Refugees dream of end of the war in Ukraine

By Jean Charles Putzolu - Chisinau, Moldova

In a villa in the center of Chisinau, about thirty people have found refuge. On its three floors, one can hear the chatter of children, who, accompanied by volunteers, play and finally think about something else other than the war. But they are still on edge: "I barely put my hand on the shoulder of a child when he jumped," says one of the three nuns who accompany these families. This is proof, if any is needed, that the war is not behind them. In a nearby room that serves as a kitchen, their mothers chat over a glass of juice and some cookies. Appearances are deceptive. Everyone seems relaxed. In reality, they are all consumed by anxiety.

Children’s lives destroyed 

Tatiana comes down from the upper floor and agrees to talk in a slightly quieter place, away from the ambient noise created by the little ones. "Right now, a terrible drama is happening in the lives of everyone here," she says slowly, taking the time to choose almost every word in almost impeccable French. "People without honor and conscience are destroying the lives of children and adults. They are doing this only to punish Ukraine for choosing its own life," she adds. Tatiana pauses. Her emotions rise.

During all the time spent together, Tatiana never names the Russians, nor Russia, and limits herself to speaking about them in the third person, "they".

She continues: "I am afraid for my son who stayed in Odessa. He has to take care of his parents-in-law who are old and did not have the strength to walk to the border". Thousands of fleeing civilians have to walk. In the cold temperatures at the border post of Palanca (south of Moldova), we met many of them who were freezing after long hours of walking and waiting. In fact, Tatiana, her daughter-in-law and her grandson have also passed through this area, before finding the warmth of a hostel.

"I hope to be able to return to Odessa soon, but I don't think it will be possible right away. We will stay in Moldova for a few more days until we get a passport for my grandson, then we hope to go to France. Some friends are ready to receive us near Paris".

Children playing at the diocesan reception center in Chisinau

A dispersed family

Tatiana, her daughter-in-law and her grandson are in Moldova; her daughter has moved with her husband to Turkey after fleeing from Kiev.

"My family is totally separated,” she says, “I do not know when we will be able to meet again."

Once again, she stops, overcome with emotion. She bows her head, takes it in her hands, then raises it again: "I don't even know what will happen in the next five minutes, because the situation is changing all the time and remains very dangerous. I hope that everything will end quickly. What is happening in Ukraine, which everyone can see, is a crime against humanity."

Distress and suffering

Tatiana's suffering is that of all the mothers who have fled, leaving behind husbands, family and friends.

Petru Ciobanu, president of the Moldovan Caritas, in addition to managing the emergency situation, takes the time with to speak a little with each family. What he hears is a series of individual tragedies and lives turned upside down in a few minutes. "It is very difficult to put words to this suffering," he explains.

Petru spends every afternoon meeting the women and children at the diocesan reception center. "There are very few men," he says, "Ukraine only permits men with more than three children to leave," because their mothers cannot take care of them alone. He is reassured to see the children playing again and running around in the corridors: "the little ones find a little joy, but their mothers are in great distress".

Opening our eyes to the war

At the end of our meeting, Tatiana thanks me for listening to her testimony. She wants to show the war differently. Not the one of the images of tanks and shells on television, but the one that affects men, women and children, and takes more and more human lives. She concludes: "I dream of falling asleep at night and opening my eyes the next morning, to find myself at home, in my house, and to learn that it is all over."