I've heard of writer's block but it never happened to me until Russia's invasion of Ukraine. Glued to news sources, I witness anguish. I cannot stop watching the faces of children, who left their fathers and teddy bears, grasping the coattails of their mom who is clutching the baby, walking days to a border crossing, the snow blowing like confetti on their stony faces, marching not to a celebration but the end of time.
Yesterday, a CNN film crew captured a child with thick woven cap almost to his nose, clutching a clear plastic bag of toys and one red book, stumbling from exhaustion along a rural road, weeping and moaning for someone to carry him. But the grown-ups' arms were already leaden with younger children and one bag of worldly possessions. Can someone please comfort this precious child who deserves a shoulder to rest his weary head? Can someone stop the madness?
Set me down with a computer, even a scrap of paper or pen and a story or verse unfolds. It takes a threat to human existence to strike the pause button in my heart and make me wonder why and how we carry on as if it is just a normal day, expecting many tomorrows laid out along a path of spring daffodils. Forget about writing for posterity, when there may be none. Look into the faces of Ukrainians pleading for help, "We have no place to go." Every day I watch those faces on the news and feel helpless and wordless.
I was eleven when the Cuban missile crisis made me fear I would never see twelve and that my very short life of promise would disintegrate in a nuclear war. Grown-ups talked of building bomb shelters, but wondered in whispers what good it would do if there was no food to eat when we emerged to find a scorched earth.
In my naiveté, I wanted to talk to the threatening soviet head of state, Nikita Khrushchev. I thought the voice of a child might bring him to his senses. Children in America are just like children in Russia; we are a world family and need to get along with one another. Surely he would recognize that the threat of war was a threat to childhood, to the future of humankind. I wondered, what mattered to this man? And since then, I've learned that nothing matters to these men, except their own egos.
I have been in a log jam of words for eleven days. All those pretty thoughts are falling like missiles, lying on the ground, ready to explode if touched. My paralysis of hope is in solidarity with Ukrainian children and their mothers, their civilian fathers fighting to defend their homes, the grandparents too old and sick to flee.
Frigid weather, scarce food supplies, constant shelling pulsing the brain. If lucky, an unheated parking garage to shelter at nights. The Sophie's choices to be made to save the babies and abandon husbands to fight or go down with the elderly. Culling a mindset to trudge away from the destruction toward an uncertain future.
Buoyed by their brave leader, Volodymyr Zelenskyy, the world's darling, Ukrainians find courage, and hope. They believe they will win. History tells us that the ones without the uniforms always win because they are fighting for heartland and homeland. Yet, think of the needless destruction and deaths before Ukraine's citizens overcome Russian troops. If…
Zelinsky Family in happier days (above).
The horrors of Russian's invasion on Ukraine sits close to home because the love of our son's life, Katerina, is Ukrainian. She is working in Bangladesh to develop an on-line education program to support children's success in school, and has been helpless to protect her mother, Tamara, who has been hunkered down, alone, in her apartment in Kyiv, and her father, Dimityriv and his wife, Tanya, who are sheltering with neighbors.
In 2020, Katerina spent a month with Chas in Ukraine introducing him to her beautiful country and family. Chas already knew Katerina's mom from the years she lived in Bangladesh when we were also posted there. This immersion trip, however, changed his understanding about Katerina's roots, and he fell in love with Ukraine.
During this sojourn, he sat around kitchen tables with the two arms of her families, looked through photo albums, heard their fascinating life stories, and expanded his heart to the shape of Ukraine. He and Katerina walked the mountain hillsides, picked wildflowers, and met interesting people living peaceful lives in rural farm settings. He sent dozens of photos to Charles and me, wanting us to know this special place, the homeland and heartland of his love, Katerina.
When Biden warned that an invasion was imminent, the Ukrainians still did not believe that Putin would do such a horrific thing. Katerina and her mom thought Putin was bluffing, having lived with his threats since 2014.
When the invasion began, Tamara, became a refugee in her own country. For seven nights she slept in the unheated, underground garage of her apartment building. In the daytime, she and neighbors scrambled out from the frigid basement, to icy air singed with smoke. Neighbors working in teams searching for food supplies, then back to their apartments for temporary warmth and sustenance, racing back to the basement when the sirens went off.
Tamara was alone except for the kindness of strangers. Katerina, sleepless in Bangladesh, was on the phone 24/7 following her mom's safety, and trying to imagine a way out. Katerina's half- brother Federico, has an Italian passport and is a student in Rome. If they could get their mom to Poland, then she could fly to Rome where she has a residency visa.
Katerina knew that once the Russian convoy made their way into the city it would pass down the main corridor on which Tamara's apartment building is the tallest and most vulnerable for shelling. How much longer could Tamara maintain her humor and optimism when the reality was so grim, over 1,000 towns and villages with no electricity, heat or water. Katerina was trying every angle to find someone to escort her mom out of Kyiv by train. How many days left before the rails are bombed?
Katerina told us she had worked out a strategy for her mom to leave by train on Friday night, March 4. Finally, a group of young friends from her apartment building made a plan to escape.
Katerina sent a photo of her mom at the train station with a traveling companion and another with a group of friends from her apartment building. Katerina called this photo, "Let the Force Be with You." (I used it above as my cover photo.)
During that night, my husband and I waited hourly to hear the ping from Katerina's What's App to confirm that Tamara had boarded the train and was on her way. The next morning, the news we heard was that some train tracks had been bombed, another obstacle for those trying to flee, but thankfully not the rail from Kyiv to Chelm, Poland.
Tamara made it out of harm's way, following 1.5 million other refuges, while millions more remain under fire. She traveled first to Poland and is now in Zurich (photo second from right holding welcoming bouquet).Whether they stay or leave, no Ukrainian will escape PTSD. Gratitude for the open arms and homes of Polish citizens. A fragile safety, an unknown future.
They pray there is a home to return to where they will find photo albums spread out on the coffee table, grandmother's apron still soiled from a family dinner, beds fluffy with warm comforters in a favorite color, a half-finished cup of coffee on the breakfast table, trinkets and memories tucked in a bureau, the little things all around that tell them they are home. Home. The sweetness of washing up and tidying the kitchen. Let it be so.
The invasion of Ukraine has received widespread international condemnation. Countries have joined forces to create staggering sanctions triggering a financial crisis in Russia. Protests are occurring around the world including Russia, where all independent media has been shut down. Companies around the world are boycotting Russia and pulling out their operations.
Even Starbucks, Coca Cola and McDonalds have suspended operations until Putin withdraws his troops. The US and allies are giving humanitarian and military aid around the clock, strengthening the civilian army to deter Russian forces. Citing the aggressive response from NATO allies and nearby countries, Putin put his nuclear capabilities on high alert, increasing fears of a global nuclear war.
Ukrainians living through this horror stare into the cameras in disbelief and ask why isn't the west stopping this attack. We must do more to protect Ukraine's brave citizens and let them know we have their back, but we are faced with the question of our powerlessness to stop the madness of individuals trapped in their egos.
These are dangerous times requiring the safeguarding and strengthening of Democracy, starting at home. A clever strategy for ridding the world of dictators would also be nice, but at minimum we can stop providing them sources of wealth by which they gain their power. American companies must move out of Russia and China. We urgently need renewable energy so that oil rich countries are no longer so vital to our economies that we ignore their human rights violations. There are so many big issues to tackle in our world and so sad that we quickly return to doing nothing.
As poet Amanda Gorman wrote:
How long can we stand in the dark,
Before we become more than our shadows?
Today my blog has no happy ending. The calamity in Ukraine is a message in a bottle washed up to our shore.
We pray for Ukrainian victory while wondering this: What are we going to do with this mess we've made of our children's world?
7 March 2022
Photos by Deborah and Tamara
Ukrainian surnames withheld for protection.
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