I’ve been helping the people in Ukraine since the beginning of the war. With the donations of the association “Be An Angel e.V.” I bring refugees out of the country, pass dozens of checkpoints and hear the bombs falling in the distance. Every second I check the sky for traces of smoke.
When bombs fell a thousand meters away for the first time, I thought: “Oh, something is about to be blown up.” A thought along the lines of “making room for something new”. As you know from Germany. But no. It’s war. And as a German, he’s far away anyway. It happens in movies, in history, but not today, not here, not now. He doesn’t smell and he doesn’t make the ground tremble.
Even knowing that I was at war in Ukraine, I had no idea. War, even in the midst of war, was abstract to me. Sure, on the route through Ukraine you get through umpteen checkpoints with armed soldiers, tanks drive next to you and you see destroyed buildings. I drove across the country knowing but not feeling. And isn’t it really great that my generation can’t even imagine war? Not even if the bombs are falling only a thousand meters away.
What happened after that was also unimaginable for me: I’ve been in Ukraine for a few days every week for the past six months. We bring people to safety – around 12,000 by the end of August, financed with fines from donations. Since the bombing raid I’ve been checking the sky for traces of smoke every second, I wince and look around suspiciously if there’s a loud bang anywhere, for whatever reason. And since I’ve discussed what I’ve experienced with friends, I’ve been asked more often: “Why are you doing this? Why are you putting your life in danger?”
Quite simply: because I can. Because I have the alternative – because I still (!) have the alternative. With my German nationality, I landed a winning lottery ticket. Statistics on the nationalities with the greatest freedom to travel have just been published, with Germany in second place worldwide. And I carry this feeling of “I can get in anywhere, so I can get out everywhere”. With the knowledge of incredible luxury. Just ask an Afghan where he can travel (escape) unhindered…
After the bang(s), I can understand more than ever how the people who we take out of there every day with our buses are doing. I see the faces, the often shadowed eyes, I see mothers, many mothers, who try to give their children security – a security that they themselves no longer feel. The first border we cross is to Moldova. It’s almost the same effect every time. In the buses mostly tense silence, a black cloud that hovers over everyone. Now and then someone who talks quietly on the phone. fear to grasp. After the border then often the incredulous question: “Are we safe now?” And we, also for ourselves, can answer unreservedly: “Yes.” It happens that people then burst into tears.
Six months – the summary: For four weeks I’ve finally had the feeling that Ukraine can win this war. Western weapon systems are superior, soldiers know what they’re fighting for (Russian soldiers really don’t know that, by the way), and the forecasts for the Russian economy are lousy. really bad. From this feeling I look at Germany. I was there for just a few days in the last six months and, to be honest, found it bizarre: the waiting times for the holiday flight were too long. The trains with the nine euro tickets were too full. Really now?
And then Corona. Quite frankly – nobody cares here. People will certainly die from it, have long-term effects or have a terrible course. But in Ukraine one can only dream of vaccinations, social distancing or masks. Does that make it clear?
The war weariness in the West strikes me as just as bizarre. More and more posts are appearing on social media with the tenor: “Now it has to be good, we have our own problems here.” Briefly on these “own problems”: Putin attacks the Ukraine. In retrospect, it is apparent that we are dependent on Russian gas. Not supporting Ukraine is not an option. Out of “revenge” and thanks to the (much) too late sanctions, Russia is juggling with the delivery volumes. Show us: We, Russia, can turn off the gas tap for you. And the reaction to that is: “Ukraine should negotiate.” With the same Putin who, a day after promising that grain deliveries could leave Ukrainian ports, had those ports bombed.
What else does it actually take for even the simplest brain to realize: negotiating is not an option? And when will it dawn that the current “problems of our own” are just a tired foretaste of what will happen if Russia conquers Ukraine? Putin already has the power to blackmail us (well, because we allowed ourselves to be blackmailed – another topic). With Ukraine, Russia would have under its control one of the most resource-rich countries in Europe, the country that feeds much of the world. Anyone who is now complaining that gas is becoming so expensive can do so in front of empty shelves once Ukraine has been conquered. But that doesn’t matter anyway, because you can’t pay for anything with the stacks of money you’re carrying around with you thanks to inflation.
So even if you (quite rightly) are not the biggest fan of Ukraine. Compared to a Russian despot who has completely lost all human control, Ukraine is paradise. Nobody I’ve met minces their words. The discussions are heated, diverse. Oligarchy, bribery and state failure are openly denounced. And if Ukraine wins, it will be a different country. For the first time people experience what solidarity means. Before the war, life was an ego show (as it is now in Germany): my car, my travels, my clothes. It’s over. While Germany would definitely win first place in the competition for nagging and complaining, in Ukraine we live. There is no alternative, but as a basis for a collective consciousness.
I don’t wish Germany a war to get this done. But I expect people to simply put two and two together, to realize that war isn’t a 90-minute film, that it’s not on vacation. And it also matters in Germany: we will fight until we win. For Ukraine and us. Yes. For us!
In order to be able to continue our work, we need from “Be An Angel e.V.” urgent donations.
The report was recorded by Sabine Oelmann
