One year ago, Garry and I stayed overnight in Dnepro after our car was towed while we were teaching English at the university for a week long Christian outreach program (it was called American week, but they were unable to get Americans from the states due to Covid). I took some photos of downtown Dnepro from the 29th floor. This morning we got up early to do a zoom class with the students we normally visit once a month in Dnepro and discovered that three places were bombed in the city we know so well. It hurts to think that the war continues to affect people we know and love, as they try to decide what would be safer, to stay or try to go to western Ukraine or cross the border.
We have heard of people who have gone to Poland or elsewhere, and of pregnant moms with little kids who are worried about the husbands left behind, moms with sons in their twenties who can't bear to leave without them. Even some who went to western Ukraine and returned to Dnepro, leaving adult children there. Families who think about whether they should send mom and kids away, the dangers of driving across Ukraine, the dangers of going by train- pretty much every train journey in Ukraine was designed with Kyiv as a central hub, so to go from east to west you go to Kyiv first.
Victor met two of his daughter's friends in western Ukraine who had traveled there from Dnepro. They stood on the platform for eight hours unable to move, even to go to the toilet, before sitting on their suitcases for the trip in a compartment for six people, filled with 16. All trains, even the nice intercity trains are being used to take people west. People are standing lined up for blocks in Dnepro, filling the area on both sides of the train station. There are announcements from the police that men should go home, only women and children allowed on the trains (and over 60 year old men, I guess). The trains are free, but getting there is hard, some have to stand for the train trip also, and that train could take most of a day to get to Li'viv.
Any way we did get on our zoom call with the kids and talked about snow (still more fell last night) ice fishing, and making butter. We have spent most of the last two days making butter, the boys have excess milk this month. The kitchenaid is faster than the old-fashioned hand crank butterchurn Garry is using in the photo. He may try making cheese next.
Garry's Bible story was about Jacob, Leah and Rachel and how after 20 years Jacob returned to his homeland and brother. Garry told them he is really wishing he was back in Ukraine.
Things are still pretty normal in the village, other than the curfew and blackout at night. Apparently there have been some rolling power outages, but for the most part, services are on, we are getting facepost messages and posts from staff and students everyday, and often videochats, too. They have no problem selling all the milk they are making.
Apparently our cat Box even moved back into our house, and is being friendly, as you can see in the photo sent to me. It seems so strange to see the pillow that the Steinbach team brought us and the extra long afghan I crocheted for Garry and my cat on the Mennonite couch. I keep thinking of little things I left behind so I could use them when we returned that are not here as I'm cooking and wonder if I will get them sometime. Although most things can be replaced, I wish I'd brought my old computer back for the photos on it, and there's a few mementos and so forth that we'll hopefully see again. It's just not likely to be soon. It's a distraction from worrying over the people we know and love and are constantly praying for there.
It's much worse for Garry, who worries about whether they will be able to plant spring crops, if not, will they be able to harvest the wheat as food for the cows, how many cows will they be able to feed over the winter, should the start selling off some cows now... plus the big questions of whether or not they should send the women and children west or over the border, and when.
He spends hours trying to check on news about Ukraine, checks in with Victor daily, although he was relieved this morning to find out the money transfer he sent to the bank there on Monday had actually arrived in case they need some for the farm or students. Apparently our student kitchen is feeding a daily meal to about twenty displaced people from Zaporoshia.
Life is not normal for us, even though everything is normal in Canada. Cold and snowy, too. Yesterday I went for groceries and saw this Ukrainian flag as I drove through a village.
Our Max Boradin leaves the house and farm on Sunday, he's moving to Steinbach and going to work in construction. Spreading out, I have told him he's welcome to visit anytime, especially for dinnertime. We will be alone in the house, except for visiting kids and grandkids and the cat.
You may have noticed I titled this post here and there, like I often did when Garry and I were on opposite sides of the ocean, because it talks about life here and there, where our hearts and minds are.
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