After we unloaded the generator at the clinic in the eastern part of the city, the first explosion sounded. Moments later, sirens sounded and grandmothers started coming out of their houses to take shelter in the basement of the clinic. They shouted at the warden, who was desperately trying to find the keys to the shelter, and pushed their way down the stairs. The men, however, stayed outside for the time being, smoking and watching the sky warily to see what would fly in from where. „We've already gotten used to it,“ they were saying, and they didn't seem to be heading for the shelter.

 

We walked into the basement, where there were old chairs along the walls. We started talking to the doctor and the nurse who had just come down from their ambulance. They had gone to Poland during the heaviest fighting, but later returned. „People need us here. Who will take care of them if all the doctors leave?“ they ask. We gave them greetings from people in Kharkiv who are helping us prepare humanitarian aid in Slovakia. The emotions were already unmanageable, not only for the nurse, but also for us... Tears belong to life, and here people don't wipe them anymore. Some don't even have the strength to cry anymore. Everyone has lost someone or has loved ones at the front. They live every day worrying if they will get a text message from their sons and husbands in the evening.

 

Meanwhile, the rumbling echoed over our heads. In the shelter we discovered a simple toilet and sink. There was even a small hairdressing salon, because women want to take care of themselves in every situation. During the invasion, more than 150 people took shelter here (I don't understand how they all fit in here) and the hospital staff did their best to provide them with food, drinking water and everything they needed. The director of the hospital took us to the second part of the shelter, intended for the medical staff. There they also had an ambulance and with the help of a camera they were in contact with the world.

 

After a while the information came that the sky was clear, so we went out. As if nothing had happened, we finished handing over the generator and took a few photos as a souvenir. Then we went out for lunch. The sirens ended the alarm and the mall was operating as if nothing had happened. Restaurants, designer shops - everything was going on in the normal hustle and bustle. On the way, we passed fire trucks with sirens on. Kharkiv currently has a population of around 1.2 million. Many have fled, but many are also returning. Locals tell us: „We live in constant tension. Russian missiles reach us in 30 seconds...“

 

Since we are not such heroes, we decided to leave the city before dark. After more than 500 km of travel we returned to Kiev. The sirens are sounding again. But where to hide with a big bus? We wanted to leave the city as soon as possible, but Kiev is vast and the 45 km long journey took more than an hour. We didn't manage to observe the „curfew“ - the night curfew from midnight to five in the morning. Outside the city we were stopped by the last patrol. It was already 20 minutes after midnight. Negotiations and explanations followed. The patrol followed the law, but in the end we somehow convinced them, because we only had 8 km to go to our hotel in Buche.

 

I slept like a dead man until the morning and had no idea if anything was flying in the night or not. This is also the shape of war in the 21st century in „civilized“ Europe. We help, but we prefer not to get involved in politics or explaining who and why. Our role is to serve those who are the victims and those who are suffering the most - ordinary people who are in this situation through no fault of their own.

 

We come back with a good feeling that we were able to help and make someone happy. But also with a commitment - we must continue to help because it is absolutely necessary and it makes sense.