Again and again, I tell kids their writing can make a difference in the world.
My daughter’s schoolmate, 11 year old Tymofii Ladnyi, needs to believe it.
A refugee from Ukraine, he is adapting resiliantly to life in England, but longs for a hug with his mother and little brother, back in Kyiv, and his father, who joined the Ukrainian Armed Forces.
I am running a marathon to raise funds to bring supplies to Ukraine. Tymofii contributed this essay about his escape to my fundraising campaign because he wants to help his country and his family.
“Bombed Out” was selected as the lead story for 2023 edition of ‘Mind’s Eye Prep’ magazine. Tymoffii initially contributed it to my blog as part of my marathon funding drive to raise £5,000 to bring life saving right drive vehicles to Ukraine. If Tymofii’s story inspires you, please consider a donation to my funding partners, Alex and Andy, to bring these essential supplies to the front.
Kindly mention his name in your contribution comment, so that I can show Timofii the impact of his words at this critical time. Thank you for reading this post!
PART I: UKRAINE UNDER ATTACK! FIRST MINUTES
24 february 2022. A 4 a.m., Russian planes, tanks and artillery started to bomb Ukraine. I was sleeping in my bed that morning, like many other Ukrainian kids. I could hear bombs exploding. It was dark and everyone was screaming, just like me. At first, I couldn’t understand what was going on. My parents started calming me down but it soon became clear that war had broken out against my country. The attack was just as unexpected as the assault of Nazi germany in 1941, which also started at 4 a.m., as I learned once in my History class. It was the day that forever changed my whole life and the lives of my parents, grandparents, friends, classmates and millions of other Urkainians.
I will never forget that morning. My father and mother frantically discussed what to do next. The same question I heard again and again. “How we can save our children?” Then they started to pack winter clothes for me and my two siblings. My youngest brother was two years and the months old at that time, so I helped him pick his favourite toys – a tiny sports car and a little plush dog, iwth which he often fell asleep. Nothing else would fit in his small yellow backpack. I began to collect my personal belongings – only the necessary, as my parents told me, along with school textbooks and notebooks. I didn’t know for how long we would be leaving our home and what would happen next. At that moment, I didn’t even assume that I was leaving for good.
PART II: THE DAY BEFORE
23 February was a regular day for me. I clearly remember it. Nothing was wrong that day – I went to my Ukrainian school, and after htat I had my basketball training session. My coach chose me to captain teh team in a big competition. I was. Happy and honoured. When I got home, I shared this great news with my parents. I did my prep, checked it with my dad and then went outside to play with my friends. I do remember that during those days everyone was talking about a possible Russian invasion of Ukraine but none of my friends believed it, so we kept on playing games. I never thought the next day would be the worst day of my life.
PART III: TERRIFYING ROAD TO NOWHERE AND RELOCATION
It is incredibly hard for me to recall the suffering that I experienced during relocation from my native city fo Kyiv to the Western regions, away from the capital of Ukraine and closer to the borders of my country, which at that time were not being bombed. All the main highways were already destroyed by aristrikes. By the middle of 24 February, Russian tanks were almost in Kyiv and it was a total collapse, just like in horror movies.
We got in the car to get as far from Kyiv as possible. We were moving slowly using minor roads because all the main roads were either ruined or blocked by thousands and thousands of similar cars full of families trying to escape and save their lives. I have never seen so many cars on the roads. Some cars were running out of fuel and the queues for gas stations were many miles long. Even if you were lucky to get to a fuel station, you could buy only 10 to 20 litres, which was not enough for big distances. I saw some people abandon their cars and walk on the road with their children to who knows were, against a strong wind in minus zero temperatures.
At one moment, our car was jammed in and caught by other vehicles in heavy traffic that was not moving for hours. My dad decided to turn off the road and drive through frozen fields. I heard the branches of trees and shrubs beating against our car. But what was important was not getting stuck in the mud lying under the ice and not to stall in the fields, because there was no help to be had. It took us more than 22 hours to travel 400 miles from Kyiv to the safe place. I couldn’t sleep at all during that horrible trip. But when we finally reached our friend’s house the next day, everyone fell asleep at once.
PART IV: CHANCE FOR A NEW LIFE
But life for my family in Western Ukraine turned out to be not so safe. Soon the bombing began. The blackouts lasted for days at a time. Sometimes, there was no electricity, not water in bathrooms and no heat. Those were dark days and very cold nights. One day, I heard a powerful explosion at the thermal power plant, which was many miles away. But our house trembled. The windows almost wiggled. My youngest brother, Phillip, crawled under the table with my puppy, Willy. Then my mother said we needed to leave again for a safe location.
Now I am in England, at Vinehall School. I am grateful to my current school for helping me avoid bombing and death. I try to study hard and not to let my school down, and to make new friends. I am happy that I can study and live in warm and peaceful conditions, not hiding in bomb shelters. And I am grateful to the whole United Kingdom for helping my country.
But I do miss my parents very much. Not a day goes by that I don’t think about them. I worry about my youngest brother, who is staying in Kyiv with my mother. They must descend several times a day to bomb shelters during rocket attacks. I worry about my dad, who joined the Armed Forces in the first days of the war, to defend Ukraine. I worry about my friends who were not able to leave and are now staying somewhere back home.
I really want to return to Ukraine, but understand that while the war is going on, it is too dangerous. I hope the war ends soon so that I can embrace my parents, my siblings, my grandparents and my old friends again
Article posted with parental permission
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