Ludmila Kostrub and Svetlana Serdiuk, old friends from Kharkiv, now live in a refugee shelter at a trade centre in Warsaw. Behind them is Ms. Serdiuk's mother, Ludmila Khrusciu, whose health problems since coming here have left her largely bedridden.Photography by Anna Liminowicz/The Globe and Mail
Svetlana Serdiuk never thought she’d still be living in a refugee shelter in Warsaw nearly a year after fleeing from her home in Ukraine’s second-largest city, Kharkiv, with her 83-year-old mother.
Ms. Serdiuk and her mom, Ludmila Khrusciu, have been sharing a small corner inside Hall A of the sprawling Ptak Warsaw Expo trade centre since last April. Over the past 10 months, Ms. Khrusciu has had three operations, contracted COVID-19 and lost most of her hearing. She’s now virtually bedridden and completely reliant on her 55-year-old daughter, who lost her husband to cancer five years ago.
“We are just praying,” Ms. Serdiuk said through tears. “Praying for the war to end so we can go home.”
Ms. Serdiuk is grateful for Poland's hospitality but looks forward to the day she can return to Ukraine.
The Expo centre’s shelter opened last March in what the government hoped would be a temporary response to the waves of desperate Ukrainians fleeing Russia’s invasion. But more than 800 people continue to live here and Expo is one of dozens of shelters still operating across the country, which has taken in around 1.5 million Ukrainians.
On Monday, workers at Expo were busy installing small wooden dividers to accommodate more beds. A small line of new arrivals had also formed at the registration desk and officials said they had no idea when the shelter might close.
Ludmila Kostrub, 63, also came to Warsaw from Kharkiv last April with her 84-year-old mother. She and Ms. Serdiuk used to live in the same building back home. They’d lost contact for 15 years and met by chance at the Expo shelter. Now they sleep near each other in Hall A, surrounded by cardboard boxes that provide a modicum of privacy.
Ms. Kostrub’s mother died in October and she’s thinking of going to Germany to be with her daughter and granddaughter. But she’s torn because she helps out at the shelter and feels she’s making a contribution to Ukraine. “We can only help by helping people here,” she said.
Ms. Kostrub, shown with dog Monya, is conflicted about whether to go to Germany or stay here and help other displaced people.
Like most refugees, Ms. Kostrub and Ms. Serdiuk are intensely grateful for the help they’ve received. The Polish people have provided generous support to Ukrainians but the help has started to wane as inflation and other pressures mount. The government has also begun to cut back its financial aid.
Next month, Ukrainians who stay in shelters for more than 120 days will have to cover half of their accommodation costs, or 40 zloty a day, which is roughly $12. That will jump to 75 per cent, or 60 zloty a day, for those who stay for 180 days or longer.
Many people in the Expo shelter will have a hard time covering the costs. Language barriers and a lack of child care make finding a decent-paying job and a place to live almost impossible.
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Anna Sai from Zaporizhzhia shares a room at the centre with her son and six other refugees. She works as a cook, but low pay makes it hard to cover living expenses.
Anna Sai came here with her 15-year-old son from Zaporizhzhia on April 25. She found work as a cook but earned just 150 zloty a day, and she had to spend 30 zloty in taxi fares because bus service from Expo is limited. She recently hurt her knee and she’s had to stop working.
She and her son live with six other people in a makeshift room in the shelter. Some of the others have found maintenance jobs that pay around 15 zloty an hour but they haven’t been paid for two months.
“I need to find another job,” she said. “But it is hard.”
Even refugees who have landed work and their own accommodation have trouble making ends meet.
Nataliya Dmytrenko, 38, came to Warsaw last March from Mariupol with four of her children. Her oldest son, who is 19, had to stay in Ukraine and lives with friends in another part of the country.
Ms. Dmytrenko and her children – two girls ages 6 and 3, and two boys ages 10 and 15 – share a two-room apartment in Warsaw and she works shifts at McDonald’s. She barely earns enough to cover the rent and she can’t afford daycare so her 15-year-old son, Tymur, watches over his siblings while she’s at work.
Nataliya Dmytrenko hugs her daughters Iwanna, 3, and Yarina, 6. Brother Tymur, bottom right, looks after the girls when Ms. Dmytrenko works at a McDonald’s.
Their living conditions are hard enough but Ms. Dmytrenko has the added burden of worrying about her husband Viktor. He left a factory job in 2014 to join the army and fight Russian-backed rebels in Donbas. After he was captured and released, Ms. Dmytrenko persuaded him to quit the military in 2020. But he volunteered for a local civilian militia when Russian soldiers invaded last year.
Mr. Dmytrenko was captured once again by Russian forces shortly before the family fled and Ms. Dmytrenko has had minimal contact with him. She’s had a few reports on his condition from prisoners who have been released through exchanges, but she fears for his life. She’s seen his name on a list of Ukrainians facing execution and worries that because he wasn’t an official Ukrainian soldier, he might not be considered for prisoner swaps.
“As I tell everyone, I am already a trained wife of a soldier so I am calm,” she said. “For the girls he is simply at work. The boys are waiting for him to come back.”
She’s started a diary of the family’s life in Poland that she hopes to show Mr. Dmytrenko one day. She also took an art therapy session and drew a picture of the two of them on a beach, which she has fastened to the living-room wall. “We were told to draw our island of peace. And this was my island of peace,” she said, pointing to the colourful drawing.
Ms. Dmytrenko remains resolute that she will return to Ukraine one day and that her husband will be freed. “I can see that we are winning. I can see the support for Ukraine that comes from all the world,” she said with a smile. “The only thing I don’t know is the actual date when we will be able to go back to Ukraine.”
Yarina looks at the art wall featuring her mother's drawing of an 'island of peace,' bottom right.
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