The war continues; hear Ukraine’s cries
Twelve-year-old Lari from Mariupol, Ukraine, carries a piece of the shrapnel that destroyed his home everywhere. He asks, “Why does God not like me, since he destroyed my home? Or maybe he does like me since I am alive.” These are not questions a child should have to ask.
Lari, his parents, Sara and Andry, and siblings Sofiya, 7, and Andry Jr., 2, escaped from Mariupol in March. I met Sara and her family recently while volunteering in the children’s center at Jewish Agency for Israel (JAFI) in Warsaw as part of a humanitarian mission to Poland and the Ukraine border. It was a life-changing experience, and showed how the best of humanity can arise from the worst inhumanity.
Three days after the start of the Russian bombing in Mariupol, Sara and her family left for a friend’s house. They stayed in the basement for more than a month with three other families. After the first week, electricity, water and gas were cut off. There was a spring nearby where they collected water. They had to stop before snipers arrived. Communications were cut off too.
Sara cried when she saw a photo of her house in ruins. She told me, “When I saw the photo of my house, the house that my parents gave me, my heart broke and now there is the same hole in my heart as in the house itself. There was so much joy and happiness, and now it was just torn out.”
She didn’t know what to do because she heard Russians were firing at Ukrainians escaping in the “green corridor” — even though these evacuation routes were supposed to be safe. But eventually, she was afraid to wait any longer. “The shelling was coming and getting louder, like they were shooting right behind our backs.”
“The grinding of shells is still in my ears. It’s a terrible sound, the sound of death, hugging your own children, trying to hide them from the sound with your hands, trying to hide your own tears and calm your heart.”
With their home destroyed and escalating violence, they decided to leave Mariupol. “It was like a bird flying out of a cage. We drove silently. We were afraid to breathe and even the children were quiet. We were in the city, where we knew there were people, but there was no life. It was a ghost town… My beloved hometown had become a mountain of ashes.”
Sara’s husband, Andry, drove the family out of Mariupol, passing dead bodies in the streets. When the family was safe, Andry went back and rescued 25 other people.
They are among the lucky ones who managed to escape. An estimated 21,000 Mariupol civilians were killed during the Russian siege, according to Mariupol’s mayor. The city has been destroyed with intense fighting, leaving Mariupol’s buildings in ruins.
Our humanitarian mission, led by Rabbi Joshua Davidson of Temple Emanu-El in New York City, took us from Krakow, to the border town of Przemy’l, to the biggest border crossing, Medyka, and then to Warsaw. During the peak of the crisis, 1,500 Ukrainians were crossing into Poland every hour at Medyka. Approximately 3.5 million Ukrainian refugees have entered Poland since the war began. That’s nearly 10% of Poland’s population.
Now, at Medyka, there are more Ukrainian refugees returning to Ukraine than coming into Poland. This could change at any moment.
Sara and I are in close contact since I left Warsaw. She continues to send pictures and reflect on the life she lost. “Our apartments simply don’t exist,” she writes, “we have nowhere to live. It’s a pity there are no family photos and no photos of our parents who died.” She sent a video of her building being demolished recently. It’s heartbreaking.
The fighting in Mariupol has been called a David v. Goliath story, symbolizing the relentless spirit of Ukraine’s resistance and Russia’s ruthless brutality. On May 18, around the time Sara’s family arrived in Warsaw, Mariupol fell to Russia.
Her life in Ukraine now ended, Sara is set to begin a new life in Israel, more than 1,000 miles away from Mariupol, three months since their world was torn apart. I talk to Sara almost daily, trying to help in any way I can. There’s a saying that keeps reverberating for me: “If you save one life, you save the world.”
I left Poland, but part of my heart remains there. While it’s difficult to hear these stories, it’s important. Bombs erase lives in a moment, and leave scars that last a lifetime.
The spirit of humanity forged through the efforts of countless individuals and NGOs since the war began provides a beacon of hope amidst Putin’s atrocities and inhumanity. Now that the war has passed 100 days, there’s a risk we’ll forget the horrors unfolding in Ukraine. For the sake of humanity, we must continue to do all we can to support Ukraine and its people. We cannot forget.