Nastya in Tirol, a viral backpack, and other stories
Some days I feel more like a virtual hotline than grocery card distribution point. Today is one of those days.
I’ll begin with Nastya’s story because it consumed about an hour of my time this morning. Please read the whole story here.
TLDR: Nastya is six years old and due to start first grade in Tirol on Monday. Her mom, here alone with Nastya and her younger brother, Nikita, wrote me today, asking what to do, how she can buy school supplies when there is no money left.
Why is there no money left? Well, Nastya’s mom went to work to earn less than the threshold for keeping your benefits, did everything by the book, and Tirol took her benefits away anyway, so this month mom only received her wages for cleaning an office for 16 hours (€207), and had her own €260 state support taken away. She did receive €145 for each child. The mother is trying to appeal the decision, but in the meantime, could not afford to buy a backpack and school supplies.
She texted me this morning, asking specifically for help with school supplies. She literally asked me for pencils, folders, etc. In the end, thanks to social media, three very generous readers each sent Nastya’s mom a little money, and she will be able to buy for both Nastya and Nikita what they need to get ready for school and kindergarten respectively. Mom checked her bank account super fast while running to German class, as Ukrainians in Austria do.
An hour later, that problem, which might seem little to you, but was huge to them, was solved. But not because of the government. In spite of the government. If you are sensing a trend, you are not alone. But it’s not just the government. It is NGOs which are understaffed and overworked and don’t always hire the right kind of people for social work and sometimes put very unsympathetic people lacking empathy in front of vulnerable refugees. So a lot of navigating refugee life in Austria can feel like a serious of glass doors you keep walking into.
Yesterday morning, one Ukrainian mom in my group chat experienced such a glass door, but from an interaction with a company, so I tweeted about it. The tweet went pretty viral. I am not sure if the bank itself has apologised directly yet (I did give them all the details when they asked me via a private message), but my husband ordered the girl a backpack of her choice and I received many messages offering to do the same. As there is a group home in this same Lower Austria town (are you smelling a pattern yet cough cough NÖ NÖ) where dozens of Ukrainians live, I suggested that address for backpack donations instead.
A particularly savoury moment in this whole viral drama was when another Austrian bank, one which has been particularly good about going digital and letting Ukrainians open free accounts etc, immediately jumped in to say, hey, we can help with backpacks and free accounts. It was social media gold.
I only learned of this whole unpleasant event because of the group Telegram chat I started about a month ago. The women (it is mostly, but not entirely women) share their stories, they ask each other for advice, more often than not they answer a question before I get to it. This mom in Lower Austria shared her story with the point being: if something is supposed to be free in Austria, don’t believe it, it is a myth. She felt stupid for trying to get something for nothing. I assured her if that was the advertising, and she spent 90 minutes doing the paperwork, and someone stood in front of her daughter and said no, you child, you cannot have a backpack, that is morally wrong, when it was for sure completely obvious the only reason they came to open a kid bank account was not because they have any money to put in it, but rather, because a free backpack is a free backpack.
Yesterday, I delivered a few Hofer cards by hand. One to an 85 year old (yes, really) from Kyiv who was very grateful and enjoy swimming at her local pool. She may go home soon, perhaps, once she finishes seeing the doctors. She complains they aren’t that friendly. I nod, in understanding, but explain from a technical perspective, they are probably good at their jobs. Yes, she says, but not like ours. No, of course, not, not like yours. I can also imagine how overwhelmed doctors in big cities like Vienna must be right now with this huge influx especially of elderly and handicapped people all needing extra care, none of whom speak German. It is a herculean task, even for a decent-functioning state-funded social healthcare system.
The next woman is mid 50s but looks 45. She walks with a limp and takes a seat on a bench. She waits to tell me her story in private. Her son is 35 and paralyzed from the neck down after an accident. They fled Mykolaiv months ago in a special evacuation of the neediest cases. However, when they arrived in Vienna, her son was given a room in a pensioners’ home, while she was housed in an ordinary dorm. So they are separated. And now there is a problem with the responsible authorities, someone doesn’t want to pay anymore, someone wants to move her son out of the pensioner’s home, but no one has an apartment for them, and they would need special adjustments to a bathroom etc so that she could care for her son, as she did in Ukraine. He is physically bigger than her, of course. She can manage, but not without special equipment. Her son also needs a new wheelchair, and it would cost something like €5,000, and the insurance doesn’t want to pay it, and she shows me a folder of documents and almost bursts into tears and I say: I cannot promise you a solution, but I promise to tell your story. She didn’t get around to sending it to me yet in her own words, so I tell you. She says goodbye and starts off with a strong limp. She fell off a horse in 2006 and almost died. She used to be an excellent rider. Now she has a limp and a son who was paralyzed a few years later, as an adult. Her younger son remains in Kharkiv. She thanks me for the card, and I promise to do what I can to bring attention to her predicament.
I assure her it is not her fault. It is the system. Responsibility and blame get tossed around like hot potatoes at a county fair. And no one is in charge. There is no central laundromat. No info point, just like at the train station now.
Photos from yesterday:
I guess someone decided the war is over. Which is…interesting. Watch this heartbreaking video.
Yesterday I also met a young woman, also named Nastya actually, very shy, wore her FFP2 mask even though we were outside. She came alone. Late 20s. From Odesa. Her parents encouraged her to leave. She lives unfortunately in that dorm (now infamous) where you cannot get registered and make any progress towards integration. She also met me for a Hofer card, came out of the shop having bought cheeseburgers wrapped in plastic marked 50% off and then she looked at me and said, oh, but we don’t have a microwave. I guess I can just eat it cold. I nodded. I think the meat is cooked. Nastya looks at me, as we sit together on a bench outside the Hofer shop, and shyly asks if I can help. She is working with a psychologist online, and trying to learn German online. Her laptop broke. Something happened with the electricity in the building and it doesn’t charge properly anymore and she isn’t sure if it can be repaired and her whole life is in that laptop. She cannot learn anything or talk to her counsellor without a laptop. I nod. I give her the address of PCs für Alle but explain they have a long waiting list. I promise to write and ask if anyone has a laptop for Nastya. I explain its always a long-shot. You never know. But I can ask.
I was warmed this morning so much by this story of a Ukrainian beekeeper who refuses to leave his home and his bees near the front lines.
And of course if you haven’t seen the video of the chimpanzee Chichi from Kharkiv, you must. You absolutely must watch this.
One last story, and then I’ll stop, I promise. A dad from Zaporozhye wrote me today. He has three children all under the age of six, and his wife is four months pregnant with their fourth. They are living in a group home in Lower Austria. It must be a huge place as I have received dozens of requests for Hofer cards from this one address. Sasha’s oldest kids are five and four, and have been attending a local kindergarten which costs €210 per month in total for both kids. A local Austrian was helping pay for this, but cannot do it anymore. The local municipality says it is too poor to help pay for this. Sasha asks me for help. He is looking for work, but hasn’t found any yet. Nor can he really work legally, as he can only earn €110 plus €80 for each kid. In his case, he could work part-time, but he hasn’t found anything yet. He is looking he says. It is hard for his wife, pregnant with three little ones in a group refugee home, having the older two in kindergarten for half of the day makes it easier. I explain that I do not know where to find €210 per month, but I will ask my readers. So I am asking. If anyone would be interested in helping this family directly, do let me know. Dad sent me this photo now when he picked up his girls from kindergarten. Oh and before anyone asks — Ukraine officially lets dads of three or more kids leave the country.
Last but not least, I have 36 pre-addressed envelopes on my kitchen table waiting for supermarket gift cards. I am referring all but the most urgent cases to our website, but I still receive requests from group homes and dorms and families who just arrived and pensioners who cannot work and…it doesn’t stop. To help towards my smaller personal waiting list, please donate here or send me physical cards €50 each any supermarket chain in Austria. Thank you.
One final thought — I haven’t been sharing a lot of news about the war itself because there are plenty of other sources for that, but I did see this very informative thread this morning and I learned a lot from it. As he explains it, it makes perfect sense, from a strategy perspective. I am also not sharing reports from near the front because Ukraine has asked for silence and I see some western journalists are still insisting on interviewing wounded soldiers, which kind of rubs me the wrong way. I think we need to give things time and space and if we talk about it two weeks from now instead of right now (this is an actual horrific war with young men dying and not a TV miniseries we must discuss after each episode airs) that is totally fine, especially if it saves lives in the process.