Graf the German Shepard & other stories
Finally back in Wien after a lovely few weeks on the Adriatic.
It’s been too long. I am sorry about that. It was a really much needed physical break but also somehow not a mental break because my phone kept buzzing with incoming text messages and I tried to keep up as best I could because of course refugee problems don’t disappear simply because the helpers decided to go on holiday. I am so incredibly grateful to several individuals who hand delivered cards in Vienna and met with Ukrainians in really urgent situations in my absence, who reached out to Ukrainians in Austria directly to send funds to those really in need of some cash, and to Mario and team who sent out 800 (!!) Hofer cards in just the past few weeks. That of course would not be possible without generous donations from around the world. In short, I am so, so thankful. It really does take a village and it really feels like we have actually built one.
First thing I did yesterday was go out and buy 30 €50 grocery cards with funds I received while on holiday. I always work off my pile of empty envelopes, serving those who have been waiting the longest first, but then there are always small exceptions, families who write with really desperate situations, and then you pull those envelopes and try to fast track them a bit. It’s totally imperfect but the best I know how to do right now. Next, I set aside cards for those I will meet in person, in front of Vienna dorms. Then, you send out texts, make appointments. You hope they see their messages. In the meantime, I try to transcribe more empty envelopes, with all the screenshots of addresses I took while on vacation. I’m still working on that. I would receive easily a dozen messages a day, and was gone for almost three weeks, so it’s a lot of envelopes to fill and catch up on. Baby steps.
I took the bus and subway over an hour across town to meet residents of the 11th district dorm. They are always my first stop. The ones I worry about the most. On my way, Natasha calls. The psychologist she has become close friends with had to go back to Ukraine; her mother died. Natasha is dog-sitting Lika, an enormous black lab. Pasha and another boy would like to come to Vienna tomorrow to a volleyball practice organized by a Ukrainian coach (who also called me three times while I was driving through Croatia!), but the commuter trains are not running this summer. The tracks are being fixed. There is only a bus. Could I meet the boys and help them get across Vienna to practice? I say yes, not exactly knowing how I will fit it in. That’s what you do. You say yes and figure out the solution later.
As I approach the supermarket I chose as a meeting point, I see Tatiana from a distance, sitting on the bench, holding her cane, looking nervously around. Tatiana is around seventy and starts to cry immediately as she begins to talk. She arrived by bus to Vienna at the end of July from Mykolaiv. Volunteers in Ukraine told them Austria was waiting with open arms. That wasn’t exactly the case. Tatiana has been living in this “temporary” (legal status) dorm since July 23. She is not yet registered with the police, because she was told she would have to go across town to ACV to do that, and she can barely walk. Someone is making a list of the “handicapped” residents, and said there may be more information on August 4. I advised Tatiana to wait for that. She asks many questions I have no answers to. I hand over the Penny card and explain how it works. She has only Ukrainian money and doesn’t know where to exchange it. I fear the banks stopped exchanging a while back. Tatiana isn’t really on the internet, but she can text. I tell her she can ask me questions, even if I may not always know the answer. I say if you feel very sick, don’t hesitate, ask them to call an ambulance.
We look across the street and a young woman with a funky short haircut in a red summer dress is rolling her wheelchair towards us. That must be Margarita, I said. She has red lipstick and a huge smile across her face. Margarita came from Zaporozhye (first spending several months in western Ukraine with friends) with her mother, Graf, their enormous German Shepphard, and two cats. Margarita has been in a wheelchair her whole life. They wanted to perhaps continue onto France, but then Margarita’s mom ended up in a Vienna hospital (where she is now) because she broke a bone walking Graf in a local park as Graf is used to guarding a house in a village and not used to being exposed to so many other dogs. So now Margarita is alone, in the dorm, with a giant dog and two cats. She raves about Vienna public transport wheelchair accessibility. She has visited her mom in hospital. But taking care of Graf alone is really tough. She has been given permission to take him to the little courtyard behind the dorm, but as a “civilised” dog, she explains, he doesn’t want to do his thing right next to where he lives. I also give Margarita a supermarket card, and this morning I received many dog and cat treats for Graf and friends from a kind Austrian, and I will make another appointment to hand them over.
On my way to my next appointment, I receive a message from another group home in Vienna. A mom of a one year old received two Hofer cards. Was it an accident? Yes, perhaps, I reply, and send her the name of a neighbor she could pass the second card to. I write the neighbor, say the mom of the baby will give you a card. She replies: “I will not take it from her. She was so happy when her envelope arrived. It was only because of her that I know about the Hofer cards. Let her have two.” I agree and relay the message back. Lots of emoji hearts all around. I make a note to fast track the neighbour who refused to take a card from a young mom. Just incredible the generosity many people still display despite the circumstances.
I arrive early to the second dorm. This one is better, in the 3rd district, residents receive social payments and cook for themselves. I see a woman I have given a Hofer card to before. She looks 70, but she is only 57 she tells me. Her son nearly died when his car was hit by a Russian rocket near Kharkiv. His flak jacket saved his life. He has now recovered from his injuries, but needs a new armoured vest to go back to work. He works as a rescuer, going into the most dangerous areas to pull out civilians. This woman would like to raise money to help him buy a new one. She wants to walk dogs or look after cats. She could even take one in her room, she explains, if someone goes on holiday. I quickly post an ad in a Russian language Facebook group. Feels like the least I can do. So far, no one answered. She whispers some residents are mopping floors for €5/hour. It isn’t clear to me who is giving out such jobs and why. I understand that refugees have not enough pocket money and when they are living at the expense of the state they are legally, for now at least, forbidden by Austria from earning more than €110/month. But to put them to work at what is not a fair wage just to toss them an extra €20 (and there is a waiting list to help out!), I don’t know, it really rubs me the wrong way.
The recipients I made appointments with start to come downstairs, and I hand out the cards. At this point, most residents know about me, and most already received help. A group conversation builds, topics ranging from cats and dogs to school to kids to how to apply for the child benefit money.
One mom tells me vehemently she was told she will not qualify for child benefit because her 16 year old daughter is doing online school in Ukraine as she is too old to enrol in an Austrian school and therefore the authorities (or some charity worker) told her she cannot receive the money. Moms have questions about school. Many have been told their kids must repeat the year if their German isn’t good enough. Must my 10 year old son really do 3rd grade for a third time?
At one point it feels like everyone is talking all at once and you feel this overwhelming sense of UGHHHHHH when you hear all the issues that have to be dealt with and you know perfectly well how hard it will be. You tell the mom with a 12 year old boy that he will be ok in a middle school but make sure he is put in an integrated classroom, with kids who already speak German. You advise the mom with a super smart 15 year old daughter who already finished Ukrainian school early to ask around for private schools who might give her a chance here. She gives you very sad eyes when you have to say you cannot give a second Hofer card. I felt awful.
You run into the grandparents of a young artist in her special stroller, Amalia Gorbenko, who has been offered a spot in a private school for September but now the family must try to find tuition. I remind grandmother to tell mom to ask me if she needs help with fundraising.
The stories turn back to dogs and cats again. One woman reportedly has two tiny little pedigree dogs who only eat people food. She spends €100 of her state money each month on their food, and €100 on herself. How does she do it? No idea.
Residents tell me they receive only €204 per month instead of the prescribed €215 which was increased to €260 from June but they never saw an increase, at least not yet. Good news is they can now take the elevator, at least up. In the past, the elevators were only “called” (you need a card to do so, which only the charity employees have) for the elderly and moms with strollers. Now, they agreed to call the elevator for everyone, and asked the Ukrainians to walk down the stairs. They live on the fourth, fifth and sixth floors respectively. It is a lot of stairs.
There is a dad who is always outside when I come there, and he tells me story after story. How they rescued a dog when the bombs were flying from near garbage bins; his owners had apparently abandoned him. They brought the dog to Austria. The man’s daughter is 30 with several graduate degreees and not yet married. This is a tragedy, he explains! I smile. He tells me he used to live in a hotel in Vienna that is now closed for renovation. They moved every last Ukrainian out of that hotel by August 1, except for one. There is apparently still one woman living in the hotel because she has a large dog with no back legs, three cats and a chinchilla. Yes, really. Housing is not easy to find given her family constellation. So far, it seems, no one has agreed to house her.
I have to pull myself away to make it to Stephansplatz in time for the memorial for Dr. Lisa-Maria Kellermayr. I tell the moms to apply for the child benefit money. They look at me with cynicism: “you know that will take them three months to process and who knows if they will ever pay” one says. I understand, I say, but you might as well try. I know the paperwork is overwhelming. Those with the skills to conquer the bureaucracy in Austria are also probably those least in need of financial help. I really hope the charities will help. It sounds like some are. I tell them I heard in a few days Stadt Wien will put up Ukrainian and Russian instructions on its website.
They talk about September. I received several messages yesterday worrying about getting kids ready for school. Moms worried about school supplies and clothes for fall. Sometimes it feels like every time you address one problem, another three pop up. But, as one woman said last night, at least the sky is peaceful over our heads. That is the most important thing. Indeed.
This morning I am sending out more cards, as much as I can buy, and addressing more envelopes, which will have to wait empty on my dining table until we receive funding to buy cards. If you would like to donate directly to my at home pile of envelopes, from texts I have received directly, please use this link. Thank you. Right now I have money to buy 11 more cards, but then that’s it. I have to wait for more donations. If you are in Vienna and would like to donate cards or cash to buy cards, I have a 16 year old courier at my disposal this August.
Finally, thank you all so much. I saw this last night as I was heading to the memorial, and I simply could not believe it. Another 200 families will receive help ASAP. Incredible. Thank you you all, and Mario and team, so much. I can feel how people are tired of the war, tired of talking about Ukraine, tired in general, worried about their own problems, inflation, etc. I totally get it. But unfortunately many Ukrainian refugees here in Austria are still really struggling. This is a huge help, they tell us.
Probably more than enough for a first day back! I will try to write later this week about some of the bigger picture news things I have been thinking and reading about. Now I am off to buy more 11 cards and help Pasha and friend find volleyball practice this afternoon. One step at a time.