54 days of hell and counting…
Disclaimer:
I am a Ukrainian international student, currently in the U.S.
I’ve been on the fence about publishing this article. My story is not extraordinary; nor is it difficult when compared to the stories of those currently in Ukraine. I was afraid this would divert your attention from those who really need to be heard. However, an abundance of misconceptions among my non-Ukrainian friends about what we’ve been going through, and a surprising and frustrating lack of action from my university, Northeastern, pushed me to share my personal story.
If you are Ukrainian, you can stop reading now. There is nothing new for you here, because you’ve gone through all of this (and, very likely, worse things). However, I do want to ask you to not give up now. It’s easy to lose purpose right now, but we are in this together. And every little thing that you do (share a post, raise some funds, or just talk to another person about this) matters; even though it may not have an immediate effect, it all brings us closer to our victory and to the end of this nightmare.
If you are a non-Ukrainian, especially if you know me personally, this is meant for you. This is not going to be another history lesson; instead, this is just a recount of some of my personal experiences during this war. I’ve written this in hopes that you will understand us a little better.
Finally, I want to thank each and every one of you who took action and supported us — financially, with supplies, by attending our events, sharing a post, or just being there for us. We really do appreciate it, and it really does matter. This war has implications that span beyond Ukraine or the Ukrainian people, and the only way we can get through this is together.
If you want to help us, there is a whole list of resources at the end of the article.
— Alex
The first thing you need to understand, this did not start for us on Feb. 24th. It started 8 years ago when Russia occupied parts of Ukraine. It started with vague hints and reports about another possible invasion in November 2021, with my parents making evacuation plans for me & my sister in December (I was home for the break at the time). It started with my 16-year-old sister calling me a few days before the invasion, in the middle of the night, in tears, scared that there was going to be a war, scared of what would happen to our family.
At 11 p.m. EST, Feb 23 (5 a.m., Feb 24, local time for my parents), I read the reports about explosions in my home city, Kyiv. Several missiles were launched at my hometown. I frantically called my family; my mom was already awake because she heard the blasts. Within 40 minutes, my parents were already in the car, ready to leave the city.
I’ve never felt fear that intense. A primal, all-permeating wave of fear, hit me with crippling nausea, leaving one thought in my head: “Please be okay. Please be okay. Please be okay.” I’ve sat through the night, glued to Ukrainian news, shoving down my panic and that feeling of helplessness, watching my family trying to escape the city for 4 hours straight through a location-tracking app. With millions of Kyiv residents trying to escape at the same time, the traffic was so intense that they were forced to go back home.
Eventually, trying again later in the day, my parents, my grandma, and my aunt’s family managed to escape to Western Ukraine; the trip that would normally take them 4 hours took them 16, with them occasionally passing under russian military planes and helicopters; my grandparents decided to stay behind, in their house 25 miles from Kyiv.
The next two weeks are very foggy in my memory. I’ve barely slept, and I remember constantly watching the news, making sure to wake my parents up whenever there was an air raid danger, even though I knew they would hear the siren (one like this: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NMu-Po4rxzw). I couldn’t help myself. Every day, they spent hours and hours in bunkers, hiding from missile strikes.
For a week, we couldn’t contact my grandparents. My 72-year-old grandfather, who had just survived his battle with cancer and was due for a check-in, instead spent a week hiding in their basement, in below-freezing temperatures, without heat, electricity, running water, food, or any form of communication, because the town closest to them was being methodically erased from the face of the Earth. Eventually, they managed to escape, having to drive under fire from russian military.
I also lost a friend to this war. Yulia Zdanovska was a mentor, a brilliant mathematician, and a positive, selfless, passionate human being. We volunteered together for kvanta.xyz, and she is a big part of the reason why I decided to go into computer science. She truly deserved the world. Instead, on March 7, I learned that Yulia died because a missile hit her house in Kharkiv, where she stayed behind to volunteer and help those affected by the war. She was 21.
These 54 days have been (and continue to be) the worst period of my life. It’s been 54 days of never-ending fear, guilt, rage, worrying, feeling useless, and, sometimes, despair. Every day, I wake up to new horrors on the news, every day I go to sleep hoping my family and my friends will survive the next day. I am in constant (mental) pain; every minute of any given day I want to scream, cry, and punch my fist through a wall. Instead, I get up, plaster on a fake smile, and try to go to work, classes, and club meetings. Instead, I try to pretend that my life is normal, that I’m fine.
And do you know what the worst part of this is? This does not even begin to compare to what people at my home are going through. Every time I hear stories of people executed, raped, tortured, moved to concentration camps, every time I see photos of horrors in Bucha (where, by the way, my grandma used to live), of streets flooded with bodies in Mariupol, my heart shatters. For me, it’s been a 54-day-long nightmare; for them, it’s been 54 days of pure hell.
Those that know me well, know that I am a very emotional person. I cry every time I watch Inception, I cried when I read quotes in my high school yearbook (because they were really nice), and I cried when I read Harry Potter. Interestingly, though, despite all the horrors I have read and heard in the last 54 days, I haven’t shed a single tear. I can’t, I won’t let myself break down, because I need to be strong. Strong for my family, strong for my friends, strong enough to get out of bed every morning to go and do everything in my power to help those who need it. Right now, I feel lost, terrified, worried, angry, depressed, and utterly exhausted. So does every other Ukrainian.
Finally, there’s also the always-present guilt. I feel guilty for laughing, watching a movie, or hanging out with friends — because many of those back at home cannot do any of that. I try to reason that it’s survivor’s guilt, that it’s natural for anyone going through this. It doesn’t help. It’s hard not to feel that way when your previous classmates are taking up arms to protect their families or volunteering, while you are, by some cosmic chance, here and they are… there. I can’t help but feel guilty for my previous lack of help to the people in Afghanistan, Myanmar, Palestine, Georgia, or any other nations that went through the same. I know there is more that I could have done, more money I could have raised, and more awareness that I could have spread. I’ll try to be better in the future.
If you are still reading this, thank you. I am almost done.
I want to leave you with a reminder. Everything that you’ve just read is not an uncommon experience. Chances are, every Ukrainian you come across will have worse stories to tell. The only way we can go through this is together, only with your help. You might be moving on with your life, your news might not be covering Ukraine as much anymore, and there might be other things that you have to worry about. We understand. It would be unfair of us to ask you to put your lives on pause, just because we did.
However, I do want to ask you to take 5 minutes every day to think about us and to try and help us. We are not asking you to do something huge; if you can’t donate any money or supplies — that’s okay, we get it. We are asking you to do the little things: share a story on your Instagram, ask your company to support us, contribute a few hours of your time for a fundraiser, or even just don’t buy products that (indirectly) contribute to the war (awesome website alert: dontfundwar.com). Those are the little things, but when compounded, they truly matter. Every single thing that you do brings us closer to the end of this nightmare.
One last thing. The actions of our military, our government, and our people in the last 54 days have been nothing short of miraculous. In these last few weeks, I’ve met some of the most passionate, righteous, and selfless people I’ve ever had the pleasure to know. I truly have never been more proud to be a Ukrainian.
Слава Україні! / Slava Ukraini! / Glory to Ukraine!
Listed below are some of the ways you can help us. If none of these work for you, send me a message, I have a bunch more for you :)
- https://standwithukraine.how is a fantastic website made by some of my friends that is an aggregation of information and ways to help us. It’s your go-to point for all things Ukrainian.
- If you wish to donate, I personally recommend Sunflower of Peace, Razom, or the official Ministry of Defense of Ukraine donation page.
- If you cannot donate, please take some time to review the companies that still pay taxes in Russia. When you buy their products you, indirectly, invest money in Russia. There are often many alternatives for you, but for us the difference is huge. https://dontfundwar.com/ is a fantastic website that tracks all those companies.
- If you are in Boston, consider subscribing to @boston_support_ukraine. We are in constant need of volunteers, ranging from organizers to cooks to musicians.
- Finally, if you are from Northeastern, please subscribe to @ukiesatneu. Northeastern has been extremely reluctant in providing us with any aid or accommodations, and we are working on something right now that will require your support. We’ll keep you posted on the Instagram above.
If you think you can help us in a different way, if none of the ways above work for you, or you just want to learn more, please please please reach out to me. We have dozens of initiatives and projects that we are currently working on, and we always need your support.
💙💛
