Photo Credit: CARE/Sarah Easter

Ukraine: “Every single story I hear leaves me speechless”

Today completes exactly two years since the escalation of the war in Ukraine. Two years since work, studies, dinners, parties - a normal life - have been replaced by shelling, hunger, fear, suffering. CARE Germany's Emergency Communications Officer Sarah Easter visited Ukraine in January, where she met the women, men, girls, and boys who face the grim reality of war every day with incredible resilience. Read what she has seen and heard.
Photo Credit: CARE/Halyna Bilak

CARE's Sarah Easter in front of a residential building destroyed by a missile strike. Photo: Halyna Bilak/CARE

Are you afraid?

The first explosion I hear sounds like distant thunder and makes the windows rattle and the floor under my feet vibrate. I pause for a second, listening for the next explosion, then I take a deep breath and continue with my interview with 66-year-old Vasyl, who lives in Kherson and is waiting in line at a distribution of aid led by a CARE partner organization. Hearing explosions in Kherson has been the norm every single day in Kherson for the last two years and I cannot even start to imagine how survival in these circumstances is possible.  

“Are you afraid?”, Vasyl asks me, and I am not prepared for that question. What can you answer to a question like that? It is such a privilege to be able to not feel fear in this situation because I am only in Kherson for 1.5 hours. Vasyl and his neighbors are spending their lives here. I have the privilege to leave Kherson and war-torn Ukraine and go back to peaceful Germany but they cannot leave for lack of money and opportunities - many live on a meager pension of 50 Euros a month. Others stay to care for elderly parents, who have mobility issues.

Those who remain or were left behind have been living with this war for the last two years now and I am only witnessing a small iota of what this really means.

The People amid the war

Every single story I hear leaves me speechless afterwards and every word that I write down in my orange notebook weighs heavier than the next. The people are risking their lives every time they step outside of their basements to go find food or water and are always listening for explosions. A whole generation of children is growing up in dark and cold basements, taking night shifts to watch over their family members.  

I meet Olga who wrote the word “people” on the door of her basement to survive 100 days of heavy shelling and fighting. I learn of Darya who is nine and stays awake until 2 a.m. to listen to explosions in her nightshift. I speak to Iryna who waits in a cold, broken elevator shaft every night for the explosions to stop. I interview Sviatlana who runs everywhere to not be such an easy target. And speak to children who run home screaming when they hear the air alert sirens go off. And every single one of them runs to the corridor and throws themselves on the floor when the missiles come.

Living through the night

I spoke to people who do not dare go to sleep during the night, because nights are the most terrifying. They just sit, wait, and try to survive until the next day starts. Listening to every sound during the night.

When lying in my hotel bed I cannot stop thinking about what I have heard the days before and I start listening to the night sounds myself. It is raining and the ice is melting and cracking. A heating boiler in the bathroom is bubbling. The wind is howling through the trees. Branches are hitting the roof. A car is rumbling down the road. Three minutes past midnight, the air alert sirens go off. The long howl of the alarm penetrates through all other sounds and my whole body while I am thinking of nine-year-old Darya in her nightshift listening to the sirens, of Iryna in her elevator shaft and of Olga and her dark wet basement. And the endless suffering in this war for millions of people across the country who have lost everything. Then I can hear two explosions in the distance and ask myself how many people just died, were injured, lost their homes or family members.

Photo credit:CARE/Sarah Easter

Olga, 60, in Sviatohirsk, Donetsk Region, Eastern Ukraine. 80% of buildings were damaged in her town. Photo shows her neighbour's house that was hit directly. Photo:CARE/Sarah Easter.

Don't forget about Ukraine

“Every day could be our last,” Sviatlana from Kherson tells me. She feels lucky that she made it through the night and to have survived another day. She is very grateful for the humanitarian aid and tells me how crucial it is for their survival because there are no places left where you can buy essential items such as soap, pots, flashlights, gas bottles, or warm sleeping bags to get through the harsh winter temperatures as there is no heating in their apartment. However, she also tells me that they often feel forgotten by the world and that the attention has moved on, while they are still fighting to survive. The war has been going on for two years now, and media apathy has started. And what the reality of war means for each and every individual living with the constant fear of dying or losing their loved ones is often forgotten. War is real. And it is happening every day in Ukraine.

We have to do better and not look away, because millions of people need help to survive, and every support can mean the difference between life and death.

CARE's work in Ukraine

CARE works in Ukraine with 21 partner organizations to provide life-saving support. Where the water supply is affected, we and our partners have set up water tanks and laundries. Damaged roofs and windows are being reconstructed. There are constant distributions of hygiene kits, kitchen appliances, and other essential items such as flashlights, powerbanks, gas cookers, and sleeping bags. Moreover, CARE's partners established community centers and women’s spaces, which offer psychosocial and legal information and give trainings to medical staff.