In the still of the predawn dark, a train rumbles into a station somewhere in Ukraine’s central region. Waiting on the platform in anticipation are aid workers, their attention focused on one particular carriage. As the doors slide open, the world watches as a young child steps tentatively into the dim station light.
A flurry of hands surge forward to assist the child, followed closely by her mother who carefully passes a baby nestled in a small pink carrycot to the waiting helpers. This family, like many others, represents the newest wave of war refugees in Ukraine.
A recent mandate from the authorities had necessitated the forced evacuation of children from over thirty towns and villages located perilously close to the frontline. This train, bearing families from the heavily-affected Donetsk region, has carried these residents to a safer location further west which, for their protection, remains undisclosed.
As volunteers hasten to unload their luggage, they guide the disoriented and weary newcomers into the sheltering warmth of the station. Here, three young girls, their expressions glazed with shock sit silently on a bench, a basket containing their meowing pet at their feet. Recalling the multiple attacks on their home, their mother relates their desperate situation, expressing concern for her daughters’ disconnected education and the family members who chose to stay behind.
As they await the bus that will take them to their provisional abode, aid workers distribute coffee while state officials offer monetary assistance. As part of the government’s emergency strategy, forced evacuees are granted funds and housing, with the expectation that the adults will eventually find employment.
The bitter reality lurks unmentioned – the chance of these families ever returning to their homes remains uncertain. Despite facing daily risks and hardship, some inhabitants were unwilling to depart. Humanitarian officers like Pavlo Dyachenko from the ‘White Angels’ special police unit bear the responsibility of persuading them, managing swift rescue operations amidst the omnipresent danger of relentless Russian bombardment.
Securing the safety of children poses distinctive challenges. To keep their young charges distracted from the constant threat, every rescue team carries toys in their vehicles – a small beacon of normalcy in a world upended by the ravages of war.
While countless Ukrainians have sought refuge abroad, the government approximates that nearly five million remain internally displaced, sheltered in different locations across the country. Among these hospitality hosts is an old school, whose vacant classrooms now resonate with the mundane sounds of daily life, a testament to the resilience of the displaced.
Therein resides Varvara, a ten-year-old girl who continues her school lessons online from the vantage of her temporary abode. Along with her mother Iryna and grandmother Svitlana, they had been compelled to leave their home town following sustained shelling. Despite their attempts at optimism, the longing for home and a life unperturbed by war remains an aching reality.
These refugee children may now dwell far from the hazardous frontlines, but the war continues to sculpt their lives, a poignant reminder of the innocence stolen by the relentless throes of conflict.
