April 14, 2022

I make my first trip to the airport, rather than the train station.  It is a family of six, with grandparents, parents, and children.  I drop another mother and son in the city center, to catch a plane the next day.

This trip I ask Elena, who speaks English and is the first person to sign up, to help find others to fill the van.  She does and we are quickly on our way.  I am porter as well as driver, loading suitcases into the van.  I enjoy this a lot.

Elena and her college age son, Serkii, are on their way to Spain. A university there has offered to enroll Serkii to enable him to continue his studies.  Elena informs me that Dnipro, where they are from, is and has been a center for rocket research and development.

This started when Ukraine was part of the Soviet Union and continues in the present.  Elena conveys that she understands that Russian rockets aimed at the United States were developed there.  I turn this over in my mind for a while.

Now Dnipro is a science hub, with broader applications than rocket making.  Serkii isn’t sure what exactly he going to do.  Physics, engineering, something in that sphere.  

Elena tells me her parents and brother are still in Dnipro, and not planning on leaving at this point.  I share what Dimas told me.  She says, yes, there’s that, but there is more that is complicated.  I look over and while there isn’t any heaviness or gloom to this comment, I can see she doesn’t want to discuss more.  We leave it there.

I share about my family.  She says your wife must have a good heart like you, to let you come here to do this. I say I wouldn’t be here if not for her whole hearted love and support.  

I think to ask about her husband, but decide not to.  Able bodied men are not allowed to leave the country, they must stay and fight.  Something makes me hesitate to bring the subject up.

Elena tells me that part of her extended family’s decision not to leave was based on being unable to believe it would actually happen, that it was seen as posturing, a negotiating ploy.

She shakes her head as she says:  who would have thought we would be invaded in these times, 2022?  

Elena says the countryside on the way to Krakow looks like Lviv.  Krakow looks like Lviv - old cities, built at the same time, same architecture.  People bustle around, you know, an active city getting about its business.  She conveys that this is what her country looked like a month ago - same buildings, streets, people everywhere, busily going about their own purposes

It is impossible not to look at the scene and imagine it bombed, bodies on the ground, like in the pictures of Ukraine.  I suspect this is what Elena is doing.  She says this war has nothing to do with Ukraine, it is the big players fighting with each other.  The big players are fighting everywhere, she says, look at your country, Democrats and Republicans, pressing each other as hard as they can.

Can you name the political parties in Ukraine?  I am surprised she knows the parties in our country.

When I am dropping them, Elena asks if I’m on Facebook, she would like to stay in touch, be able to tell me what happens next for them.  I say no, and she says well, maybe you’re better off that way, and smiles.  

I am pretty weary at that point, driving six hours, and also not prepared for this offer.  It simply doesn’t occur to me to say let’s exchange emails.  Or to her.  So an opportunity missed.  Feels like a big miss.  I don’t know much about Facebook.  Can one find Elena in Dnipro?  I do wonder what is next for her and her family.

 
The next day I drop this group at the Krakow train station.  Two mothers and sons, and the group of three on the left, and their cat, in the carrier on the ground.

My pad with their names is in the van, I think it’s Natalie, Sergei, and Tatiana on the left.  We arrive andTatiana tells me there is a problem, can I help.  Ukrainian nationals with a stamped passport ride Polish trains for free.  Natalie, like many others, entered the country on foot, en masse, and didn’t get her passport stamped.  She cannot get a free ticket, and they don’t have money.  Sergei is Tatiana’s husband, he is Russian, with provisional Ukrainian citizenship, and he also doesn’t qualify for a free ticket.

I call Michael, one of the coordinator’s at Type of Wood, to consult about how to get them on the train to Germany, which is leaving shortly.

Michael laughs.  He said this is a common situation, and the Polish government has been slow to respond, even though it seems that their intent is to help people get to where they can resettle safely, especially when it is not in Poland.

So what do I do to get them on the train?  Michael laughs again and says you give your credit card to the ticket agent and buy them a ticket, or they stay where they are.  He said we’ll help.  

I tell Tatiana I’m going to buy them tickets.  She says no, it’ll be very expensive, how can you do that?  I say I’m going to get them on that train, let’s make sure you have the right train, and right connections.

There are volunteers in the train station with yellow vests like mine (well, most of them fit better than mine) who can translate between Ukrainian and Polish.  I grab one and take her and the group to the ticket window.  There is a lot of animated conversation between all the parties.  Some looks of exasperation from the ticket agent, more animated/agitated conversation.  Tatiana asks again if I will really buy the tickets, it will be a lot of money.  I think:  how much could it be?  It’s a couple of train tickets to Germany.

More talking/arguing. Finally, the tickets get rung up.  I buy the tickets.

Tatiana asks where I’m from.  I tell her California.  She asks why did I come here?  I say to help you get to somewhere safe.  She and Natalie have enough English to understand this, burst  into tears and give me a big hug.  I thought I’d run out of tears, but I cry as well.  And they’re off.

I’m thinking that maybe once in a lifetime we get a chance to do something simple, good, and important for someone else.  In a cruel brutal world, have the chance for simple kindness to powerfully touch and make a difference.  And I am getting to do this on a daily basis.  

Thank you thank you thank you