‘Day and Night’, Part Three and final observation about my recent trip to Odesa.
Before continuing with my impressions of Odesa in August, I want to acknowledge the limited scope of my experiences there.
I had never set foot in Ukraine before and know only a few basic Ukrainian phrases. I entered through Chișinău, Moldova, taking the shortest route to Odesa and I did not venture beyond the city’s boundaries. I have no first-hand experience of life along the frontlines or in the occupied territories that arcs past Kherson in the East hundreds of miles to Kharkiv in the North. I was simply too afraid to travel on roads where drones hover, watching and waiting.
I cannot imagine what it means to see one’s home and community reduced to ruins. Or to lose everything and be forced to flee. Or to grieve the murder of family or friends. Or to abandon one’s career, studies or passions in order to fight for survival.
Odesa is a beautifully designed city. Its tree-lined streets are wide. Its parks inviting and there are plenty of cafés and eateries to pause and watch life unfold. Although I didn’t encounter a single international tourist during my stay, Ukrainians were determined to make the most of the holiday season. They strolled along the coastal promenades. On the beaches below, adults sunbathed while children frolicked in the shallows. After my first night’s experience of a drone attack, I found it hard to reconcile these peaceful scenes. I knew that most air raids occurred under cover of darkness, yet to ensure that Odesans never relax, the Russians strike at any hour, from any direction.
Photographing street life in Odesa was not as easy as I had envisaged. The sunlight was harsh, the heat exhausting. I had to be very careful where I pointed my camera for fear of being arrested. Although everyone seemed to be taking holiday selfies on their phones most were wary of my camera.
I decided to rethink my approach. I contacted one of the charities operating in Odesa and offered to document their aid efforts, which they welcomed. I also planned to visit Pryvoz Market after it was bombed, to see whether it remained open.
When I arrived at the Hare Krishna charity Food for All, I was immediately made to feel part of their team. I spent four days documenting their work as they prepared large quantities of nourishing simple meals and distributed them to internally displaced survivors at aid points across the city. The volunteers, most of whom were not Krishna devotees, were motivated, compassionate individuals from Ukraine, Europe, and the USA. All self-funding their missions against tyranny.
In many ways, Pryvoz Market is the heart of the city. When I arrived, I saw no visible signs of the recent missile attack. Odesans had refused to let the wound fester. Within its maze of stalls and shops you can buy almost anything. It is a bustling example of free enterprise. It seemed that everyone shopped there, and it became an ideal place to persuade people to let me take their portraits.
So what did I learn from those volunteers, waiters and waitresses, neighbours and their friends that I talked with?
It was obvious that they are all emotionally exhausted; trapped in an endless cycle of light and darkness, sanity and madness, life and death. Some of the younger ones wanted to leave Ukraine and carried guilt for even thinking it. Some were frightened of being called up to fight; yet said they would rather die than live under the Russian boot. Mothers and fathers tried to create a beautiful life for their children even as they knew their little ones were being scarred. Everyone found it difficult to speak about the future. As if they were walking through a long corridor in a dream; heading toward two closed doors, not knowing what lay behind either.
Odesans regarded me with curiosity. They could not understand why I wanted to be there. After nearly four years of terror they seemed to be evolving into something the so-called affluent West had lost. A different kind of humanity. One tempered by courage and hardship. They are braver, more resourceful and more mindful of the present. Their convictions about justice and freedom run deeper. Their sense of civic duty was inspiring and even in these darkest times always find the will to help others.
Two weeks later I flew out of Moldova. The sky remained clear all the way until we descended into the fading greyness over London. As I stared out of the window, I felt that I had left a better version of myself behind. He defies the fear of the night and by day continuous walking the magnificent streets of Odesa; his camera capturing each fleeting moment of the city’s heroic struggle to survive.
If you’re looking for a very meaningful volunteering experience in Ukraine consider joining Hare Krishna charity, ‘Food for All’ based in London. They are an amazing organisation providing around 2,500 hot meals every day across Ukraine and helping people to rebuild their lives.
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