Eyes wide open (Day 54)
A long Easter weekend in Vienna: thoughts on how the Ukrainians in Europe humanitarian crisis morphs into an invisible struggle for many.
I volunteered at the train station for the three mornings of this Easter long weekend: Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. Saturday was so busy that I left hours later than my shift was due to end. Sunday was strangely quiet; I spent most of my time on specific cases that required more attention. Monday was mixed but by the time I was leaving this was the size of the line at the ticket office. The majority of those standing in line had just arrived off a train from Bucharest via Budapest (it is always late and always after 11am and always full of Ukrainians arriving in Europe who have been travelling for days straight by the time they reach Vienna). I left with the understanding that I cannot do everything but also feeling badly there wasn’t enough language support inside. The ÖBB (Austrian railway) has already put forward all of its Ukrainian and Russian speaking staff and is working super hard to try and accommodate all these free tickets. Most of the charity staff don’t really see the railway tickets as their area. A classic example of what happens when fiefdom mentality takes over and no one feels fully responsible. I left today proud of what I did accomplish, and frankly wondering why many others don’t take the same wholistic approach.
Yesterday morning I found myself shortly after 7am in a nice hotel just near the train station, being taken through the breakfast room by staff who wanted to ask the blind man from Ukraine travelling alone what he would like for breakfast, but hadn’t figured out how to do that. I walked up, introduced myself to Denis, and sat down while he placed his order. Denis was travelling alone. He had left his wife and two young children (baby and toddler) in Krakow, Poland while he came to Austria as he referred to it on a “reconnaissance mission”. What are you investigating, I asked? Where I can get the best care for my eyes, he explained. Two of Denis’ blind friends (they came as a group to Europe, and apparently had a less than great experience in Italy) had managed to find housing with a relative of the head of the Austrian Red Cross. Impressive, I nodded. Indeed, Denis replied.
Denis worked in Ukraine at a factory which had jobs for blind adults. His hometown is Kryvyi Rih, where Zelensky is from. I walked him with his luggage back to the station, where we waited for security to show up and help him to his train. Eventually, that too happened. The train from Poland was late. There was a group of young Ukrainians on the platform. We all got talking. They were all going home. Some to stay, others to convince relatives to leave. One young woman said she is worried about her mom, who still goes to work every day at a train station. She is going home specifically to get her mom out. She is worried about the train schedule; it is due to arrive in Lviv at 22:40, and curfew begins at 23:00. You do not break curfew in Ukraine during wartime. She has a plan to run as fast as she can to a friend’s who lives near the train station. She promised to look after Denis on the train. And then you wave goodbye and that is that.
Next I met a family of mother, 17 year-old daughter, 4 year-old son. Also from Zelensky’s home city. They needed a doctor. They had caught a chill on the train out of Ukraine. I offered to walk them to the nearest container which doubled as a doctor’s office on Easter Sunday. After a long amount of paperwork, and declining several offers of covid tests (they had just tested yesterday, they explained), the doctor finally examined noses and throats. Cold medication would be useful. Except it’s Sunday and everything is closed and they don’t actually have any medicine inside the containers. She writes prescriptions; the nearest “emergency” pharmacy is 3 subway stops away. I offer to go with mom while the kids go to the cafeteria to eat and rest. Negotiate cafeteria ticket with charity (you remember), head with mom to the subway.
Mom is about my age and very determined. She has a plan. She wants to get to Canada so her daughter can finish school there and go to university. They will go to Slovakia where the cost of living is cheaper and apply from there. Her husband and 23yo son stayed behind. “I don’t run from problems, I face them head on.” Meaning, if they aren’t allowed to leave the country, they aren’t going to leave the country. We arrived at the pharmacy, the medicine was thankfully free of charge (also a lot of paperwork), 3 stops back. By the time all was said and done I must have spent at least 90 minutes on one family. I wished them to get better soon and good luck with Canada.
The family from Mariupol came back. I helped them go to the cafeteria again (sometimes rules are meant to be broken) and gave a little more money. Said I can’t do more. Equal distribution. Talked about their plans for Germany and maybe Canada. I admire their focus and fighting spirit. They will be fine. I can feel it.
The mom from Donetsk with the two kids who I had been writing about on social media was getting housing because the press speaker of an Austrian governor read my post and offered to help. On Easter Sunday. So I then drove in my car to meet her in what looked like a scary government building but was turned into refugee housing. She came outside. I told her she would be taken care of. I gave her some money, told her not to worry. Then phone calls back in forth in German and Russian. I am nothing more than a Google translate by phone. It’s Easter and my birthday — when I mention that the phone calls let up a bit. I thank everyone and say they must send a car and driver. This mom isn’t going to get on a train with a sick kid and another kid alone. “The town is close to the Hungarian border,” I explain. “The closer to Ukraine, the better,” she says. I can see it’s going to be hard for her. This morning I ask, how are you? How is it? It’s a bit cold but the landlady is nice. Ask for more blankets, I advise, and breathe a small sigh of relief. Nothing is perfect, but a fixed place is a fixed place.
I spend the rest of the day texting about a mixer for the baker and a project I want to try this week providing groceries for Ukrainians in Austria. I see the food problem as a real one. Money is running out, and food is expensive here. Social payments do not happen immediately, and when they do happen, they are not enough. No one has started working yet, and savings are running out. Many husbands back in Ukraine also do not receive salaries if the economy is standing still. The perfect storm.
Tomorrow I start this. I am not sure yet how it will all work, what will prove the most efficient. Likely gift cards and not even going along with them at all. Tomorrow will be the first experiment and then I will try and work out the most efficient logistics. Another Russian-speaker already offered to help me with some of the admin. I keep thinking about scalable solutions. I know I am one and cannot do everything. Trying to be creative. Asking locals to send me grocery gift cards I can directly pass on. I am getting messages from the countryside; I will send them by post. Let’s see. I have set a budget of €50 per family: enough to buy meat and other more expensive items, small enough amount that I can help more people. This is all trial and error. I actually have no idea how to do any of this. All I know is what I see official solutions offering is insufficient, bureaucratic, and leaving gaping holes of need. So I am trying to fill them using direct aid. By the end of the week, I will have learned a lot more.
This morning the first person I met was a mom from Irpin. She was in Austria with her 10 year-old, staying with a nice Austrian family. She was going home, asked me half an hour before the Polish train to get her a ticket to the Polish-Ukraine border. “Going home?” I asked, gently. “To get my child.” Oh. When the war broke out, her husband and 3 year old were visiting grandma in another village. She fled Irpin with the older child, and they lost communication. The mom told me in Irpin there were only Russians, while in Bucha there were Russians and Chechens. The village where grandma lives was also occupied by Russians, but unlike Irpin and Bucha, they did not touch the houses, they did not steal, rape or kill. They passed through and left people alone. We both agreed it is premature to be returning to these towns to live. We bought some snacks for the train, I took her to the platform, she gave me a big hug, I wished her good luck and to return back to Austria safely.
This morning was many regions of eastern and central Ukraine. Kherson (“don’t mention the word Russia!”), Mykolaiv (“we could’t sit in the basement any longer, couldn’t listen to the shelling any longer”), Luhansk (“we waitied until the end…our kids are already in Graz, waiting for us”), Donetsk (a very skinny young mom travelling alone with a small baby and a small toddler with 10 minutes before the train was due to leave — put her on with no ticket and begged an Austrian lady to help her during the journey. She agreed, thankfully.), Dnipro.
I helped them get good train tickets to carry onwards (night train if you can get it because it’s direct), cafeteria tickets if they have long waits, and one mom looked so exhausted and confused I convinced her to stay in Vienna, even if just for a few days, and let herself be driven to the center at Stadion. I found a pram for her toddler. I watched the toddler while mom went outside for a smoke. I found some baby food for her. I wished her good luck, told her to tell the volunteers about anything she needs. She looked at me, “what country are we in again?”. Austria. Aha, she nodded, not yet Germany. Not yet Germany.
A few other moms came to meet me at the station for direct aid. I have those conversations delicately and privately. This is all I can do for now, if I hear anything about an apartment I will let you know, write this person an email about school for your daughter, why haven’t you gotten a job yet if they are hiring Ukrainian teachers? Every story brings you just a little bit more down until you hear one that lifts you up. A lady on the tram paid 5 nights in a really nice hotel for a group of two moms and two adult daughters from Kharkiv. We have until Thursday morning, they told me. Good, I said, that’s three whole days. Three days is a long time, I tried to assure them. Not sure if they believed me. It’s hard to relax when your only goal is to find permanent housing and you focus solely on that search and nothing seems to work. Without housing, can’t get an address, can’t get a blue card, can’t get a job. And so it goes.
So this is what I left thinking about.
And this. When we all “acclimatise” to something and stop seeing it for what it is.
No news round-up today, sorry. I need the family holidays to end and the kids to go back to school and a bit of time back so I can focus on the big picture, too. I have been very caught up in the micro, as you can tell from my writing today. The micro is important because it reflects our humanity and also the macro picture.
Will see how this goes tomorrow. Will try to cover the news tomorrow, too. A few days now off from the train station, a pivot to grocery shopping. As I said, trial and error. I can’t be everywhere at once and I am trying to think about how do we scale: find more volunteers, explain the knowledge I’ve gained over the past few weeks, engage new people to help, prompt locals to see what we see and hear. It is definitely a learning process.
Thank you for reading and I promise to hop back to a more normal publications schedule from tomorrow. Thanks for your understanding and ongoing support!
Is the grocery shopping at a national chain store(s) by chance? There is PR value in what you are doing for the merchant(s) if you can get them to discount or give vouchers/assistance to the families you bring in. I am glad to hear that you have another volunteer working with you as well. Please know you are doing great. :)