Hi,
My name is Alina. I live in Kyiv and work as an office manager.
I have lived in Kyiv my entire life and decided not to leave the city after the russian invasion on February 24, 2022. This is me, smiling, before the war.
It’s been almost four months of war since. Yet, the memories of the dark days of February still give me chills. It was cold, loud, and scary. My mornings started with the thought that I had survived another night, as the most severe missile attacks happened after the sunset.
In March, I spent my nights in the basement, where it was safer than in my apartment. But my neighbors and I could barely close our eyes. We were freezing from the cold and terrified of the constant bombardment. In the morning, I would tell myself – not today. Today, I can go to work. That was and still is the most normal (if one can still use this word during a full-scale war in their homeland) part of my life.
And then the cycle would start again. First came the air sirens, then people would run to shelters or the subway. Kyivans would gather on the escalators and the platforms to keep safe. It’s hard to put in writing how terrified both adults and children were as they sought refuge underground. The image of a packed platform reminded me of the old black and white photographs of the London underground being used as Second World War shelters.
Then came the Spring. Kyiv blossoms into life with magnificent force and unmatched beauty. When the trees bloom and white apple and cherry flowers cover the ground, the entire city looks like a young bride. But not this year.
This year it was painful to see the empty streets covered with anti-tank barriers—another reminder of the Second World War. Over 70 years ago, these hedgehogs were used to stop nazis. Today, we hope they will stop the russians.
Now June is almost over. The carefree Summer mood we tend to take for granted is no longer here. Although russia withdrew its troops from around the Ukrainian capital, there is heavy tension in the air.
I grasp the heavy air. A quick shower and a cup of coffee. I open my computer. Sprinterra is a global company; we have representatives in a dozen countries around the world. As an office manager, I must stay on top of the operations. My colleagues rely on my analytical and organizational skills and timely responses. My responsibilities include scheduling gadgets’ shipping and pick up, searching for new training courses, website maintenance, blog publications, and many others. I bury myself in the day-to-day tasks. It’s an escape, and it is my anchor to a pre-war life. It is also a promise of a soon-to-come peace. Then I hear another siren and know I only have minutes to run down to the basement. Ten minutes turn into an eternity. Sometimes, in the basement, we can feel our apartment building shaking from the nearby explosions.
There are fewer and fewer sirens in Kyiv today. But the war is not over, and we have not won yet. So each day counts as a victory. While writing these words, people in other regions of Ukraine still live in shelters. russian soldiers are destroying my homeland, demolishing strategic infrastructure, looting villages, and stealing wheat. They bring only destruction and death, not prosperity and freedom as russian media claims.
Surprisingly, some politicians want us, the defenders of our homeland, to give up and leave our homes to stop the war. But we didn’t start it. Please don’t ask us to surrender or give the invaders even an inch of our land. Help us overcome. Help us win this unjustified war. Remember Ukraine.
Glory to Ukraine!
