Stories of Older Ukrainians

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Stories of older people affected by the war in Ukraine

Rima, 92 - Dnipro

“My house in Severodonetsk was destroyed on 10 April. We were in a shelter nearby at the time and stayed mostly underground for around two months in total.

“In the early days of the war, it had been okay and we were just hoping that it would be over soon. Then a lot of shelling started. The situation got worse and soon we were cooking on the fire outside.

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“There was no electricity, no running water. We were often eating dry bread and had to start a fire three times a day. Just before we left, the season changed and it started to rain, so it was really difficult to light it.

“There was an older lady who was left at home without food or medicine on the seventh floor of our apartment block. Volunteers couldn't get inside. The emergency services came and they broke the door down, but they found her dead already. Her relatives had been trying to enter the city to visit her.

“People found dead without documents are buried in common graves, while those with documents are buried in a separate grave inside a bag. If there are relatives who can pay, they can get a casket. The bodies can be dug up and reburied properly later. There are many graves in courtyards of residential blocks. My niece Anastasia, 48, would ask for help from Baba Yaga (a supernatural being in Slavik folklore) at a tree stump in the yard each day.

“We had three birthdays during our time in the shelter. My mother turned 92 on February 24, the first day of war, mine was on April 10, the day our house was destroyed, and Anastasia’s was on April 25, the day she learned to chop wood for the fire.

“When the shelling started, the ATMs stopped working so I pretty much spent the whole time with 40 kopeks (0,14 USD) ) I had in my pocket. I still have them. For food, we would run up to our apartment in quiet periods to bring supplies down, and those who were evacuating left their products for us.

“We were evacuated by a humanitarian organisation in mid-May – me, Anastasia, her son, Ilarion, 14, and my mother, Rima. Four generations of the same family. Both me and Anastasia are single mothers, so we stick together.

“My son is 30 and lives in San Diego, US. I would like to go to him, but the flight is too long for my mother and we have seven cats and a dog. We also rescued a hamster that was left behind in Severodonetsk by its owners when they fled, and an axolotl that we found abandoned in the basement of our house. We couldn’t just leave them.

“On the day we left, we were crying. I was hysterical - even, you know - punching the evacuation driver, asking him to let me kiss my front door one last time.

“We were told that my mother would be provided with medical care once we made it to a shelter in Dnipro. That hasn’t happened yet, but we are hopeful it will soon. She needs blood pressure medicine.

“My mother, Rima is okay. She's in sound mind, but she has difficulties walking, especially up and down from the basement. It was very challenging and spending such a long time down there took a toll on her.

“Now we are trying to get on an evacuation train so we can go to Poland. They are free, but if you’re not lucky enough to get a place, you have to pay and we don’t have much. We are in contact with a church we hope will help.”

Lyubov, 77 - Dnipro Oblast

“My husband died a long time ago and I lived alone in downtown Lisichansk. For 20 days I slept in a corridor in the stairway.

“It was bearable when the shelling was not that hard and then they started to attack really heavily. There was one day when the whole house was shaking, the windows were blown out. I remember there was white powder from the walls in my mouth.

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“After living through that night my grandson put us in the car and we drove with only the clothes we had on us. I had a winter coat and boots, and now it’s almost summer.

“I went to the second-hand store here and bought some clothes and I am trying to alter them to make new clothes with an old sewing machine I found on the first floor of the shelter. I am currently making a nightgown. I took the machine apart and oiled it, but I can’t make it work properly. It’s even older than me – she’s the one that drives me rather than the other way around.

“I was born with the ability to make clothes. Since I was a child I have done it and I have made clothes for everyone in my family. I have three children, five grandchildren and two great-grandchildren. At 71 years old, I even learned embroidery.

“If I couldn’t make my own clothes, it would be much more difficult for me to survive off my pension. I was a biology teacher and receive 3,500 hryvnia ($118) a month.

“I feel settled here and comfortable. We're fed and cleaned, taken care of, but, still, I would like to go back home. Everything is so bad that, of course, we cannot go back home. It is super loud there. , The nearby houses were burning, there are craters from the shelling and trees and gardens were destroyed.

“I am considered a disabled person after having a stroke and heart attack some years ago. After the stroke I couldn't speak or move. I spent six months in hospital and slowly recovered. I still walk with a cane and get dizzy sometimes. I also have diabetes, as well as hearing and eyesight problems.

“How do I feel now? Exactly like I am 77 years old. Doctors came here and compiled lists of medicine we need and I hope at some point we will get some.

‘Now that I live in an IDP shelter I have less independence. To sit doing nothing all day, even at 77, is very difficult. If the sewing machine worked better, I would spend the whole day with this and, you know, it would pass faster. I wouldn’t cry thinking about my son who is still somewhere in Lisichansk.

“I’m very bored. The only thing I do is sometimes is peel potatoes and other vegetables. At home, I would wake up, drink coffee, walk outside in the garden and do something, then get high blood pressure because of the sun and go back inside. I would go to the store. I miss my garden.”

Raisa Andrey,71 and Aleksander, 71, from Severodonetsk live in the outskirts of Dnipro in a tiny place with their two cats.

Raisa, 71 – Dnipro

“I am from Severodonetsk and I arrived in Dnipro two weeks ago with my husband, Alexander, 71, after we were evacuated by volunteers.

“Although our apartment was not hit by Russian attacks, our building was hit several times while we were hiding in the corridor. Next door and the houses right across from us were damaged. Now in Dnipro, whenever I hear the rumble of the tram I instinctively duck for safety.

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“After the war began, we had no electricity, water or gas in Severodonetsk. We lived off humanitarian aid and had to cook outside on an open fire. We lived in constant fear of being shelled.

“We spent all the time in the corridor of our apartment because the basement is down a set of stairs and I have a back problem. Younger people could run down and hide whenever there was shelling, but I was not ready for those runs. We could have stayed in the basement all the time, but it was cold and damp down there. I couldn't take it.

“When we were evacuated, an older man in our building was the only one to stay. We have no connection with him, and we don’t know what happened to him.

“We already survived the war in Donbas in 2014. There was shelling then, but we didn’t expect something as bad as this to happen. A lot of houses, schools and hospitals have been destroyed.

“My granddaughter, who is 25, was also evacuated and now lives in Dnipro with her boyfriend. Her mother died a few years ago and she has a brother who lives in another part of Ukraine. I even have a 10-month-old great-great granddaughter but I have not met her yet.

“My son, who is 51, and grandson live in the territory now known as the Luhansk People’s Republic. We haven’t seen them since 2014 and have no way to visit ascrossing checkpoints is very hard for us. Thanks to the laptop we are in touch, but my sister-in-law also lives in an occupied area and doesn’t have a computer so we have not spoken to her in eight years.

“When we left, we brought our two cats and just the clothes we were wearing. I tell my granddaughter that we are like beggars now and she says it’s not true, but our neighbours gave us pillows and blankets - they gave us these stools. Nothing belongs to us here. I cry every day because I want to go back home.

“I receive a 3,100 ($105) hryvnia a month pension, but I have not been paid since March. My husband also receives a small pension. We pay 5,000 hryvnia a month now for this small apartment and 10,500 when we moved in. We had to borrow the money from someone, so we will have to pay it back somehow.

“We have applied for help from the government. They pay IDPs 2,200 per month, but we haven't received it. We don’t want to go to Europe where we don’t know anyone, but we would like a different apartment. There was another one that at least had a washing machine, but they refused us because we have cats.

“I walk with a stick these days because of my age – I should have worked less. I would tend to the summer garden and carry children and grandchildren. Alexander also has a heart problem.

“We reached retirement and we thought it was time to enjoy our lives together. Alexander and I have been together for 52 years. We met at university. The children and even grandchildren are grown now. We had a washing machine, a nice heating system, a TV. It seems that it's not possible now, everything is gone.

“War is scary. War destroys families. But I think young people take it much easier. The younger ones still have time to make money and create something. But this is our last stop, I would say.”

Valentina, 81 – Dnipro Oblast

“I lived in Severodonetsk for almost 50 years. My husband died a long time ago in 1983 and my son already fled to France with his wife and two children.

“I was born in central Russia. My father was a doctor and he died at the beginning of World War Two before I was born. When my mother met a new husband, the father of my two sisters, we moved to western Ukraine.

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“I went back to Russia to go to university, but while on holiday in Sochi I met a woman who told me Severodonetsk was this great new developing city, so I decided to move there. I was young and just wanted to travel and know the world.

“I worked hard and at one point I was in charge of all the kindergartens in the city. My generation built Severodonetsk. Now it’s destroyed.

“I was evacuated with Sasha, the husband of my deceased youngest sister, on the night of March 31. We began queuing for the buses at 9am but it was midnight by the time we arrived in Dnipro, a five-hour drive away.

“First we stayed in an orphanage and then with my surviving sister, Tamara, 76, we rented this house. To begin with it looked like a mansion, and it had a lovely garden, but all the disadvantages showed themselves later. We realised how cold and damp it was and there is only electric heating, but that is too expensive to use.

“I dream to cover myself with a warm blanket in this cold house. In April, it was still snowing, but later when it melted water began to leak through the walls. We started each day by cleaning it up.

“We didn’t have any money with us when we came because nothing worked in Severodonetsk. We’re not hungry: we get aid parcels and people in the neighbourhood bring us food. Life makes you learn to like cereal and porridge – in the morning we eat porridge and in the evening we eat porridge. But it’s okay.

“In Severodonetsk, we all lived separately. I was given my house by the government because of my work. Now I don’t know what’s happened to it. Before I left, a bomb hit nearby and the windows were broken, but there is no one left there to call to ask if it is still standing. What makes me sad the most is leaving behind the pictures my son drew as a young child – he’s an artist now – and my clothes.

“I used to be a teacher and after retirement I tutored classes for older people. We had a club for retired people at the library and we would talk or discuss books, exhibit handicrafts and it was called “Ladies”, which in Russian also sounds like “yes, us”. We wanted to affirm that we exist and we treat life with interest.

“In Dnipro I have lost my independence. I injured my knee in a fall some time ago and I barely go out now. When the war started, I was in the hospital with a lung infection and my relatives collected me at the end of February. I stayed at Sasha’s house, hiding in the corridor or the basement. I did not have a chance to try to recover until we came here.

“Volunteers brought me some medication for my lungs. My right eye also stopped working. I suffer a lot, but I can only afford to get one problem treated at a time. First I will get my eye seen to because I like to read a lot, then my lungs and then my knee.

“My son is thinking about how to get me over to him but it’s a long journey when you have a bad knee. This is the third war I have survived. In 2014, it was short, but we don’t know where this war will take us.”

Valentina, 68 – Dnipro Oblast

“I am from Lisichansk, Luhansk Oblast, but we left on April 1. I have three children, two are still in Lisichansk and the youngest is here with me. My husband died ten years ago, but I have three grandchildren and five great-grandchildren – I’m a rich woman.

“After the war started, they were shelling and we were lying on the floor, afraid to even leave the area. We had no electricity and water. We spent most of the time in an underground cupboard. I had a stroke in 2018 so it was hard for me to get up and down.

Read Valentina's full story

“The last night I was there was extremely horrible, we suffered a lot. After surviving it, my youngest son took me and one great-grandchild towards Dnipro.

“We didn't understand what we were doing. It was so frightening that night. We were so glad that we made it through that in the morning we just got in the car and left. Our hands and legs were shaking.

“My other children are still in Lisichansk and my soul hurts for them, they didn’t know we were leaving, and we didn’t have space. Now they live in their basement and there is little phone connection. They want to leave but people say now that no one can get out of the city because the road is being attacked by the enemy.

“At home, I played a fishing computer game and grew beetroot, strawberries, carrots and cucumbers. I would make pickles. I didn’t have a big garden but I had something to do. Here there is nothing. I miss my Turkish soap operas – some of them are not even translated into Ukrainian but I would cry watching them anyway. The TV here is for the children so they can watch cartoons. I want to go back home very much.

“We are treated well here, though, and given humanitarian aid and clothes as we only had what we left in. But there are too many people here and we have no space in the fridge. At home, I lived with my son and daughter. It’s very difficult for me to admit that everything is done for me here – they even do the laundry for us.

“I can’t feel my left side and take pills every day. I have to pay 3,500 hryvnia ($118) for IV medicine twice a year - you can see the bruises on my hand. It’s very expensive for me. I wish there was financial help for medicine, it would bring some relief.”

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Stories of older people affected by the war in Ukraine

Rima, 92 - Dnipro

Lyubov, 77 - Dnipro Oblast

Raisa, 71 – Dnipro

Valentina, 81 – Dnipro Oblast

Valentina, 68 – Dnipro Oblast

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