Olena – a volunteer’s story

On February 21, 2022, Olena and her friends who had just got their MBA diplomas, decided to go skiing in Georgia. A beautiful country famous for its hospitality, which goes well with their wine (which the real connoisseurs are supposed to drink from bulls’ horns), and cuisine – think barbeque meats, spices, khachapuri (cheesy breads to die for), and vegetables – roasted, marinated and fresh, which do not taste like grass. It is also famous for its stunning Caucasus mountains with excellent skiing resorts, as well as sandy beaches on the Black Sea shore.

The only problem it has is that like Ukraine, it shares their border with Russia. However, unlike Ukraine it has a pro-Russian puppet government ensuring that Russians would not entertain an idea of saving poor Russian-speaking Georgians from Nazis. More than it already has anyway. Russia had already annexed a piece of Georgia, called Abkhazia using their usual playbook in the 1990s turning it into a lawless fake state, which it fully controls. “They have created a wasteland and call it peace”.

For Olena and her friends it was clear that something bad was going to happen in Ukraine – the massive build-up of Russian troops, and military hardware at the borders was not just going to go away. They knew that something was up, but they had never thought that it would be a full-scale war. They also wanted to finally go skiing after a two-year break caused by the pandemic.

They thought, maybe another provocation, a flare-up in the East at most. They had had this amazing celebration holiday planned. They were going to have a good time in Georgia, which seemed like a safe place, safer than Ukraine anyway. When you live on a volcano, which you know is going to erupt one day, then you: 1) have your stress levels damped compared to others living outside of its epicentre; 2) think that it is unlikely to happen tomorrow.

Their plan had been to visit some wineries, then stop at the capital Tbilisi, before going to a ski resort in the Caucasus mountains. Olena had packed her helmet, ski costume, and ski boots. Everything was going according to their plan.

Georgia 

On the morning of February, the 24th, they were in a hotel lobby in Tbilisi having breakfast when the news about the war broke out. They were paralysed, glued to their phones trying to make frantic phone calls to their friends, and relatives to make sure they were OK – some were, but some weren’t… They were completely dumbfounded by the news, unable to move, or speak to each other for some time. Just calling their loved ones and scrolling through the news updates. Russia staged a full-scale invasion of Ukraine bombing major cities, and advancing towards Kyiv from different directions. It all looked like a nightmare.

Meanwhile, the Georgian government refused to condemn Russia, and join the sanctions against the Russian government citing potential losses to Georgia’s economy.

We should get some large sheets of paper, crayons, marker pens.

We should get some large sheets of paper, crayons, marker pens.

Then they had an idea – why don’t we stage a demonstration in support for Ukraine, and ask the Georgian people to influence their government directly? All four of them jumped up from the sofa, and started “brainstorming” this idea, as if they were still at an MBA seminar on project management. That is how Olena remembers it – the seemingly out-of-place business-like discussion on planning their demonstration.

“We should get some large sheets of paper, crayons, marker pens”.
“We need to decide on the best place to go to.”
“We need to get some publicity online”.

Everyone was given a role and tasks to execute. Soon they were standing in front of the Georgian Parliament with Ukrainian flags, and some improvised placards in support for Ukraine. They were singing patriotic songs, and shouting some popular obscenities addressed to Putin, as well as asking Georgians to support Ukraine, and influence their government to take a tougher stance against Russia. Shortly afterwards some Georgian guys joined in, then some more. “We need to get a megaphone, so we could shout louder!” Then a few minutes later a megaphone appeared out of nowhere.

Shortly afterwards some Georgian guys joined in, then some more.

Shortly afterwards some Georgian guys joined in, then some more.

There were tens of thousands of people marching through the centre of Tbilisi on that day, and it all started with the four Ukrainian friends.

There were tens of thousands of people marching through the centre of Tbilisi on that day, and it all started with the four Ukrainian friends.

There were tens of thousands of people marching through the centre of Tbilisi on that day, and it all started with the four Ukrainian friends.

Those demonstrations in front of the Georgian parliament later became an internet sensation. There are even videos of famous anti-war songs like “Imagine” playing against the backdrop of thousands of people marching the streets of Tbilisi during those days with Olena shouting into a microphone in front of the crowds, like some sort of Joan d’Arc.

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They also wrote an open letter to the Georgian President urging him to reconsider his soft position towards Russia and explaining to him from the business perspective why his country’s inaction towards the murderous regime is not good for Georgia from “the PR, and brand management points of view”. That strongly worded letter was signed by a few other Ukrainians, and published on various social media platforms, as well as mailed directly to the President’s office. It remains unclear whether he has read it. Regardless, the official Georgian line did not change, but they felt the support, and love of ordinary Georgians, and that made them feel better.

Those activities helped Olena to live through those horrible early days of the war, to get her mind of constant worries about her family and friends, her beloved Ukraine… Their anti-war activism was a distraction from constant feelings of guilt for not being there with their people, having chosen to go on skiing holidays just before the worst of all their possible nightmares was about to happen, the helplessness of not being with their people, not sharing their plight. Also, seeing the support of thousands of ordinary Georgians was heart-warming. It was important to show to the rest of the world that the Georgian government’s cowardly stance is not shared by the people they were supposed to represent.

From the very beginning of the Russian invasion, it quickly became clear how unprepared Ukrainians were. There was an obvious discrepancy between elite army units, which were reasonably well equipped, and volunteer and territorial army battalions where things were not that great. People would show up to defend their Motherland in droves … only to discover that basic things were missing. No body armour, no decent shoes, knee shields – even good-quality uniform was hard to find. The state-run supply chains were too sluggish, too slow to react to the sharply risen needs of the Ukrainian military. It was Ukrainians themselves, who rose to the challenge, and started establishing their own supply chains at an astonishing rate. Modest streams at first, they then became big rivers, which helped turn the tide of the war in those early weeks. The Ukrainian diaspora, as well as new refugees were buying stuff in Europe; women, and elderly people were driving back and forth across the border helping with deliveries,  as men under sixty were not allowed to leave the country due to war-time mobilization laws.

Olena and her friends quickly became a part of that volunteer movement. Using social media, they started fundraising for the war effort straight away, established direct lines of communication with people on the frontlines, and were sourcing the stuff that was in greatest demand at the time. They managed to get tactical vests, shoes, body armour, as well as a few Motorola UHF radio phones requested by their frontline contacts. The only problem was that those items were banned from sending to Ukraine – the Georgian government only allowed humanitarian aid to be sent there. Anything vaguely associated with a potential military use was strictly prohibited – they were trying really hard not to upset their Russian puppet-masters!

Olena decided to take her chances and bring the big boxes of stuff with her as a luggage on a plane. She was planning to fly to Krakow to join her daughter, who was a university student there. It was her only chance to deliver the goods to the city, which is only a couple of hours drive from Ukrainian border. Officially, she was not allowed to bring those items with her, but she decided to try anyway.

At the airport, she paid for her additional oversized luggage, and headed towards the Customs. It was fairly obvious what she was carrying – a girl with a Ukrainian passport with big boxes, military bags, and an oversized army rucksack. The customs officers did not even flinch – “Enjoy your flight, ma’am!” It was just another proof that ordinary Georgians were making different choices than their government. Potentially, those customs officers were putting themselves at risk by ignoring official orders, but they did it anyway.

A similar thing happened at the Krakow airport. Prepared to fill in the customs declaration, Olena headed towards the Red corridor, but the Polish customs officers just waved her in. All the goods were delivered to the addressees.

Bublik the cat

She arrived in Krakow on March, the 2nd. Then on the night of March, the 3rd, her hometown of Irpen was bombed… According to survivors, it never got dark on that day. Her family was among them, but it was clearly the time for them to go. Their car was in the garage with its tank full. In the morning they jumped into it and drove off without looking back. There were five of them, the youngest – a girl of 11, and the oldest, a grandmother of her husband of 92, who had survived the German occupation during World War 2. There was also a dog. Their cat Bublik (which translates as bagel) had run away on the previous night having been scared of explosions. He was used to street noises, but Russians came with too loud a bang. Bublik was nowhere to be found. The family spend some time looking for him, then drove off leaving their lives behind along with their beloved cat. It was getting too late.

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Shortly afterwards their house was flattened with Russian bombs, six of them to be precise. Then Russians moved in, and Irpen and Bucha, another suburban town nearby became infamous for the war crimes committed on their territory.

It had taken 10 years for Olena and her husband to build their house. The land and an old house had been in her husband’s family for generations. In fact, the old house had survived the German occupation during World War 2. At the time, Germans had taken exactly the same route to Kyiv as Russians did this time.

Irpen was a leafy affluent town on the outskirts of Kyiv. Its population had risen sharply since the start of the war in the East in 2014 as people were escaping to safer parts of the country. By the start of the Russian occupation, about 110 thousand people lived there, compared to about 30 thousand just before 2014. Olena, having originally been trained as an anaesthetist had also been working for a major multi-national producer of medical equipment as a senior manager. Her husband was in the military. They had a good life. They could have lived anywhere in Europe, and her European colleagues had often asked her why they would not move to one of the European cities where their corporation had an office.

“Why would we?” was Olena’s answer. “We already live in Europe. We have all the facilities, it is very cosy here, we even have bicycle lanes. Kyiv is round the corner if you want a proper city life and culture. Also, it is our home.”

Russians turned 70% of the town into rubble. Many of those who had survived the bombings and had not been able to leave by the time they came, met their horrific fate – they were tortured, raped, and executed. The streets were littered with dead bodies by the time Russians were pushed out of the town. Olena, already volunteering in Krakow when it was all happening received a request from her friends for 2000 body bags so that those bodies could be buried with dignity. She managed to get 500 through an American sponsor.

Olena re-united with her daughter in Krakow. Also, she started working at one of her company’s global offices doing pretty much the same job that she had been doing in Kyiv. So, she followed their European friends’ advice, and moved to live at a European city after all. She is even more actively involved in the volunteer movement trying to find sponsors for her projects, sourcing various pieces of kit at the request of her numerous friends throughout Ukraine, organising logistics, driving back and forth to the border – the kind of stuff I know all too well. Once a volunteer – always a volunteer! Even when you are completely broke, there are jobs to do, like writing these stories!

Olena has even gone as an interpreter with several groups of Ukrainian refugees on a bus, and ferry into Sweden where the headquarters of the company she works at are.

I asked her what she herself wants to say, what her personal experience is about, what has been driving her during these horrific times. “Survivor’s guilt” was her quick reply. It was completely unexpected, but it clearly bothers her. A lot. To the point that she has online psychotherapy sessions with a Ukrainian psychologist based in Switzerland, who also has “survivor’s guilt”. Those people doing amazing volunteering work from the outside of their country, who have done so much for those who are stuck or have made a conscious choice to stay – all share a feeling of guilt of not being able to share their fate. I met a few other Ukrainian volunteers in Poland, who found themselves stuck outside the country when the war had started, and they all share the same feeling of guilt of not having been there on the day, as if they had missed the most important event of their lives. All of them – Olena with all the amazing things that she has done, her Swiss-Ukrainian psychotherapist, who gives online consultations to Ukrainian refugees absolutely free of charge, the numerous others who spend their days either on their phones, or at the wheel trying to find the money in order to buy stuff, and then delivering it to the border – they all do so much more than they could have ever done dug up in a trench somewhere at the Eastern frontline.

My opinion here is irrelevant, but I want to put it in writing – I admire the efforts of Ukrainian volunteers. I have witnessed it myself, and I have heard it multiple times from Ukrainians on the other side, both civilian and military – the initial Ukranian successes of this war were primarily due to the efforts of ordinary Ukranians who, like Olena and her friends reacted quickly, took initiative into their hands, and self-organised using social media, and other means of communication to put the right people and the right tools together. To me, this was an amazing, heart-warming, and inspiring phenomenon to observe, and I am honoured to be able to tell their story to English-speaking audiences.

As for the “survivor’s guilt”, I am of a strong opinion that fighting kinetic wars should be left to professionals, like Olena’s husband, but that is a different story to be told at a much later date. In wartime, everybody should fight their own war, whichever they are best at. I am proud to be able to tell Olena’s story to shed some light on the best of wartime volunteering.

At the time of writing this Olena was planning to go back to Ukraine. She wants to be with her people even for a short while. She does not have any material things to come back to. All what is left are the skiing boots, and helmet that she had brought to Georgia with her. They serve as a reminder of how ridiculous, and irrelevant our attachment to things actually is.

As for Bublik the cat, who had escaped the house during bombings, and had to be left behind, his story has a happy ending. A friend of the family was visiting Irpen, or what was left of it in April, more than a month after they had left, and decided to stop by the ruins of their house. He knew about Bublik and had a weak hope that the cat would be somewhere near the house. He came out of the car in front of it and started making kitty-kitty sounds. To his utter surprise, he heard a meow, and then Bublik himself appeared from behind the ruins. He was thin, and with his tail, and paws burned, but was generally OK.

He was delivered to Olena’s friends in Kyiv, and then a complicated logistical chain was set up, as a result of which Bublik the cat ended up re-united with Olena in Krakow. He has now fattened up and is generally back to his normal self.

I do hope that you will enjoy reading their story as much as I have enjoyed writing it!