Forty-six days on, the Russian invasion of Ukraine continues. More than 10 million people have fled their homes, according to the United Nations, while another 6.5 million are thought to be displaced inside the war-torn country itself.
One of the lucky ones, as she puts it, is Maria Romanenko, from Ukraine, who joined thousands of others in a gruelling journey without food or water to be able to reach the border of Poland, before she was then able to fly to Manchester. The 29-year-old, who had spent several years studying in the UK, has managed to set up home temporarily in our region after she was given a visa waiver document by the British Government.
It was her fiance, Jez Myers, a 44-year-old business consultant from Reddish, Stockport, who ordinarily splits his time between Manchester and Kyiv, where Maria had been living since 2018, that encouraged her to escape.
READ MORE: ' Why I'm taking Ukrainian refugees into my home - and what needs to change about the system'
Having since been granted a family visa, the journalist has opened up about living in England once again, but this time in unimaginable circumstances, and has thanked the local people for their generosity. Here, in her own words, Maria gives her account of what it was like to flee the devastation in her home country and to be taken in by Greater Manchester.
‘It didn’t feel real’
It was just a few weeks ago that I was holidaying with my partner when Putin decided to rewrite the history of Ukraine, making false claims such as that Lenin “made” Ukraine. It feels like a lifetime ago, yet it was only on February 21. I laughed at Putin’s ridiculous claims. Clearly, those were the ramblings of an unwell man.
And then he declared the so-called Luhansk and Donetsk “republics” – the areas where Russia has been waging a war through its proxies for eight years – independent. I laughed some more. It didn’t feel real. Except, it was real.
Putin had supposedly gotten some of what he wanted – although obviously, no country in the civilised world would accept his decision. It would probably be enough to keep him “happy” amid the West’s reiterating claims of an “imminent all-out invasion,” I thought.
So, I decided to return home to Kyiv. My partner, Jez, didn’t want to come.
He felt it was an error but wanted to support me. And so, as the wheels touched down on our flight from Gdansk to Kyiv, and we switched our phones back on, there was a little unease as it was declared that Ukraine had entered a state of emergency – even though it looked like the main impact would be on mass gatherings and the possible discomfort of additional security checks.
As we settled into my day and I went about my work, Jez carried out some interviews. They were with some concern but largely jovial, we even popped to the local supermarket. Returning home, I received a call from my Dad, who warned us to get out of the centre of Kyiv. He had heard something bad might happen.
I packed quickly, with all the essential items I would need for a long weekend; electric blanket, curry spices, imported Lurpak from Poland, French press, and a bottle of wine (and my favourite wine opener!) I packed some clothes too and my running stuff. I will be back in a few days, after all, I thought.
In the taxi to my Dad’s, 15 miles away from the centre, I spoke to Jez about a photoshoot I was scheduled to take part in a few days later. I was hoping to attend and looking forward to it. The photographer wanted to know the plan. Jez reiterated that I wouldn’t be going to it.
I would say my attitude was atypical, but it wasn’t. Like so many Ukrainians, I couldn’t and simply didn’t want to process what would happen next.
‘23 hours on foot, we saw bodies carried out from the crowds’
Jez woke me the next morning to tell me that Ukraine had been bombed. Kyiv had been bombed. We’d slept through it all thankfully.
But Jez also made it clear that we had to get out of the country. We had options to stay, to relocate to the countryside, but it wasn’t his home, wasn’t his country, and he simply wanted us to leave.
I wanted to stay, had it not been for Jez, I would have stayed. Kyiv and Ukraine are my home.
It’s where my family is, my life is. I knew I had to leave with Jez though, as I couldn’t bear the thought of being separated for an indefinite time.
Our arguments about staying and leaving were interrupted by the sound of a military jet overhead. Our journey from Kyiv to Lviv in the west of Ukraine took 10 hours.
Petrol stations and supermarkets had hour-long queues. Those that didn’t had already sold out.
In the opposite directions, heading towards Kyiv, I saw tanks and various other military vehicles. From Lviv, a friend offered to drive us to the pedestrian border in Shehyni.
The short drive, which should take a little over an hour in normal times, took over six hours – and it was only such a short time due to a security guard allowing us to take a shortcut due to Jez having a British passport (as a thank-you for UK’s support).
Those who couldn’t take the shortcut had to wait or were instead forced to simply get out and walk the remaining 12 or so miles. Mothers and wives with children and babies, carrying what they could.
The following 23 hours were spent on foot, joined by thousands of others in being crushed, attempting to cross the border. The temperature at night dropped to -4C, and there was no shelter.
Nor was there food or water – though you didn’t want to eat or drink due to the lack of toilet facilities. On our journey, we saw fighting, arguing, and pushing.
The same mothers from earlier, crying and screaming out for safe passage and priority for their children. Occasionally we saw bodies being carried out. At least one person was crushed to death, according to what we heard from a Ukrainian border force employee.
Entry to Poland was smooth, and an army of volunteers met us with everything we hadn’t had during the 23-hour border crossing. Exhausted, having only slept for three hours in the previous 52, and overwhelmed, I cried.
‘I was lucky when so many others haven’t been’
Five days later, following a trip from Krakow to Warsaw and back to Krakow – free, courtesy of the kindness of the Polish rail system – I was able to fly to Manchester. I would love to say that my time in Poland was enjoyable – the kindness shown to Ukrainians certainly was – but the UK Home Office was keen to demonstrate its own sense of “hospitality,” which left a cloud over my stay.
Despite having applied for my visitor visa some weeks earlier, it hadn’t materialised. The Home Office was unsure of its whereabouts, possibly because it had been sent to the now-closed Kyiv office, or maybe it had been redirected to the skeleton-staff-only Lviv office.
Either way, it was missing, it’s still missing, and it could not be re-issued. The British Embassy, Andrew Gwynne MP (Jez’s local MP for Denton and Reddish), and the media managed to put enough pressure, and the Home Office issued a visa waiver.
I was lucky in a situation where so many others have not been. On arrival at Manchester, the hospitality continued, where Border Force had to again confirm that the visa waiver, which isn’t a document that exists for you to show anyone, actually did exist.
This process took several hours, though we were offered water. We also had a polite visit from counter-terrorism police who wanted to confirm that I wasn’t a terrorist.
“Just Google us or go and ask the news crews waiting for us in the foyer,” Jez said, exasperatedly.
Free curry and a haircut
The love and support shown to me by the people of Manchester, Stockport, and Reddish has been tremendous. Businesses have supported me.
Boohoo donated a voucher to me as I didn’t have many clothes. Dishoom provided me with a free dinner and, locally, a hairdresser offered to cut my hair, a local bar gave me a free drink.
The highlight has been a neighbour and his child showing up to give me a picture he had drawn – the child not the neighbour – saying "welcome home" with Ukrainian flags and flowers on it.
Jez and I have been guests at Stockport County and at the Northern Power Women Awards, where we have been made to feel incredibly welcome. Attending events allows people to ask me questions and gives a greater understanding of precisely what fleeing the war and life is like on a day-to-day basis for those still there, particularly with my family still there.
Reddish may not be my forever home – I hope it isn’t and that I can return to Kyiv soon – but until that time, and with the love shown by the people here, I’m happy to remain.
In the meantime, I will support Ukrainians both in Ukraine and those coming to Greater Manchester as best as I can, and I thank you all for everything you have done so far.
To get the latest email updates from the Manchester Evening News, click here.
