The duty interfered with the train going from Przemyśl, a border town with Ukraine, to Szczecin, in northwestern Poland. On board, many refugees who face a most uncertain future.
He floats an air of nervousness, of bitterness too. Shortly before 10 a.m. on Thursday, March 3, dozens of passengers were bustling about on the Przemyśl station platform. In this small Polish town bordering Ukraine, the 9:58 a.m. train is about to leave: direction Szczecin, in northwestern Poland. The locomotive stops at the station. The doors open and, very quickly, the wagons are filled with luggage and tired-looking passengers. It’s their whole life that some carry around in their suitcases. It is the train of the unknown, in short: that of exiles fleeing the war, without knowing if they will one day be able to return to Ukraine.
The departure whistled by the controllers, the train leaves Przemyśl. On board, many women, children, grandparents and teenagers, who pile into crowded cars. But very few men: all Ukrainians between the ages of 18 and 60 were called upon to take up arms, general mobilization required. Despite the crowds, there is a strange calm in these cars where, for lack of space, passengers have to stand. In order to reach the Polish border, many exhausted Ukrainians made a journey of several days, sometimes by train, sometimes by car or on foot.
About ten days after the start of the Russian invasion, the exodus of Ukrainians is growing at the rate of the advance of the Russian forces which are pounding their country mercilessly. Rare are those who would have imagined that Vladimir Putin would give the order to invade a sovereign country on the pretext of wanting to “demilitarize” it, or even “denazify” it. Its “special military operation”, as described by Russian propaganda, has already prompted more than 1.2 million Ukrainians to take refuge in neighboring countries, more than half of them in Poland.
In the trains leaving Przemyśl station – that is, where many trains arrive from Ukraine, especially from Kiev and Lviv –, we hardly see this Ukrainian “threat” brandished by Moscow. It is rather the distress that can be read on the faces of these passengers whose destiny is suspended. In the early morning of February 24, they woke up to a war they never wanted.
A 72 hour journey
In car number 18, Viktoria Rublevskaya was able to take her place in one of the packed compartments. This mother with a soft look holds her little boy Maksym, 4 years old, on her lap. On the bench opposite her mother Tatiana and her son Dennis Timush, 17, whose entry to university scheduled in a few months is compromised by the conflict. From Bakhmout, a town in eastern Ukraine where they had lived until then, the family began their journey by train on 1er march to the Polish border, passing through Lviv, a city in the west of the country. Their journey lasted almost 72 hours. When the invasion began, nine days ago, “we were scared, a curfew was imposed and the bombardments were getting more and more intense”, explains the forties. A double penalty for these four passengers. Because the war, they have already experienced it in their city, located in the Donbass: since 2014, the region has become the scene of clashes between the pro-Russian separatists, supported by Moscow, and the Ukrainian army.
“This train we’re on right now has nothing to do with the one that took us from Lviv to Przemyśl in Poland! says Viktoria Rublevskaya. “It was cold, there were no toilets and the journey took ten hours. In a single car there could be 700 people, the majority had to remain standing. At each stop, there were more and more people going up. But there was also great mutual support, people supported each other. »
A journey that seemed to last an eternity. Added to the anguish of war was the interminable wait caused by the influx of refugees at the border. “The children were confused and asked me: Mom, why are there so many people on this train? she breathes. “We had to take a humanitarian train which passed through a whole series of heavily bombed cities in recent days: Kharkiv, Kiev…”
Through the window, Viktoria Rublevskaya sees the fields of the Polish countryside pass by, under a morning sun. A bucolic landscape unlike the nightmare endured a few days earlier. From now on, an uncertain future opens up to her. “We are relieved, we no longer have to worry about bombings or alerts to go and take refuge in the bomb shelters. But there are still so many things to worry about: work or housing if the situation persists in the long term… As for employment, I’m not difficult! As for the possibility of a return to Ukraine, it is all the more vague. “The safety of the children takes precedence, we have no idea when we will be able to return, we are in nothingness”, she maintains.
Arriving in Przemyśl, they then hopped on this train taking them to western Poland. Their destination: Katowice, a third of the way Przemyśl-Szczecin. In this town in southwestern Poland, a loved one awaits them: Viktoria’s husband, Roman. This Ukrainian father has been working in Poland for two years, in a window factory, west of Katowice.
“I will lose everything”
A car further, in the restaurant car, it is also uncertainty that dominates. There too, suitcases cluttering the floor, sighs, worried looks, and even pets.
“Vasia, Vasia, come here…” Nearby, a white-haired man is trying to catch up with his cat, which is sneaking between the seats. “He meows a lot in his cage, sometimes I have to take him out a bit,” explains Pawel Sivyk, smiling. Green checkered shirt on the back, it’s been five days since the 65-year-old man fled Kharkiv, the country’s second city, under bombs for several days. “When we left on February 26, we could hear explosions. It was distanced, but enough to wake us up, he recalls. I didn’t take a coat to keep me warm. If my house is bombed, I will lose everything. I don’t know how long I will stay in Poland, nobody knows, even Putin doesn’t know. Either I try to obtain refugee status or I try to find a job in Poland. But I’m retired, and job opportunities are becoming scarce at my age. »
After spending three days in Przemyśl, he is back on the road, this time to Wrocław, in western Poland, where he can stay with friends, with his wife and daughter-in-law. When he talks about his son, tears well up in his eyes. He swallows them immediately. “He stayed in Ukraine, he wanted to support the army in territorial defence”, explains Pawel Sivyk, referring to this army support force made up of volunteers.
At the next table, still in the restaurant car, Marina (we withhold her full name to preserve her identity) left with her four children from Odessa, a city in the south-west adjoining the black Sea. “We left at 6 am this morning, and we managed to catch the train, then we were driven by car to the Polish border. In Odessa, the situation was very tense when I left, it is only a matter of time before the violence escalates. The morning of the invasion, I woke up to the sound of an explosion. I went to the window and saw the sky light up like fire, ”explains the 34-year-old young woman in a calm voice, while her children are fidgeting on the bench.
“My husband accompanied us to the border, but returned to Odessa to fight against the enemy. Many relatives have decided to stay, I don’t know when I will see them again. I’m anxious about splitting up our family, who knows how long. But I have hope that the Ukrainian army will win, even if I cannot be sure. Except that if we lose…” She doesn’t finish her sentence.
If Poland was an obvious choice of exile for Marina, she does not rule out going further west. “I lived in Poland for five years, I have friends here and my daughter was born on Polish soil. It’s a second home for us. But maybe we’ll go somewhere else afterwards, to London, where my brother lives, or even to Berlin. I have no idea, we have to deal with a new reality. »
Solidarity momentum
Back in the compartment of Viktoria and her family. Their arrival in Katowice is imminent. On the station platform, Roman is already waiting for them. It’s finally time for hugs, sighs of relief. But it doesn’t take long for them to get back on the road: an hour away, in the village of Łęg, a Polish couple has offered to put them up in their big house, along with two other Ukrainian families.
“These people need our help, it’s the least we can do. If we lived in such a situation, I think we would gladly accept being supported in this way, ”said Gizela Nowak, 36, the hostess of the Viktoria family. Nearby, several of its neighbors opened their doors to refugees, quite spontaneously. She will receive a phone call a few minutes later about a woman with two children in need of emergency accommodation. “A neighbor has room for her,” she then says, satisfied.
In the living room, sitting in front of a tray of chocolates and a coffee in her hands, Viktoria can finally breathe. “I won’t hide that I’m tired, we traveled for three days. But we are struck by this outpouring of solidarity from the Poles towards the Ukrainian refugees. Our plan for now is to rest, shower, sleep. And to get to know better those who are kind enough to host us. »
A few moments later, Viktoria Rublevskaya enters the room reserved for her. From her luggage, she immediately takes out objects “of the greatest importance”, in her eyes: icons representing Mary and Jesus, which she puts on the chest of drawers in her new house. A way to keep the faith. And maybe also hope.
With Iryna Sknar