Nastya (33), Lena (28) and Mia (3) from Ukrain meet Anne (46) and Ute (46), Samuel (14), Joshua (12) and Jolanthe (8). They are now living in Dietzenbach, in a small apart- ment belonging to Anne’s father. We are sharing many beautiful moments together. 

On July 1st, all women* were invited to EVA for a very special film evening. We organised our traditional Lesbian Film Night with a special edition for Ukraine, guests were entertained with pictures, texts, conversations, encounters and, of course, a film - and what could not be planned, but what was wonderful: delicious Ukrainian food.

When I told "my" Ukrainian friends here in Dietzenbach about the evening, they immediately agreed to cook for us. Lena made countless small filled dumplings, vareniki, over days. Our ice cream supplies were happily destroyed to make room in the freezer for the deliveries. Ira came to borrow our largest pot and cooked borscht for everyone. Anastasia brought little mlyntsi pancakes for dessert. A wonderful aroma welcomed the first guests when they arrived at EVA.

Unfortunately, the women of Aktion soli.kino could not be there at short notice because of Covid, but the films worked all by themselves. Alina Shevchenko was in the room via a moving video message before her film "Women* What we are fighting for" (UA: 2020, R: Viktoria Guyvik, K: Alina Shevchenko) was shown. Then there was the trailer of her new film project about Ukrainian women* in the everyday life of war. Alina travels from her exile in Prague back to Ukraine again and again to shoot footage and document what is happening there, focussing on her big request: "Don't forget us!".
After the main film about activists in various countries, spontaneous applause arose. After the trailer about Ukrainian women* in war: silence. 
I was very happy to be able to tell that Ira had been so moved during the film, because she had recognized friends* from her hometown Kharkiv in the documentary. Now life was coming back into the room, the Ukrainian and German women sat down together at the tables and began to ask questions and tell stories. My parents, who were actually there as children-sitters and had discreetly sat on the balcony, were also invited in, and it was very important for some of the women to experience that there are parents who are so supportive of their lesbian daughter. People talked and even danced for a long time after that. Nastya's favourite Ukrainian songs alternated with Ute's choice of music. All together. 
The next day, Olga wrote via WhatsApp: "Thank you so much for the wonderful evening yesterday! We are still thrilled! It was very cool!" 
Nastya took wonderful photos again (thank you!!) and over 170€ was donated that evening for the work of Ukrainian filmmakers* and the organization, Sphere in Kharkiv. The directors* can be supported. They have started a crowdfunding campaign for their new film: "Can't stay can't run" - a documentary about women* at war in Ukraine:

www.startnext.com/cant-stay-cant-run-docfilm

05/06/22

For days, actually for weeks, housing has become the biggest topic here. To be more precise: the lack of space and the longing for a home, protection, privacy, future. It's so exhausting and complicated that I didn't really feel like writing about it here.

But yesterday something happened: Two falcons moved into our house. To be more precise: a pair of hawks stole the nest from the pigeons that had been living with us until then. For years, pigeons have been breeding on a beam under our eaves. And now these beautiful hawks sit there and make a lot of noise. Not that the pigeons simply gave up their nest. They were also screaming and fighting.

The whole day was a big spectacle. On the balcony we found branches from the nest and feathers left during the fight. And the defeated two are still sitting nearby, unable to grasp the ejection. At least that's how I imagine it. But maybe birds feel quite differently.

A Family council was held: Chase the hawks away? Protect the pigeons? At least climb up and see if they had already laid and then save the eggs? We will do nothing at all. That's what we decided. Just endure what is happening here and enjoy the special new housemates as much as possible.

And what does all this have to do with Ukraine? With Germany? I can feel it, but I can't say it more precisely. But at least now I can write about how hard it is. To bear and to endure all the misery that arises when people lose their home, their protection, their nest. When apartment owners do not want to rent to "these people" under any circumstances. When the requirements of the authorities are incredibly complicated. When helpful hosts are on the verge of being completely overwhelmed. When the newly created, shared flats run out of breath because of a lack of privacy, of a common language, of space for their own needs. When people, who themselves have been struggling for years to find adequate living space, now also have to compete with new refugees...

And I have the deep wish that somehow, little by little, everyone can feel at home again - in themselves, in relationships, in good moments, in faith, and trust in a future. Even if the camps are too full and too basic, and above all, too temporary. Even when there is so much else to deal with. Even when the fear for the loved ones and for the home country overlies everything.

04/08/22

Little Mia turned 4! Happy Birthday! We decorate the front door for the big party and I notice a picture. For the first time in a long time, I really notice it. It has held up well. For over two years already, it has survived wind and weather.
Our daughter Jolanthe had painted this rainbow at the very beginning of the Covid pandemic, just water-colours on paper. At that time, many children had painted rainbow pictures and hung them in the windows with the message, which was somehow conviction and and hope at the same time: "Everything will be all right!"

I leave the picture hanging. We still need it - for Mia and for all of us.

04/02/22

From time to time, I'm still surprised how important cell phones are when it comes to escape. I learned this in 2015 when our new Somalian family member explained to me how escape routes work with the help of cell phones. Now there are regularly at least three or four phones here on the table and sometimes I have the idea that these things are communicating with each other - not us women.
I wonder, what the three in the photo are telling each other?
Anyway, Google Translate has been a lifesaver in recent weeks. On the internet, with short messages, with pastoral care and everyday conversations. It's great how my German or English sentences turn into Cyrillic Russian letters within a few clicks. And the Ukrainian language looks so beautiful.
But it's even nicer when we can communicate one to one more and more. The children simply show us how (without cell phones)! And it works. Sometimes even much better than with Google Translate.
Below is an example of a translation performance of this miracle of technology. I don’t really want to imagine what the recipient may have been thinking!!! Anyway, we laughed a lot!
"Hello! Can you write something about your family? So I can look for a safe place or try to help! I use Google Translate, hope it's correct! Take care! Anne!" Translation into Ukrainian and then into German (and English translation): Hi! Chan Yiwu writes something about your last name? So chan onion for a closet or three shouts to help! And all Google translator, op it is tsorrets! Such a king! Anne

There is a children’s and young people’s farm in Dietzenbach, called ”Wilde Wiese“ (“The Wild Meadow“). For years, there has been a wild and wonderful open space developing for children. There is wood and tools for building huts, garden beds, mud, hammocks, campfires, bread on a stick and a lot of space to play. We show the “Wilde Wiese“ to Nastya and Lena and they are happy. Mia immediately goes off with the other children. We grown-ups have time to sit in the sun and talk. “This is like being at my grandmother’s house.“ Lena says, beaming with happiness.

And then they play table tennis together For the first time since they arrived here, I see them laughing together and looking carefree.

25.03.22

At some point, Ute asks me, why the three wanted to come to Germany in particular. I tell her about the first communication with Anastasiya. Back then, I asked her, if she knew someone in Germany and what exactly she would need. The answer: “I don’t have any friends in Germany. It doesn’t matter which apartment, the main thing would be, that it’s warm there.”

Today, after exactly three weeks in Dietzenbach, the three have more friends than I ever would have thought. And that, of course, isn’t because of the warm flat, but because of the beautiful people here and these warm-hearted women from Ukraine.

13.03.22

Messages from March 13th:

Nastya: “I slept very badly today, almost did not sleep... I thought that I was calm, but as it turned out, I was not very calm. I had a panic attack last night. Lena and I cried together sharing sadness. We live!”

Anne: “So sorry! And maybe it sounds stupid but it is very normal and good for your health! I thought it would happen sooner or later. Let's talk about it”

Nastya: “I know it's good to cry! Extract energy. Now I really want my old life. I don't want to believe that I don't have a home anymore! That I can't go there now!”

Anne: “And maybe there will be a chance to return – you never know! At least you are safe here with your beautiful family at the moment and for the weeks, months, years...ahead”

Nastya: “I can't explain it! everything is fine here, calm, perfect, you are wonderful people whom we have met on our way, but in the soul what a hurricane!”.

08.03.22

After the women*’s church service, we all go back to EVA. There is a big campfire burning in the backyard. A murmur is going through the crowd, “That’s so beautiful!”. The backyard is decorated festively, there is a women*’s choir singing for us, different strong women*’s voices recite texts. There is a buffet, of course, as well as mulled wine and other beverages.

Lena and Anastasiya are already helping again. Nastya happily pours out wine. “No, I don’t want white! Red! Red wine!” I hear a woman say very upset. Nastya doesn’t understand a word, laughs and keeps on pouring.

08.03.22

Samuel (14) is taking over to show our guests how to get the train to Frankfurt. After school he eats Ukrainian crêpe for lunch. Then the journey can start. When the four of them arrive at EVA, they all help with the preparations for our international women’s day celebration.

Then we take a break, get an ice cream and stroll over the Römerberg. The first demonstrators for the 8th March gather together, Lena asks insecurely: “And where is the police?”. I explain to them, that demonstrations are legal in Germany and are registered. If police are present, they are supposed to protect the people. Neither of them can believe it.

It was similar when they told us, that in Ukraine, they could not hold hands as a couple in public and wanted to know, how it is in Germany. And again and again, incredulously, the question: “And we can really get married here?”

06.03.2022

07.03.22

Elena and Anastasiya speak Ukrainian with each other, Russian with their daughter. They want her to learn both languages. Our first Ukrainian and Russian words are:

Booh
Nursing bottle Water
Friend Cucumber Chicken
Lady bug Daisy
Let’s go

Mia taught them to us.

05.03.22

We have chickens in our garden, that we love very much. Dottie, Claire, Auguste, Monique, Minerva and May. Actually, they are part of the family. But they also had to become more independent overnight. There was no time to collect the eggs, so there are 15 eggs now and omelette for everyone.

That’s what happens, when the world is turned upside down.

04.03.22

“Is she always that happy? I ask, whilst eating and I look at tiny Mia, who is playing next to us. “Yes.” Nastya says. “Just during the escape, when it was so cold, she cried for two days.” Ute says: ”She is so balanced. Probably it’s good, that she is used to travelling, and that you guys always try to see the positive.”

“Exactly. That’s the way we did it with her!” Nastya explains. “When we had to walk for hours, we told her things like ‘Look, what a beautiful sunset.’ Or ‘I’m so excited to see what’s going to be behind the next corner.’ And every morning after waking up, we told her, full of excitement: ‘Yeah, we will go on a new trip today!’.”

04.03.22

We have known each other for 48 hours now. If you can even say that. “Know each other,” over WhatsApp and Telegrams. So far it’s been all about organising things, then being happy that they arrived and always about the kids – about Mia and about our three.

I didn’t ask about the loved ones that stayed behind, about the situation in Ukraine. My friends ask me: Where do they come from? How old are they? I still don’t know up to now.

20 hours ago, we saw each other for the first time, heard each other, hugged each other. Now we are walking over the field together. The kids played on the play- ground, we, the adults, started to feel cold. So we start walking towards the forest. We don’t talk. Inside me, I am silently happy about the strong silhouette of the winter trees in front of the evening sky. Nastya says: “What a beautiful tree.” Soulmates. Then she takes out her phone and I see the escape within a few minutes, a few steps.

24.02.2022 – Landing in Kiev after a three month long job-related stay in Sri Lanka. Two hours later, it’s war. The suitcases stay packed, only warm things are being added. No arriving, no goodbye. Just leaving. Living.
20 hours in the car heading west, to the border. Then a 10 kilometre walk. One is carrying the suitcases, the other one, the child, when she can’t continue walking. Waiting in line at the border for seven hours. On the street, without blankets, with- out food, without water. It is so cold. But the queue for cars is even longer. Nastya explains, that you need to wait two to three days with the car at the border and that it’s way too dangerous. They throw bombs at the cars. So, it’s better to stand on your feet and live. Always being ready to take cover.

I know the next picture from the media. An underground station or a subway with people that seek protection, sitting or sleeping on the ground. Now I understand the first sentence, that implied some kind of a wish, I received in a WhatsApp message yesterday. As an answer to my question, what they would need in their apartment, they text: “Nothing. As long as it’s warm.” Then they spent two days in Krakow with a friendly Polish family, who accommodated the three of them and gave them 100€ for their travel from Krakow to Frankfurt.

Five minutes of walking together to the forest, five pictures on the phone and I just feel like crying.

04.03.22

On a walk, Lena tries to talk about something. It’s important to her. After a few attempts I understand, that she is comparing elderly people from Ukraine with the ones that she saw in Dietzenbach today.
“At home it’s like this:”, Lena describes, “People work and work and when they are old, you don’t see them anymore, but here I’ve seen old people in cafés. They go for walks.” Lena has tears in her eyes.

04.03.22

Jolanthe is so excited to finally meet Mia and her mums. But shortly before we go there, she starts to feel insecure. “What should I do, if I don’t understand them? How can we talk to each other?” Suddenly she wants to stay at home. “Don’t worry!” I say, “It’s no problem. You don’t need language.”

We leave the house, Joli on her racing scooter, and on her shoulders is a small wooden scooter for Mia. They meet in front of the house, shy at first, then the scooters are being exchanged.

Ten minutes later in the park, Joli takes Mia by the hand and they are gone, playing on the swing, the slide, the climbing frame. Joli is on top of a platform, pulling up a rubber container full of sand, which is suspended from the platform with chains. Mia is standing below, with open hands. Over and over again, Joli lets the sand trickle through Mia’s open hands.

Then they play fetch and hide and seek. “Boo!” They pretend they want to scare each other and laugh, and laugh, and laugh. Over and over again, the whole afternoon and evening: “Boo!” A common wild language.

04.03.22

With Joshua (12) in the school cafeteria. Finally, there’s a quiet moment to tell him what happened yesterday with the escape, the train chaos and the arrival. He listens fascinated. And then he says: "So you were like a secret agent who sits in the headquarters and controls everything”

I like that. But I imagine more of an old-fashioned switchboard, an octopus sitting on the big black leather office chair with wheels, its many arms stretching out in all directions, tucking the cables and wires around. Well connected.

03.03.22

On 01.03. the first message via an internet portal. 50 WhatsApps later the first personal information. And for the first time very clearly: "My wife". So my gut feeling was right, the two women are a couple. And they trust me, they confide in us. The first two photos come. Nastya with little Mia. Then all three of them together.

Then on March 2nd the decision. The answer to my question, wether they want to take my offer, or if I should look for something else for them, is short and clear. “We want you.“

The journey from Krakau to Berlin in 85 messages. They make it into the train in Poland. “Now I know why you couldn’t reserve seats. There are no! We are standing.“

And then, the first picture in Germany, Berlin. Two and a half hours delayed from Krakow. The connection to go to Frankfurt is obviously gone. So is the first family reservation for seats. Same as the second an third for the next ICEs.

Things are getting hectic. How do I explain low-level railway station? Which train can be reached at all and how quickly? Nothing can be reached directly anymore anyway. Where can you find connecting trains going to Frankfurt in the middle of the night? The messages are getting shorter and shorter. Now there is no more time for a reservation. Photos of display boards and electronic train route signs help where communication via Google Translate takes too long.

We have to react very quickly all the time, constantly online. Which train now? "Does Frankfurt/Oder fit?" "No!!! It's the wrong one. You have to go to Frankfurt/Main!!!" And then finally "We are on the train!" Breathe deeply. We laugh. Celebrate. One minute later. Beep, beep. New message: “We are on the wrong train!“

We ring Ute's school friend in Göttingen in the middle of the night. The first phone call in two years. Sure, she would get the three. But they are almost in Kassel now. I search the Internet for an affordable hotel room at the train station there. But Nastya writes: "No! Wait! We will try!" Arrival in Kassel 22:42 and departure to Frankfurt 22:42 - how is that supposed to work? They run to the other platform, make it! Now we hang the welcome signs that the children have painted on the apartment door and set off to Frankfurt main station.

Krakow - Frankfurt / Main on 03./04.03.22: Two days, three family reservations, countless messages, photos, emojis.... Then we hug each other. You are safe.