The Russian invasion of Ukraine in February began a mass exodus of refugees into western Ukraine and neighboring countries. There are now about 7 million Ukrainians internally displaced and another 5 million have crossed borders and become refugees across Europe.
But many of them want to go home. Between February 28 and June 21, according to the United Nations, there were 2.8 million “cross-border” movements back into Ukraine. The number of refugees included in this total is not recorded, but cities such as Kyiv are gradually recovering from their pre-war population. It appears that many Ukrainian refugees are now returning, at least temporarily.
Why did we write this?
As war rages on in Ukraine, some of the millions of refugees who have fled are looking to return. Fighting may be a threat, but to them, the call of home may trump the safety of a foreign land.
Refugees during war in particular move according to a number of different push and pull factors. On the one hand, fleeing to a new country – with a different language and culture – can be stressful. On the other hand, despite the brutal missile strikes, most regions of Ukraine are now much safer than at the beginning of the war, when Russia was attacking on many fronts. Some Ukrainians may find life abroad too difficult and life at home safe enough.
For many, like Olga Rostovska, who fled Kramatorsk with her two young children in April, the house is worth the risk. “We never wanted to leave,” she says.
Lviv and How, Ukraine
Olga Rostovska sits at a small kitchen table and projects a picture on her phone of where she wants to be: a partially burned apartment building 400 miles away.
“I cried when I learned that the Russians destroyed my house,” she says, sitting next to her sister, Lyudmila Skidan, who lives with her family and children in Kyiv. “That’s why I want to go home so much. I hope I can fix all this and live there.”
Ms. Rostovska is from Kramatorsk, a city in eastern Ukraine now less than 50 miles from the front lines. As in cities throughout the Donbass region, the citizens of Kramatorsk have a group chat – where they spread news about the bombing and pray for normal life – on the Telegram messaging app.
Why did we write this?
As war rages on in Ukraine, some of the millions of refugees who have fled are looking to return. Fighting may be a threat, but to them, the call of home may trump the safety of a foreign land.
She hopes to read every day that her city is safe again. She was evacuated with her two young children in April, first to western Ukraine, then to Lithuania for two months, and then back to Kyiv. Now they want to go home – even if Russian bombing means there aren’t many homes left.
The Russian invasion began last February in a mass exodus of refugees into western Ukraine and neighboring countries. About 7 million Ukrainians are now displaced within their country, and another 5 million have crossed borders and become refugees across Europe.
But many of them want to go home. Between February 28 and June 21, according to the United Nations, there were approximately 3.6 million “cross-border” movements into Ukraine. The number of refugees included in this total is not recorded, but cities such as Kyiv are gradually recovering from their pre-war population. It appears that many Ukrainian refugees are now returning, at least temporarily.
Refugees move during war in particular according to a number of different push and pull factors. On the one hand, fleeing to a new country – with a different language and culture – can be stressful. On the other hand, despite the brutal missile strikes, most regions of Ukraine are now much safer than at the beginning of the war, when Russia was attacking on many fronts. Some Ukrainians may find life abroad too difficult and life at home safe enough. For many, like Mrs. Rostovska, the house is worth the risk. “We never wanted to leave,” she says.
Move after move
For Mrs. Rostovska, home is Kramatorsk parks and city squares. It’s her children’s schools and her work in the maternity ward. It’s a short walk to see her sister, niece, and nephew.
And since 2014, the homeland has also been a war.
Kramatorsk was one of the cities under threat when Russian-sponsored separatists began their uprising in the Donbass eight years ago. “We are used to this kind of war situation,” says Ms. Rostovska. “So it took us a long time to decide to leave.”
The number of civilian buildings bombed by artillery eventually convinced her to leave. On April 7, Mrs. Rostovska went to the Kramatorsk train station with luggage and her two young children. It was packed, and I thought about leaving to try again the next day. But a lady on the sidewalk noticed her reluctance and persuaded her to carry on, and helped carry her family’s bags until they were out of town by train. The next day the station platform was bombed.
Ms Rostovska and her children temporarily settled in Kyiv and found on Facebook someone helping to evacuate refugees to Lithuania. She called her sister, Mrs. Skidan, who had already fled to western Ukraine and was unable to find work. They met in Lviv with their families and left the country by bus.
In Lithuania, the two sisters and their four children lived in a rural monastery housing dozens of Ukrainian refugees. After going to a job fair, they found work in a bottle factory over an hour and a half away. Locally, their children continued to study and kindergarten.
But the monastery only allowed visitors to stay for two months, and rent in Lithuania was very expensive. The sisters struggled with the mobility, cold, and abundance of mosquitoes in the area. Ms Skidan has missed her husband of 17 years, who found a job in Kyiv after they were evacuated in April. The two had never been apart for long.
“It wasn’t home,” Ms Skidan says. “It’s really hard when you don’t understand the language and another culture.”
Scott Peterson/Getty Images/The Christian Science Monitor
“better than nothing”
Alyona Karavai, co-founder of Insha Osvita, an NGO in Ukraine that serves refugees, says the situation for the two sisters is somewhat typical. Moving to a new country is tough at the best of times, and war is almost the worst. Many people struggle with work, childcare, language skills, and society. These factors can make survival difficult.
“You are physically safe, but socially insecure,” says Ms. Karavay, whose organization is starting a program to support Ukrainian returnees.
There are no clear statistics on the number of refugees returning now. But anecdotal evidence suggests it’s high. At the Polish border, there is a long line of cars waiting to re-enter Ukraine.
In mid-June, Mrs. Rostovka and Mrs. Skidan filled their bags again – some weighing more than 75 pounds – and crossed that border in a bus. They settled in Kyiv, where Mrs. Skidan’s husband had already signed for a short-term apartment near an open-air car shop. For the seven of them, there are only two bedrooms.
“Better than nothing,” says Ms. Rostovska.
Hoping to stay in Kyiv for only a month, the two sisters are waiting and waiting for the good news from home. In a group chat, Kramatorsk teachers recently said that they wish the students could return in the fall.
Meanwhile, the Russian army had recently captured Lysichansk, less than 100 miles away. Kramatorsk may be one of the following target cities. “There will be no life in Kramatorsk in the nearest years,” said Mrs. Skidan’s husband.
The families are now officially registered as internally displaced. None of them want to put their children – who enter their apartment kitchen to hug their mothers or eat a slice of apple pie – in danger. They say Kyiv is expensive, but a month may need to be two months or more.
Mrs. Skidan sits next to her sister and 14-year-old son. Magnets hang on her fridge, and cinnamon cookies lie on the kitchen table. Her pink T-shirt reads “Positive Thinking” in a cursive font.
“Home are your walls,” says Ms. Skidan. In Lithuania, as she and her family adapted to sleeping in the family after months of spending nights in the corridors of their Kramatorsk home, she fantasized about returning to her husband. This is the first year of her life, of her children’s life, that they did not celebrate Easter with the family together. It is the first year they have not visited the cemetery where their grandmother is buried.
Now she, her husband and her family are together again. But they’re not at home, she says, and they’re starting to cry. Her son turned back and put his hand on hers. Mrs. Skidan often dreams that they are back in their apartment and things are back safely again. But for now, she’s still waiting.