Nata offers a message to politicians, the deciders in our world:  “One minute spent thinking—about how and whether to help Ukraine—is one more Ukrainian life lost.   I witnessed a fireball 100 meters from my kitchen window; my entire apartment building shook.  This Russian rocket exploded mid-air, destroyed by our air defense system.   We are fighting the Russian invaders.  We are protecting our land.  We appreciate the vast amount of support from the United States and Europe and, still, it is not enough. Russia is an imperialist country trying to make Ukraine a ‘colony.’  This should not be happening in the 21st century.  So many Ukrainian treasures have been destroyed or looted by the Russians.  So many innocent lives have been lost.”

Nata was born in 1985, six years before the dissolution of the Soviet Union.  This was a time when school students were required to “pledge allegiance” to the Communist Party.  Nata was in first grade when the Soviet Republic of Ukraine became an independent country.  This followed decades of Soviet oppression and intentional Russification.  

“Although the language of instruction during my school and university studies was Ukrainian,” Nata said, “we spoke Russian at home. We spoke Russian with our friends.  We spoke Russian in our daily lives. Since the war began in 2014 (With Russia’s invasion and annexation of Crimea), I have been trying to bring more Ukrainian language into my life, but more recently, I have been intentionally speaking and performing in Ukrainian.  It is a little hard, but I’m doing it.”

Nata is a Playback Theater conductor, actor and trainer living in Kyiv, Ukraine.  Nata holds a Master’s Degree in Social Work from the Kyiv Polytechnic Institute and has worked professionally in art therapy.  She studied the work of German-American social psychologist Kurt Levin (1890-1947), a pioneer of social, organizational and applied psychology.  Nata’s academic credentials are complemented by extensive training, certifications, and performance in Playback Theater.  She appreciates the inclusiveness of this form of theater and the varied audiences she’s been able to work with:  Internally Displaced Persons (IDPs), children, people experiencing visual impairment, members of the deaf community, minority groups such as Romany, LGBTQ folks, etc.  Nata has remained in Kyiv with her grandmother since Russia’s invasion on February 24, 2022 where she continues to produce theater for her community.

Nata created the “On Guard” (“Na Varti”) Playback Theater Company in Kyiv just after Russia’s February 24th invasion.  This unified two pre-existing Playback Theaters already operating in Kyiv as many actors fled to safety as refugees or took up arms to defend their country.

Playback Theater is a form of  improvisational theater in which actors act out stories told by audience members, on the spot.  Audiences are intentionally small to create intimacy.  Sometimes a formal “theme” is  selected for a performance; other times, actors engage audience members to see what themes emerge from their current lives.  Actors honor the audience members’ stories, evoking a sense of affirmation, acceptance and, sometimes, even resolution. Playback is an art form that creates space for people to communicate.

“I slept in the metro the second night of the invasion,” Nata remembered.  “It made me ill to be there, all those people and pets, frightened and tired.  I returned home.  I slept in street clothes for the first couple of months,  ready to run (for shelter) at any time.  I met with relatives living in the metro.  They made tea.  We sat on their mattress and talked.  It felt so unreal.”

“Our theater troupe resolved to perform Playback for people living in the metro,” Nata said. “Our first performance was in March, a few weeks after the invasion.  Audience members shared powerful stories of the places they left behind in search of safety.  They spoke of ‘sharp’ (sensitive)  things, trusting us to be gentle with their painful experiences.  Children said they missed their fathers who were away fighting.  A little boy, seemingly adapted to subterranean life in the subway station,  referred to us as ‘Humans from the Upper World.’ ”

“So many people left my city (Kyiv) after the invasion,” Nata said.  “The streets were empty.  Those of us who remained were afraid to go out.  We stayed in our homes.  Going out to find food was risky and a bit like ‘hunting’—for milk, bread and vegetables.  So much of the food is sent to feed our soldiers who are fighting. IDPs began arriving from eastern territories seized by Russia—from Mariupol, Kharkiv, Donetsk, Dnipro, Kherson.  I realized we needed to help them find community in this new place.  So many of my friends left.  A beloved colleague, Mykhailo, was killed.  Once I started working with IDPs, I thought, ‘I live here.  You live here now.  I want to help you adapt as you bring your own stories to this place in which we both now live..’”

“Even though there is a war, people still need art,” Nata said.  “People still need connection. We continue to develop our culture during the war:  that is what keeps us going.  If an audience member telling their story at a performance mentions they are from Mariupol, we ask, ‘Is anyone else here from Mariupol?’ and you see the hands raised.  You sense the storyteller’s affirmation, that flicker in their eyes in that moment they realize they are not alone, that others share their experience of displacement.  You listen to them sharing stories from their past and connecting them to their present, building a bridge to their future.  You see these small groups of audience members gathering and sharing contact information with each other when performances end.  They are connecting and supporting each other.” 

“One woman from Mariupol told a story of a special Treasure Box in which she kept small personal mementos and souvenirs,” Nata said.  “She carried that box when fleeing Russia’s deadly assault on Mariupol.  Her apartment key was tucked inside; her apartment building was no more, destroyed by a rocket.  Others spoke of hiding in basements, separated ‘by centimeters’ and escaping in cars amid flying bullets targeting civilian evacuees.  ‘They’ made it through, but they passed cars that did not.”  

Nata observed that stories told by IDPs evolved over time.  Initial arrivals spoke of the horrors of the occupation, reliving their traumatic experiences.  IDPs’ stories shift, over time following their resettlement to Kyiv—audience participants are calmer, more reflective, more forward-looking as they adjust to daily life in their new ‘home.”  This does not mean that they overcame their trauma.  They are, however, finding ways to live with loss while adjusting to a somewhat ‘normal life’  and planning for the future, whatever that future may be.

“If we are performing and the air raid warning sirens go off indicating a possible threat, we tell the audience they can choose to go to a shelter,” Nata said.  “We continue to perform for those who remain.  If we are performing and imminent threat sirens go off, we too, enter shelter with the audience until it is safe to emerge and continue our performance.  Doing this work reminded me that people just want to live their lives.  They want to work.  They want to travel.  They want to raise their families.”

“When delivering a Playback Theater training near Odessa (a region in southern Ukraine when the predominant language is Russian), I had the realization that I could not and should not do this in Russian,” Nata said.  “ I was working with locals and IDPs—and I decided that, going forward, I would conduct trainings and performances in Ukrainian.  Russian is my ‘Mother Tongue’; I still speak it with my family.  Russian is also the language of an invasionary force.  In my view, Russia does not “own” this language.  I am privileged that I can  understand when the enemy speaks.  I am privileged when some of my theater colleagues in Russia suggest that Ukraine ‘should come back to’  the former U.S.S.R.  I understand their messages with clarity.  This helps me understand the messages (e.g., propaganda) my colleagues in Russia are hearing from their government.  As I switch my language, increasingly, from Russian to Ukrainian, I remind myself that Russia is an occupying terrorist nation.”

Nata and her troupe have performed in the metro, on sidewalks, in basements and, soon, they will return to a professional theater space.  They remain committed to their art.  These performances were funded, in part, by the NGO Inclusive Theatre Association “ART-Playback” (See instagram.co/art.playback)

“We live in risk.  We do art in risk,” Nata said.

“I want Americans to know that Ukraine will fight for victory, until the last foot of the Russian occupiers leaves our land,” Nata said.  “This invasion is our ‘common business’ in our 21st century global community.  Ukrainians are fighting for their identity, borders, and independence.  I want to have the right to my Ukrainian identity.”

Nata dedicates this story to all the brave defenders of Ukraine and, especially, to her dear colleague, Mykhailo, a talented scientist, psychologist and artist killed in the war.   

To Learn More:

Na Varti Playback Theater Co. in Kyiv: https://www.facebook.com/PlaybackTheatre.NaVarti   NGO established by Nata https://www.facebook.com/art.playback –  https://www.facebook.com/nata.vainilovych -Nata’s Facebook Page

To Support Nata’s work to bring live theater to the people of Kyiv:

Foundation of the Ukrainian School of Playback Theater which support Playback Theater across Ukraine:  https://secure.wayforpay.com/payment/usptfoundation  Contact Katherine if you wish to support Na Varti directly.

I invite you to follow my blog at https://presenttime.blog.

            

“I didn’t tell my mother where we were going at first,” Lilia said.  “I didn’t want to upset her. I felt like I was watching a film about World War II. So many people and pets crammed the station. Once we boarded, a man with a gun walked through ordering Ukrainian men out of our train; they needed to stay behind to fight.  Our darkened compartment held eight people, including three ‘grannies’ plus three cats.  My Mushia spent much of the ten-hour journey to Lviv looking out the window as we crossed Ukraine.”

Lilia’s evacuation train left Kyiv on February 25, 2022, the day after Russia invaded Ukraine.  She made the 540-kilometer journey to Lviv before boarding a second train to Poland.  She was accompanied by Galina, her 83-year-old mother, and Mushia, her fluffy brown cat.  Lilia hurriedly packed documents, sandwiches, and a few articles of clothing, including one unmatched sock.  She left behind her country, her city, her job, her apartment, her plants, her friends, and family members who decided to remain in the besieged city.

The chaos, stress and sadness of the mass evacuations triggered traumatic memories of World War II for Lilia’s mother.  Galina recounted a story Lilia heard many times since her childhood.  Galina, as a five-year-old, witnessed a German aerial bomb make a direct hit on her family’s home in Semyduby, a village near Odessa  Her father and grandmother, who were inside, were killed instantly.  Galina helped her pregnant mother dig a grave together to bury the remains.  Galina remembers seeing her sobbing mother lay atop her husband’s grave.  Lilia tried to distract her mother, reminding her that they were going to Poland to see her granddaughter, Anastasia, who immigrated to Poland several years ago.

“When I looked at the sad, weary faces, it struck me that there were so many women and children with their dogs and cats,” Lilia said.  “There were also elderly people and foreign students.  Our men stayed behind.  I worry about who will return to Ukraine.  Our men are dying.  Our cities are being bombed.  Will all these Ukrainian women and children return?  Putin is trying to destroy the future of our country.”

“Ten hours into our train ride, a baby began crying and would not stop,” Lilia said.  “The mother was doing everything she could to calm her child. People began covering their ears. The crying continued, adding stress to an already stressful situation of people fleeing war in an over packed train.  An African university student* offered to hold the baby for the distraught mother.  The student cradled the baby, smiled, cooed and the crying ceased.  People applauded.  Smiles emerged on faces.  That student held the child for one-and-a-half hours, as he stood with his luggage.”

Lilia, Galina and Mushia arrived in Lviv amid a rush of refugees.  They boarded a second train to make the ninety-seven-kilometer trip to Przemyśl, Poland.  This supposed shorter journey was lengthened by sixteen unexpected hours of the train idling on the tracks, likely encumbered by the mass of evacuation trains heading west to the Polish border.  

“We were stuck in a field, with no water or toilets,” Lilia said.

This train had wooden seats.  Compartments were packed with ten people each and a menagerie of children, babies and pets.  Travelers were weary from long journeys and worry for loved ones—-husbands, fathers, and sons fighting the invaders.  Many also left behind family members who chose to wait out the war at home, despite bombing, sniper fire and attacks on infrastructure, leaving thousands without electricity or easy access to water.

“We crossed the Polish border at 3 a.m. on February 27th,” Lilia said,  “Volunteers were waiting with food, water and warm drinks at the train station in Przemysl.  All pets had to be vaccinated.  The line was very long.  We waited for three or four hours for Mushia to get her shots.  People asked us, ‘Where are you going?  Krakow?  Warsaw?  Someplace else?  Aleksander, a volunteer, drove us in his private car to my daughter’s home in Krakow.  Mushia was so stressed; she did not eat or pee at all during our journey.”  

Lilia misses her apartment in Ukraine.  She misses attending theater in Kyiv.  She misses her friends and extended family.  Her sister, who chose to remain in Kyiv, stops by Lilia’s apartment to water her plants.

Nine months into her stay in Krakow, Lilia teaches in a program serving Ukrainian elementary students, ages six and seven, relocated due to the war.  Her love of teaching is evident in her fun, spunky interactions with the little ones.  She wrote a recent Halloween-themed play about Caspar the Ghost.  Lilia donned a pointy witch’s hat and cape as she narrated the story designed to teach her charges about this new, unfamiliar holiday.  Lilia stays up late into the night to work on a children’s book of fairy tales she is writing—with her beloved Mushia at her side, purring and nudging her for attention.  

“This experience has taught me that I am brave and very strong,” Lilia said.  “I am learning from this experience.  I’ve met a lot of new people.  It’s interesting to meet a new culture here in Poland.  I have gratitude for these new lessons.  I now know what I need to do.  I need to teach my students about Ukrainian culture and our history and encourage love for their country.”

Time will tell when Putin’s war ends.  Lilia and her students have found a way forward where learning intermingles with laughter despite the difficulty of this time.

About Lilia:  Lilia was born November 13, 1968, in Kyiv when Ukraine was a republic within the (former) U.S.S.R.  Her father, a builder, was a member of the Communist Party.  He chose party membership to spare his family the significant burdens and risks of non-membership in a totalitarian state.  Lilia’s mother secretly arranged for her baptism by a Ukrainian Orthodox priest—in their kitchen sink. Lilia was outwardly raised to be a “good communist”, as a red-scarved Pioneer and Komsomol graduate.  She earned a Master’s Degree in English at Kyiv National Linguistic University.  She has taught for over thirty years, including an appointment at a school for visually impaired students.  She studied belly-dancing and is known to do a superb imitation of Marilyn Monroe in Karaoke.  She currently lives in Krakow with her mother and cat Mushia.

*Lilia heard reports of Black university students being removed from trains.  This was not her experience.  She witnessed Ukrainian women, children, elderly and foreign nationals (including students of color) allowed to leave on evacuation trains. 

I invite you to follow my blog at https://presenttime.blog.

“Russia has invaded.  School is canceled.”

Tonia*, a 41-year-old teacher and single mother, received this message from her school’s director on the morning of February 24, 2022, the day Russia invaded Ukraine.  She was required to call the parents of her students to tell them school was canceled that day.  Who knew—and who knows—how long this war will last?

“I started to cry,” Tonia remembers.  “My colleagues and I were all crying.  We were in shock and felt this immediate sadness. We feared for our children and loved ones.  We realized that a lot of families’ sons would suddenly be mobilized to defend Ukraine from Russia’s unprovoked assault.  I trembled with fear.  It was hard to believe this was actually happening.  I telephoned my friend and learned that her husband was already activated.  As Ukrainians, we became united in that moment, in our fear and in our grief.”

A deep, emotional chasm formed, delineating Tonia’s life before and after the start of war.  Tonia grew up in a Ukrainian Orthodox family in southwestern Ukraine, near Odessa, in a town along the Danube River.  She graduated from university with a degree in elementary education and worked as a teacher.  She is the primary caregiver for her bright, seven-year-old daughter, Liza* with auburn braids and a love of drawing.  Liza’s artwork is the featured image in this story.

“Thanks to God, there were no bombings in our town that first day,” Tonia said.  “There were rocket attacks on military installations several miles aways.  We could hear the explosions and feel the tremors which increased our fear.  We scrambled to find windowless areas to hide in our flats and homes—-interior rooms and corridors felt safer.”

Tonia’s decision to leave Ukraine after the Russian invasion was exacerbated by personal factors.  She is fiercely protective of her daughter Liza, committed to ensuring her well-being.  Tonia ended her marriage after her husband engaged in psychological abuse and child manipulation, common tactics of controlling partners. Tonia and Liza left home on June 27, 2022, four months after the war started.

“I packed documents, a backpack of everyday necessities including an umbrella, toys for Liza and her sketchbook,” Tonia said.  “Liza brought her favorite stuffed animal, a kitten she calls ‘Koshenya’ (Ukrainian for “Kitten”).  She still sleeps with ‘Koshenya.’”

They journeyed over 700 miles, over several days, in a bus overflowing with refugees, to arrive in Krakow.  It was long.  It was tiring. 

“We waited for 12 hours at the Ukrainian-Polish border,” Tonia said.  “I remember seeing all these evergreens through the window, planted in rows, lining the roadway.  I lived for years in southern Ukraine, near the Black Sea, where there aren’t so many fir trees.  This was different…and beautiful.”

Tonia and Liza disembarked at Krakow Glowny, the city’s central bus and railway station on July 2, 2022, after a five-day busride.  They were totally worn out.  They were dazed by the hum of activity as the area swarmed with refugees and volunteers offering assistance.

“I remember standing at the railway with Liza, with our few belongings,” Tonia said.  “I was afraid to move. I didn’t speak the language and Liza needed to go to the bathroom.  I was feeling vulnerable, tired and scared.  I’d barely slept on the bus and was deeply exhausted. I wondered at that moment if it would have been better for us to have not left Ukraine.  I RECOGNIZED I NEEDED TO BE STRONG FOR MY DAUGHTER.  My daughter had no one else at that moment to help her.  I gathered my thoughts.  I realized I could be brave.”

“Volunteers gave Liza and me a real helping hand,” Tonia said.  “They opened their hearts and genuinely cared about us.  They connected me to people who could help us settle in.  We received a level of assistance I never truly felt before.”

Tonia mentioned a surprising and highly valued technology providing key assistance:  a free, online chat service for refugees, staffed by Poles and available via Telegram 24 hours a day, 7 days a week.  Tonia established contact with “Martynka” on June 27th—the day she left Ukraine–and “Martynka” began acting as a virtual case manager helping with immediate and longer term needs.  Tonia continues to reach out to “Martynka” as needed AND “Martynka” proactively initiates check-ins as they acclimate and plan next steps.

Once in Poland, “Martynka” connected Tonia and Liza with a lifeline of free support. Tonia was referred to Salam Lab (www.SalamLab.pl), an all-encompassing migrant assistance program in Krakow.  Connecting with this organization allowed Tonia to secure free housing–for one year–plus free access to childcare, healthcare (e.g., physical and psychological), legal counsel, translation services and assistance with navigating the vagaries of a new culture and a new bureaucracy.  

“Monika, the Director of the help center, was amazing,” Tonia said.  “She was really kind and attentive to our needs.  She helped in so many ways and connected us with a special program that offered a full year of support. I was finally able to calm down.  I now realize all the possibilities for Liza and me to recover some sense of normalcy.  I feel safe. I no longer worry that Liza and I might end up homeless, on the street.”

I asked Tonia, if she were able to speak to Vladimir Putin directly, what would she say to him.  Her response reflects the unreality of a sovereign nation being invaded, unprovoked and unjustifiably.

“It is so hard to imagine what I would say in this unimaginable circumstance,” Tonia said.  “I think I would tell him, ‘We never invited you to our home.  We lived peacefully, with happiness and stability before your invasion.  We never invited you to our home.’”

“I think it’s important for Americans to know how much we appreciate their support, in the war effort and in refugee relief (e.g., financial support from the help center),” Tonia said.  “I want Americans to know only the TRUTH about this war.  Ukrainians want and deserve to feel ‘at home’ in their country.  Ukrainians want to feel safe.  Ukrainians want to be with their families, celebrating holidays in their homeland.  Ukrainians don’t want to have to bury their loved ones because of this senseless war.  It is unfair that Russia chose to invade Ukraine, breaking 21st century rules of respecting established borders while unleashing deadly attacks and forcing so many people to suffer.”

“I hope the American people will see that Ukrainianas are strong, kind, generous, hospitable and open-minded people,” Tonia said.  “We do things with big hearts.  This war, after so many agonizing days and months into this tragedy, has united us in our grief, in our suffering and in our little victories. Ukrainian citizens at home are doing what they can to support our young boys who are soldiers—from baking bread to preparing food for them amid shortages, little money and mangled infrastructure. We want to be independent and able to support our people.  This is very important for people to understand:  Ukraine never asked for any ‘help’ from Russia.”

“I am really, really grateful to people who helped my daughter and me feel safe,” Tonia said.  “I genuinely appreciate the non-Ukrainians who have taken time to understand our plight and chose to help us, with open hearts, without expecting anything in return.  It is important for me to be USEFUL, to work and contribute.  It is my way to express gratitude for the help Liza and I are receiving.

SPECIAL THANKS TO Maryna for her wonderful translation assistance!

I invite you to follow my blog at https://presenttime.blog.

*Pseudonym

Veronika crossed the border into Poland, as a refugee, on March 4th, 2022—eight days after the Russian invasion.  Today, she works three jobs as an educational administrator, a cleaner, and holds a grant-funded, part-time role as a playback theater trainer.  She also organizes theater activities and is a member of a refugee writing circle in Krakow.

Veronika, 26, was born in Kharkiv, Ukraine, in northeast Ukraine.  Kharkiv, founded in 1654 as a fortress, expanded its industrial base over the centuries and is now Ukraine’s second largest city.  Vladimir Putin’s assault on Ukraine has deeply impacted this city where intense shelling forced many residents to flee.

Veronika earned a BA in Art History at Kharkiv State Academy of Design and Art.  She is a professional practitioner of Playback Theater.  She was a member of a Playback Theater troupe in Kharkiv.  Playback Theater is a branch of improvisational theater where audience members tell stories from life experiences and watch them re-enacted, in the moment.  Playback theater offers both entertainment and therapeutic value.  

Russia began assembling forces at the Ukrainian border in March 2021.  They enacted a partial withdrawal in June 2021 followed by a menacing surge to an estimated 100,000 soldiers by December 2021.

“When Russians soldiers first started gathering at the border, we thought, maybe, nothing would happen,” Veronika said.  “As the build-up continued, particularly in December and January, we were warned that something was going to happen.  Many Ukrainians with resources began renting homes in western Ukraine or left the country.  I lived with my mother and grandmother in an apartment building.  I wondered if there was something I should do.”

“I spoke with my cousin in Poland on February 23rd via Telegram and he asked if everything was OK,” Veronika said.  “On February 24th, I was awakened by the sounds of artillery fire at 4:00 a.m.  We had close family in Debica, Poland (near Krakow) who moved there five years ago.  They told us, ‘If something happens, you can come to us; you can always return to Ukraine.’  I understood, from this moment, that I had to do something.”

“We decided to leave for Poland and began assembling our personal documents,” Veronika said.  “My grandmother was hesitant to leave; she said, ‘Everything will be OK.’  My mother, like many Ukrainians, had already packed a “To Go” bag containing food, documents, flashlights, medicine, etc.  We had little information on what to do.  I called my father, a truck driver, who was in Dnipro.  He said, ‘Everything will be OK; just wait.’  Still, we decided the safest course was to leave.”

Veronika’s family gathered in their apartment for departure—her mother, her grandmother, her godmother, and her godmother’s husband who owned a car.  They ate their final meal in the apartment—potatoes, meat, and vegetables.  Veronika, weighing the importance of the moment, took a photo of that last supper.  They sensed danger closing in.  They left the apartment, abandoning dishes in the sink. 

“We left in haste, not knowing what we would experience on the roads,” Veronika said.  “We didn’t know if we would encounter mines or tanks.  I was afraid.  I grabbed my cat and my belongings and we left in my godfather’s car.  It was very cold; roads were covered in ice and snow. We drove to a village about 100 km away where my mother’s godparents live.  It was still early in the war.  What we saw en route appeared surprisingly ‘normal’—people were outside, walking, seemingly running errands in the bitter cold.”

Looking back, Veronika remembered a sense of relief that they chose to leave.  She feared that, had they stayed, a rocket might fall on their home.  A lot of her friends, including those from her theater group, chose to stay in those early days of the war.  Some chose to leave a few weeks later.  Meeting online, her friends spoke of the terror unleashed by Russian planes and rockets.  When air road sirens went off, people only had seconds to react.  This is why many chose to live in the Kharkiv Metro or in basements.  People lived in the dark, dank and cold, without bathrooms, emerging to go to their apartments to get food.  Homes were devastated by aerial bombing. Some of  Veronika’s friends lived this way for two to three months. People who left later were often subjected to visual carnage on their journeys west.

Kharkiv Mayor, Ihor Oleksandrovych Terekhov (elected November 11, 2021), arranged evacuations for residents to a sanatorium in a safer region. Buses were organized. A major volunteer effort was launched to help move people, particularly the elderly. Some elderly, due to limited mobility or personal choice, had remained in upper floor apartments.  Stranded, without water, volunteers had been carrying water to them.

“Our journey to Poland was very difficult,” Veronika said.  “My godmother, with whom we traveled by car from Kharkiv, decided she would not escape to Poland; she did not want to leave family behind.  I needed to arrange for my mother, grandmother and myself to leave Ukraine.  Ours was a complicated path.  We waited for hours in a shelter in Poltava, guarded by soldiers,  for an evacuation train to Tarnopol.  There were so many people—elderly and infirmed people, mothers with children and so many pets.  Trains were packed very tightly.  In our case, we were forced to leave personal belongings behind.  Although some refugees managed to escape with suitcases, our particular train was so full that each passenger was only allowed to carry ONE backpack.  It was stressful and scary as we waited and began boarding a train where all seats were taken.  Adults, children and animals were sitting on floors and between doors.  The train traveled slowly; we stood for thirteen hours.  All the while, I feared an attack could happen.”

Arriving in Tarnopol, Veronika and her family were taken in by one of her mother’s colleagues.  She describes them as very kind people who welcomed them at 3:00 a.m. in a city under curfew.  They fed them and allowed them to bathe and rest before they undertook the remainder of their journey.

“Our final trek to the Polish border involved four different cars,” Veronika said, “three driven by volunteers and one very expensive taxi.  We kept in touch via phone with my aunt in Debica so they could meet us at the border.  It was very stressful on the Ukrainian side.  The Ukrainian border guards were under pressure and could be gruff as exhausted people asked, ‘Why must we wait so long?’  That was the worst.  I saw very old people, small children who were crying, and pregnant women with nowhere to sit.  We stood for eight hours in line before entering Poland.  It was very cold but, at least, it wasn’t snowing or raining.”

“We crossed into Poland on foot in the middle of the night on March 4th,” Veronika said.  “I suddenly realized that I understood Polish!  The mood was very different on the Polish side.  There were so many volunteers offering warm drinks, food and clothing.  There were tents set up to access services.  We were too tired to eat.  Oleksander, my uncle, was already there with his car.  He had waited for us for seven hours.  We were smelly, dirty and exhausted as we piled into his car for the three-hour drive to Debica.  He had food in his car for us and used his iPhone to navigate as we drove in darkness.  I remembered it was snowing and thinking it was pretty.”  

Oleksander and his family lived in a small apartment building in Debica.  He would make five trips, overall, to the border to pick up family and friends fleeing the invasion.  Their small apartment became a haven with people arriving at different times of the day and night, with many stopping to rest and bathe before moving further west.

“I watched my aunt and realized she was so very tired,” Veronika said.  “I felt I needed to decide quickly whether to leave or stay in Poland.  We spent two weeks living with our family.  We were nervous about living in a new place and having to learn a new language.  My mother worked as a nurse for a large medical firm and they arranged housing for us for six months in Krakow.   My mother’s workplace in Kharkiv was destroyed; she now works as a housekeeper.  She submitted all of her nursing credentials for review to Warsaw and hopes to resume practicing as a nurse in Poland.  It’s been taking time; we await the outcome.”

When asked about what she brought with her, Veronika paused.  She explained she is not a person who places great value on material things.  She sees herself as being a “practical” person.  She didn’t have a lot of money and was not one drawn to expensive items..  She brought food, warm clothes (e.g., socks), documents, her laptop and a small light in case she got stuck in a poorly lit shelter.  Friends in Ukraine would, later, mail photos, her camera and some handmade jewelry, pieces of immense sentimental—not monetary–-value.

“I have learned many things about myself from this experience,” Veronika said.  “I thought the war would change me, but it did not.  Even with the stress of being a refugee, I continue to do the things I loved doing at home.  When not working, I take photos and enjoy walks.  I visit libraries and museums.  My mother and I share a very small studio apartment; my grandmother lives in Debica.  I wish I could earn enough money to live independently.  My playback theater troupe remains very important to me.  We are doing things online and have performed in Poland and Lithuania since the war started.”

Veronika is grateful to be in Poland.  She feels welcomed and very comfortable.  The language and culture feel familiar.  Krakow reminds her of Kharkiv. She misses certain people in Kharkiv, but not the city specifically.  She does not plan to return to Ukraine.  

“I lived in the same apartment my whole life.,” Veronika said.  “My dream is to see the larger world.  This is my opportunity.  My city is devastated; my home was bombed.  Many of my theater friends left Ukraine and are scattered across different countries.  I don’t have concrete plans, but I have dreamed of doing theater in England, Ireland or Scotland.  Being farther away, geographically, from Ukraine feels safer but it’s not really clear what place is truly safe.  I met with a psychologist as I adapted to life in Poland.  I was crying a lot.  I’ve been away from Ukraine for eight months.   This war has left its mark on me.  Rebuilding Ukraine will take a lot of time.  It’s not just the buildings and infrastructure.  People lost the businesses and schools around which communities were built.  People lost family members.”

Veronika wants readers to understand that Ukrainians are strong, hard-working, creative people.  Many are volunteering—inside and outside of Ukraine—to help soldiers and vulnerable residents unable to leave their country amid Russian occupation.  Most Ukrainians in Poland work two “jobs”, one to earn money to live and the other to support the war effort against Putin’s invasion.

“One of my goals is to further develop playback theater,” Veronika said.  “Playback was a very vibrant art form in Ukraine with multiple troupes and theaters.  Playback helps people connect and feel better together.  So many of us who came to Poland (as refugees) lost our careers, our homes, our communities—which were part of our identities.”

Veronika explained that many of the Ukrainian women want to be able to work in their careers once their housing is stable and their children settle into school.  Language and credentialing requirements present barriers.  

“Everyone lives in a certain moment,” Veronika said.  “A neighbor, a  fellow refugee, from Lviv, arrived a few months after me with her four children.  My story is, perhaps, ‘lighter’ than others.  Most Ukrainian refugees recognize the generosity they’ve received.  I hope to use my skills and talents to  perform humanitarian work that is good for me and also good for my neighbors.”  

I invite you to follow Present Time at https://presenttime.blog

Andrei wore a t-shirt from a swing dance event in Israel that caught Anna’s eye.  She invited him to dance.  This is how their story began, in Saint Petersburg, Russia.  Now newlyweds, they represent “new immigrants” choosing to build lives for themselves in Poland. 

Andrei is a thirty-seven-year-old entrepreneur with a passion for swing dance and martial arts.  Andrei was raised in a non-observant Jewish family in Saint Petersburg.  He credits his paternal grandmother, with whom he maintains a close connection, with fostering his interest in the Jewish faith.  Andrei completed a degree in Jewish Studies at Saint Petersburg University.  He spent the last six years living in Israel and earned citizenship.  His business, in outsourcing and financial technology, employs thirty employees and is poised for expansion.   Andrei supports philanthropic efforts of the Jewish Community Center of Krakow’s (https://jcckrakow.org) aid to Ukrainian refugees. Andrei dreams of, eventually, using his talents and resources to proactively foster enhanced ethical thinking and behaviors in his adopted country.  Moving to Poland represents a return to his family’s historic roots in this part of the Old World.

Anna is a thirty-two-year-old ceramicist who works at Krakow’s Meditau Ceramic and Meditation Studio (https://www.facebook.com/meditau/) with a business partner from Italy.  Anna studied health sciences in Moscow.  Her professional journey, as a physician’s assistant, involved working in hospital emergency rooms, serving as a school nurse and, later, training as a masseuse.  Anna discovered her true passion was in the creative field of ceramics.  She trained and now enjoys teaching this craft to others.  Her personal evolution inspired her next goal:  to create a podcast about becoming a better version of oneself.  Anna also hopes to have a big family and a dog, with a preference for an Australian Shepherd or a Border Collie!

Anna and Andrei landed in Krakow following a two-month, summer 2022 odyssey driving around Europe with their cat, Wilhelm.  Armed with passports, marketable skills and multiple languages, they set out to find THE COUNTRY in which to build their life together.  They toured the Czech Republic, Greece, Croatia, France and Italy.  Poland was not on their list.

“It was the three Euro teabag in Italy that helped us decide on Poland. I remembered from an earlier trip that Krakow was less expensive, and that the tea was good,” Andrei said with a smile. “Poland is much more affordable and offers a good quality of life.  I feel people here are closer to my mentality with a strong emphasis on family and children—like in Israel.  The cost of living is far lower than in Western Europe.  I also appreciate Poland’s geographic diversity—there are mountains, there is the sea, there is even a desert.^[1] We feel very comfortable here; we want to build a life here.”

Anna and Andrei were startled by the high costs in Western Europe and the level of homelessness they witnessed in France.  Compared to France, Poland felt quite a bit safer.

“I found a good ceramics partner here in Poland,” Anna said.  “This was my main reason for staying here.  There are also swing dance and martial arts opportunities, plus you can get really good pickles in Poland—similar to Russia 😊!”  

We talked about Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.  Anna and Andrei’s families remain divided by the war, some supporting Putin, some not.  Andrei and Anna emphasize that they support Ukraine and are doing what they can to support Ukrainians fleeing the war and those remaining to fight to protect their homeland from Russia’s invasion. Their experience with Poles—as folks who speak with Russian accents—has, generally, been positive.  They recognize that Poles appreciate their efforts to learn and speak Polish.  Although they miss family in Russia, they are unable to visit at this time.  They are learning Polish and have each applied for permanent residence cards.  If they were to travel to Russia today, Anna might not be allowed to leave. Andrei could leave because he carries an Israeli passport.

I asked Andrei about his experiences as a Jew in Poland and the perception of Poles by some Jews in the West.

“I feel safe and welcomed, here” Andrei said. “ I walk through Kazimierz (Krakow’s historic Jewish neighborhood) and I see signs in Hebrew.  I’m involved in the Jewish Community Center.  The concept of ‘Polish Hospitality’ is not exaggerated.  When Poles hear me speaking Polish, they become more embracing.  It’s important for Americans to remember that, beginning in the 1930s, would-be refugee Jews from Germany were rejected by England, Sweden and the United States.  America is very far from this place.  Americans are usually very judgmental of Poles based on newspaper articles and books that don’t show Poland from the best perspective.  I think they should come here and live here and see for themselves.”

Andrei mentioned something that resonated with me.  He said he wants to have the option of living in “two homes” (i.e., two different countries).  Perhaps I read too many Erich Maria Remarque novels about WWII refugees.  Maybe I’m indelibly marked by my parents’ refugee experiences.  Maybe it was my student from the Democratic Republic Congo years ago who retold this story:  “During the Civil War, I escaped with two sets of documents.  One set reflected my tribe of origin.  The other set reflected a warring tribe.  When stopped by marauding militiamen, I had to know which dialect to speak and which documents to surface, lest I be shot on the spot.” 

In an unsettled world, documents equal options.  Andrei and Anna are aiming to play their cards well as they build a life for themselves in this little corner of Central Europe.

I invite you to follow my blog, Present Time, at https://presenttime.blog.

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^[1] https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Błędów_Desert

Agnieszka* is a 49-year-old university professor.  She is married and the parent of two teenagers.  She was born in southwestern Poland, near the Ukrainian border.  She identifies as Roman Catholic.

Reflect on your experience during COVID-19 Pandemic:

I will start by saying that I’m grateful to have returned to my “normal” job of in-person teaching.  Online teaching, during the lockdown, expanded my skill set, but I prefer teaching in-person.  I don’t like it when students turn off their cameras during class.  I’m glad we’re resuming some sense of normalcy, albeit with enhanced digital tools and skills.  Online meetings during lockdown with colleagues in my field—at my university and across Poland—fostered new connections and collaborations. Today, we engage a hybrid model, with in-person and online teaching. 

When we first went into lockdown, I questioned whether this was the reality or if I was experiencing some sort of odd dream.  Who would have predicted that we’d all lock ourselves in our homes?  There were times when the restrictions felt a bit absurd—we couldn’t even walk in parks or in the forest.

How do you feel about Poland’s membership in NATO?

Very simply, I feel better that Poland is a member of NATO; I feel safer.  I never thought protection from NATO might be needed. We now have a war next door with Russia’s invasion of Ukraine.  I’m counting on NATO if Poland requires military assistance.

How do you feel about Poland’s Membership in the EU?

It’s obvious to me that this is a good thing for Poland.  We are more open as a nation. I like the ease of travel, being able to cross borders without having to get visas or show all of these documents.  As a mother, I see the benefit for my children who can study, live and work anywhere in the EU; this gives them a more assured future, with options.  My children have spent their whole lives in the EU.  Some people in Poland express anti-EU sentiments; I hope Poland does not leave.  I want Poland to remain open to the broader world.

Talk about women’s rights in Poland today:

Poland became a new country in 1918–after over a century of partitions.  Polish women were granted the right to vote in 1918 (ahead of the United States).  That said, Polish culture is traditional, conservative.  Traditional social expectations for women imply we are supposed to be doting mothers, focused on family; career aspirations come secondary.  Highly ambitious women are a bit of a “curiosity” among some traditionalists who question why a woman might leave her children with babysitters or prepare obiad–the main meal–without soup! Those of us who juggle our professional lives with family responsibilities still have this nagging feeling that we should, somehow, be doing more.  

Talk about the 2021 refugee crisis on the Belarusian Border:  

It was an uncomfortable and complicated situation.  Alexander Lukashenko, the President of Belarus, manipulated desperate migrants, inviting them to fly to Minsk and then bussing them to the Polish border–the eastern border of the EU–without even telling them where they were.  In my view, the Polish government should have provided basic humanitarian aid. People died in that forest.  Polish volunteers, such as doctors providing assistance and people who took migrants into their homes were later questioned by police.  

Comment from Katherine: This situation reminds me of migrants from the United States’ southern border being offered false promises of assistance and then being bussed or flown to northern cities and simply dropped off, leaving northern leaders like NYC Mayor Eric Adams’ administration unprepared for the influx and scrambling to meet immediate needs.  Some Americans welcomed the migrants.  An October 31, 2022 article in The Boston Globe, “White supremacists demonstrate outside Kingston (MA) hotel where migrants are staying” demonstrates that some Americans do not support migrants.

Talk about refugees entering Poland following Russia’s invasion of Ukraine on February 24, 2022:

To me, this is a very different situation.  After the Russian invasion, many women arrived with children.^[i]  There is this perception that refugees are poor.  Those who traveled by train were limited to one backpack; some carried only a shopping bag.  That said, wealthier Ukrainians arrived by car.  Many Poles have demonstrated considerable support via volunteering, hosting refugees in their homes and donating goods and services.  That said, some Poles are growing weary as the war continues.

Talk about LGBTQ Rights in Poland: 

LGBTQ slogans are manipulated by political forces who need an “enemy.”  Conservatives see LGBTQ status as an “ideology” which, in Poland, has negative connotations.  My university has students and staff who are openly gay.  These is also an office on campus to counter discriminatory behaviors and/or practices.

How do you feel about Poland’s upcoming 2023 Parliamentary Elections?

I hope something will change.  (The conservative PiS party is currently in power.)  I only seem to see political parties I dislike (Agnieszka laughs).  Politicians on the left are a bit removed from everyday lives of Poles living in more provincial areas.  

What do you feel Americans should know about Poland and the Polish people?

American should know that we are all not like stereotypical Poles living somewhere in the United States.  We are diverse.  We are educated.  We don’t all vote for PiS.  We are not all Roman Catholic.  We are not all antisemitic.

I invite you to follow my blog, Present Time, at https://presenttime.blog.

*Agnieszka is a pseudonym

This Time, This Place interviews capture perspectives from Poles and non-Poles, living in Poland today.  Views expressed are those of the interviewees and not necessarily those of the interviewer.

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^[i] Statista.com reported on November 21, 2022 that more than 7.87 million refugees from Ukraine crossed into Poland since the Russian invasion began on February 24, 2022.

 

Ration cards and long lines were part of daily life when I studied in Poland in the mid-1980s.  I was a meat eater then.  I recall waiting in a long line–ration card in hand–as strips of unrefrigerated kielbasa, suspended from hooks on the wall, grew smaller and smaller.  When it was my turn, there was no meat left.  

Toilet paper—even the scratchy, communist, gray version–was a hot commodity.  I tell my students at the Community College of Vermont about standing in line for ninety minutes for twelve rolls of toilet paper.  I felt so lucky as I walked back to my residence hall, adorned in a “necklace” of twelve rolls tied up with string.  People stopped me on the street to ask, “Gdzie?” (“Where?”)  I readily shared the shop’s location.  People understood that, even with quantity limits, there was no guarantee that this highly-valued bathroom commodity would be available.  

I suspect the communist regime reasoned that people preoccupied with securing scarce items needed for daily living were less likely to plot a revolution.  Poland was the first country to overthrow communism in August 1989.  Their fellow communist neighbors watched and, when Moscow didn’t send in tanks, they, too, took the risk to win freedom.  The Berlin Wall came down in October 1989.  Czechoslovakia’s “Velvet Revolution” occurred in November 1989.

There were foods we could count on in communist Poland: bread, cheese, pastries and zapiekanki—a Polish street food.  Join me on this trip down a culinary memory lane!

Bread:  For the record, Polish rye bread is really, really delicious, a thick, chewy balance of mild and tangy flavor.  I remember large, brown, oblong loaves on store shelves handed out by (often grumpy) clerks wearing polyester smocks with matching head coverings.  “Self-service” was a very limited concept in communist Poland–you had to wait in line and ask for items you wanted which were behind the counter.  As an aside, this sometimes meant getting icky apples—the only “fresh fruit” available in winter—as your request for a half or whole kilogram was subject to the clerk’s choosing from among a bin.  Occasionally, WHITE ROLLS or CHALLAH appeared.  I remember snatching up challah and eating the entire, warm loaf on the way back to my dorm.  Today, Poland offers quality ryes but also delicious baguettes, multi-grain and even gluten-free breads—and a professional, capitalist sense of “customer service.”

Cheese:  Communist Poland presented two kinds of cheese:  “yellow” and “white.”  “Yellow” cheese came in large wheels covered in bright red wax, with a flavor reminiscent of a mild emmental.  “White” cheese, twarog, is a tangy cheese that paired well with tomato, onion and a bit of butter on a thick slice of rye bread.  Oscypek, a smoked goat cheese that is pressed into decorative forms, was and continues to be available from local, small-scale producers.  I did hear, however, that the Czechs copyrighted the name—as the French did with “Champagne.”  For now, I will call my favorite Polish cheese “oscypek.”  Today, cheeses of numerous varieties and countries of origin are available.  When in Poland, I still choose twarog over brie!

Pastries:  Even though sugar was rationed for individuals, bakeries were plentiful.  Chocolate was rationed and only for children–this precluded chocolate-infused treats. My favorite Polish pastries were slightly sweet, yeasty and filled with apples, plums or farmer’s cheese.  These are readily available today, however, in upscale versions.  Raisins, a rarity in communist Poland, enhance flavor.  Sweet cheese is accented with a bit of lemon, again, once a rarity.  There is much more focus on how food is presented today, matching standards of western Europe.

Zapiekanki:  Street food wasn’t really a concept in communist Poland.  Zapiekanki were an exception.  Before there was “Italian Pizza” in Poland, there were zapiekanki.  The communist government severely limited “private” enterprise.  There was—and still is—a zapiekanka shop, “Zapiekanki u Hanki” at 3 Sienna Street, just off of Krakow’s medieval square.  The shop, founded in 1980, makes these delicious, toasted, open-faced sandwiches of sauteed mushrooms and perfectly melted cheese, drizzled with ketchup.  Today, customers can top their zapiekanki with ham or other meats.  Numerous zapiekanki shops have opened in Krakow. Hanka’s are the best as my husband and daughter can attest from our “every few years” visits to Poland.

I recently stopped by Hanka’s shop for a zapiekanka.  I placed my order and chatted with Hanka, explaining that I was a frequent customer in the 1980s and on intermittent visits to Krakow since that time. Another customer in the shop, an Asian woman, who studied in Krakow in the 1990s, spoke up, in flawless Polish, that she too was revisiting her favorite eatery while vacationing in Poland!”  

“This happens all the time,” Hanka said. “People come back.”

I asked about what it was like during the Pandemic.

“We closed,” Hanka said.  “All the shops closed.  The government provided some financial assistance to help businesses. We were, eventually, allowed to re-open na wynos (for takeaway), but there was no foot traffic.  There wasn’t even a pigeon on the square.  Now, we are dealing with high inflation.  We will see what the future holds.”

Photo:  My favorite vendor at the Stary Kleparz Market, a local farmer who makes the best “Oscypek”—smoked goat cheese.  People line up for his fresh chickens and kielbasa, too.

Thanks for reading. I invite you to follow my blog, Present Time, at https://presenttime.blog

It’s important for Americans to understand that we, too, have a right to self-determination ~ Lidka

Lidka, age 54, is a mid-career Polish professional who earned a Master’s Degree at the Jagiellonian University.  She is a librarian and parent of an adult daughter. Lidka lives near Krakow and loves to garden and read, particularly science fiction and fantasy.  She identifies as a non practicing Roman Catholic.  Lidka agreed to share her perspective on recent events in and near her homeland.

Talk about the COVID-19 Pandemic:  I remember speaking with a neighbor about feeling apprehensive when the pandemic started; it felt a little like a war.  My employer was supportive.  We continued to receive our salaries when sheltering in place from March to July (2020).  We returned to work in a hybrid capacity; some colleagues continue working from home offices.  As for me, I love my home and my garden and would be happy to work from home on a permanent basis!

What is positive about Poland today?  We are surrounded by beautiful nature which is very accessible; there are lots of beautiful green spaces in Poland.  Additionally, there are plenty of employment opportunities.  I am able to work in my profession.  

What could be better in Poland today?  I wish our government (PiS political party) was more oriented to the European Union (EU); our current government is right wing.  Our government’s actions have prevented Poland from receiving its full funding due from the EU, for general and pandemic relief purposes. You must understand that, during Poland’s transformation to a market economy after the fall of communism, “we were like preschoolers playing in a sandbox with teenagers.”  We were less skilled in business.  I also wish Poland’s social safety net was stronger.  It is difficult to count on family when one needs assistance and there are fewer government resources to help.  We do not have the infrastructure of wealthier countries (e.g., Germany).  I wish Poland had better (i.e., higher) pensions and a more expanded system of care for the elderly.

What are your hopes for Poland?  I hope Poland’s government will change in the 2023 parliamentary elections.  I hope a more centrist and/or left leaning government wins, one that is more open to the rights of minorities (e.g., LGBTQ, etc.) and the rights of women.  I am more introverted and do not participate in street protests; I do, however, support the protestors.  I do not believe women should be required to just stay home, cook, clean, care for children and be unquestioningly obedient to their husbands.

What do you feel Americans should know about Poland and the Polish people?  Americans should know that most of us do not support the current right wing government.  During the last election, many young people did not vote.  It was as if they did not understand the importance of voting.  PiS gives a lot of money to older people and, therefore, can count on a high voter turnout from them.  Some Americans wonder why there are so many “small, independent countries” in Europe.  It’s important for Americans to understand that we, too, have a right to self-determination.

This is a very difficult time for us.

I invite you to follow my blog, Present Time, at https://presenttime.blog.

This Time, This Place interviews capture perspectives from Poles and non-Poles, living in Poland today.  Views expressed are those of the interviewees and not necessarily those of the interviewer.

I’m sitting in my favorite Polish cafe on Bracka Street, a short walk from Krakow’s spectacular medieval square.  Two weeks into my stay, I completed my first book interview and started volunteering with Ukrainian refugees.  I’m reveling in Krakow’s rich cultural offerings and take daily walks to Wawel, the magnificent castle overlooking the Vistula River.  I am immersing myself in this place, this time.  When one speaks the language of a place—even imperfectly—the “aha moments” multiply.

Poland is my first stop on a project to gather stories Poles who experienced WWII German and Russian occupation told their children, here in Poland and, in the Diaspora.  This is about interviewing folks of my generation to understand the impact on how we view our world.  I am currently interviewing children of Poles who remained in Poland or returned after surviving forced labor camps in Germany.  Virtual interviews with the Diaspora begin in January.

As WWII ended, Polish refugees—like my father—fled communism to far corners of the globe. Traumatized by war, they learned new languages and adapted to new cultures, rebuilding their lives in Europe, North America, South America and Australia.  I once interviewed a member of Poland’s underground resistance who boarded a refugee ship to New Zealand.  Tadeusz and I sat on a bench overlooking Wellington Harbor in 2006 as he recounted the British soldier who helped him sneak from the Russian-held sector to the British-held sector of a defeated Germany.  Russian “liberators” would have forced him to repatriate to a Soviet-dominated, newly communist Poland. Tadeusz wanted to live in a free country.

I conducted my first interview with an acquaintance who is a university professor.  We were classmates during the 1985-86 academic year.  He expressed some hesitancy about tilling the soil of his parents’ wartime experiences.  His parents’ stories, to him, seemed quite ordinary.  This was where I gently explained that I was seeking stories of ordinary people experiencing extraordinary circumstances.  My curiosity lies in how people were impacted amid the deprivations and horrors of a dual occupation, Germany from the west and Russia from the east.

My former classmate, like me, was raised on stories about the war.  Viewed through our parents’ childhood lenses, these were not fully formed narratives.  They appeared as anecdotes, whisps of stories.  What they lacked in historical chronology and literary description was more than made up for with uczucia–feelings.  As children, we understood, instinctively, that our parents’ childhoods were disrupted by war, infused with themes of hunger, loss, grief and displacement as bullets whizzed and bombs fell from the sky.  As adults, we understand our parents did what they could to shield us from experiencing such horrors, and yet, the stories seeped out.  My classmate’s parents’ stories and his reaction to them was familiar, resonant.  The differences lie in the details of when, where, and who the protagonists were.

Krakow hums with Ukrainian voices and so many refugee mothers with their little children.  I see them on the square and on the Planty—a circular park encircling the core of the Old City.  They hold their children’s hands as they speak into iPhones with often serious faces, perhaps talking with their husbands defending their homeland against Putin’s war.  I can only imagine these women and children sheltering in basement bomb shelters and enduring far-too-long bus and train rides to cross the border to the safety of a NATO-member country.  I envision tearful goodbyes as their boyfriends, husbands and fathers remained behind to fight a Russian invasionary force. 

Let me tell you about my “little ones.”  I am supporting two Ukrainian teachers, refugees themselves, as they teach at a school housed in a basement suite.  Classrooms and meeting spaces are named after Ukrainian cities.  I am intentional—at this moment—to not reveal identifying information as the war rages.  Working with these beautiful little boys and girls, ages six to eight, feels “right.”  Folks helped my deeply traumatized parents learn English when they arrived in the U.S. decades ago.

I am careful to follow the lead of the Ukrainian teachers.  They are the experts; I am a “helper” who brings the gift of being a native speaker.  I pull out small stuffed animals and a squishy black plastic spider we named “Charlie.”  We dance, we sing and we play games to instill familiarity with a new language and alphabet.  One of the teachers is writing a series of fables designed to teach the children English’s non-cyrillic alphabet.  I get to be her out-loud reader. The teachers work magic keeping the lessons fun.  The children’s personalities emerge with the little girl in auburn braids whose pronunciation of “th” (very difficult) is flawless and the energetic boy with a buzz cut who likes to climb under the table.  There’s a sweet girl, with dark hair and dark eyes, who was so very shy on her first day who now runs along with the pack during recess.  These children enthusiastically give and receive hugs, an important part of our time together.  It’s been liberating to “hop like a bunny” and “swim like a fish” amid a swirl of English, Ukrainian and Polish words in the air.

Thank you for reading.  Please be in touch as I invite you to follow my blog (https://presenttime.blog/).  I invite your questions, too!

P.S.  Folks have been asking about Tony.  My beloved husband and “best friend ever” is in France, engaged in a French immersion program.  He’s been studying French for about five years and hopes an immersion experience will yield a fluency in speaking that he’s already achieved in reading.  We miss each other very much AND support each other in this adventure!  We look forward to celebrating Thanksgiving in Poland with Aleksandra, Alan (hopefully) and family! 

I invite you to follow my blog, Present Time, at https://presenttime.blog.

Photo: Ukrainian children’s backpacks at school