The date was February 23. I had just turned 18. My ticket read Odesa - Warsaw - Amsterdam. I knew where I was going, but I didn’t expect the journey to end up the way it did.
After one of the last flights to exit Ukraine brought me to the Dutch capital, I travelled by car to the small Flemish town of Geel, where my mom lived. She predicted how things would go and invited me for my own safety. Well, if everything was fine, I would fly back anytime, right? I woke up at eight the next morning, the Russian full-scale invasion had started.
It’s hard to believe I have been here for almost three years now, all of my adult life. Much has changed since – not only me but the world too.
My hometown in southern Ukraine, Mykolaiv, is now in ruins, abandoned and filled with dread. The city had half a million population before the invasion. Only those without a better option stayed.
My grandparents are some of the few who stayed behind. They mostly live in the countryside to escape the regular Russian missile strikes on the city. You never know when the next bomb will land.
The grandparents of Kosmos. Credit: Kosmos Khoroshavin
Older Ukrainian generations are made differently. I can’t picture myself in my 70s chopping firewood for the stove in winter, with no electricity. Or being so attached to the land that I’d stay in the face of the Russian assault.
And then when my grandpa and grandma visited once during these three years, they were smiling, happy to see me, as if nothing had changed.
My sanctuary
I often hear non-Belgians say they feel more welcome here than in their home country. I know myself that in times of chaos, Belgium feels like an oasis of calm.
It’s also true that my time in Belgium has been much easier than for some others who came here to find refuge. I am very thankful to Belgians and the country itself for receiving me like that. Throughout my journey, I met fascinating people who showed human qualities I never expected.
One such person is Edmund, or Mon as we call him, a former priest from Geel. One year into living here, me and my girlfriend, who had recently arrived, were on the brink of homelessness, unable to find an apartment after a succession of complications. Without knowing us at all, Mon handed us a key to a studio he owned. We were saved from being forced onto the streets by his extraordinary trust in people.
On 29 March 2022 the Russian army committed a war crime by striking the regional Mykolaiv administration, killing at least 37. My grandmother worked there as a treasurer before retirement and knew many among the dead. Credit: State Emergency Service of Ukraine (DSNS)
More uncertain than ever
Although I am now safe, I worry about the future. I am very conflicted about returning or staying in Belgium. On the one hand, I miss my home, but at the same time I have become attached to Belgium. My time here has been formative and I now hold dear the country’s traditions, peculiarities, even the rows of houses.
My biggest fear would be to return after the war supposedly ends and then get caught in the conflict once again if Russia starts a fresh offensive.
This is why I truly believe that Ukrainians are all looking forward towards one thing – achieving longstanding fair peace. All of us around the world, dispersed across different countries and continents, share the same hopes, dreams and prayers for an end to this war. This is what we wanted and still do. This is what keeps us going despite exhaustion.
Our pain has grown as we see power-hungry politicians gambling with the fates of millions as they twist the truth. It’s sickening to see the victim portrayed as an aggressor, democracy called dictatorship, and the weaknesses of a country at war exploited for another’s self-interest.
Kharkiv at the start of the war. Credit: Belga
Initially optimistic about the peace talks, Ukrainians face uncertainty. Many of us simply feel powerless, almost apathetic.
It would be a lie to say that we are not afraid. At least I am. I don’t know if I will see my home again. I want to be able to once again breathe in the salty air of the Black Sea and to eat a Ukrainian watermelon from Kherson. To meet all of my friends and relatives at home – safe and sound.
The prospect of these three years of full-scale fighting and eleven overall simply being worth nothing is just crazy to think of.
In times like these not only our president, but we as a people look at Europe for protection, for help. And not only us — Moldovans and Georgians too.
I recognise that the call to rally in support of Ukraine is asking a lot. However, if we as a European family abandon each other, Ukraine won't be the last to go this way. The way forward is in unity, not in-fighting. And I hope that one day I will live to see Europeans standing alongside together in peace and harmony.
Kosmos Khoroshavin is a Ukrainian refugee settled and studying in Belgium.
