Picking up speed (Day 59)
This is actually true for everything: our grocery gift card efforts here in Vienna, the flows of Ukrainians arriving in Europe, Russia's new military offensive.
I ended the work week (what a funny name because these days there is no day off) on a high note, feeling like we were really starting to accomplish something. Over 50 supermarket gift cards distributed yesterday, both in person and by mail, equating to over €2,500 of groceries. Almost all at Hofer simply because Ukrainians prefer it: cheaper prices, reliable quality fresh produce and meat. And the shops are in every neighbourhood.
I few people sent me Spar cards. I was able to give those away but they are less popular simply because groceries at Spar are more expensive. I received a few Billa gift cards in smaller amounts (€20), will keep those for the train station. I think they will be best used for families continuing the journeys who want to stock up on supplies for a long train ride.
I also tried to buy Penny cards yesterday but that turned into a Kafka-like experience (TLDR they wanted me to pay for each and every card individually so I told them they were insane and tried to leave but they still made me buy one card because ‘we rung it up already and cannot return it’):
I also ran out of McDonalds cards yesterday, received a generous donation last night, will go buy more today. They are in €10 increments and have been very popular when I hand them out to families and individuals after we secure their train tickets, and more importantly, seat reservations, for their next journeys. I gave the last McDonalds €10 gift card to a young mother with an under two toddler son. She is pregnant. She left all their bags on platform 9, unattended. She asked for tickets to Kosice, then Uzhgorod. She wants to go home to Kyiv. She has had enough. She was in Austria. She misses her husband. The boy misses his dad. Her only ID was an internal Ukrainian passport which looked like it had been through the washing machine. It was in shreds. She had a photocopy. The boy a birth certificate. I helped them get their tickets, after trying just once (“the women say they bombed near Uzhgorod yesterday”) and failing to convince her to stay. She didn’t care. She didn’t care if her luggage got stolen. She just wants to go home. Today she has a train reserved from Uzhgorod to Kyiv at 4pm. I hope they make it. I hope they will be ok. This life travelling around Europe and trying to start over when doors keep slamming you in the face is not for the faint of heart. For some, for many actually, it is simply too much.
And then I walk outside. There is a line of dozens of Ukrainians who have just arrived — nearly all from Odesa and Mykolaiv regions in the country’s south. They all need onwards tickets. I walk up and down the line, warning them. I have to pull my FFP2 mask way down (yes, we still have to wear them and they are really unbearable when you are running around and hot) to shout over the volume of train station noise. “Tickets are free, seat reservations cost €3.50 per person and are essentially mandatory on busy days and weekends”. Repeat. They cannot understand why a ticket is issued without a seat reservation. Neither can I, I explain, but welcome to Europe. The paid seat reservation is a problem because when I am there translating, I can help pay by swiping my credit card (and I do this, every shift), but I am only there a fraction of the time. For many the €3.50 per person IS a barrier to entry. They don’t pay, they take a risk, and the risk is being removed from the train (yes, they actually do this —- it isn’t allowed to stand in Austria/Germany if all the seats are taken). You must imagine at this point, by the time they reach Vienna, Ukrainians have often been travelling for three days straight or more.
So I leave the station, after having met two groups of Ukrainian women to distribute cards that morning (Ottakringer Straße and Wien Hauptbahnhof), and I open the news. And I see this. And my heart sinks. Because I have been only seeing people from Donbas, Odesa, Mykolaiv this week and I know how many more are to come. And I know Europe is not ready, does not want to be ready, does not want to get ready. Where will they all sleep? Who will feed them all? These questions start racing through my head, again.
I run through the train station to the nearest Hofer. I buy €1000 worth of gift cards, thanks to a generous donation I received the other evening. The other customers give me weird looks. I read the room and don’t say Ukraine. I don’t want to upset anyone. The cashier is clearly enjoying holding up the line and she takes her time and does everything carefully for me. The Visa swipe works. Phew. Good to know if my credit card were ever stolen my American bank would certainly never notice!
Run home. Spend an hour asking Ukrainians for their mailing addresses and starting to label the next batch of cards. A school event. I am a boring cocktail hour partner. I only talk about Ukraine. Some listen very intently, others change the subject. That’s Austria. That part won’t change. But I am so grateful for every single person who cares and listens intently. I feel like a bridge between two worlds. Yesterday, two women told me they needed a few very specific things, and within minutes I introduced them online to Austrian women who would help them with those specific needs. Amazing. And all possible thanks to technology. They could chat with each other over Facebook Messenger without me having to be translator. I have to value my own time. I cannot be translator. Many people try to pull me deep into conversations and I have to try and keep them brief. So I can reach more people. Unfortunately, that is how it is when you are counting every hour of the day.
Just before the school event, a Ukrainian woman met me in front of my kids’ school to get a supermarket gift card. Today, I will drive my youngest to German tutoring, I’ll also hand out two cards at the market there. Tomorrow, Easter Sunday for many Ukrainians, I must meet a woman who is living in a village so small there is no post service. At first I got annoyed, said I cannot possibly meet you all individually, and then she told me her story and I was embarrassed and said I’ll be in front of the church at 4pm. We have the marathon here tomorrow. That means no car; I’ll have to take public transport. Takes even longer. Will buy more cards today so I can perhaps reach other families there too. Our shops are closed on Sundays (one of the many things I cannot stand about life here, but I digress).
I am working off my lists of names. They are long. I have hundreds of unopened requests for supermarket gift cards on my Facebook Messenger. I am prioritising giving cards to other volunteers who know families in need because I have no doubt as to their judgement. To the annoying ones who say “can I have two because I am an exemption” I do it once to get them to shut up but not twice. When cards arrive to me by post it is great because I simply pass them onwards, it saves me a lot of time. Some Austrians have even been mailing cards to Ukrainians directly when I pass over a few addresses. I am slowly starting to understand how to make this a little bit more efficient. Every day is a learning opportunity. I always giggle when the women arrive and say “Hi, I’m Yulia or Hi I’m Oksana” and I am like, Yulia, darling, Oksana, I have a half dozen of your names today. What is your last name?
So I stayed up late addressing envelopes and answering DMs and got this much done. This morning I must squeeze in the post office between breakfast for four hungry kids and taking the little one to German tutoring.
And yes, it is high time Hofer sends me some cards for free. I cannot imagine better PR for them than this storm of demand for their gift cards from nearly every Ukrainian woman and pensioner who arrived recently in Austria! Yes, the pensioners. They came too yesterday. I try to spend more time talking with them. Some came unannounced with their friends. I gave them cards, too. Luckily I had some extra. I worry I will not reach them all if they are not online. I need to think about this a bit, because they cannot work, they have no other source of income.
And over and over I heard the same thing: I arrived in early March, I did everything I was supposed to do, I never got my social payment of €215 from the government. They never called me. I don’t know what to do. It seems to be pure luck if the Austrian authorities lost your stuff, or didn’t. If you got called, or didn’t. There is no rhyme or reason. Many families told me only some family members received blue cards. The others not. No none knows why. Total chaos. Total ball dropped. State failure. It all exists below the Austrian radar because it isn’t widely reported in the media because apparently no one really tries to talk to the Ukrainians themselves. I talk. And I share. And I will continue to share.
One woman said to me yesterday, “if I lose my phone I am dead (she says grabbing it in both hands and holding it like it is the original Bible) my entire life is in this old Samsung”. She was on her way to scrub floors under the table, as we say. I didn’t ask how much per hour she will be paid. I haven’t met anyone except for the hairdresser who has a promise of a real, official job, and even the hairdresser hadn’t signed a contract yet. I had to tip her almost as much as I paid the salon to not have a guilty conscience. And the old people cannot work so they will pinch pennies even further even when there are no pennies left to pinch.
Thank you for reading. Thank you for your continued support. It gives me strength even when I am exhausted, and makes me feel like there are many of us doing this together — I am only the vehicle. The Ukrainian woman are all very grateful. I cannot tell you how many messages of thanks and heart emojis are currently in my phone!
Добрый день Татьяна, мне порекомендовала Наталия обратиться к вам за помощью. Я приехала с сыном в Вену 19.03. Оформила социальные выплаты, но мне их еле хватает на самое нужное, ребенок пошел в школу австрийскую, я нахожусь в разводе, поэтому помощи с Украины нету, в Чернигове осталась моя мама. Работу я пока не нашла, так как для хорошей работы нужно знание языка. Я уже пошла на курсы немецкого, они будут длиться 4 месяца, каждый день по 3 часа. Хочу вас попросить о помощи, возможно есть какая- либо подработка, я с радостью готова работать совмещая с курсами. Благодарю.
Now you are thinking! “And yes, it is high time Hofer sends me some cards for free. I cannot imagine better PR for them than this storm of demand for their gift cards from nearly every Ukrainian woman and pensioner who arrived recently in Austria!”