Gratitude
It feels very surreal but also very flattering to be recognized for our collective efforts over the past 300+ days and counting.
So this happened. I didn’t really understand it was happening until it happened, if that makes any sense. The journalist, whom I know from an interview I gave her back in June, when I was still helping translate at the ÖBB ticket counter at Vienna’s central train station, called me and asked if I could talk to her for their year-end story. I figured there were probably lots of us. We had a nice one-on-one chat. She bought me a coffee. I let everything off my chest (and then some). Then the nice photographer showed up. I remembered him from a horribly hot day last summer when I was drenched in sweat after running around in the heat and humidity and stood looking very grumpy in front of the train station escalators on a busy Friday afternoon. We spent nearly an hour taking photos. It was freezing this time around. I then pointed to the board and said, “the Kyiv train is coming soon,” and we decided to wait for it.
I stood in front of the blue and yellow sleeper cars as Ukrainians disembarked, met by family members waiting for them on the platform. It was totally surreal: winter, the cold, relentless wind, the suitcases, the plastic cat carrier basket — it just took me all right back to March 2022, except now, there is no one at the train station waiting. There is no more charity offering hot drinks and snacks and diapers. There are no more volunteers with language skills. It is almost as if there is no more war, but we all know that isn’t true.
What changed? Train travel became the most expensive way to get out of Ukraine, so most people arriving now are coming by bus. You might get lucky and find a free bus organized by volunteer organizations. A one-way train ticket from Vienna to Kyiv costs around €100 and you have to book weeks in advance.
Long gone are the days of Europe welcoming with open arms anyone who could get here by train. If the arms were ever really open. I wonder now, looking back, how naive I was when I thought in the spring if the powerful people only knew what a fuck up everything was, surely they could easily make it better? I am no longer that naive. I now understand there is not the political will nor the systemic, bureaucratic structures to implement any kind of real change or improvements. The structures themselves are a huge part of the problem, the octopusi of organizations who all in unison point fingers and claim someone else is at fault and they cannot change anything themselves. It is how it is. Together with a lack of adequate funding, the system itself cripples the response. I saw a perfect tweet this week on this topic:
A slowly deteriorating status quo is about all one can expect. This week I dealt with a housing situation involving just one family, two people. Something which should be so easily fixable with just one phone call. Three very powerful individuals tried to help. Reader, do you think the problem was solved in the way the Ukrainians hoped for? The bureaucracy takes on a life of its own and strangles solutions beyond the realm of rhyme or reason. When this is all over, the bureaucracy may be the only thing left standing. Even people in powerful positions apparently cannot move these inflexible pillars of red tape. I went into the last ten months with a certain amount of cynicism; I finish the year off the charts.
But then there are the Ukrainians. Who break and heal my heart on a daily basis with their stories, their outpourings of gratitude, their openness. They feel so much. They are so reflective. They are so intelligent. They question. They ask why. They express anger and joy. They are anything but gray. They have changed my life forever. I only sent them grocery cards, donated by kind souls from around the world, without whom none of this would have been possible. I only put together a spreadsheet; an army of volunteer elves with hearts of gold did the hard work delivering Christmas gifts to over a thousand children. So me on the cover is just a symbol. A symbol of all the volunteers out there, making their tiny drops in the big bucket, knowing that we cannot fix everything, but we can try to fix this one problem right here, right now, in front of us. That was my motto from day one at the train station, and it remains so.
Today, I mailed 14 Hofer cards so far. I am about to go out and buy another two. A good day. Making progress on my waiting list. Many new families are writing to me. I am happy the grapevine is working. I am sad they have to ask for help like this. I know €50 does not buy much these days.
This morning I was in BIPA, trying to find nail polish remover for my teenage daughter. The price shocked me — €6.99 for a tiny bottle! I asked the cashier, when did this happen, when did it all get so expensive? She looked at me and shrugged, “Everything got more expensive, only no one raised our wages. They always stay the same.” Indeed. No one made anything a softer landing for the tens of thousands of refugees seeking shelter in Austria from Ukraine, either. Today, the government said they can stay until March 2024. They should have put a disclaimer: provided you can afford it.
Zelensky is in DC today, addressing Congress, his first trip outside of Ukraine since the war began, just after visiting the troops in Bakhmut, the hottest place on the front line right now. Putin is grumbling about everyone being against him. Shoigu said Russia will increase the size of its army to 1.5 million men. Prigozhin is recruiting in Navalny’s prison; rumor is he now wants women for reconaissance missions and snipers. I hope the Americans give Zelensky what he asks for, in the spirit of Christmas. Pelosi sent them all a note, instructing them not to skip out on this evening’s session.
I said to a Ukrainian today: I unfortunately don’t see any path to a near-term solution. This will most definitely be a marathon, not a sprint.
Recommended reading, in no particular order:
The ice queen in Kharkiv (Economist)
Sie nennen sie Tanyushka (Falter — sorry I don’t have a paywall free version)
Living under siege: Eight Ukrainians on how the war has changed them (Globe & Mail)
Ice soldiers in Chita (BBC) — I saw these on my Instagram btw from a local photographer I followed while on the Trans-siberian in 2020.
Lukashenko & Putin competing for world’s worst villain contest (in Russian)
Thank you so much for the cards which keep arriving in my mailbox. It makes me so happy to keep going over these last few days before our Christmas, because I know how hard this holiday season is going to be for so many, emotionally, financially, physically, mentally. Many Ukrainians are feeling all of the feelings right now, from stress to anxiety to deep sadness to daring to hope for a brighter future. They are resilient, but they are human. And you feel in your interactions how months of stress have taken their toll. Tempers are short. Empathy is sometimes in short supply. There has never been anything close to an adequate supply of psychological support for refugees many of whom endured real trauma, so none of this is surprising. Plus, as I like to remind people at every opportunity: refugees are not saints. They brought their problems with them. They are human, like we all are. Just trying to survive one day at a time. Wake up and do it all again another morning.
Thank you all for giving me the huge feeling we are all somehow in this together.
01-16-2023 1232 hours Melbourne time. Catching on your goings-on. Australia is a wonderful place--because of family. I imagine this feeling to be universal; sadly, NYC does not contain our family. So I think often of the refugees who fled the war in Ukraine. I truly wish family can be reassembled for them--no matter where they land. Thanks kindly Tanja for continuing to speak for those who have no voices. --christopher