Rebuilding Lives and Dreams

Empowering Vova, Nadia, and Joroslav, Ukrainians from Odessa

On the 4th of July, a Monday filled with anticipation, I embarked on a new endeavor: the Summer in the City science workshops for Ukrainian children in Warsaw. It was a day packed with excitement as I prepared to meet 120 students ranging in age from 7 to 17. In my teaching experience in the United States, I am accustomed to working with a maximum of 18 students in a week. Carrying two baskets filled with 3D science models, pastels, paper, and a poster depicting Earth's interior, I noticed the arrival of the Uber driver, signaling it was time to head to the school located 26 kilometers away.

As the driver stepped out of the car, he looked at me with curiosity and exclaimed in wonder, "Pani, a pani co to, dokad, co pani?" ("Miss, who are you? Where do you go? What is it?") I recognized his Ukrainian accent and greeted him with a smile, explaining that it was my first day assisting Ukrainian children and youth. His name was Vova, and he appeared taken aback by my answer.

"Pani, I thought Polaki (Poles) are tired of helping us," he expressed, sharing his difficult experiences with multiple Polish doctors. In his words, a tale of frustration, judgment, and opinions formed over his two years of living in Poland. At 31 years old, he found himself trapped in the Warsaw suburbs with his wife, Nadia, who suffered from excruciating back pain, rendering her unable to walk, and their four-year-old son, Jaroslav, who couldn't attend kindergarten due to a chronic nasal infection. Vova was like a roaring lion confined in a cage, surrounded by numerous locks with no keys to set him free. With just three minutes remaining until we reached my destination, my head spun, and a familiar feeling washed over me. There were no coincidences—this encounter with Vova held a purpose.

Finally, we arrived at the school, and as I stepped out of the car, I reached into my wallet and pulled out 400 zlotys (approximately $100). Handing the money to Vova, I explained, "This is for you."

Vova's initial reaction was one of anger. He exclaimed, "Pani, do you think I told you my story to get money from you?"

Taking his hand, I reassured him, "It is not for you. It is for Nadia. All you need to do to earn this money is to find a Chinese acupuncture place here in Warsaw, take Nadia there, and see what happens." I looked into his eyes and asked for his promise. He nodded in response.

Around 11 pm, a message arrived on my phone. "Pani, can I call you?" Vova requested. I agreed, and his voice on the other end was filled with a different tone than when we were in the Uber that morning.

"Nadia is not completely better, but she can walk again," he exclaimed, his words resonating with a newfound hope. "The acupuncture—we couldn't afford the practitioner, but a world opened up to us. We conducted research, ordered books, and we will learn to do it ourselves." The doctor had provided them with a wealth of information and advice. Finally, Vova uttered two simple words that pierced through me: "Thank you."

Today, Nadia is still in the process of recovery, but she has made significant improvements and has started working in cleaning and organizing offices. Her family once owned land in Odessa, and she dreams of Ukraine being free from Russian occupation, reclaiming her land, and opening a small boutique hotel with a vineyard. Vova, although still skeptical by nature, has become less like a roaring lion. I have been able to lend him money to purchase his own used car, and he is now free from debt. It seems that many of the locks in his metaphorical cage have been opened. All three of them have visas to Canada, and one day they may pursue that opportunity. With Vova, I feel like a rag clearing a mirror through which he sees his own reflection.

Lastly, as the devastating war continues to ravage Ukraine, my determination to stand by its people remains unwavering. This summer, my focus and direction will revolve around providing opportunities and creating spaces for integration and dialogue between Polish and Ukrainian youth. Through my work with 17-year-old Ukrainians at SzkoUA in Warsaw, I have witnessed the depths of their grief, anger, and isolation as they navigate unfamiliar territory. They have been forgotten by many prominent NGOs that sent aid and volunteers to assist Ukrainian refugees in Poland. However, they cannot be overlooked. Once this unjust war comes to an end, they will be the young adults who will rebuild their country. It is our duty to help them heal, to encourage them to hope and dream once again.

As I write, there is hope on the horizon. KIK has agreed to collaborate in creating new programs specifically tailored to young people aged 13 to 18, both during and after the summer. By the end of April, I will be flying to Poland to kick-start the initiatives. The journey begins with an eight-day-long "Góry Liderów" integration leadership camp in Łopuszna, Podhale, Poland. We plan to bring together approximately 18 Ukrainian and 18 Polish students and, with the assistance of KIK and MINT, provide them with leadership training. Shortly thereafter, I will join SzkoUA's green school project, where I will conduct science workshops with students in grades 9, 10, and 11. From May 19th to 22nd, I will host the 11th-grade students from SzkoUA, along with two of their history teachers and the school's head, at my home in Bieszczady. Together, we will delve into the shared history between our neighboring countries.

For me, responding to the war is not merely an item on an agenda—what truly matters are the individuals affected by it. Numbers alone cannot capture the essence of their experiences. There is more to come, and I am committed to making a difference in their lives.