. We had to carry earth with wheelbarrows and chop wood."
“It's good that at least the housing situation has been resolved: we have a signed agreement by the end of this year, and we can live here,” Inna explains. "We don't know what will happen next... After leaving Kherson region, we lived with my sister for three months in Zvyagel, Zhytomyr region. We had a place to live, but it was hard to find a job. We came here in search of work, and it was difficult to find housing. We rented an apartment in the neighboring Dmytrivka, which was expensive for us... If it wasn't for your support, we wouldn't have made it."
The family received assistance within the framework of the Family to Family project, a Ukrainian-Polish project implemented by Caritas-Spes Ukraine with the financial support of Caritas Poland. The project helps Ukrainians affected by the war. "Thanks to these funds, we have solved the issue of housing. We are very grateful for this support. We are very touched by people's kindness and indifference. Polish families have responded to the misfortune of Ukrainians – it says a lot and is greatly appreciated.
I know that many people need support now. People have lost their homes, and not everyone can rent. Therefore, they stay in their hometowns and villages, even though it is dangerous because of the shelling. They simply do not have the means to leave and live elsewhere".
Finally, I ask about dreams. “For the war to end and for us to be able to return home? – Ruslan answers, – I'm very much drawn to it...” Ms. Inna adds that she also misses her home and the times before the war. She dreams that her home will survive. "Those were the happiest moments when we all got together, when the children were with us. Our family has always been cheerful. We have many friends and cousins. We celebrated all the holidays with big companies. Life was in full swing. Now it's all quiet, we don't want anything..."
Denys smiles, thinks about the answer to my question for a moment, and says simply: "When we were leaving, I was very worried about whether I would have anyone to be friends with in the new place. But I found great friends here who always support me. But I still miss the ones I had in Tomynia Balka. I wish we could all get together. And if everything was like it used to be..."
