4 Months (Day 121)
Extremely grateful to have been able to work off a lot of my waiting list. Some Ukrainian stories from Vienna.
Every hour over the past two days I keep saying to myself, now I’ll sit down and write. I’ve dragged my laptop all over the city by bus, tram, u-bahn and s-bahn, and yet I only now found a free minute to write, at home, finally. The good news is after receiving some very alarming messages late on Wednesday evening (here and here), I woke up to €800 of overnight donations, received 20 cards on Thursday, another 19 today, and was able to distribute 55 more Hofer cards over the past 48 hours. That feels huge, in addition to the 247 cards Mario and team sent out this week via the website applications and your generous donations. Thank you all so much.
The hardest cards are the ones you have to deliver in person. It has been my lived experience the mail service has been inconsistent to the Ukrainian refugee dorm residences in Vienna, where mail distribution is managed by whichever organization is running the group home, so I ask to meet those residents in person. This week I actually went to the dorms themselves for the first time. Normally, I asked recipients to meet me at the train station, thinking most people know where it is (not true anymore now that most refugees are actually arriving directly by bus Ukraine - Austria). I also totally overlooked that for people with limited mobility (elderly, handicapped), just getting to the train station is a huge hurdle.
So yesterday morning I set out to the dorm in the 11th district of Vienna, from my own home in the 19th, using public transport (my car was conveniently in service this week). It took me 1 hour and 15 minutes. Bus - subway - bus. The former residence for pensioners couldn’t be further from the city center without no longer being in Vienna. It is at the end of a bus line which is itself at the end of the subway line. In Vienna’s poorest neighbourhood, statistically and historically speaking. As soon as I approached the massive building (I didn't dare take a photo), I saw a few modest cards parked out front with Ukrainian license plates.
A middle-aged man in a wheelchair was waiting for me. He is nearly deaf, but I couldn’t have known this from texting with him. Alongside him was a granny, also slightly hard of hearing. They met me out front of the building, and before we could have a word in private, a social worker who spoke some Russian but not as her native language ran out to meet me and find out what I was doing there. That set off my alarm bells because anytime someone is checking to make sure people are sniffing around usually tells me there is something to be sniffed for. I introduced myself and explained about the Hofer card program. She was very nice and then eventually returned inside the building with the gentleman in the wheelchair.
That left me alone to speak with granny, who is from Kramatorsk and came alone — the rest of her family is paying a huge rent in Dnipro, moved there thinking it would be safe-ish. Granny doesn't complain per se but does tell me that there is no whole fruit: they are served little slivers of apples or oranges if they are lucky. Lunch is sometimes all gone if you get there too late (in this case “too late” was 12:30 which really surprised me). In other words, they don’t dare complain, but they are being “fed” in a very, very modest way. I explain how the Hofer card works and where on the bus line she can get off to go shopping. I don’t get the impression many of them dare travel far, and they are quite literally as far out of Vienna without leaving Vienna as I’ve ever been.
Granny tells me about another couple, both handicapped. I explain I don’t have extra cards with me that day, but I promise to come back. They write me last night. The husband lost both his legs from the knee down; they are from Lysychansk, Luhansk oblast (terrible fighting there now). I will go see them tomorrow. At least I have my car back. They offered to come to the city but I cannot ask people in wheelchairs to make such long journeys. I feel terrible I didn’t realize earlier how far away the dorm is. I pass granny two more cards, one for a mom who is out at a doctor’s appointment with her child, and then we call down another mother, who has two daughters with muscular dystrophy. She comes down and thanks me in person.
As I am about to leave we meet a mother and daughter age 11. They just arrived last night from Ukraine. They have no idea where the bus is and want to go all the way back to Stadion (other side of Vienna) just to get a SIM card from the welcome center. Something went wrong the evening before when they were there and they didn’t manage to get one. They have no internet. I offer to show them the way. As we walk to the bus, mom starts talking. They are from Dnepropetrovsk oblast, where things have taken a turn for the worst, and they decided to leave even though the rest of her family (mom, sister) decided to stay. They arrived by bus. The bus almost didn’t get let through Hungary; Hungarian border control isn’t keen on letting though busses of Ukrainian refugees. They made even the most frail, most weak, get off the bus and physically walk across the border.
They arrived in Vienna in the evening, and from Stadion were told to get to this 11th district dorm on their own using public transport. This is a trip that would take me at least an hour, and I know how to read the map and move around the city. I don’t know what I was expecting, but I am somehow surprised we expect refugees with bags and kids who have been travelling for days to just take themselves to a far away address. But we do, apparently.
As we make our way by bus to the subway, mom tells me she wants to go to France. She knows someone from Ukraine already there. Good plan, I say, make sure you get your train tickets in June, probably via Germany so it’s cheaper. I give her 50 Euros cash. She doesn’t want to accept it. I explain a Hofer card will not help her in France, I offer this instead. She then accepts. I explain several times how to continue on the subway after I get off: orange to red to purple. She looks nervous. I tell her she can do it. I assure her they have a good lunch there. You can eat and get a SIM card. I tell her who to ask for if there is any trouble. I wish them all the best. And then you leave.
I met women on a subway platform in central Vienna from the dorm in the 3rd district, where things are better because they live much more centrally and can cook for themselves, and also therefore receive the state money. They are paid slightly less than the nominal amount; something about a deduction for cleaning and other communal services. How anyone is supposed to eat on €38 per week without being able to work legally, I have no idea, but that is the reality for these residents.
One young woman from western Ukraine remembers me from the train station months ago. She would like to get a job as a hairdresser but AMS told her she cannot, she can only work as an assistant, something about missing certifications. I told her to keep trying without AMS. But if AMS has to sign off on anyone Ukrainian being hired, they might prove to be a formidable roadblock? Who knows. Another woman came to get a card for her and her elderly mom. It isn’t easy sharing a room with family you used to live separately from. She is really upset they aren’t allowed to work. We all want to work, she says, we would pay taxes, be productive…
A third woman arrives. She is in her 60s, her son is in Kharkiv, was just wounded, now in hospital recovering from burns after his car (he is a volunteer helping in war zones) was hit by a Russian rocket. He is lucky to be alive. His bullet-proof vest saved his life. He just got married in Kharkiv at the end of May. Mom proudly shows me the wedding video. He, age 35, is in camouflage, the bride is carrying a bouquet of flowers the colors of Ukraine’s flag. Mom then switches gears to tell me how much she loves going to Aspern to swim in the man-made lake there. I haven’t been yet, I add, but I heard it’s lovely. She loves our subway system. So practical, no pomp and circumstance. Every minute or so a train rolls in and we have to shout over the station noise to hear each other. I always end by saying if your friends need cards, you can ask me, tell them to write me.
Later that afternoon I meet Pasha and Natasha to attend a volleyball team end-of-season party in a lovely park with a pool and beach volleyball courts. One of the coaches speaks Russian. Another Ukrainian coach we already met once before is also there chatting, perhaps interviewing for a job. For once I don’t have to be the translator. It is a relief.
An hour later and Pasha is signed up for next season and for a one week away-camp in August with boys his own age. Kind Twitter readers donate the €350 for the camp. One less thing to worry about. I hand over used mobile phones, also received this week from kind readers. They are super grateful. Extra phones go to their psychologist who distributes them to Ukrainian families in that little town in need. There are many. I was even able to leave Natasha and Pasha, excuse myself early, knowing they should now be able to make it home on their own using public transport without me babysitting. They managed. That’s real progress. On Monday, we go to a school interview, also arranged by a reader on Twitter. The coach said take ANY school place you are offered. We nodded. Fingers crossed. But all moving in the right direction.
Today I received more cards and will now head out to hand more out, also on the subway, also to women from the 3rd district dorm. Many cards sent out by post today, to addresses across the country. I am so grateful to be able to keep helping like this. Helping and listening. Today I Ukrainian woman came looking for me at the train station from Stockerau; she makes face creams and wanted to thank me for her Hofer card by gifting me a cream she made in Ukraine and brought with her. It smells like lavender and is now in my fridge, per her instructions. She asked about shoes. I called Carla. They said they have some for free. I hope she will find some. I couldn’t go to the shoe store with her. I have to stop myself because rationally I know I cannot afford to help everyone; irrationally you just want to pull out your credit card and solve all these little problems.
Saw this train finally today, after weeks and weeks of helping Ukrainians buy tickets for these sleeping cars back to Kyiv.
As far as the news, again, haven’t had a whole lot of time, but it doesn’t sound good.
The Ukrainian army has retreated from Severodonetsk.
A long read I enjoyed which you might too is about the Ukrainian boys now playing soccer in Croatia. Of course the whole time I was reading it I couldn’t help but think: they are the lucky ones. Think about how many are still in Ukraine and not lucky at all.
I keep doing the micro-planning of handing out cards in person, sending out cards by post, and texting with Ukrainians in need. I try to react as quickly as I can, especially when I get messages like this:
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your continued support. I would like you to know how grateful the Ukrainian recipients of the supermarket gift cards are — extremely. Many cannot believe ordinary people are helping them. The cards are much more than just €50 of groceries. They are a symbol that somewhere out there someone is thinking about you, and no matter how bad things have been / are, there is hope. That is the priceless part.