“I think of family”: The Local Impact of the Russia-Ukraine Conflict
Published in The Aquinian
(‘Roots’, by Incé Husain)
The last eleven days have seen global politics recalibrate to the escalation of the Russia-Ukraine conflict. As violence, sanctions, and protests gain momentum, STU and UNB students with Ukrainian and Russian roots describe how the rhythms of their daily routines have changed.
Oleksandra Hunchyk, a 3rd year Ukrainian student majoring in philosophy and psychology at STU, was born and raised in Ukraine till the age of fourteen. Though her parents and brother are in Canada, her other relatives and friends are in a siren-laden Ukraine.
“It was very unexpected,” Hunchyk says.
She gives an overview of her loved ones’ situations. Her grandmother is taking care of a disabled, bed-ridden woman whose side she refuses to leave to seek refuge in Poland. A friend in the occupied city of Mariupol gave birth two weeks ago and is hiding in basements with her baby, running out of food and diapers. There is no news from her great grandmother, who lives in a military town. Her younger cousin, sick with COVID, packed medicine, food, clothes, blankets, and backpacks in hopes of escaping with her mother and boyfriend to Poland. But their timing clashed with the border law prohibiting men over 18, like her boyfriend, to leave. Unwilling to separate, they remain in Ukraine, flocking to basement bomb shelters at the sirens call.
“I was impressed by the courage and the calm with which (my cousin) talked about it,” says Hunchyk. “I remember her being much more emotional than I am and it seemed she became an adult in basically a couple of hours. It clicked in her mind that she had to focus on the functional (side) of what she was doing.”
Most of Hunchyk’s family has internet access; she calls and texts for assurances that they’re okay. She regularly checks a telegram page that notifies her whenever sirens go off in her city.
“The notifications... If they drive me crazy I don’t know how (my family) deals with it,” Hunchyk says. “But they seem to much better than I do. They’re so calm, so focused, and seem okay. There is no hysterics, no crying, no yelling, no blaming the injustice in the world.”
Before the escalation, Hunchyk was telling her mother of a stressful, midterm-ridden week. On the Thursday the war began, she called her sister about the situation.
“I managed not to cry when we finished talking, but then it blew up,” she says. “It just went so bad. Every time I thought of it I started to cry.”
The next morning, she had a midterm to write, and sirens were blaring in her city of Novovolynsk. She had a panic attack and refrained from asking for an extension, anticipating that the violence would only increase. She explained the physical intensity of her emotions and fatigue; her body shaking and faint, her vision fading, and having to cling to the walls to get to class.
Hunchyk anchors herself by contributing to local humanitarian efforts for Ukraine, explaining that the Ukrainian community in Fredericton has set up a Facebook page filled with donation forums that span financial aid towards medicine, money, arms, and daily supplies. The Canadian government has promised to match every dollar donated to the Red Cross in support of Ukraine.
“If you’re sitting there at home just watching the news, you just feel (like) your hands are cut off and you cannot do anything. Honestly, my family wanted to go back to Ukraine to do something, to volunteer, but it’s just obvious that we can’t do anything,” Hunchyk says. “So we’re trying to do something from here. Even if it’s just a little bit, we can still help.”
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Nicole Zacharuk, a 3rd year psychology and Spanish student at STU, has Ukrainian roots through her father and grandparents. Though not having been to Ukraine, she grew up surrounded by Ukrainian culture. She emphasizes how fiercely she is drawn to her cultural roots and fears that pieces of her Ukrainian heritage will be lost to the war before she might discover them. As her father died when she was very young, she considers Ukrainian culture a portal to understanding him.
“It’s pretty scary that I haven’t been (to Ukraine) yet and they’re at war. I’m really hoping that the culture doesn’t get lost. It’s a big part of my personality and self. It’s something that I don’t want to ever be lost,” Zacharuk says.
She describes Ukrainian culture as family-and-food-oriented and bursting with happy music.
“It’s how you feel in your heart,” Zacharuk says. “I learned Ukrainian culture from my grandparents, so when I see anything Ukrainian, I think of family. (My grandmother) misses Ukraine a lot and her children are all Ukrainian but scattered, so she misses the culture herself. I want her to feel like our family generation of Ukraine is not going to be lost. I want to carry being Ukrainian in our blood.”
Zacharuk says that concentrating on schoolwork has been extremely difficult, especially with virtual courses that prompt opening a laptop emblazoned with media coverage of the war. She finds solace in the activism around Ukraine, citing the local rallies in Fredericton, Moncton, and Saint John, rich with Ukrainian flags and anthems.
“The biggest thing I can do to cope is to feel like I’m making a difference in some way,” says Zacharuk. “I donate as much as I can. (How else) do you process something so big like that?”
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Artem Chernev is a Russian, former UNB student. He lived in Russia and Kazakhstan for fifteen years and has family in the Russian city of Orenburg. One of his cousins is an army general in the Russian military; weeks ago, he told Chernev over the phone that he couldn’t discuss the Russia-Ukraine situation, but told him “80% of what you see on the TV is going to be true.” Chernev didn’t think much of it; then, the escalation began.
Chernev emphasizes the tragedy of the conflict given the historical and cultural ties between Russia and Ukraine.
“I don’t want to talk about how (the conflict) is making me feel because that would be taking away from the people who are living there, the Russian soldiers fighting the war against their Ukranian brothers, and even relatives for the most part,” Chernev says. “Many Ukrainians are related to people in Russia.”
He stresses that the media coverage of the war fails to thoroughly convey the nature of the conflict, which is conducive to a generalized hatred of Russians. Chernev has received hate comments and threats on his social media for being Russian.
“My way to cope is to spread a message (on my social media) so that the community in which I live does not think that the media narrative of Russia being an evil empire that is going to take over the world is right,” says Chernev. “People are so radical about it. One guy blocked me, and wrote “Fuck your imperialist propaganda. I hope you die in a car crash.” (This is) the hate they spread just because of the ‘evil Russians’ narrative on TV.”
Chernev believes that conveying the nuances of the war in the media, such as the Ukraine-Russia civil war of 2014, might have provided more footholds for diplomatic negotiation and prevented the escalation and loss of human life.
“It disappoints me that the media (doesn’t) talk about the escalation of a civil war. The civil war is important; history matters for cultural reasons,” Chernev says. “If people knew the nuances that come up in cultures it would (ideologically and generally) increase the scope for resolutions through diplomacy.”
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From the the trauma of family under attack and a fear of cultural loss to a longing for deepened historical awareness that might further peace long term, it is clear that the Ukraine-Russia conflict has directly punctured students in our local community.
And it is clear that no one wants war. ♦
The views represented in this article are those of the interviewees and do not necessarily represent those of the writer.
A modified version of this article appeared in The Aquinian on March 6th, 2022: