Lviv Ukraine’s small haven of peace — and transit for those fleeing war

About 70 km from the border with Poland, Lviv in Ukraine has become the main transit point for all those fleeing the war. Located in the western part of the country, this city has largely been untouched Russia’s invasion. But on the road from the border, there are reminders.
The city’s limits are guarded volunteers and the police, with a checkpost marked sand bags, barbed wire, concrete blocks, tyres and metal slabs. Smaller checkposts can be seen outside every village and town, even if some are left unguarded. Everyone is prepared, in case the war comes west.
But inside the city’s limits, people go about their daily lives. Of the over 3.5 million who have left Ukraine since the war began a month ago, most have gone through Lviv, and many continue to arrive in the city. From here, they take buses, cars and trains, or travel on foot, to cross over to Poland, and then move to Warsaw before leaving for other parts of Europe.
At the Hrebenne border point, which is meant for those on vehicles, families can be seen crossing from Ukraine on foot. The traffic towards Poland is considerably higher but some cars, both Polish and Ukrainian, are seen entering Ukraine, too.

It was through Lviv that Svetlana Vasylenko entered Poland with her two children.
In Warsaw, as she takes a small calendar out of her bag, Svetlana chokes, her eyes welling up. On that calendar, she has crossed out every day that she has been away from home near Kyiv, Ukraine’s capital. She misses home, and her husband who is fighting the war and could not leave with her and their two children.
February 24, the day when the Russian invasion began, is encircled. Starting February 28, all the dates are crossed out.The 41-year-old is heading further west to Germany with her 19-year-old daughter and 20-year-old son, to be with her parents who had fled earlier. Her 46-year-old husband, Alexander, could not leave his homeland, prohibited martial law. Still, he managed to drive them to Ivano-Frankivsk, a town southeast of Lviv.
Svetlana’s last photo with Alexander is from that day. Then, he went back to join the forces, taking the family dog with him. And she made her way to Lviv, with their children, and onward till the three reached Warsaw on Tuesday.
“We never thought that it’s possible…war in our country. I never wanted to leave my home, my country. I have a family. But I see that my children cannot go to school, because our school was bombed. I cannot go to my job, because of war. It was very difficult for me to leave Ukraine,” she said. “But the children must go to school, must learn.”
Before the war, Svetlana was an office manager while Alexander worked in a gear factory near Lviv. Now, she does not know if their home is still intact. She hopes to return home one day, “but at this time, I must live in another country, for the future of our children maybe”.
At the same time, she speaks to Alexander every day, and is worried about him. “He is scared about us, because I have never been to another country,” she said.
It is not just the fear of death. Many are leaving because they don’t want to continue without education for their children, jobs for them.
Unlike in the past, there has been a collective effort on part of the European Union to welcome the Ukrainian refugees, and give them shelter and food. On March 4, the EU placed Ukrainian refugees under “temporary protection”, enabling access to benefits like jobs within its jurisdiction.
At Warsaw Central, as Svetlana waits for her train to Germany, 45-year-old Margarita Suchokava is buying a Ukrainian flag and a button signifying Poland-Ukraine solidarity, all for 15 Zloty (about Rs 270).
Leaving her home in the eastern Ukrainian city of Kharkiv, where she worked in a bank, Margarita arrived in Warsaw on March 2. She left Ukraine because “war came into our peaceful country”.
On the morning of February 24, she said the sound of bombs couldn’t be compared to anything she had heard before. “Such a scary noise, it made a lot of people take the decision to leave,” she said. On March 1, a friend told her that he was leaving with his three children, and asked her to come along. In just 15 minutes, she decided to go, and left with just her passport and a bag.
Her ser and mother, who is weak and cannot travel, are still in Kharkiv. “Someone has to work, and support the family. I left not because I was afraid. I would love to protect my country…but somebody has to get a job and earn some money…every single city in Ukraine is broken,” she said.
In Warsaw, she depends on the generosity of friends. “Now I live worse than in Kharkiv. Any hour, something bad might happen to my family,” she said.

Margarita hopes to find work in an English-speaking country. “If that happens, it will be perfect.” she says, before getting overcome emotion.
“My soul is with my family and my country. I really want to go back home. We want to work in our country. We want to work for our country. But right now, I have no choice,” she said.
Like Sevtlana and Margarita, 56-year-old Victor left his war-torn nation because there were no jobs left in his hometown of Mykolaiv, which has suffered incessant pounding from Russian forces.
He left on a “cramped immigration train”, first to Lviv, and then to Warsaw, where he reached 11 days ago. At Warsaw Central, Viktor is dressed in a worn-out jacket, vest, pants and shoes, his front teeth missing, but another tipped in gold. “I am looking for a job,” he said, declining to provide his full name.

In Ukraine, Viktor lived alone. Today, his two daughters and a son “are still feeling safe” in their provinces elsewhere in the country. “They don’t understand the scope of the war,” he said.
He left because he was afraid and “there was no work, no food”. He used to “work with metal” and in Warsaw, can get free food and also possibly a job.
Viktor wants to go to Germany because he has heard that people there give out money to refugees. But he is not sure: he does not understand German, and does not want to go “that far from Ukraine”.