The testimony of a refugee from Odessa, of her dispersed family and of her constant concern for her relatives left behind in Ukraine.
By Jean Charles Putzolu – Chisinau, Moldova
In a villa in the center of Chisinau, about thirty people have found refuge. On its three floors, one can hear the chatter of children, who, accompanied by volunteers, play and finally think about something else other than the war. But they are still on edge: “I barely put my hand on the shoulder of a child when he jumped,” says one of the three nuns who accompany these families. This is proof, if any is needed, that the war is not behind them. In a nearby room that serves as a kitchen, their mothers chat over a glass of juice and some cookies. Appearances are deceptive. Everyone seems relaxed. In reality, they are all consumed by anxiety.
Children’s lives destroyed
Tatiana comes down from the upper floor and agrees to talk in a slightly quieter place, away from the ambient noise created by the little ones. “Right now, a terrible drama is happening in the lives of everyone here,” she says slowly, taking the time to choose almost every word in almost impeccable French. “People without honor and conscience are destroying the lives of children and adults. They are doing this only to punish Ukraine for choosing its own life,” she adds. Tatiana pauses. Her emotions rise.
During all the time spent together, Tatiana never names the Russians, nor Russia, and limits herself to speaking about them in the third person, “they”.
She continues: “I am afraid for my son who stayed in Odessa. He has to take care of his parents-in-law who are old and did not have the strength to walk to the border”. Thousands of fleeing civilians have to walk. In the cold temperatures at the border post of Palanca (south of Moldova), we met many of them who were freezing after long hours of walking and waiting. In fact, Tatiana, her daughter-in-law and her grandson have also passed through this area, before finding the warmth of a hostel.
“I hope to be able to return to Odessa soon, but I don’t think it will be possible right away. We will stay in Moldova for a few more days until we get a passport for my grandson, then we hope to go to France. Some friends are ready to receive us near Paris”.
Children playing at the diocesan reception center in Chisinau
A dispersed family
Tatiana, her daughter-in-law and her grandson are in Moldova; her daughter has moved with her husband to Turkey after fleeing from Kiev.
“My family is totally separated,” she says, “I do not know when we will be able to meet again.”
Once again, she stops, overcome with emotion. She bows her head, takes it in her hands, then raises it again: “I don’t even know what will happen in the next five minutes, because the situation is changing all the time and remains very dangerous. I hope that everything will end quickly. What is happening in Ukraine, which everyone can see, is a crime against humanity.”
