Strangers that mattered

A storytelling workshop brought the Museum of Abandonment together with a group of Ukrainian women eager to tell their own stories. We encouraged them to tell us what they feel is important to know during this period, what they miss, what they found dear in Romania, what surprised them, what they don’t understand, what they would like to know about those who supported them with a kind word, a smile, transport, housing or friendship.

Together with the whole group, we wove the winding map of their paths to Romania, composed of colored papers on which the authors marked the names or descriptions of those they met and they will never forget.

The constellation of gestures that mattered to our authors is composed of people with and without names. Each contribution brought a little bit of peace and quiet in this difficult journey they had to do. They wanted to tell us about them to keep these memories alive for their descendants.

“If we are part of this history written with the blood of our people, then I want to be part of this story,” says Alla Denisova-Put.

“War means pain and a lot of loss, but as bad as it is, this war also brings us new friends, new people, new experiences, new places. I learned about the Romanians that they had the power to give us their apartments, their pillows, sometimes the last piece of their bread. But you, the Romanians, what did you find out about us?”, asks Iryna Bilous.

“We are living an absolutely unforgettable example of humanity and courage,” believes Olena Ilienko. “Solidarity in the face of war is a symbol of our strength and intelligence.”

“I will never forget these people,” says Vera. “They helped in an unexpected moment when I thought I was alone. We didn’t ask for anything and yet they came at us. They taught me to accept help, because I really needed it but it was hard for me to get used to the idea. They showed us compassion and understanding and they passed the same on to me.”

“I learned from the people I met that you should always give help and not expect anything in return,” says Olena Lazarieva.

“Without all these people, I wouldn’t be the person I am today” – Aliona Lazareva.

The train attendant

It was the 25th of February, the day after the great war began. I boarded the night train from Kyiv to Lvov. People were standing, there was no room, and yet this man accepted us all on the train, whether we had tickets or not.

There was a man dressed in an extraordinarily white shirt, and he was extraordinarily calm. Calm as the sea when there is no wind.

He asked those with tickets to be understanding, to understand what we are going through, to pull together. He found room for all of us.

All night, the train changed direction, trying to make its way through the planes in the sky and the explosions on the ground. Until that night, I had only heard these sounds in WWII movies. My daughter was asleep, thank God, but I was awake and frightened. The conductor knew what was going on, he knew the train was groping through the darkness, searching for a safe route. We, the passengers, did not know where we were or where we would end up at the end of the trip. I was always looking for the train attendant’s gaze. At one point, the attendant from the next carriage came. This woman looked terrible. You could see the horror on her face. She whispered something in our companion’s ear, and I caught the cloud that passed over his figure. I immediately asked him what news he had received and he would not tell me. He was playing the fool, calm again. Then I realized that I didn’t really want to know what he just found out. 

I would like to meet this man and ask him: HOW ARE YOU? Are you ok?

The salesman at the gas station

In those days, there was a rule in Odessa: you could not buy more than 20 liters of gasoline for one car. When I arrived at the gas station in Sarata, a small town near Odessa, I dared to ask: “Can I get more than 20 liters?”. The man at the pump was a thin man with short hair. He was probably about 35 years old. He looked at me and replied, “Yeah, sure. Now it’s war.”

The student from Galați

Young and with long brown hair. She helped us find a place to sleep. We wouldn’t have succeeded without her.

The owner of a motel in Constanța

He was about 50-55 years old, tall and gentle, with greying hair. He told us that we could stay in his hotel for three days for free.

Pediatrician from Constanța

It was a public hospital and the doctor had short blonde hair. She understood that my son had pneumonia and admitted us immediately.

The owners of the apartment where we live in Bucharest

We have been living in these people’s house for a year. They also let us have a cat. We met them on Facebook and they invited us to see the apartment, not knowing who we were. As soon as we met, they put the keys in my hand and no questions were asked. They had total trust in us and I couldn’t believe what was happening was real. They are very good people.

The teacher

During this year, my son went to a Romanian kindergarten and she took good care of him. She has a great smile.

The owner of the apartment

When I arrived in Bucharest with my son, I had only one piece of luggage and I could see the frustration in my eyes. Sorin, the owner, brought us absolutely everything we needed and kept asking if we needed anything else. I told her I needed a job to buy everything myself. He understood me and helped me. I will never forget.

Doina, the painter

She teaches drawing to my son and she has become my friend.

The Princess

Ela is an actress and is my son’s fairy. When he lost his first tooth, she gave him a mug with “The Little Prince” – his favorite story – and the same book written in English. My husband read this book to him every night and even on the last night before the war.

Host

When we arrived in Romania, our host waited for us with dinner and a glass of wine and stayed with us, so we wouldn’t be alone.

The tennis coach

Tennis helped my son regain some of his normal daily pre-war life. He has been practicing this sport since he was 14 years old. Claudiu, the coach from Romania, welcomed him to training without asking us for any money.

The improv teacher

Is the man who brought something new and unexpected into my existence.

Questions

Beyond the constellation of strangers who tamed this period, the authors of this material also wove their own constellation of questions for the people who amazed them with their good will:

• What did you learn about Ukraine and us? This catastrophe brought us together. We live in your apartments, we share food together, we educate our children together. How do you see us now?

• How could you trust to give your house keys to total strangers?

• How do you decide that you can live with strangers, share the same kitchen with them, let them sleep in your beds? I wouldn’t have thought of welcoming refugees complete strangers into my home. How?

• What can I do to help you?

• Where does the need to help come from? Is it a vocation? Not everyone has had a catastrophe in their life and yet you get the point of it. 
• It seems spontaneous and easy to give yourself completely to some strangers, but it certainly isn’t. Who and what taught you to be like this?

Editor: Ana Maria Ciobanu

Illustrations: Matei Udriște

Photos: Bogdan Dincă