Story №3
In occupation without parents
You can support Ukrainian schools by QR code
More ways to donate on our website
All funds collected will be used to rent schools and purchase teaching aids.
Ukrainian school in Wroclaw. The first lesson of psychological help in the 11th grade. Artem takes the floor. He tells his story 151 times. He notes that for the first time without tears…
“My mother left me when I was 11 months old. A year before the war, dad’s heart stopped. My grandmother took me to Poland. Not immediately. She is 71, leaving home was difficult. So every night at ten o’clock I counted the planes heading to bomb us. “7, 8, 9″… And then the explosions that sounded very close “20, 30, 40″… I run to the storage room and try to remember the feeling of having arms and legs at the same time. I am preparing to become disabled.”
The class holds its breath. Everyone here knows what war is. But what about without dad and mom in the war zone? In occupation with old women…
“For weeks, I was afraid to leave the house, lest the occupiers grab me on the street and throw me cannon fodder somewhere under Ryzyum, because I was tall enough. For weeks on fruit from the country, so as not to take bread from the hands of the occupiers, and the grandmother will not get far. Nevertheless, I am happy that I persuaded my grandmother to go. That our column was not shot. That he got a job in a Ukrainian school.”
In a Polish school, Artem would lose a year — an unheard-of luxury for any child, especially for a boy under guardianship. After the lessons, he already goes to work! Washes dishes, stands under a supermarket with a box for refugees “after the war”, like an adult. “Grandma’s one pension will not be enough for all expenses abroad. And so we already bought a phone that we couldn’t take out of Balaklia.”
The psychologist notes that the traumatic experience is only catching up with this child, insists on personal meetings. Artem is grateful that he has already heard. He tirelessly tells this story to random fellow travelers on the train, at rallies, and in chat rooms.
“I will earn money! I will see my relatives! I would rather get a certificate and become a psychologist to support all the people who have experienced grief.”
For now, the “future psychologists” themselves need help – even if they are already telling their story without tears.