“We don’t want
to live in fear
anymore”

For the second night in a row, Kateryna Afanasenko got no sleep. Sirens were wailing, her three children crying continually. When another detonation occurred, Ms. Afanasenko knew: It could not go on like this.

She decided to flee the war in Ukraine, packing up the essentials for herself and her children the next morning. They boarded a train that took them to Rzeszów in Eastern Poland, not far from the Ukrainian-Polish border.

Those first few days in a new place were tough, she remembers. They missed everything they left behind: their home, friends, neighbors and above all their dog, which they had to leave behind. Her voice breaks, and she briefly turns away.

Ms. Afanasenko now lives with her three children in their own small apartment in Zamość, 250 kilometers southeast of Warsaw. At an integration center run by the Polish Red Cross, her Polish lesson has just ended. She can now ask for directions or go shopping in Polish, she says. “But I still have to improve further.”

In Poland, and safe

At the border station Przemyśl, on Wednesday, November 9, 2022, at 3:40 pm the train from Zaporizhia in Eastern Ukraine arrives on the completely fenced Platform 5. More than 250 refugees are led into an unadorned, yellow building for passport and customs control. Minutes later, they are officially in Poland, and safe.

Relatives are waiting for some of the refugees with colorful balloons and flowers. There are embraces, tears of joy. For others — like Natalia and Alexander — the train will go further West. They’re two young adults, just 21 years old, wearing red tracksuits and sneakers. "The fighting in the East became more and more threatening,” one of them says. “In the end, the electricity broke down. We don't want to live in fear anymore. We continue to travel to friends in Katowice.”

Most of the new arrivals, however, have no point of contact. Polish Red Cross volunteers and staff in Przemyśl meet them — then guide them to Anna Miśniak. She manages the so-called Transit Center run by the Polish Red Cross, ten minutes from the train station.

Up to 1,200 camp beds are available here in a former warehouse. In addition, hot meals are provided in a café. Patients with headaches, high blood pressure or other symptoms are treated in a doctor's room. Children and young people play in a games room; in one corner, two children paint colorful pictures.

“For many refugees, our transit centers are the first stop on their journey,” says Ms. Miśniak. “We give them a place to sleep, take care of them — and place them in other cities and communities within 48 hours.” In Przemyśl there has long been a lack of housing. Ms. Miśniak estimates that more than 10,000 Ukrainians have now settled in the small town, which formerly had a population of 60,000. There is no more spare capacity.

“Now I can help.”

Mr. Budka is all the more grateful for every donation and every helper.

Among those who volunteer is Ms. Afanasenko, the refugee mother of three. She is a trained hairdresser — and cuts the hair of her fellow students from the language course after class in the rooms of the Polish Red Cross, free of charge. “I have received a lot of help and I know how great the need is,” she explains. “I feel better today. Now I can help. Every gesture counts.”