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The Costs of Dehumanization

  Our friends, Marina and Ira, have family in Russia.   Not long after the start of Russia’s full-scale invasion, they spoke with those family members.   Those in Russia expressed their disgust that people in Ukraine were eating children.   Marina and Ira’s reaction was naturally surprise and horror.   In the early days of the war, back in 2014, state-controlled Russian news agencies had started to run a story about a young boy that had been crucified in Ukraine’s eastern territories.  The narrative was that this was what Ukrainians were doing to Russian speakers.  It didn’t take long for the story to be debunked.  But this was primarily outside of Russia, most people within Russia kept hearing this story, and stories like it. Over the years, the stories grew to the point where Russian citizens were hearing that Ukrainians were regularly eating babies.   This is why Marina and Ira were having this conversation.  They told their relatives that what they had heard was wrong.  Peo
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Anya’s Russian Dad

How war and propaganda have been affecting families across Ukraine, Russia and the world. On February 24 th , 2022, Anya, like millions of Ukrainians, was woken up at 5 o’clock in the morning by the sounds and reverberations of missiles striking in and around Kyiv (where she lived) and all over the country.  She spent that morning rounding up her very large family, including a 13 year old son who was at a sleepover more 30 minutes from their home.  Imagine being separated from one of your children in a situation like that.  They did get all of their family (18 people) together, but it was a lot of work and stress.  While getting everyone together Anya and her family had to pack up not knowing how long they would be gone.   Then, they joined millions of people on the road who were heading West.  It took them 3 days to make a trip that would typically take 7-9 hours.   As Anya sat in the car, she started thinking about her parents.           Anya's  mom was in one of the to

Returning to Ukraine

  Both of the girls were more … squeaky … than normal.  They are both 19, but they sounded a few years younger.   I was taking Inna and Nastia into Ukraine.  Not just to visit, but to stay.  To live in Safe Haven, their home, and to go to their schools this year, not just just take an occasional course online in between work.   It had been a year and half since Inna had been in Ukraine.   As we approached the checkpoint on the Ukrainian side, Nastia took a picture of the sign that said “Ukraine”.  A few minutes later, I felt the car start to shake, and it took me a minute of looking around before I realized that she was just bouncing her leg in anticipation of actually being back in Ukraine.   After we crossed the border, we pulled in to a gas station, and as we were leaving, Inna said dreamily, “Everyone spoke Ukrainian.”  Nastia added, “And they were SO nice.”  She just sighed contentedly.   It was very interesting being able to watch their reentry.  I myself had

The stress of being an 8 year old in Ukraine

  “Mom, how long are we going to stay here in the Czech Republic?” 8 year old Bodya asked Anya as they walked home one day. “I’m not sure.  One month, maybe two.  We have to get you and your brother back to Ukraine before school starts in September.”   Anya had only brought the boys back to Czech Republic from Ukraine earlier in the week.  “Why are you asking?”   “It’s easier here in the Czech Republic.  It’s easier away from the war.  I’m tired of the war.  In Ukraine everyone is always talking about the war.  I just wish that they would stop.  At night the sirens wake me up and I don’t like the sound.  I’m tired of always having to go to the basement during school.  And I don’t like the sound of the explosions.” Each sentence that Bodya spoke hit Anya like a punch in the stomach.   Bodya and the rest of his family in Kyiv, Ukraine had just lived through the two most difficult months that that part of Ukraine had experienced since the first days of the war.  Two months,

How Ukrainians act during missile strikes

     I have been in Ukraine during many air raid alerts and have been close enough to hear and feel a number of explosions (primarily Russian missile being shot out of the sky), but, strangely, I haven’t actually been around Ukrainians throughout the duration of an air raid until this past week.   I had gone to a small warehouse store where I buy nails for my framing gun.  In the middle of placing my order, everyone’s phones started dinging.  Kyiv was under an air raid alert.  The young man who was helping me just kept working on his computer, but his colleague immediately stood up, looking at her phone and started wondering out loud if we should go to a shelter or if we should stay put.  Within a few seconds another worker came in from outside, and a lady came down the stairs.  They were all on their phones.   “Ballistic missiles.”   said the man “… heading towards the Kyiv area.”  Said the woman who had just come down the stairs.   There was a moment when everyone let t

The procession

Late in 2022, I was driving to visit our friends in the outskirts of Kyiv.  As I neared their house in a more residential area, I watched as, ahead of me, about 30 kids crossed at the crosswalk.  This was the middle of a school day, so I was immediately curious what they were doing.  As I watched, they joined 50-100 people who lined the side of the road.  Some had Ukrainian flags, some had flowers.  It was a somber group. Something was happening, though I didn’t yet know what.  The light turned green, and I drove forward along the crowd with the other cars.  We kept our speed down. As I approached the end of the line of people, I saw two things.  A police car came around the corner, driving slowly with lights flashing.  Behind the police car was a military personnel vehicle with flags flying on both sides.   At the same time, on my side of the road, at the end of the line I saw a man in the crowd step forward and throw a small dirty mat onto the road right at the outside