My name is Maria, I come from Krivoy Rog, Zelensky's hometown. We studied at the same school - when he graduated, I started then.
I have been living in Kyiv for nine years. I have a small private kindergarten there, the equivalent of your classrooms, where I lead classes. In March, I was supposed to get a license for a higher level of training, but then the war began.
Thus begins Maria Evdokimenko's story to People of Sofia.
Fear and terror - that's what I felt when I found out that Russia had invaded our country. You never expect such a thing from neighbors. No one was ready for this - how to behave, what to do. Yes, it was rumored that it might happen. In the kindergarten there was a child of Americans who just came one afternoon and said that they were leaving Ukraine immediately, it was ten days before February 24. It got us thinking, but still, we never believed it would happen. Everything was very calm, there was one slight concern, but that's it.
When the war started, I did not plan to leave Kiev. On the 24th, early in the morning, the director of the kindergarten called me and I couldn't believe it at all. Then, when the explosions started coming closer and closer, I immediately woke up my husband. I remember how he looked at me with wide-eyed surprise, he couldn't believe it either. To tell you the truth, I was glad that it was happening on this day because the day before, on the 23rd, my mother had a birthday and we sent our daughter to her in Kryvyi Rih to surprise her for the holiday and she was not with us in Kiev. In the beginning it was much calmer there than here. In the early days we just stood and waited for the sirens, then we were silent, listening and trying to guess at what distance the explosions could be heard, how far they were from us. We went down to bomb shelters a few times, but gave up because they only have one entrance, which is also an exit, and if it was filled up, it would become like a mass grave. Information was being spread about where in your home is safer, the so-called two-wall rule - you have to stand between two nearby walls so that if there is destruction and they fall, it becomes a kind of roof under which there is a greater chance of survival. The explosions started happening closer and closer to us.
You know, when you see all this destruction in pictures it's a lot different than live. You see how the nearby store you shopped at hours ago is gone, you see the stripped houses, children's rooms with cots, and there is nothing left of the next room. It's very scary. You get used to the sirens, you get used to the explosions. But when you're standing and hearing homes being destroyed so close to you, when you're listening to the sound of rockets flying through the air, because that sound is very clear... Then my husband just looked at me and said, "You have to leave." I called my parents and said, "Pack your bags, we're leaving, I'm coming to pick you up." And they don't want to go anywhere - this was their land and they had no intention of leaving it. This is the case with almost all elderly people in Ukraine. Well, on March 18, I left Kiev.
On March 19, I took my daughter, we crossed the Romanian border and after 5 days of travel, thanks to volunteers, we were already in Bulgaria. We came here because my mother's older sister, who is married to a Bulgarian, lives in the village of Kalugerovo. Their daughter works in Sofia and had a free room in which she accommodated us. As soon as I arrived, I knew that there were already many Ukrainian children in Sofia and I wanted to help. On March 22nd I arrived, on the 23rd I registered, and on the 24th I started helping at the Muzeiko Children's Center. Then the new center opened at the Shalom Jewish Cultural House and I moved here.
I want to especially thank the Organization of Jews in Bulgaria "Shalom" and the Foundation "For Good" for sheltering us, giving us this wonderful room, equipping it, covering all the expenses of the children's center, the food as well, so that the children do not feel deprived of nothing.
Since the war began, I have been confronted daily with difficult human stories, some of which I will never forget. One of them reached me while I was waiting for my daughter in Uzhhorod. I arrived during the day and while I waited I helped families check in. In the evening, a family from Mariupol came by train. The father did not speak, did not say a word. The mother was shaking all over, she barely managed to hand me the documents of her child and her husband. They came from the theater in Mariupol. She told me that at first they lived on the second floor of the theater, then the first floor became vacant and they moved. But their son went to play with his friends who stayed on the second floor. He returned from the games to them, they discussed how they would leave the next day, what they would take, how the trip would go... And then the Russians blew up the second floor. Ten minutes after their child returned. Seeing nothing, they began to crawl and intuitively search for the exit. They managed to crawl out, there too everything was in dust and ashes, they continued to crawl to some supposedly safe place without seeing anything. There were shots fired all the time. The mother did not let go of her son's hand for a moment. They managed to hide and contact the driver who was supposed to transport them the next day. He was still alive, the car was still intact, and they decided to leave immediately. With absolutely nothing, just as they were. The whole way they shot at the car, the whole way they were lying on the floor, the driver and he was driving almost lying down. I will never forget this story, I will remember it for the rest of my life.
Fortunately for me, the children at the Center do not tell such scary things. I must have succeeded because I didn't hear a single such story from them. I thank their parents for being able to protect their children from this horror, that children know what war is only from the stories of their mothers, they did not see it and did not feel it. We will not let them see the destroyed blocks, gardens, playgrounds. They will not return to these cities. They will return home when everything is rebuilt. Until then, here and now, the children are happy. Volunteers, teachers and everyone who sympathizes with Ukrainian children do their best to make sure they don't worry and have a happy childhood. Children ask about their fathers the most. They know that they are there and cannot come, but, thank God, they take it somewhat calmly.
Here we all feel like one big family. We respect each other, we understand each other, we love each other, we are Ukrainians. We rallied, united and continue to educate our future, our new generation. It is very important that children's education continues despite everything that is happening. It is important because it develops children's critical thinking, so that when they grow up, they can know what is good and what is evil, and can correctly judge whether they are being told the truth or lied to. From Kiev, I transferred my program, on which I worked with children in kindergarten, only here everything is much more immediate and emotional.
The hardest thing a volunteer has to face on a daily basis is grief. This is unbearable. You can't sleep. Every hard story leaves you breathless with pain. For example, the mothers from Irpen, who came to us and told even before the world knew about these atrocities, about the grinning and shooting Russians while they killed ordinary people... At night you have to go to bed with these pictures and this sorrow in your mind, and on the other a day to get up and be calm, welcoming, smiling again. And so every day. I can't even imagine how mothers of young children deal with their emotions. They constantly read the news, hear from their relatives, experience everything, but they must not show it in front of their children, and they cannot even be alone with themselves to cry their grief.
What gives me the strength to keep fighting is the hope that it will all be over soon and I will be back home. To build our Ukraine again. Together.
EN