‘Did you have a nice holiday?’ is normally the question after returning from a week away from my desk. However, this week was spent volunteering with a UK team and their Ukrainian partners at a Summer Camp in the Carpathian Mountains, Western Ukraine – far from the front line.
For children living through war, this camp was a chance to feel safe. The children experienced something rare: quiet. Peace. Space to breathe, rest and have fun.
They stayed together in simple cabins. Days were full from start to finish: walking through forests and at camp fun with games, crafts, and songs sung late into the evening.
A team of young Ukrainians had designed a fantastic programme with limited resources. We simply ‘mucked in’ – music, songs, face painting, crafts and games. Some of the children spoke a little English, and for the rest of the time Google Translate became our helper.
But even at camp there were reminders of the reality of war. At 9am every day, everyone stopped and stood for a minute’s silence for the dead. From the nearby village, we could hear their National Anthem ringing out and the stilts for the cabins were made from recycled missile cases.
We shared our cabin with two amazing Ukrainian women who had brought children from their village. One had her young son sharing her bed because he was so traumatised by the daily explosions that he could not sleep on his own.
Yet we were privileged and humbled to watch the children change. At first, some were tentative and quiet. Soon they were running around, laughing, having fun and simply ‘chilling out’ together.
Back in my safe home, far from the threat of drones and missile attacks, I’m remembering the resilience, passion, ingenuity, fun and laughter of that week as well as the stories of some of the people I met:
- Vova, who lost his home in Mariupol and travels to the frontline with humanitarian aid.
- Nasir, a talented musician who can currently travel out of Ukraine because he is under 23, but from next year will not be allowed out of the country and will be called up at 25.
- Irena who simply says ‘we’re so tired; they’ve bombed our electricity and water, now they’re attacking our food warehouses and school is near impossible’.
- Sasha, who just wanted to play Uno and practise his English at every opportunity.
- And Anhelina, who cried with me at the thought of returning to war-torn Sumy.
But most of all, I remember the children; the first time in a long time they were free to simply behave like children, simply feel safe.
So often we can become immune and fatigued by the news – however for me I find I scan the bulletins – wondering if the children, friends and colleagues are safe.
By Ruth Ball