Ukraine: Seeking Hope In The Darkness
When I stroll deep into the fog of my memories I see vibrant green fields, seemingly outstretched into infinity from a twelve-year-old’s point of view. I remember the stacks of hay I would jump on along with other children spending their summer in the village. Along with half a dozen other families, mine had rented a bedroom in an old shabby-looking house, with a couple of shared chilly bathrooms and a spacious kitchen always smelling of freshly baked bread and mold.
On one particular day, all adults were agitated. Some pacing up and down the garden with their cellphones, others talking in hushed voices and shooing away children to go play. I was sitting with my friend and 1-year-old sister on an old mattress the house owner’s husband had dragged outside. It was to be thrown away, but we decided there were uses for it along the lines of trampoline or base for a ship. It didn’t take long for words such as war and explosion to start circulating louder than the people discussing them. Neither I nor my friend fully understood, we just had a general sense of something bad going on and a shared sudden urge to cling to our mothers. They seemed too busy so I held onto my baby sister sitting in my lap, my friend settled for her stuffed bear.
At lunchtime, there was no usual animated chatter and noise, every scrape of forks against plates seemingly echoed and irritably hung in the air. Everyone’s eyes were glued to a tiny black and white TV the house owner had dug up and got working after fiddling with the antennae. More words settled into my mind. Russia. Invasion. Bombs.
The jigsaw of my memories gets scattered from there, but in the small pieces, I see neighbors gathering. Some women crying, others shouting at no one in particular, slowly even the youngers deduced that all the bad scary things weren’t happening all that far. People started arriving in the village, fleeing, bringing with happy hugs and relief, along with more tears and fear.
I’ve never seen my mother pack a suitcase so quickly. Despite us staying put for an additional week, we weren’t sure the roads to the capital would be safe. During the car ride home instead of counting cows and sheep per usual, I counted blackened patches of land, some abandoned cars, trucks…
Those are my limited recollections of 2008 when Russia bombed and occupied Georgian cities. I happened to be one of the lucky children, not injured or traumatized by explosions. Not having lost my parents or home. But I can still vividly recall the general feeling of dread, of mourning and fear which has haunted my country ever since.
The so-called “peace enforcement” operation was supposed to liberate a separatist-occupied region. It was a thinly-veiled excuse from an oligarch dictator to intimidate and subjugate an independent ex-Soviet Union country. Sound familiar, doesn’t it? It wasn’t the first, nor sadly the last time of the horrid attack on human rights and lack of accountability for Russia.
The latest tragic developments in Ukraine are yet another chapter in the inhumane and brutal record of a country held hostage by an unhinged autocrat and his rich goons. My heart rips in half at the genocidal imagery seen from this invasion, the seemingly cyclical and never-ending misery humans manage to inflict upon one another.
At the same time, I would be remiss not to mention the rightful outrage and outpour of genuine support from various corners of the world. In our age of technology and information even the most severe propaganda cracks, no firewalls call obscure the atrocities committed in the name of greed and domination.
In times of darkness, people are the light. People fighting for their homeland, people offering refugees shelter, people gathering funds, and sending aid.
Ukrainians have inspired the world with a lionhearted and determined stance against a giant. Pushing back and derailing plans of a man who no doubt expected an easy victory to justify his fictional story of Ukraine that “isn’t a real country” and dreams of being bombed, I mean “saved”, by Russia.
But regular people alone can’t be expected to repel a hurricane.
The hesitance of other countries, especially the world superpowers is understandable to a degree. Akin to poking a rabid bear, everyone is cautious of a man drenched in the blood of innocence. Who answers to no one, to whom the selfish goal of domination and grabbing power unflinchingly justifies the means.
But I would argue that lack of accountability for Russia throughout all these years, prioritizing of profits and Russian money over human lives are the main reasons why Putin believes he’s infallible. He’s been allowed to be. What’s the world’s threshold for human suffering? What’s to stop this dictatorship from continuing its expansion? How many independent nations ought to live terrified of a murderer’s whim to bomb their homes?
Sanctions against Russia are long overdue, but they are certainly a start. Peoples of the democratic world have to keep putting pressure on their governments to support Ukraine, we have to keep providing aid and spreading awareness of the reality of the situation. It’s heartbreaking yes. But despair only ever helps the villain and the bully.
Hope can feel fragile and fleeting at times such as these, like a dying light it requires sustenance to keep providing warmth. Without it, we are truly lost in the darkness.
If I may, I would implore anyone who may hear me. Find strength in other people, whether it’s the loved ones you can hug or brave people far away in a foreign country, whose hardship cuts you deeply. Empathy is strength. And by holding onto our humanity, we will find a way forward.
We always do.
