Ukraine Between War and Love

An-Nahar, Lebanon, March 16

I will not be using this column to write about political philosophy or geostrategy. My words are from the heart, eyes and tremors of my hands, writing from the land of Ukraine, following my first visit there. All of those I mentioned my trip to – in honor of the first anniversary of the Russian-Ukrainian war – responded with disbelief. Many tried to dissuade me from traveling to Kiev, believing that danger was inevitable. I felt fear, but it was mixed with love of life, concern for safety, motivation for work and a passion for my trip’s success. It was a beautiful kind of fear. Love was the first thing that struck me in this beautiful country. Its architecture, history and people all made a lasting impression. When I crossed the final border between peace and war, the Polish-Ukrainian border, I was taken aback by the darkness that had descended over the country due to the Russian attacks on the Ukrainian infrastructure. The journey was long and arduous, taking over 20 hours, and included a train, a car and a shelter from the relentless missile strikes. All of this made me feel as if I was in some sort of endless tunnel. Eventually, I arrived in Kiev after traveling from Warsaw to Lviv and then to the capital, even though all of the airports were closed due to the war. Between the tragedy and the horrors of destruction, Ukrainians are striving to reclaim their identity, culture and language. One out of every three Ukrainians speaks Russian, yet many are trying hard to rid themselves of it in the wake of Russia’s invasion of their country. Without waiting for laws or regulations to be passed by their government, they recognize that part of the cause of the military offense is an attempt to mentally invade, culturally marginalize and intellectually subjugate all that is Ukrainian. Russia has long denied the existence of Ukraine and has considered it a part of its own geographical, political and cultural space. Thus, Ukrainians are determined to reclaim their identity and language in the face of tragedy and destruction. I recall a woman I met at a local café. She was speaking in a mixture of Ukrainian and Russian. When I asked her why she spoke both, she replied: “I’m Ukrainian, but I grew up speaking both languages. And I can’t help it. But I’m trying my best to forget Russian. I want to be free from the Russian government and its language.” Another example is a driver I encountered in Poland, who was determined to communicate only in Ukrainian. These stories demonstrate the passionate identity and language struggle taking place in Ukraine. These forgotten facts demonstrate the strong sense of unity many Ukrainians feel. Surprisingly, and perhaps most dangerously, many Ukrainians believe that Putin’s war against Ukraine and the West is backed by the entire Russian people, who have been brainwashed into no longer recognizing their family ties in Ukraine. This conviction has only strengthened the Ukrainians’ determination to remain steadfast and to win at all costs. The people of Ukraine are willing to do anything it takes to guarantee their final and eternal freedom, even if it means living in a temporary prison. The faces of the young men bear a great deal of sadness and hope for a better future for their country. The courage of the women who donned the olive-hued uniform of the military is astounding. Their tender features and beautiful faces melted into a fierce determination to do anything for their country, no matter the cost. In their eyes, one could see the secret of this small nation’s steadfastness in the face of a much larger military force, before the West provided support. In the early days of my Ukrainian visit, I would shudder when air raid sirens sounded, warning of incoming shelling in the capital. I would run to hide and urge those around me to take cover. I was shocked when people laughed and continued on with their lives, repeating: “We were not afraid when Russia was at the gates of Kiev. How can they frighten us now?” It is the will of freedom and life that no tanks or missiles can suppress. Now, the war sirens are silent, and people go out to cafes, restaurants and shops before the curfew begins, as if their lives have become synchronized with the rhythm of comprehensive resistance. On the other side, in the corridors of the Presidential Palace, the Council of Ministers, the House of Representatives and all government institutions, the hive of activity never ceases. You pass the many checkpoints and security barriers, then traverse the corridors strewn with sandbags. Reaching the darkened offices, their windows sealed in anticipation of any security incident, you find employees there working around the clock with a determined sense of patriotism. Not a word of complaint is uttered, not a hint of restlessness can be detected; the faces of those present are stoic. Yet, when the soldiers return from the front lines, including the besieged city of Bakhmut, tears often stream down their faces. They express their experience in a single sentence: “We did not want to fight our Russian brothers and people. But the confrontation was thrust upon us. Engaging in battle with a brother is difficult and heartbreaking. But far worse is the usurpation of our land and people.” After about 10 days filled with a mix of joy and fear, I packed my bags to return to Dubai. I sincerely hope that I will be able to come back again, and that Ukraine will have managed to shake off the remnants of shrapnel, missiles and bombs. Life has returned to Kyiv, and Kyiv has returned to the heart of life. Ukraine, you are beautiful. You captivate with your charm, roses and fragrant perfume; your freedom and resistance. Your families, churches and buildings make you a sight to behold. And Kyiv, you are wonderful, with your icy skies that penetrate the heart with a feeling of endless warmth and love. – Layal Al-Ikhtiyal (translated by Asaf Zilberfarb)