Yuliia Sadovska recalls:
"I woke up at about 4:00 a.m. to a crazy rumble. I knew right away it was an explosion. The war that almost no one believed in had begun.
The children were sleeping so soundly that I didn't want to disturb them with my growing fear. I didn't want to believe it was real. My next thought was that the Russian troops were very close. After all, we lived near the Boryspil airport, and I remembered from history lessons that airports are the first to be captured during wars.
The events were happening so fast that my brain didn't have time to understand anything. At first, there was a daze, then thoughts rambled on that it was necessary to collect documents and at least some things... and run... and run... Then the numbness again. Phone calls to my parents, and my sister. How are they? Are they all right?
Then the airplanes over the roof of our house. One, two... I felt like I was in a blockbuster movie. Where's the remote to change the channel???
Explosions. And more explosions. News. Reading about what to do in case of loss of communication. Yelling at the kids to drop to the floor when I heard the airplanes approaching again.
The first day passed. It was the longest day of my life. No, not really. It was endless. Then almost two more weeks of the same, identical days, like one endless day, like one endless night...
On March 4, we went out for food for the first time. I felt the horrors all around me...as if the world had become colored with gray gloom. I realized–not with my brain; I realized with every cell of my body–that the war would last for a long time. I had to make a difficult choice: to stay with my husband in a country where there was a war or to save the children for them to live.
On March 6, when I learned about Bucha, there was no time to hesitate. By some miracle, our area was still unoccupied. (I am always grateful to Kharkiv, Sumy, and Chernigiv, that they held out in those particularly dangerous first days of the war, thus saving us.)
On March 7 we left Kyiv. First, we headed to central Ukraine, to my father's homeland. Then, on a fully packed train, we came to Lviv. When we finally crossed the border into Poland, I think I smelled fresh air for the first time in many days.
Next was Germany; it was so friendly that we decided to stay there. In August 2022, a friend wrote to me: "Yulia, do you want to go to Canada?" Something in my body whispered very pleasantly, "Of course, yes." Then I learned for the first time about the CUAET program to support Ukrainians with immigration to Canada. I was jumping with happiness! For as long as I can remember, my dream of Canada has existed. I remember I was about 5-6 years old and my mom was watching figure skating on TV. Ah, what a beautiful maple leaf flag! That's Canada! So, perhaps, my first crush on this country of winter sports games arose back then.
We obtained our visas pretty quickly, in December 2022. But the route we had hoped for, with affordable airfare and a temporary host, turned out to be closed. It was necessary to look for other doors. I was discouraged by the high cost of airfare, but I had faith that the right doors would open. I found a link to a site offering humanitarian airfare on Facebook and by some miracle, a Grassroots support group in Waterloo showed up with an offer to host.
September 13, 2023, and we were in Toronto. My childhood friend lives here, and we also had two weeks of free hotel accommodation. It turned out that in Waterloo, however, the only housing option available was a multi-family home in a rural area with no public transportation. I didn’t have a car. I was nervous, "What to do?" I continued to correspond with a support group of Ukrainians in Nova Scotia. They had an opportunity for a 2-month free stay in the Annapolis Valley region. I hesitated, pondering what was better for us: Waterloo with my friend by my side or the unknown Nova Scotia. I ended up buying tickets to Halifax.
Today, as I am writing this text, it has been almost 2.5 years since we left Ukraine. Almost a year since we have been in Canada. At the end of September, it will be one year since we arrived in Nova Scotia. It took six months for me to find a job. In the area where we live, there are few job offers, especially in the winter. It's a tourist area. There are some factories, but I am not able to fulfill the physical demands of the job. My husband would be able to, but, alas, we are not together.
I still work for minimum wage, which is enough to pay rent and minimum basic needs. Sometimes I tell my kids I'm really tired, but in the morning, the ocean is inspiring again, the seagulls circling and winking at me as if to say, "Hang in there! You can do anything!"
I joke and call myself a "crazy mum" because I risked coming to Canada on my own with two children with only 500 dollars, having heard horror stories about how I would not be able to manage such a feat.
But we've been here a year now, and we've made it.
I think many wonderful people we have met and continue to meet in Canada for their incredible support and help. It is the people, ordinary people with high levels of empathy, not high-profile organizations, that have helped us the most.
My special love goes out to the adorable Laurel and Micheline. (If it wasn't for you, I would not have made it through the many situations my family faced throughout the year).
In closing, I would like to point out that women who have come to Canada on their own with children need extra support and help. With such help, I believe that doors will open.
Any war is terrible. For us Ukrainians, this war is terrible because, as they say, "brother went against brother". After all, our grandfathers and great-grandfathers from Ukraine and Russia fought together in World War II. Imagine them seeing this now. It’s probably best that they are already buried and they don't have to see it".
We need your help to continue supporting such Ukrainian families. You may donate here: https://www.wrgrassrootsresponse.ca/donate
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