«Portraits of sisterhood» award: Sestry to Announce winners in March

Минулоріч редакція Sestry.eu започаткувала спеціальну премію «Портрети сестринства», якою відзначає жінок, котрі своєю активною громадянською позицією та готовністю до самопожертви роблять усе для допомоги тим, хто цього найбільше потребує. Друга нагорода «Портретів сестринства» підтверджує, що співпраця українських і польських жінок стабільна і може стати міцним фундаментом для наших народів.

Напевно, жодна з премій світу не може похвалитися такою щирою, ніжною, негламурною і щемливою атмосферою, як та, що панує на гала-вечорах «Портрети сестринства». Цьогоріч у Варшаві традиційно зібралися жінки великого сердечного розуму і сили. Вони не конкурували між собою, адже навчилися трансформувати свій або чужий біль у допомогу і співпрацю. І, слухаючи їх, зала плакала, а самі вони весь вечір обіймали одна одну, бо жодні слова не можуть передати того, що всередині, так, як це роблять обійми.

Поважна капітула (журі) визначила 12 номінанток, серед яких шість надзвичайних польок і шість дивовижних українок. Саме з них обрані дві лауреатки премії «Портрети сестринства» — українка й полька як обличчя тісної взаємопідтримки та взаємодії у польсько-українському діалозі, а також взірець справжнього сестринства. Третя нагорода — результат голосування наших читачок і читачів.

Переможницею в номінації «Портрети Сестринства» з українського боку поважна капітула обрала Мар'яну Мамонову за її відданість у допомозі жінкам, які пережили російський полон, а також матерям і дружинам військовослужбовців. Після повернення з російського полону вона заснувала благодійний фонд, який реалізує проєкт, спрямований на психосоціальну реабілітацію жінок.

Отримуючи нагороду, Маряна Мамонова сказала, що пишається собою; найсильнішою людиною на світі — своєю маленькою донькою, адже вона, сидячі у маминому животі, витримала Маріуполь і російський полон; усіма жінками, які зараз у полоні, пройшли його або захищають Україну, а також усіма тими, хто допомагає українцям з-за кордону. І розповіла історію солідарності і сестринства зі свого життя:

«Коли я була в полоні, нас у камері було 40 жінок. Нам давали зовсім мало їжі. Ми всі були голодні, а коли ти вагітна — хочеться їсти за двох. Нам наливали черпачок супу, в якому плавали два шматочки картоплі. І жінки, які були зі мною у камері, — насамперед ті, хто має власних дітей, — діставали по одному шматочку картоплі і клали в мою тарілку».

‍Переможницею в номінації «Портрети Сестринства» з польського боку поважна капітула обрала Аґнєшку Зах за її невтомну допомогу українцям під час війни. Вона прихистила жінок з дітьми й продовжує доставляти гуманітарну допомогу на фронт, уособлюючи солідарність і підтримку.

«Друзі, разом ми — грізна сила. Страх — надзвичайна зброя. Він може змусити мільйон людей, які стоять поруч, повірити, що вони самі. Але нас так багато, і разом ми всі можемо сказати злу «ні». Я не мовчу, не погоджуюсь, і я не покину, не залишу. У наші дні — це чарівні слова, які мають велику силу. Просто повірте мені», — запевнила Аґнєшка Зах.

Переможницею читацького голосування стала Олена Апчел. Читачки й читачі Sestry відмітили її сміливість, культурний внесок і волонтерську діяльність під час війни. Її історія надихає, уособлює силу сестринства, що об’єднує жінок у боротьбі за справедливість і краще майбутнє.

Олена Апчел сказала: «Сила — це крихкість, ніжність і право на біль. Для мене це і є портрет сестринства, тому мені хочеться називати і називати імена жінок — тих, з ким мене звела доля, і тих, кого більше немає з нами. Бо для мене сестринство — це насамперед реальність, де немає конкуренції, де ми стоїмо пліч-о-пліч». Вона згадала зі сцени імена польок і українок, які під час війни показали небайдужість і сміливість боротися й творити. Зокрема, імена вбитих росіянами Вікторії Амеліної й Ірини Цибух, а також закатованої у полоні Вікторії Рощиної.

Церемонію відвідали віцеміністр внутрішніх справ Польщі Вєслав Щепанський і посол України в Польщі Василь Боднар.

А президентка Фонду Кульчика Домініка Кульчик сказала такі слова: «Якось мене запитали, чим я найбільше пишаюся, яким своїм досягненням. І я думаю, що найголовніше — мати сміливість відчувати. Бо поки ми відчуваємо, поки наше серце б'ється в нас, ми знаємо, куди наш шлях нас веде. Коли я отримала страшну звістку, що почалася війна, я була у своєму будинку в Лондоні. Я зрозуміла, що більше не можу там перебувати. Мені болів весь досвід моїх бабусь, прабабусь, тож ми створили команду і стали допомагати, — як сестра сестрі, —- щоб українки відчули себе в Польщі, як удома».

‍Номінантки на премію «Портрети сестринства» з польського боку: 

• Анна Лазар, кураторка, мистецтвознавиця, перекладачка
• Моніка Андрушевська, воєнна кореспондентка та волонтерка
• Анна Домбровська, президентка асоціації Homo Faber
• Ольга Пясецька-Нєч — психолог, президентка фонду «Kocham Dębniki»
• Анна Суська-Якубовська
• Аґнєшка Зах, польська волонтерка

Номінантки на премію «Портрети сестринства» з українського боку: 

• Юлія «Тайра» Паєвська — військовослужбовиця, парамедик
• Олена Апчел — режисерка, військовослужбовиця
• Мар'яна Мамонова — колишня бранка Кремля, психотерапевтка, засновниця благодійного фонду
• Ольга Руднєва, CEO of Superhumans Center
• Олександра Мезінова, директорка та засновниця притулку для тварин «Сіріус»
• Людмила Гусейнова, правозахисниця, очільниця громадської організації «Нумо,сестри!»

Поважна капітула премії «Портрети сестринства»: 

• Домініка Кульчик, підприємиця, президент Фонду Кульчика
• Аґнєшка Голланд, польська режисерка
• Катерина Боднар, дружина Надзвичайного і Повноважного посла України в Республіці Польща
• Наталка Панченко, лідерка «Євромайдан-Варшава», голова правління фонду Stand with Ukraine
• Адріана Поровська, міністерка з питань громадянського суспільства
• Мирослава Керик, президентка правління Фундації «Український дім», Варшава
• Мирослава Гонгадзе, керівниця мовлення Голосу Америки у Східній Європі
• Б’янка Залевська, польська журналістка
• Ельвіра Нєвєра, польська режисерка
• Катерина Глазкова, виконавча директорка Спілки українських підприємців 
• Йоанна Мосєй, головна редакторка Sestry.eu 
• Марія Гурська, головна редакторка Sława TV

Нагадаємо, що минулоріч лауреатками стали: Марта Маєвська — мер містечка Грубешів, яка після нападу Росії на Україну в лютому 2022 року організувала у своєму місті, що за 5 кілометрів від українського кордону, центр прийому біженців, а також Галина Андрушков і Вікторія Батрин — мати і донька, засновниці Фонду UNITERS — найбільшого волонтерського транзитного центру у Варшаві для волонтерів з цілого світу.

Фотографії Anna Liminowicz, Adam Burakowski

At around four o’clock in the morning, the first whistle of a missile echoed over Fedorivka. It flew so low that Oleksandra’s small dacha trembled. The dogs sprang to their feet, and she immediately understood - it had begun.

The first days of the Russian invasion in this small town in the Kyiv region were shrouded in a fog of chaos. The Russians advanced, seizing more and more territory with every passing hour. They moved forward from the Belarusian border, through Chornobyl, directly towards Kyiv. People fled their homes in panic, seeking safety, though no one truly knew where safety could be found. Shops emptied of food and anything that could provide warmth.

But Sasha had only one thought - there were over three thousand dogs in the shelter that needed feeding.

- I quickly ran out of petrol, so I walked through the nearby villages in search of food. I was away for a long time. When I returned, one of the shelter workers told me in horror that the Russians had entered. They were walking between the enclosures with automatic rifles, digging in. They set up a checkpoint on the road. He forbade me from going there. But I knew that our colleague, who had recently suffered a second heart attack, was still inside the shelter. My beloved pets were there. The adrenaline hit me so hard that I simply rushed towards the Russian checkpoint.

Dogs of war

Animals had always surrounded Oleksandra Mezinova. It was her parents who taught her respect and love for «our lesser brethren». Not only local strays but also wild, wounded animals seeking refuge would come to her family home near Kyiv. They treated them and returned them to the forest. They helped all creatures, regardless of condition or origin. They raised puppies and kittens before finding them homes. Oleksandra clearly remembers that receiving a puppy or kitten as a gift from her mother, a respected and beloved teacher at the school, was considered an honour.

When Oleksandra grew up, she realised she wanted to create a place that could provide shelter for a greater number of animals. A systematic solution - a real shelter, one that had not yet existed in Ukraine. At the time, she did not even know what it should be called, as such places had not existed in the Soviet Union.

The long road to its creation was filled with mistakes and successes. But finally, in October 2000, «Sirius» was founded

- I really like this star - it is bright and beautiful. I love astronomy. Along with history, it was my favourite subject in school. And my mother, a history teacher, told me a beautiful legend about Sirius, Orion’s dog. His master was fatally bitten by a scorpion, and he turned into a star along with him. Today, the bright Sirius shines in the sky in the constellation of the Great Dog.

The first to arrive was Nika, a dog with a broken leg. Although everything starts with just one dog, «Sirius» grows very quickly. For the first three years, everything is funded from the family budget, with a young son also in the picture. The beginning was difficult, but Oleksandra’s persistence - inherited from her mother - carried her through. More and more animals arrived at the shelter, more volunteers joined, and the work multiplied. The first sponsors appeared, helping to build her dream - a real shelter.

At the end of 2013, the Revolution of Dignity erupted. Quite unexpectedly, in a single night, Oleksandra’s son decided to switch to the Ukrainian language, and when Maidan began, he travelled to Kyiv with his father to stand on the barricades. Sasha could not leave the shelter but tried to be an active participant by bringing food to the protesters. At that time, Oleksandra did not yet know that the events on Independence Square would have such a profound impact on her shelter for homeless animals.

When the war in Donbas began a few months later, many of Oleksandra’s friends volunteered for the army and went to the ATO zone. They turned out to be highly sensitive to the unfair situation of animals, whose numbers grew daily along the front line. The first person they turned to was Oleksandra. This marked the beginning of a chain of aid created by volunteers working in Donbas, «Sirius» shelter staff and soldiers transporting animals from frontline villages to their new, safe home in Fedorivka.

None of us believed there would be a full-scale war

Oleksandra recalls that by December 2021, there was increasing talk that war was inevitable. A real, full-scale war. But no one believed that in the 21st century, in Europe, a neighbour could be attacked with such force. On December 5th, on the occasion of International Volunteer Day, President Zelensky presented awards. Although Oleksandra received the «Order of Princess Olga», what stood out most from that evening was his tense and stressed expression.

- He said that if it happened, we would all stand together, side by side. I remember it felt dissonant. Although I did not want to believe it, it worried me, and I could not stop thinking about it. I even considered stockpiling food just in case... But people reassured me, saying that nothing would happen. And when I heard the first whistle of missiles overhead, I realised I had made a terrible mistake in trusting them and not taking precautions.

First, she heard the war. At dawn, there was the whistle of missiles flying towards Kyiv. It woke her and her ten animals - dogs and cats. Everything around them trembled, the windowpanes vibrated, and her small dacha shook. Frightened dogs huddled together, and Oleksandra had only one thought: the war had begun. Thousands of thoughts swarmed in her mind, merging with images from the Second World War. She thought of bomb shelters, of the panic that was about to begin, of missiles soon to fall on Fedorivka, of chaos, of fleeing crowds, of kilometre-long traffic jams on the roads.

- I sat on the sofa, the dogs trembled, and I thought about how to evacuate 3500 animals. And suddenly, I told myself: «Sasha, stop. Wrap up. Start making a plan immediately. Point one: food»

Early in the morning, she set out in her car to visit the nearest villages. She entered shops, asked neighbours, and loaded her car with anything the dogs could eat. But after a day and a half, powerful explosions echoed - the bridges were blown up, the Russians surrounded the village, making escape impossible for those who remained. Complete isolation began. The explosions grew louder and louder, and Oleksandra began to pray that the missiles would not strike the village or the shelter. She knew that nineteen people had remained - staff members and volunteers who had come from distant regions and had nowhere to flee. She also did not know how much time they had left or how the Russians would approach them. People said the Russians would enter the village and shoot them all on sight. She found out only hours later when a shelter worker pulled her out of her panicked thoughts - the soldiers had just entered the shelter's territory.

- All I heard was that under no circumstances should I go there, that I had to hide. Military equipment had arrived, they were digging in, and there were many of them. They were running around the shelter with automatic rifles, while people had been herded into a tiny room guarded by a soldier with a gun. I immediately said that there was no other way, that I was running to the shelter - what about the people, what about my dogs? I heard that the Russians were aggressive and would kill me.

Sasha, together with the daughter of the manager who had recently suffered a second heart attack, set off running through the village. Adrenaline pounded in Sasha’s temples. From afar, it was already clear that the soldiers had quickly built trenches, and a camouflaged tank stood inside a dugout. There was also a checkpoint, flanked by soldiers with rifles, their barrels aimed directly at them. They slowed their pace and started walking towards them. When, twenty metres from the checkpoint, a soldier reloaded his weapon, they stopped and took their hands out of their pockets to show they were unarmed.

- I started shouting that my name was Oleksandra, that I was the director of the shelter located just beyond them, and that I needed to get there. They replied that no one was going anywhere and that we had to go home. I shouted that my people and my animals were there, but they only shook their heads in refusal. I demanded to be taken to their commander.

Something akin to madness took over her mind - she no longer cared whether or not they would start shooting. She saw her goal before her, oblivious to any obstacles. The Russians must have noticed it - her eyes burned with determination, she was furious, she was not backing down. With a nod of a gun barrel, they signalled her to follow them.

The commander was aggressive, but Sasha ignored it. She started talking about the shelter, about the people, about the shortage of food. She stated outright that she intended to drive through their checkpoint several times a day as she searched the surrounding areas for food for the animals.

- At the end of my speech, he burst into laughter. He asked if I really thought I had come here to set conditions. Had I really come to an armed position, stood before him, counted on my fingers what I needed, and expected him to give it to me? He had never seen anything like it before. And perhaps, that is exactly what worked.

He agreed but noted that any vehicle passing through would be inspected each time and that he would personally visit the shelter to check whether she was telling the truth. As we left him and walked towards the shelter, I felt a tingling sensation in my spine - I was almost certain that I would be shot in the back.

When they reached the shelter, they saw terrified staff. The Russians had lined them up and ordered them to surrender their phones so that no one could contact the outside world or relay any information to the Ukrainian army. Not everyone obeyed. When they found a hidden phone, they threw the previously confiscated ones onto the ground and demonstratively shot at them, nearly hitting the workers’ feet.

The vanishing voices

When someone enters the shelter and walks along the rows of enclosures, whether they come to adopt a pet or bring food, the residents erupt in noise. Dogs bark, howl and exchange signals. One can only imagine the racket caused by more than three thousand dogs all at once. Oleksandra always warns visitors not to run between the rows, as it only agitates them further, and the canine uproar carries for kilometres.

- The Russian soldiers entered the shelter armed, aggressive, ready to kill. They ran between the rows and among the dogs... and the dogs fell silent. They simply froze and stared at them. To this day, I do not understand what happened, not even cynologists can explain this phenomenon. When I left the shelter and walked through the village, someone asked me: so, Sasha, did they shoot all your dogs?

At that moment, a deathly silence, unlike anything she had ever experienced before, settled into her consciousness. It was only after liberation that it became clear this reaction had saved the dogs’ lives. After de-occupation, dog owners who had lost their pets - once adopted from «Sirius» - came to the shelter searching for them. There were cases where Russian soldiers, upon hearing a dog bark, would throw a grenade over the fence. They might not have even seen the dog, but they fired blindly to silence it. Many animals were killed this way near Kyiv. But inside the shelter, the silence lasted until the occupation ended.

Sometimes, the dogs howled when they heard a missile or an aircraft flying overhead, but then they would hide in their kennels, curling up - hungry and frightened

- I had a habit with the dogs where I would extend my hand through the fence, and they would push their nose or paw through, and that is how we greeted each other. During the occupation, I also had to walk around the shelter often, checking if everything was all right. I did not want to do it - I could not bear to look at the dogs. Then I learned not to look them in the eyes because, a few times, I extended my hand as always, but they did not understand. They were so hungry, and I was offering them an empty hand... I saw the question in their eyes: where is the food? Why are you treating us like this? The pain tore my heart apart. Today, I think that was the most terrifying and difficult task for me. Even speaking with the Russians was not such a nightmare.

But encounters with Russian army soldiers were far from pleasant. What did it matter that, thanks to the commander, they were allowed to cross the checkpoints daily if the soldiers emerged with raised guns and fury in their eyes? The moment the car window rolled down was a daily test of psychological endurance. One never knew what might set them off that day. Over time, the Russians became increasingly bitter, as their «three-day special military operation» was not going as planned. The soldiers started drinking, taking drugs, and often tormenting people without reason-causing both moral and physical harm.

A particularly difficult moment came when He stood at the checkpoint. Always masked, mysterious, and often reeking of alcohol. Someone in the village had told him that Oleksandra sang beautifully, and since then, he would not leave her alone. He liked her as a woman, making checkpoint crossings a psychological nightmare for her.

- He started calling me Prima Donna. Today, I laugh about it, but it was horrifying. Whenever he saw me in the car, he would bow deeply and say: «Prima Donna, please, please, you are most welcome». Then he decided they would organise a concert where I would sing.

Sasha was to sing for the Russian soldiers. A concert for them in the occupied territory. She immediately understood that ultimately, she could not refuse him because if she did, it might be the last decision she ever made. Though she had struggled with sleep since the invasion began, by then, she was no longer sleeping at all. She constantly had headaches, a racing heartbeat, and dark spots before her eyes. She started thinking about escaping through the forest, knowing that the «boys from the ATO» were there. But if she ran, she would never return here, the animals would starve to death, and everything she had done so far would be lost and wasted. And in that moment, too, she heard growling. Her voice became low, her throat tightened so much that she could barely speak.

She was like a sleepwalker in a nightmare that refused to end. Sasha tried to explain to the masked soldier that her voice was hoarse, that the stress had robbed her of it entirely, and that she could not sing

- One day, I told him: you are not a fool. I am Ukrainian - how can I possibly give you a concert? And in response, he once again invited me for champagne. He insisted that I was so understanding and that he could talk to me about interesting things. That champagne of theirs had likely been stolen from some shop. They were drinking expensive French champagne while occupying my city. I was afraid that one day, this could end very badly for me - when he got drunk, and I refused him again. I started avoiding confrontation in the evenings, hiding in the darkness in the back seat of the car.

In isolation

Information from the outside world rarely reached Fedorivka. Sometimes, text messages came through - even strangers would ask Oleksandra if she was still alive. The local residents knew little about what was happening in the country, about what was happening on the frontline. To contact relatives meant taking a deadly risk. There were only a few places in the village where a radio signal could be found. Sometimes, just sending a simple «I am alive» message was enough, but occasionally, it was even possible to make a brief phone call. The Russians must have received information from someone in the village because they quickly found these locations and began setting up ambushes. They would arrive in civilian cars when no one expected them, jumping out with weapons. One time, even Sasha was caught.

- I was standing with a friend, and there was another woman talking to her son on the phone. When I saw them approaching, I hid mine in my shoe. But one of them noticed. He knew who I was, of course. I was incredibly lucky because he pretended not to see anything. The woman, on the other hand, had her phone confiscated, and she fell into hysterics. She began shouting that it was her only way to contact her son, who... was serving in our army.

One of the soldiers immediately reloaded his weapon, convinced that she was passing on secret information to the Ukrainian Armed Forces. The woman's hysteria irritated them even more. Oleksandra sensed that a tragedy was about to unfold. She decided to approach them and, in a calm voice, said: «Look at her. She is just a simple village woman. What could she possibly know? She is only talking to her child. Does a mother not worry about you?» Then, by some miracle, her life was spared, but Oleksandra never saw her again.

Nor did she ever see the soldier who had lied, pretending he had not seen her hide the phone in her shoe. One morning, at dawn, she drove up to the checkpoint and saw the Russians hurriedly loading all their belongings into vehicles. They were clearly racing against time.

- I stopped, rolled down the window, and asked: «Where are you going, boys? Finally heading home?» I said it mockingly, as I always liked to provoke them a little. But they replied that they were going to Donbas. They were furious.

When the Russians fled and the occupation ended, volunteers from all over the world, including Poland, arrived in Fedorivka and the surrounding villages. Although Oleksandra welcomed them, gave interviews, and showed many people the shelter, something strange was happening in her mind. She understood that the occupation was over, but her body, her thoughts, her behaviour were still trapped there. Sasha even stopped at the checkpoints that no longer existed. She lived in this tension for another three months while the world's attention was still focused on this region - after all, Bucha and Irpin, less than fifty kilometres away, were making headlines in newspapers around the world. Volunteers and journalists were already on-site, and local residents were returning.

One morning, Oleksandra woke up and realised that today she had nowhere to go. No interviews, no need to run for food for the animals. And suddenly - all the commotion disappeared. In one second, she realised that she was finally free. Only one thing did not return to its place. Oleksandra cleared her throat loudly.

- I do not know, maybe one day my voice will come back to me. Maybe one day I will sing again, because I love singing. Maybe that will happen when the occupation ends - but across my entire country.

Croatians have warmly welcomed Ukrainians since the very first days of the full-scale war. According to official data, the country has taken in approximately 30 thousand Ukrainian refugees. Stress, language barriers, and lack of employment are just some of the challenges faced in a new country. In July 2022, several proactive Ukrainian women, who had overcome the tough path of adaptation themselves, decided to unite for a good cause. They established an organisation for their fellow countrymen called «Svoja», which has been actively helping those in need for three years now.

Iryna Pronenko: «I could not comprehend that war could happen twice in my life»

I come from Luhansk. I studied there, graduated from the Faculty of Psychology, and managed to work in my profession before 2014. As soon as the war began, my future husband and I left the city. We never wanted to live under Russian rule. In Luhansk, we left two apartments and all our belongings behind, embarking on a new life in Kharkiv. We invested our earnings in professional development and education because the situation in 2014 demonstrated that those with knowledge and experience had a better chance of finding employment. It took us eight years to build a new life and make something out of ourselves. By the time of the full-scale war, I was a managing partner of an HR consulting agency, and my husband had a psychological counselling practice. However, like in 2014, the war caught up with us again. In mid-March 2022, we decided to leave. Due to my husband’s disability, we both went abroad.

We chose Montenegro, not knowing that fate would decide otherwise. Our route passed through Hungary and Serbia. However, when boarding a bus to Belgrade, the driver refused to let us on with our cat. We started looking for another way to get to Montenegro, and it led us through Zagreb. At that point, we had been on the road for five days.

We arrived in Zagreb on 17 March 2022. Perhaps due to exhaustion and the sense of peace, we decided to stay there.

On Facebook, I found a group helping Ukrainians in Croatia. I wrote that a couple with a cat was looking for accommodation. That same day, we received a reply: «We would be happy to host you»

Within a few days, I saw a social media announcement about free Croatian language courses. Over the next month and a half, I studied. Finding a job in Croatia was not easy, but I continued working remotely in Ukraine. Eventually, I met the head of the «Svoja» organisation, offered my help, and got involved in volunteering.

I still help Ukrainians in Croatia with career counselling, setting up businesses, and job searches - such as writing CVs and preparing for interviews. Before us, no one else was doing this. With my beginner-level Croatian, I accompanied people to interviews. Later, when the association won a grant and began receiving funding, I was employed there as a specialist in employment and career consulting.

When the full-scale invasion began, I could not comprehend that war could happen twice in my life. There was an inner protest when you think, how many times must I start over?

In Croatia, it so happened that we created our own job. Its results are evident. Over two years, we have employed more than 500 people. For now, I do not plan to return to Ukraine - and I have nowhere to return to.

Tetyana Chernyshova: «It is very important to feel that you are not alone»

We are from Kyiv and, like many others, thought that the war would not last long - at most, three days. I remember sitting in the bomb shelter with my children. We have three. At that time, one daughter was eight years old, the other six. Our eldest was no longer living with us.

On the second day of the full-scale war, my husband said: «We are leaving. You have half an hour to pack. Whatever you take is yours. We are heading to Western Ukraine». We had a huge argument because I thought it was inappropriate and unnecessary to leave home. I took documents, money, some belongings, and underwear for three days. For some reason, I was convinced that we would return within a week.

On the way, along the Zhytomyr highway, we saw a lot of military equipment. Missiles were being shot down overhead. The children asked: «Why are there fireworks during the day? You cannot even see them». From Kyiv to Zhytomyr, it took us about seven hours. The next day, we heard horrifying news that cars were burning on the Zhytomyr highway and that there were Russian tanks there. We reached the Slovakian border. We managed to find a place to stay in a student dormitory. A few days later, we decided to go abroad with the children. Friends invited us to Zagreb, Croatia. My husband stayed behind, and I went with the children to the pedestrian border crossing. In a queue over seven kilometres long, we stood for 12 hours.

After crossing the border, I panicked. My mind was in chaos. I called the woman who had invited us to Croatia. She fully coordinated us. The next day, we travelled by train to Budapest and from there to Zagreb. And again, we thought we would stay for a week at most - and then return home. However, on March 8th, our house near Kyiv was destroyed by an enemy projectile. It was a direct hit. All that was left of the house was a pile of rubble. That was the moment I understood the gravity of the situation. At first, I was like an animal trapped in a cage. Only later did I start going outside, exploring where the shops and hospitals were.

The children were very well received at the local school. Simultaneously, they studied online in Ukraine. One daughter immediately integrated into the group, while the other struggled. She cried every day and said: «Mum, I do not want to go to school. I do not understand what they are saying. They hug me, and I do not want to hug them».

Croatians are a kind and empathetic nation. They sympathised with us greatly because 30 years ago, they also experienced war and understand what it is like. I worked online as a lecturer in therapeutic physical education at Shevchenko University. However, we were eventually told that it was impossible to conduct lessons from abroad. I had to resign. Until I learned the Croatian language, I worked wherever I could - cleaning floors and toilets, babysitting. In March 2022, I accidentally met a Ukrainian woman named Nataliya, and later, we founded our association «Svoja». We decided to provide informational support to Ukrainians who found themselves displaced by the war.

When you are in a foreign country and do not know your rights, anything can happen. For example, there were cases where people were deceived about their wages at work

Today, I work as a waitress in a café near my home and my children’s school, and I volunteer at «Svoja». From my own experience, I know that people arriving in a new place often do not know where to start or how to proceed. As for my adaptation, I have learned the language and gained some understanding of how to survive here. However, I still feel like a stranger in a foreign country.

Nataliya Hryshchenko, Head of the Ukrainian Association in Croatia: «For us, «Svoja» is one of our own»

We established «Svoja» in July 2022. At that time, it was not easy for anyone who had found temporary refuge in Croatia. We lived without unpacking our suitcases, waiting to return home the next day. Unfortunately, that did not happen. So, we decided to create our own community called «Svoja». To gain people’s trust, it was necessary to officially register the organisation. We were fortunate to meet the «Solidarna» Foundation, which supported us both legally and financially. They provided us with our first grant, registered a fund to support Ukrainians, and acted as our mentors.

Today, our core team consists of four people brought together by chance. Each of us has our own area of focus. We managed to build a community of Ukrainians who use our services, comprising over three and a half thousand people.

It is very important to feel that you are not alone. By helping others, we help ourselves cope with the pain that the war inflicts on all of us

First and foremost, we provide informational support. Our main focus areas are employment and education. We collaborate with the local employment fund. We have a database of people who contact us and respond to their requests quickly. There is no bureaucracy with us. We work with over 70 employers who provide us with job openings. We also cooperate with legal firms that support refugees. Additionally, we assist Ukrainians in validating their diplomas. The number of people seeking our services grows every year. People want to work in their professions and receive fair pay.

We also work in the field of human rights protection. We collaborate with the Ombudsman of the Republic of Croatia and have even had to seek their assistance. For example, 20 kilometres from Zagreb, there is a settlement of Ukrainians where there was no family doctor after the previous one resigned. This is a significant issue for Croatia, which lacks two thousand doctors. We wrote a collective appeal to the Ombudsman, who addressed the issue through the Ministry of Health.

Additionally, we organise language courses. So far, over 200 people have completed our programmes. From January 2025, we plan to introduce a Croatian language course specifically for medical professionals. We have also established an IT community that offers training sessions. Currently, we are running a course on artificial intelligence. Moreover, we provide regular psychological support lectures.

There are requests for psychological, physical, and even material support. Recently, we collected items and food for people who had just arrived from Ukraine. Their numbers continue to grow. Last year, according to official data, there were 22,900 Ukrainians in Croatia; by 2024, this number had risen to over 27 thousand.

Finding us is simple - we have our own website and are also active on Facebook, Telegram and YouTube.