Beaulieu-sur-Mer station, on the outskirts of Nice (Alpes-Maritimes), Monday February 28, 11:30 p.m. Two white vans tumble into the parking lot, yellow and blue flags on the dashboard. Oleg Mazur and his drivers apply the handbrake, at the end of a three-day journey that took them from the Alpes-Maritimes to the rear lines of the war in Ukraine. “We felt like soldiers on a mission, slips this 35-year-old Ukrainian. We brought food and military equipment because the people there are counting on us. We’re already ready to go.”
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Oleg Mazur knows these roads well. Before the invasion of his country by the Russian army, this owner of a small transport company conveyed goods and tourists between the French Riviera and the Ukrainian town of Chernivtsi, near the Romanian border. Rather than going through La Poste, which is more expensive and slower, families entrusted him with gifts for their loved ones. Some even boarded to save a plane ticket.
Here is now this father of three children converted into a war transporter, in a revisited version of the “Taxis de la Marne”, which had taken French soldiers to the front during the First World War. Azur taxis now form the central link in the mobilization of the diaspora in Nice. By joining the war effort, the Ukrainian community of the Alpes-Maritimes finds a remedy for the impotence and guilt that gnaw at them, so far from the country.
Leaving France on Saturday with more than four tonnes of cargo, Oleg Mazur and his three drivers reached the Ukrainian border the next day. On the Romanian side, they discovered “exiles as far as the eye can see” and “camps set up for those who left their homes, with nothing”. “We gave them half of our food”says the carrier, back bent.
Escorted by the Ukrainian police, who cleared the way for him, Oleg Mazur then rushed to the headquarters of the territorial defense of Chernivtsi. “The situation is still calm there. The streets were deserted, barricaded. It was not scary, it was desolate.”
“I left the boxes in the gymnasium where my son was still playing football a few days ago. It was sad.”
Oleg Mazur, head of a convoy to Ukraine
at franceinfo
The thirties did not have time to kiss his parents, who remained there, nor to see his apartment again, abandoned three days before the invasion. He turned back and, in Romania, took on board four women and a child who had fled Ukraine to find refuge in Italy. “They burst into tears as soon as we started talking about the war”, reports Oleg Mazur. The 2,000 km return were swallowed by the force of the eyelids, with a motto: “Our soldiers don’t sleep either.”
While the drivers were on the way, the Ukrainian community of Nice was already preparing the next trip. Everyone at their post, Monday, in a supermarket in the city: two Ukrainians at each entrance and two others in front of the checkouts, for a humanitarian collection initiated by Elena Datsiuk, a former employee of the store. Settled on the Côte d’Azur for three years, this native of Kiev fights her fear of war with anti-stress pills, sleeping pills and “collective mobilizations”.
Carts are quickly overflowing with nappies, pasta and preserves. “We, the girls, collect donations for the civilian population, explains the 25-year-old literature student. Meanwhile, the boys are tasked with defensive military equipment. My husband is a veteran of the Foreign Legion. With his friends, he activates his networks to find helmets or bulletproof vests.
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On the heights of the city, Olga Monakh is one of the pilots of the resistance, organized in particular by the Franco-Ukrainian Association Côte d’Azur. This concert pianist, born in Kharkiv, the second city of Ukraine, heavily bombed on Tuesday, plays on her connections to obtain the provision of a large municipal hall. “We are inundated with donation proposals, but we have no place in Nice to refer people to, she laments. Soon, there will also be the problem of welcoming exiles, who are starting to arrive.”
“I haven’t slept for five days”, confides the activist, who spends his evenings on the internet to support the morale of his relatives in the bunkers. In his garden, in the middle of children’s toys, are signs hostile to Vladimir Putin, tinkered with for the recent demonstrations on the Promenade des Anglais. A Ukrainian flag flies above the terrace.
Tuesday morning, after a short night with his wife and children, whom he had taken to France just before the war, Oleg Mazur resumed service with his “taxis”. A first van is on the way. Khaki pants and sunglasses on his forehead, one of the two drivers, who wishes to remain discreet, says he is a former Ukrainian anti-banditry policeman. Exiled in France since 2003 and reconverted in real estate on the Riviera, he suggests that he could stay in Ukraine, in the army.
“My 13-year-old daughter didn’t want me to leave and hid my passport, he says. But I have a second one. She knows I’m leaving and we said goodbye in front of the college.”
“I’ll see on the spot if I’m needed.”
A convoy driverat franceinfo
The trunk is filled with military equipment and two young women, looking serious, take their places in the back seats. “One is a doctor, she wants to lend a hand to the army health service, assures Oleg Mazur. The other leaves to look for her children who remained in Ukraine. Men who want to fight will also take the road, but their departure will be from Paris.”
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In the evening, another van starts, as well as a 22 ton truck loaded during the afternoon. It was time for a new start for Oleg Mazur, who offered himself 40 minutes with his family. Before turning on the ignition, the father of the family insisted on lighting candles: “It’s the birthday of my youngest, who turns 3 today. I don’t know how old he will be when he returns to Ukraine.”