For Olena Horbatenko, Feb. 24 is a difficult day.
Itâs a day when she thinks back to the first few minutes of hearing explosions in her hometown of Kyiv in 2022 â a memory that is now etched in her brain.
“Even now, when people hearing fireworks, we hearing the same sound of explosions. So, when we talking about the date, probably all that memories, they just go up in your mind,” she said.
Horbatenko is one of almost six million Ukrainians who have fled their home country since Russiaâs full-scale invasion on Feb. 24, 2022, according to the Office of the United Nations High Commissioner for Refugees.
Of the approximately 300,000 who arrived in Canada, roughly 4,500 made their way to Newfoundland and Labrador, according to the Ukrainian National Federation. The first government-chartered flight arrived in May 2022.
For Horbatenko, her new life in the province started a few months later, in October â a life without her parents and brother, who stayed behind.
“When I saw a few military planes in my backyard, probably it was the moment when I made my decision that I need to go,” she said.
For her family and others still in the country, Horbatenko says the sound of bombs and missiles, and the trauma that comes with it, has become a part of everyday life â a life that still goes on, including celebrations such as birthdays, despite the war.
“That’s really hard to understand probably living in here but while I’m talking with them each time ⦠they trying to show me that everything’s fine. And that’s really emotional,” said Horbatenko.
Meanwhile in Corner Brook, Kateryna Sydorenko has also left her family behind â including her father, whoâs in the Ukrainian military â for a life of peace.
For her, Feb. 24, 2022 felt surreal.
“I woke up around 4 a.m. in the morning because a bomb [flew over] my house and I was sleeping in that time and I didn’t understand what’s going on,” said Sydorenko, who was visiting her hometown Krolevets in eastern Ukraine at the time â only about 80 kilometres from the Russian border.
“I was thinking, maybe it’s a dreamâ¦. But when I checked the news, I understand that the war begins.”
After her home province was occupied by Russia for about a month, Sydorenko decided it was time to leave. She arrived in Stephenville shortly after, in July 2022.
For those who decided to stay, she said it remains a difficult situation to this day, even more so during cold Ukrainian winters â with no end in sight after four long years.
Sydorenko said the duration of the war has taught Ukrainians to live one day at a time, rather than making big plans for the future.
“If you wake up today, if you can drink a coffee, if you have a message from your family that say, âI alive,â they wake up, bomb didn’t destroy their house â it’s success for us,” she said.
For Bruce Lilly, itâs this resilience that stands out.
“Theyâre having to live the machinations of a regular life while their home is being bombed,” he said.
Lilly, who founded the Ukrainian Cultural Organization of N.L. and serves as the executive director of the Ukrainian National Federationâs Avalon branch, has been involved with Ukrainians’ settlement in the province from the very beginning.
He said other than needs such as housing and employment, the federation realized that, due to the lack of a Ukrainian diaspora in the province, a cultural void also had to be filled.
“You could be totally safe ⦠but you’re living in a hotel, feeling like a stranger in a strange land.”
That quickly changed when the federation organized events, such as a children’s summer camp, to foster integration and a feeling of belonging. Since then, he said much more has been added, including a language school for children, a choir, and a dance group.
“So, we’ve got ways that make it easy touch points for them to meet the community and learn about Newfoundland, teach about some of their own culture and feel all of the things that make a house a home,” said Lilly.
“You can have a house, but whatâs a home? It’s the same kind of theory on a provincial scale.”
And an above-average number of Ukrainians have made the province their home, he said. While Newfoundland and Labrador has a typical newcomer retention rate of about 35 per cent, that number is at 85 per cent for Ukrainians.
“Newfoundlanders were curious, Ukrainians were open, but then it went the other way. Newfoundlanders were open and Ukrainians were curious. And so, that’s how you kind of make that connection.”
And while the province has also become a new home for both Horbatenko and Sydorenko, their thoughts are still back in Ukraine every day â especially on Feb. 24 â switching between uncertainty and hope.
“We believe that everything will be over,” said Sydorenko. “Doesn’t matter where you are. The most important that your family is safe and you can see them one more time.”
Meanwhile, for Horbatenko, it’s important to continue the conversation about the war.
“When you’re talking about it, people understand that we’re still going,” she said. “We’re talking about it because our families there. And we can’t keep a silence.”
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