Where war never seems to end – # 2
Memories from Ukraine
In February 2022, Russia declared war on Ukraine, turning a conflict that had been going on for almost ten years into a military operation affecting almost the entire territory of Ukraine. Although Kiev held its ground, many areas of Ukraine were occupied, and even today, two years later, there are active fights and bombings.
Huge numbers of people fled their homes and country to search refuge or in the hope of a better life. The first waves of the refugee influx mainly affected surrounding countries, including Hungary. Over time, however, fewer and fewer people left Ukraine, even though the situation only eased in certain areas. Life in Ukraine is far from normal to this day.
This article describes the subjective experiences of a Hungarian girl who spent the last two years in Ukraine. In 2022, the author spent more than half a year in Transcarpathia to understand the situation of this region during the war, and then travelled to Kiev to document how life went on during the war and how this kind of life started to become the new norm. The following stories are true, but names have been changed. In the series of articles our goal is to gradually get closer to the war, all the while guided by the dialogue between the external observer and the reflections of an inner self. The photos taken on the spot are not only illustrations, but they also provide a structure to the aforementioned dialogue based on facts and personal experience.
The first time facing the new reality
(part two)
My grandfather was a convict in the communist Hungary, and he often told me about the days of revolution, humanity and unity. While there is no active war in Transcarpathia, I experienced the kind of humanity my grandfather spoke about most here, in Ukraine. I will return to this train of thought later in my reflections on Kyiv.
On the third day of the war, my journey took me to a village about 10 kilometres from the border, mostly inhabited by Hungarians, many of whom do not speak Ukrainian well. The village reacted immediately to the threat of war, as did the surrounding settlements: they organised local protection, started patrolling, and set up refugee accommodations, including a soup kitchen in the school canteen that served three meals a day for free to those in need. -counsellors, volunteers, charity services, and of course, reporters soon flooded these otherwise isolated villages. Many of the locals also helped by taking in foreign families.
In the evening, we didn’t have power for some time. At first, we thought that something had been hit here as well. We lit candles, I was in a man’s yard, the Hungarian news station was on, they showed a report from Kyiv. The journalist looked a bit confused, embarrassed; he didn’t expect this to happen. We were all watching the TV together: the man, his wife, his mother, his brother (the child had already left for Hungary) and someone else from the village. In the meantime, they started to address the question of home guards, talked about possible accommodation for the refugees, as did many others. They discussed what could be done then and there, improvising. And of course, everyone speculated what is next… The power outage was also mentioned, it turned out that someone had just driven into one of the electrical poles. The driver was fleeing Khmelnytskyi with his wife and two small children and they were heading towards the border when he fell asleep while driving. He escaped with a concussion, but the border had been closed already. They didn’t make it, neither did the people I met during those days.
Hundreds of thousands of people passed through this sub-region over the course of a few days as they left the country. Several Hungarian-Ukrainian residents from the surrounding villages decided to abandon their homes and follow the events from Hungary due to the uncertain situation and the high risk of conscription. Many houses were left empty. By now Ukrainians moved into a lot of them.
The stories of the border regions are part of an alternative reality, you can feel it in the air. Somehow, global shifts always seem to disrupt this area. Although countries have never claimed this wooded, economically insignificant and impoverished region, historical events always seem to find their way to these parts. People have been recruited from here for every war, but more on that later. Protests are not typical here because neither country would pay attention. People here simply want to live their lives. Many try to make a living from farming, they are entrepreneurs or try to find other ways to earn money. Corruption is an unfortunate necessity; it is the byproduct of a broken system. It is not easy to live with but since starving to death is not an option you will adapt fast. These people have been through so much that they have seen it all. Their remarkable resilience stems from living under constant pressure.
The sensitive relationship between Hungarians and Ukrainians reveals itself most clearly in such a tense situation. I have heard plenty of stories from both sides. Many Ukrainians came to this region in fear or tried to avoid it completely by fleeing towards Poland, but those who eventually chose this route often had some prejudice. While writing my notes, I consciously avoid politicisation and the analysis of existing or emerging ethnic conflicts. Since I have spent a lot of time with both Hungarians and Ukrainians, I have a deeper understanding of positions that are poles apart and I understand them. My point of view is, therefore, impartial and empathetic.
An older man told me that Ukrainian authorities harassed them because of an article written by his son from a Hungarian perspective. He described house searches. Others mentioned that they had yet to receive anything good from Ukraine. Some said they had never personally had a problem with Ukrainians. The first time I heard the expression “Knife to all Hungarian throats” (“Мадярів на ножі!”) was when the first wave of refugees arrived, which, of course, most refugees coming from beyond the Dnieper knew only from hearsay, given the great distance between the regions. However, they have never crossed paths before, so the foundation of hate is questionable at best.
Some were advised to avoid the area. Based on my local knowledge, the information these regions received about each other was mixed. I heard about anti-Hungarian or anti-minority organisations here too, such as the D.U. or the C.C. I saw their emblem featuring a Kalashnikov in Uzhgorod, stencilled on a wall. However, I was not primarily interested in this animosity; I wanted to address the current situation first and foremost. War in itself is a huge problem to face not to mention when it is overshadowed by prejudice. Following this line of thought… Whose war is this? There is less bombing in the westernmost regions. If my memory serves me right, Transcarpathia was bombed “only” once, and even then, it was at the county border, when a transformer house got hit next to the railways (as far as I know). Perhaps their goal was to disrupt rail traffic due to weapon shipments. Who knows? Many people say here that this is not their war, although a lot of Ukrainians might see it otherwise. I will leave this question open. Believe me, this issue is more complex than anyone from outside the country can easily judge.
When the war broke out, it was uncertain how people in the border regions would interact with those arriving from afar, from the conflict zones. Decisions were made on the spot, in each region, village, house, and by each individual. During these weeks, I mainly stayed in one small area, where there were not many reported atrocities between locals and newcomers. Of course, there were many people holding strong opinions, meaning the situation was very tense for everyone involved. The neighbouring countries also paid more attention to the border regions. Well kind of… They focused on the influx of refugees and those trying to escape. People around me, both Hungarians and Ukrainians, primarily sought to interpret the news and make sense of the situation.
T.R.
This article was published as part of PERSPECTIVES – the new label for independent, constructive and multi-perspective journalism. PERSPECTIVES is co-financed by the EU and implemented by a transnational editorial network from Central-Eastern Europe under the leadership of Goethe-Institut. Find out more about PERSPECTIVES: goethe.de/perspectives_eu.
Co-funded by the European Union. Views and opinions expressed are, however, those of the author(s) only and do not necessarily reflect those of the European Union or the European Commission. Neither the European Union nor the granting authority can be held responsible.
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