War diaries: Victoria, heart and soul of a shelter for those seeking refuge from the Ukraine war
Victoria Fiohnostava, 32, is from Butscha near Kyiv. At the beginning of March, she fled to Lviv with her sister and nephew. In Lviv, she started with the local humanitarian organization Tvoya Opra, a CARE International partner, as head of an emergency shelter, which opened on March 16 and currently hosts 105 residents. In total, however, more than 2,000 people have already passed through here, either traveling on to neighboring countries or returning home. A third of them are children. The emergency shelter accepts everyone. Families, women traveling alone, children, men and pets. Here, we have a glimpse of what one day looks like in Victoria’s life, through her own eyes.
7:00 AM
My eyes remain closed as my alarm clock goes off. I just had a dream: It was Thursday, February 24 again. One degree Celsius outside and the sky was overcast. I was in Butscha, about to get up to go to my manicure appointment. It was just a normal day. But when I open my eyes, it’s August. The war is a reality. The last five months have really happened. While my green tea is brewing, I check the news: How many people died last night? How many people were hit by a missile on the street on their way home from grocery shopping for their families?
8:15 a.m.
On foot, I walk the 15 minutes to the emergency shelter in Lviv. My new world. My family. When I’m alone with my thoughts, I have to think about something good to distract myself, so I don’t think about the images of my home and my neighbors lying dead in the street. Today I’m thinking about traveling. I’ve always wanted to go to Rio de Janeiro. It’s ironic, that I always wanted to live abroad, but now I absolutely do not want to leave. There is a war going on, and I can do something. As I turn into the street leading to the emergency shelter, I can see from a distance, that yet another car is parked right in front of it. Despite warning signs and the pallet that we demonstratively placed in the way last week. As soon as I push down the handle to the entrance of the emergency shelter, all thoughts, fears, wishes and hopes disappear into the back of my mind; from now on I concentrate fully on my work. I take a deep breath and enter my new world.
8:35 a.m.
The first thing I do, is to greet the administrator and enter my office. By now I have a real desk and no longer have to use a packing box full of supplies as a table. The laptop hasn’t even booted up properly when Vanya* comes in and tells me that they received a new location for an air shelter. We are still trying to find a good place for our residents. We make an appointment to view it later in the day. First, I have a Zoom meeting, where we all update ourselves on our projects. Then I look at some bills, search online for free supplies and have a look at the list of requests for longer stay. Today I will need to interview a family, to make sure, that they are all set on looking into schools, job opportunities etc.
11:30 a.m.
Motia, a Spitz dog, is running around me in circles, while I greet the Sekhiyovyeh family and ask if daughter Sofia, 10, is doing better, as she was coughing badly yesterday. In the room next to them I ask if the sink is working again. Two doors down the hallway someone is fixing a lock. One of the administrators comes running down the hallway, asking me to help in the toy’s room. As we walk past the gallery, I stop for a second. The wall is covered with children’s paintings. Every time I walk past here, I take a few seconds to appreciate their art and the story connected to them. One day — after the war — I would like to open an art gallery and invite the press to tell the stories of all these children. Today I look at the picture of a jeep in tall grass and think of the boy who drew this and saw his father being shot dead. It is difficult for me to carry these stories in my heart, but I have to be the strong one. I don’t want anyone to see me cry. I take a deep breath and enter the toy room. I need to keep a stern face and try very hard not to laugh. I was told that the three children looking at the floor in front of me have been throwing stuffed animals out of the window at people on the road outside. I tell them, if they misbehave again, that I will have to kick them out. I would never do that of course, but their scared faces are enough to make sure, that the toys stay in the room where they belong in the future. I ask them to go and pick them up from the road and return them to their designated spot. Even the toys here have a story to tell. Some I received from my own nieces and nephews, some were donated, and some were left here from people who passed through our shelter.
02:00 p.m.
On our way out to inspect the official bomb shelter given to us, I greet Viktor, 72, and ask him how his wife is doing, she is in the hospital to have her stitches taken out. At the door I meet Sasha, 15, I ask him how his newest painting is doing and that I will visit him later to have a look. The air shelter is only a minute’s walking distance, which is good. We do have our own basement, but it is not suitable for that many people. Also, there is a good air shelter at a school, 10 minutes from our shelter, which would be a good option, if we ever have to stay underground for a longer time period. Walking down the stairs I already know that this shelter won’t do for us. I turn on the flashlight on my phone, as there is no light here. Cables are hanging from the ceiling, and I cannot stand straight, as the ceiling is too low. There is dirt and rubble everywhere, a rat is running away from us, a pipe runs through the small room and when I touch it, it is hot. If a missile would hit this building, there would be burning hot water coming out of these pipes very fast. We will need to keep searching for a good place for our residents.
06:00 p.m.
I am in my office, writing another proposal for funding for the shelter. We will manage until the end of August, but then we will need more funding, otherwise, the shelter needs to close. I cannot think of that option. I have to find something, someone. I will not kick my new family out on the road, just like that one family we picked up from a bus stop because the school they were staying at closed the shelter to reopen the school. There is a knock on the door and Nina, 74, walks in with a big flower bouquet in her hands. She tells me that she is so thankful for the life and help that she has here. We hold each other and I tell her that these flowers look so expensive, that she should buy something for her grandchildren instead. Nina insists that she just wants to show how much she appreciates what I do. Once Nina leaves, I hold the flowers tightly to myself and try not to cry. I am still holding them when someone knocks on my door again. It’s the toy-throwing-children, they have a cake made out of cookies for me and apologize for their little adventure. This time I cannot stop myself laughing and accept the cake.
09:30 p.m.
I am in one of the kitchens and I am looking through the cabinet to see if we still have enough baby formula. I greet Natalia, who is making herself an instant soup and ask her how her son is doing, and if he is still doing his online classes on the small phone. We do need more laptops and tablets, so that the children here can attend their online school. I go to one of the female bathrooms and check if we have enough soap and shampoo, when the siren goes off on my phone. Air alarm. I sigh, drop the package of pads and walk down to the basement. Most of our residents ignore the alarm nowadays. It happens so often. If you would react every single time, you wouldn’t have a normal night’s sleep. Half an hour later my phone gives the all-clear. I do not have to sleep in the basement today and can go home. We are lucky. But someone out there is not so lucky. There are regions on the map in the East, that had their alarm going for 125 days non-stop. There are people out there now, that have lived in bomb shelters for weeks and months. Still, we are all lucky to be here and to be alive.
10:45 p.m.
I leave the shelter as quietly as possible. Curfew starts in 15 minutes, so I have to hurry home. My good thought on my way back today is a vacation where I walk for 20 km every day, seeing and touch everything. I drink one more green tea before going to bed and maybe this time I’ll wake up on February 24 again — a day where I just go to my manicure appointment and continue with my life.
About CARE International: Founded in 1945, CARE is one of the largest and oldest humanitarian aid organisations fighting global poverty. CARE has a special focus on empowering and meeting the needs of women and girls and promoting gender equality and works in 100 countries around the world.