Olha spent weeks living under Russian occupation in her home town of Kherson, southern Ukraine. Now she tells her story of fleeing the violence and travelling across Europe with two children and a cat in tow.
‘We cheered for every car that escaped the city’
Groups of people who wanted to leave Kherson appeared on Telegram. People shared information and exchanged ideas. The first message in our group from anyone who had escaped came from a girl called Alinka. Her boyfriend took her out along a country road. It gave us a ray of hope.
I joined a few more groups and began to watch them carefully. People wrote how many checkpoints were on the way, when they left, how they arrived, what to say at the checkpoint and how to protect the car. In order for the Russians to let you through, you need to tie white ribbons to the front mirrors, and write “children” on the windscreen if there are kids in the car.
We cheered for every car that left and waited with bated breath for confirmation they had reached Mykolaiv, Odesa or the Moldovan border. The situation changed every hour, so everyone took risks. I wrote in the chat that me and my two children had to leave. Then a woman called Ina wrote to me. All her relatives were against leaving but her dad agreed to drive us to Mykolaiv.
We planned to leave the next morning.
‘If the cat stays, then I stay too’
It’s Sunday 20 March. I didn’t sleep until 2am and the alarm was set for 7am. I wake up at 5am and can’t get back to sleep. Ina’s dad is to drive us to Mykolaiv, from where we will travel on to Odesa.
I offered to leave our cat with my mother. My daughter burst into tears and shut herself in her room. She said she wouldn’t go anywhere without the cat. “If she stays, then I’ll stay too,” she told me. “You said we’re leaving because it’s dangerous here, so it’s dangerous for her too. I won’t leave her.”
I called Ina, who told me to bring the cat as she was bringing her daughter’s cat as well. So, we got into her dad’s car with the cat. Seven people and two cats travelling through a war zone in a Daewoo Lanos. There were four Orc [Russian tank] checkpoints, then Ukrainian checkpoints and traffic jams.
We finally arrived at 2.30pm. The Russian checkpoints were hard psychologically, but they didn’t really check our bags.
We saw bombed-out houses, scorch marks from shells in the fields, and the remains of other cars on the way. A car with the letter Z on its side drove past. Russian soldiers were digging with shovels. “Are they digging graves for themselves?” Ina’s dad joked.
In Mykolaiv, we got in the car of another driver who took us to Odesa. There, we joined the queue for the station and as soon as the passage was opened, the line turned into a shapeless crowd as we hurried towards the train heading for Przemyśl, Poland.
‘Volunteers gave us food – and there were dumplings’
We woke up safe for the first night in almost a month, dreaming of dumplings. A vet vaccinated and chipped our cat. Volunteers said we should go to the west of Poland to Wrocław or Poznań, since eastern Poland is so overcrowded. Food was given out along the way (and there were dumplings).
We boarded the train, but I forgot that Poland is a big country and by 9pm the children needed sleep. Poznan was at least two hours away, so I decided to get off at the next big city, Wrocław.
Volunteers met us off the train and took us to eat. My son ate two servings as a woman told us to wait before someone took us back to his home. We drove 40 minutes towards a small town called Sobótka and found ourselves in a large two-storey house, with tea and sandwiches waiting for us on the table, and soft pillows and blankets in the bedroom.
The family had three children. Their huge dog, Charna, rightly considered himself the main spirit of the house. I thought I would fall asleep straight away but I didn’t. I woke up twice because I thought I could hear sirens and bombs.
‘My biggest fear right now is my kids being unhappy’
Wrocław is an amazing city and there are lots of Ukrainians there. The kids read the graffiti on the wall and rejoiced at the dedications to Ukraine. After we left, they confessed that they added their own message: “Ukraine will win”, as well as the names of their pets.
I’m wondering what to do next. The children are fine here but I need a job, and without knowing the language, it is not an option. I’m trying to find out more about English-speaking countries. I seriously think about applying for a British visa. I will probably be able to find a job there and I can speak the language.
In the meantime, my Polish host helped me get an overnight bus to Hamburg, where we were put up by a single mother of four children.
My daughter slept for the whole of the next day, but the cat acts as if nothing happened. My biggest fear right now is making my kids unhappy and I don’t actually know what is best for them. I feel really lost but not lonely because I see how many people are trying to help.
Everywhere in Europe, Ukrainian flags greet us. We are happy to see any sign of our country, and to meet any Ukrainian. On our way to Hamburg we had a bus full of Ukrainians. I was happy to hear noisy Ukrainian toddlers throughout the night and even more noisy Ukrainian grandmothers trying to calm them down.
The next day, I heard that my friend in Mykolaiv was killed by bombs. She is a poetess; we have known each other for 15 years. I still can’t say “was” or “knew”. Not long ago, we drank tea with croissants and discussed family history. I hoped this wasn’t true, but then I understand that this is a war and death is very close. We need to be ready for this. I wasn’t ready.
‘Life is getting better and better’
Good news. A friend of a friend of a friend from London has said he will be our host and can provide two spare rooms for us to live in. I struggled to fill out the visa form. I kept thinking of Bucha, Mariupol, Kharkiv and Kherson and my head became filled with many questions. Why is this war happening? When will it stop? How many victims are there today? Why are children dying? It became impossible to concentrate.
Obtaining a British visa is a long process, so we decided to go to Sweden. I read many books by Astrid Lindgren to my children and wanted to immerse the children in this joyous atmosphere. I didn’t want to be far from Germany to ensure I can get to London quickly, once the visa is arranged.
My children are still scared of aeroplanes because of the Russian warplanes but, thankfully, there is the Eurostar. We settled in a picturesque village near Stockholm, next to a very beautiful lake, and finally felt safe.
We visited Stockholm, which has free public transport for Ukrainians. Our host introduced me to another woman from Ukraine, who had left Kharkiv with her two children, and we went to Junibacken, a park dedicated to Lindgren and other Swedish writers, together. Life is getting better. We are no longer as numb as when we left Ukraine.
On 8 April, we received visa confirmation, so we can go to the UK. It happened quicker than expected, but it will make sense to travel after Easter to avoid traffic and crowds. The people we are living with said we can stay as long as we need. At least we can now plan for our future – but it doesn’t stop me from feeling hesitant about it.
