I’ve recently had a change in
plans. When I was growing up I often thought about what my future husband would
have to do in order for me to marry him and on the very top of that list was
for him to visit my home country of Ukraine. As I see it, you can’t truly
understand me without seeing the place that raised me. Though I’ve lived in the
United States for the majority of my life, Ukraine has always had my heart. I
still consider it my home and for years I’ve walked around with a piece of me
missing because I left it there. My family is there, some of the best memories
I’ve had are there, but as it stands now those memories might have to last me a
lifetime.
In recent months my dreams of a
trip to my homeland with the one I love have been crushed and set on fire. See
the thing is, when you love someone, you want to keep them away from danger and
Ukraine has become a very dark place. I don’t want to get political and talk
about who is right or wrong, but I do want to talk about my experiences of
witnessing the fall of a place that I hold very dear. I should also probably
mention that I am from Donetsk, a city currently preparing for a blood bath.
Ever since this whole conflict started my family and I have been waiting (though
with great hope in our hearts that we would be proven wrong) for the day that
the fighting would come into our front yards. Donetsk always having been a more
Russian leaning city (for both language and business reasons) has had a target
on it since the day that riots broke out in Kiev. I remember watching the news
and seeing the protests and hoping that this could bring change to a corrupt government
but those warm feelings lasted a very short time before I began to see images
of people throwing self-made bombs at police officers, who then beat innocent
bystanders to a pulp. When all of this began it was a fight for a better future
but now the fight has shifted to just fighting for a future in general.
I cannot adequately
describe to anyone how I felt when I turned on the news and saw my old house barricaded
and covered in bullet holes. Before that moment I told myself the situation
wasn’t real, that it was all contained in a single area in a city far away.
This was probably a coping mechanism because thinking about your grandparents
living in a war zone is unbearable. Still, when you are faced with the facts,
even from a distance, it is impossible to deny your bleak reality. At that
moment I understood that this was real and that no one was really safe. I also
understood that I could not really do much except help make people laugh every
time I Skyped with a family member. As my grandfather put it to me, the only
silver lining to this whole situation was that I got out when I did. That
brought me comfort but also an overwhelming sense of guilt because as my baby
cousin is kept awake at night because of gun fire, I sit at a comfortable job denying
their reality.
My grandfather
has always been interested in war and weapons and he used to take me to war
memorial museums in order to tell me all about the tanks and guns that were
used to defeat the Nazis. I now see those same tanks being restarted and driven
off their stands and once again used in combat. I used to joke about that happening
when I was a child and my grandpa would always say that times could never be so
bad. I guess they are now.
This July 4th
I did my best to reflect on how lucky I was. In 2000 when my parents packed up
and moved to the U.S I thought my life had fallen apart. As I get older I
realize that they absolutely did the right thing because of all the opportunities
I’ve had. I got to go to college with a good chance of getting a job after I
graduate. None of my Ukrainian friends had that same assurance. My heart has
always hurt for my little cousin Mila, who is the most beautiful, bright girl
in the world. Before any of this started I looked at her as reason for a change.
I wanted Mila to know that hard work would put her ahead in life and that her
future was in her hands. Unfortunately when you grow up in a country like
Ukraine your hard work might not always matter and this is so disheartening. My
only hope now is that she comes out of all of this healthy and still
optimistic. I don’t want this to steal her smile or her innocence.
I often get
asked how I am feeling about all of this. It is usually easiest to give a generic
and vague answer because the truth is that I don’t know how I feel. Even though
I write about my experiences with this stuff I almost feel like I am telling
someone else’s story. I am concerned of course, but I feel like the sadness, fear,
and anger have not hit me yet. I watch it all fall apart just like I would look
at a smashed car on the freeway. I feel for the loss but to put myself in that
moment is almost impossible. Even seeing my house on the television, though it
made the situation real in my mind, made me feel like that was not actually my
house. Perhaps something big needs to happen for me to snap out of my weird
haze but I am perfectly content with feeling dull forever if it means that my
family is safe.
I
understand that currently there isn’t much I can do. I can’t bring them to my
house. The airport in my hometown has been destroyed and with roads being
controlled by crooks and soldiers the likelihood of driving a long distance
without having to give up your car and belongings “for the fight” are slim to
none. I sometimes get the urge to just fly over there and hold the people dear
to me close, face the uncertainty together, but I realize that that would not
help anyone. Even the money that we have been sending to family members to help
with rising food costs and such might become useless as banks are closing left
and right in order to prepare for the siege of the city. All I am left to do is
hope (because I don’t pray) and talk to the ones I love and hopefully take
their minds away from the hell they are experiencing. When I see them smile I
start to think that we will all make it through this and perhaps hug each other
when we meet again one day. In Donetsk just like had once imagined.
