It was around 10 p.m. on Feb. 23 in New York City. I was at my computer watching YouTube and scrolling through social media. At some point, I noticed messages about explosions heard in Kyiv, the Ukrainian capital. Not even an hour later, my dad, Kostyantyn Kurganskyy, wrote me: “I’m hearing gunfire and explosions. Ground is shaking from explosions.”
We talked for a bit via text and discussed whether he should leave the city. I scavenged for any news I could find. By 1 a.m., it was becoming obvious: War on Ukrainehad begun. To suppress panic and denial, I forced myself to go to sleep. I always thought those psychological stages (denial, acceptance, etc.) weren’t true. Unfortunately, I was in for a rude awakening.
By the time I woke up the next morning, my dad had written me to say he was heading out to his country house, about an hour south of Kyiv. It was clear that Kyiv’s central district (where my dad lives) would be one of the main targets of Russia’s initial war effort.
My dad stayed calm in his communication, so it was tough to gauge the situation. I spent most of the day on my phone, checking news. Feb. 25 went similarly.
My mom, Alysa Craig, contacted me, and we discussed my grandfather Borys Yatsenko, who lives in the Akademmistechko neighborhood [of Kyiv], where the main Russian force was coming in. We were both concerned for his safety, but he was extremely reluctant to leave.
He has a multitude of health issues, and those would not be sustainable if the city was encircled. He’s 80 years old, recently suffered a stroke and survivedCOVID-19. But his new wife, with whom he lives along with two of her family members, insisted that they were fine. We spent the next week trying to convince them to leave.
Meanwhile, I was in constant contact with my friends and other family members in Ukraine. One of my childhood friends, Oleksiy Melnyk, was shuttling people out of Kyiv and into western Ukraine. I knew he had a passenger minivan, which I didn’t think much of initially — but that van would become useful soon.
Maksym Kurganskyy.Max Kurganskyy
The Russian invasion of Ukraine.ARIS MESSINIS/AFP via Getty
As hours turned into days, I slowly came out of my stupor of denial. I accepted the fact that this wasn’t going to end anytime soon. It was time to act and do anything in my power to help the Ukrainian people.
On March 3, I found myself in an intense conversation with my grandfather’s wife, Ludmila. It seemed that no amount of convincing was enough to get her to understand. Guns, rockets, chemical and nuclear weapons — she didn’t care. The conversation ended with no perceptible progress, though I could hear reluctant agreement in my grandfather’s voice.
It took four other people to convince them. By March 4, they were sufficiently convinced that they should leave. Kyiv, as much as it seemed safe, was no longer so for children and the elderly. There were increasing reports of Russiansstriking civilian structures— despite their denials — and there was no knowing what they would target next.
It was now time to figure out the logistics of getting my grandfather and the three others in his house — along with my dad and my dad’s brother, Rosta Kurganskyy (who lived in Lviv) — out of the besieged areas.
Though my friend Oleksiy had been focused on shuttling wounded soldiers from the city, he soon contacted me to confirm he could transport my family out of Kyiv. He planned to first pick up my grandfather and the others in his household at 9 a.m. on March 6, head south and pick up my dad, head west as far they could go, stop for the night and get to Lviv for my dad’s brother on March 7.
Further travel into Poland would be sorted during the trip from Kyiv to Lviv.
Refugees fleeing Ukraine board a train to Budapest at the Zahony train station on March 7 in Zahony, Hungary.Christopher Furlong/Getty Images
I stayed up until 3 a.m. on March 6 to make sure the departure from Kyiv was successful. The final few hours were the most tense, as communication and coordination was sparse. Russians monitor social media, so I was trying to be limited in communication to avoid any potential targeting.
Meanwhile, my mom and I made our own travel plans to Poland to greet the family, departing from John F. Kennedy International Airport to Warsaw on March 7.
As we were heading to the airport, I was no longer worried for the safety of my country. At this point, I was at peace knowing that I had done my part to get my grandfather out.
It was a grueling and mostly sleepless eight-hour flight to Warsaw. We landed around 1 p.m. [Warsaw time] on March 8 to the news that everyone had made it safely to Lviv and tickets for a bus to Krakow, in Poland, had been secured.
By this time, my family was already on a bus approaching the border. We all knew that getting through the border would be ahorrendously long process, even with bus privileges. All in all, the border transfer took nearly 12 hours.
On March 9, my mom and I headed to the bus station to greet the family. The people who got off the bus could hardly be described as happy. I could tell that they had seen horrific things on their way across the border. It was an emotional moment of reunification.
From left: Maksym Kurganskyy’s grandfather Borys Yatsenko and mom, Alysa Craig.courtesy Max Kurganskyy
We all drove back to the hotel and settled in for a few days of rest, while we determined the logistics of what to do next. Unfortunately for my grandfather, he would have to be split from his wife and the rest of the family. He had a valid way to enter the United States and my mom wanted him there to receive the appropriate medical observation and care.
Honestly, it broke my heart knowing that we would have to leave my grandfather’s new wife and family in Krakow. Fortunately, they were left in good hands: Polish people are welcoming and supportive of Ukrainians fleeing from the war.
Yes, I’m itching to go to Ukraine and be with my people. But I’m confident I can be of better use here in the United States. The best thing I can do to help Ukraine now is tell other people’s stories and help others understand that what’s happening in Europe now will define the future of Europe.
source: people.com
