My war story
“My name is Natasha, and I was born and grew up in the beautiful city of Kyiv. Before this war started, I enjoyed my life in my native city, hanging out with friends and family and doing what I love the most - writing. I’ve always loved languages, history, and books. Now, my heart is broken for the people, home, and sense of belonging I used to have in Kyiv. Together with my nation, I hope and look forward to the day when peace will be returned to Ukraine.”
Safe outside Tesco Center
Where would I even start? I think I would start with home. What is home exactly? What does it mean to have a home? Home is people. Home is where our family and friends are. Home is every single small corner of the beloved streets of our native city, town, or village. Home is where all of our memories are and all the best moments of our life take place. Home is also the very space where time is spent decorating and collecting sentimental details. Home is where we rest and feel we belong.
On February 24, I woke up to the doorbell ringing early in the morning. It rang and rang and I realized immediately that the war had started. I switched on my phone and dozens of messages from friends and family started popping up on the screen. My heart started beating like crazy. I couldn’t understand a thing. I opened the door to my neighbors who urged me to wake up and think of my plan. Plan? What plan?
My heart was beating like crazy. Friends and family texting and calling. Fear, anxiety, frustration. What should I do? Where would I go? My home is here.
During the next 12 days, I was completely isolated from family and friends. All of the people I was close to were now scattered across the country; some leaving abroad. Many were hiding in underground bomb shelters, coming out for short breaks during the day. My home is just a little bit further from Kyiv. The building is surrounded by the forest and the sound of bombings was rare and distant.
12 days. For 12 days there was a complete loss of reality. 12 days of isolation from family and friends. Every day and every moment was spent waiting. I waited for good news, hoping for a miracle.
Finally, the feeling of isolation took the best of me and I felt the persistent urge to leave. It was the hardest decision I’ve ever made. The feeling of incredible loss and pain that now every Ukrainian understands took over my heart. I packed with tears streaming down. I said goodbye to my beloved forest in the window and everything that is so dear to me. Will I ever be able to return? And if yes, what will my beloved city look like when I come back? Will I ever see my family and friends again?
My friend and I, in his car, left early that morning and made our way across an empty Kyiv. The beautiful city of Kyiv is never empty! It’s one of the most lively cities in the world. Oh, all the beauty of this city that is now gone. It used to be so alive and vibrant, full of excitement and activity. People running and rushing or just relaxing in cafes and streets was like hot blood running through the numerous veins of this place. But now…
Does one really know what pain is? We all live our lives thinking we know what suffering means. Our car was stolen, our friend betrayed us, we can’t find a job or lost one, we had to break up with our boyfriend and so on. I lived my whole life being sure that I understood what hurt means. But then something happened that opened a new door to the world of real grief and sorrow. I never knew what was behind that door but many times saw other people entering it. I was always terrified and full of compassion but also curious: what was behind that door and where did it lead? Now I would soon find out.
Behind that door was a crowd of dark gruesome and shocking creatures whose only purpose for existing was to torture the human body and soul. And the scariest thing was that after entering that door, there was no way back. Anyone entering that door could never go back or erase what they experienced and saw. And all the people left outside were ignorant about this pain, like little babies. I also came to see that there are so many souls that entered that same door. I looked into their eyes and I knew - they had entered that door just like me.
After a two-day journey and waking up to more sirens, we finally reached the border. My friend helped me to get in line. There were people, my people, families with kids and older adults. People were crying, some had to say goodbye to their husbands and boyfriends as they were not allowed to leave the country. People told stories about how they lost their homes after the bombing. Children were crying. I was standing there alone with my suitcase trying to control my tears. No, I was telling myself, you can’t cry now. There’s no point in crying, you have to be strong. You just tell yourself that you can do it, you are strong, you will survive this hell and become a stronger, more confident, and determined woman. But if only it was that easy.
I couldn’t quietly look at the pain in my people’s eyes, their desperation, and pure suffering. Then I saw foreign volunteers offering food and blankets and warm tents. It made me cry even more. These people came from all over the world to help us in our suffering. These kind souls are present with us, while others try to kill us and attempt to destroy our hopes and dreams and everything we have.
We slowly approached the border just as it had grown dark. People were pressing against one another as it was really cold. Right at the Polish border, I heard a little boy asking his mom: “Will they give us a home here? Mom, will they give us a home?” Tears ran down my face and my heart was squeezing with excruciating pain. I kept asking myself “ Why does this child have to suffer? Why are we forced to leave our homes and loved ones? This is our land, our culture, our nation!” Then another little boy started singing out loud about Jesus. It was so beautiful and sincere. Jesus was there with us, I simply knew it.
After crossing the border, the feeling of missing my home became even more unbearable and all-consuming. I just wanted to go back. Go back to everything I knew and loved.
Two German and one Norwegian volunteers were supposed to meet me and my friend at the border. We couldn’t find each other at first, our phones were dying, tears continued welling up. But then I finally saw three friendly faces. They were different from Ukrainian faces that I was so used to and loved dearly. But they were incredibly kind and I immediately saw great compassion in their eyes. They were a gift from heaven. They took us everywhere we needed, they gave us huge hugs, they talked to us, they even gave us money. They were like brothers, fathers, and friends to us. So much love, so much compassion, and care. I was thinking to myself: why would these people leave their homes and travel across Europe to simply help us? And my broken heart started filling up with love and gratefulness.
Another long bus ride to another unknown city. Seeing people and children on the bus with lost and numb expressions on their faces struck me once again with pain. But this incredible compassion and care from another nation meant the world to all of us and provided everyone with a tiny glimpse of hope.
It’s my second day in a foreign country after I escaped the horrors of war. I’m looking outside the window and I see a peaceful city, people walking in the park. There’s no war here. Finally, we can rest and have at least some kind of normal life, right? But I don’t feel that way and I don’t think any other Ukrainian feels that way either. There’s still a war going on inside of our hearts and minds. It’s there. It’s happening now on our land with our people. We will continue to live in a state of war, jumping every time we hear a loud sound or an ambulance siren. We’ll never be able to get over it, at least not until it stops.
So, every day we go to bed and wake up with one single thought: “When will it stop? Are my family and friends safe? Did something horrible happen to them last night?” And at the same time, we wake up to this overwhelming sense of compassion, care, and love so generously provided by all of these incredible people from other nations. We know we will persevere, we will never stop hoping that someday soon we’ll be able to get back home!
