Welwyn Hatfield councillor Paul Zukowskyj has travelled to Ukraine to help provide humanitarian aid for the stricken country following Russia’s invasion earlier this year.

In part two of his diary series, Paul returns to Poland for some much-needed supplies and helps rebuild a house.

Monday, August 3

Really slow start, off to the supermarket for coffee and a croissant again. It’s a short walk from our place.

Some of the adverts in Kyiv and across Ukraine are pretty unique. We came across an advert for a mobile phone company that entices people to move from their current provider by promising a donation for a Bayraktar drone. An interesting twist on marketing.

Midday and we’re off in the truck to a commercial warehouse area where we can use a room to store materials. We offload much of the truck and sort materials useful for our planned visit to Kharkiv on Tuesday.

Jack heads off with his minibus to try and get it fixed. The exhaust bracket has fallen off and needs welding back on. The rest of us are left at base with not a lot to do.

Our evening consists of a two-hour plus briefing about distributing aid near the front. Call signs. Procedure if we come under fire, shelling or small arms, we have to react differently. Ambush protocol. Rally points. Crowd control. The list goes on.

There’s a lot to take in, and a lot to remember. Main thrust is don’t panic. I feel like launching into a Clive Dunn impersonation, but not sure it’d be that appropriate.

Turns out, I’m not heading to Kharkiv but back to Poland to get another truck full of aid. We’ll rotate the team so I expect my time may come.

Tuesday, August 2

9am and we’re getting sorted for our journeys. The last few boxes come off the truck and off I go to Poland.

I’m heading to Lublin to meet Gerard, who is the local contact for the Watford-based charity Goods for Good. They have materials to bring to Ukraine, for Vans Without Borders and other organisations too.

Welwyn Hatfield Times: Paul spent plenty of time in lorry queues.Paul spent plenty of time in lorry queues. (Image: Paul Zukowskyj)

The drive is pretty uneventful, apart from the increasingly concerning noise coming from the truck. I listen first to ‘Bayraktar FM’, ‘the legend that is Bayraktar’, then ‘Sheep FM’.

Approaching the border, I realise I’m passing the queue of trucks waiting to cross. All 27km of it. Literally thousands of trucks, parked for days, trying to get through the border.

I drive on past. I get unsmiling looks from the lorry drivers gathered at various points along the road.

I reach a police checkpoint. I present my letter, from an NGO in Kyiv, and despite some unhappiness the policeman allows me to pass. There’s three days saved right there.

Ukrainian customs are friendly but thorough, they check my bags and send me on my way. Polish customs are a little more challenging and I drove past a section I was supposed to stop at, but they took pity on the silly Britisher and I eventually get through.

Very late Tuesday I decide to pull over and have a drivers break at a roadside petrol station. The noise from the truck is now really concerning, so I spend a minute under the truck and discover that one of the Universal Joints on the prop shaft is damaged and most likely where all the noise is coming from.

This was not good, as a total failure of this bearing means the truck is unable to drive, so this needed fixing straight away. Calls ensued to a number of people, Gerard in Poland, Cllr Michal Siewniak who was also in Poland and Lee, the workshop manager at PW Gates among them.

Fixing it would not happen that evening, and any more miles risked the truck breaking down, so I bedded down for the night and slept in the cab.

Wednesday, August 3

After a relatively disturbed night, I spent the morning trying to work out what to do to fix the truck.

Eventually, Cllr Siewniak managed to call the local DAF dealer and booked me in for them to have a look at my truck. At 10am I drove into their yard and headed to reception.

After some paperwork, I drove the truck into the workshop and they took a look at the propshaft. Yes, it was damaged. Yes, it needed fixing. Could they fix it? Shrugs all round.

Welwyn Hatfield Times: Paul with fellow Welwyn Hatfield councillor Michal Siewniak in Poland.Paul with fellow Welwyn Hatfield councillor Michal Siewniak in Poland. (Image: Paul Zukowskyj)

Gerard, from the charity I was heading to, decided to head out to help, and once he arrived it became clear what the problem was.

My truck might have one of two sizes of UJ and they had one but not the other. Until they took it off and apart, they wouldn’t know whether they had the right part. They could get the other one, but not until tomorrow.

We agreed to the work and headed off for lunch. Gerard is a fantastic host and bought me lunch. He offered to take me to his home so I could get a shower, and if the truck wasn’t fixed, a bed for the night. Wonderful Polish hospitality.

On the way to Gerard’s home, we drove past the reconstructed Second World War concentration camp in Lublin. It was really challenging to see evidence of the worst horrors of war, while helping with aid in a new war in Europe.

I wondered whether any Ukrainians forcibly ‘relocated’ by the Russians were currently enduring what those in Lublin camp endured.

Welwyn Hatfield Times: The site of Lublin concentration camp.The site of Lublin concentration camp. (Image: Paul Zukowskyj)

Reaching Gerard’s home, he checked his phone and discovered the truck was fixed.

Gerard had a business meeting, so I asked Michal to run me back to the truck. I had a quick shower, then said goodbye and a huge thank you to Gerard and went to find Michal.

We went and had a coffee together, and a long chat about council matters, then he ran me to my truck, I paid the repair bill, and I headed off for Gerards warehouse, having said goodbye and thank you to Michal too.

At the warehouse I soon found some aid that was appropriate and needed. There was so much material there, some useful, some not. Medical first aid kits next to living room chairs. Hospital grade PPE next to dirty mattresses.

Gerard’s volunteers helped me load, and then I was back on the road, heading to Dorohusk border crossing.

Not ten minutes in, I see a sign that tells me only vehicles over 7.5 tonnes can cross at Dorohusk. I came in that way, but I suspected the Polish border guards would turn me round. Instead, I redirected to Hrebenne, which is only for vehicles under 7.5 tonnes, so no articulated lorries.

I arrive at the border around 9.30pm. I show my documents, a letter from the charity in Kiev we are working with, but the border guard is having none of it.

I must have permission, the only person able to give permission is the commandant, he’ll be there at 8am, until then go join the queue. There is no arguing and she is getting increasingly hostile, so I am not going to get a fast track this time.

I retreat to the back of the queue, about 500 metres. In the next 10 hours I advance a grand total of 100 metres. I bed down in the cab for another night.

Thursday, August 4

Awake at 6am, I’m sat in a queue that has not moved at all in six hours. The border staff have clearly gone home and nothing is moving.

I get a call from Gerard. He’s talked to the commandant and has cleared the truck passing security. I drive to the front of the queue, the new border guard doesn’t even give me chance to start, simply says ‘we have your registration, off you go’ and waves me through.

Lots of admin as expected, but just two-and-a-half hours later I’m in Ukraine. Other than the wait in the queue, the fastest border crossing yet.

Off I head back to Kyiv, only the road to this crossing is much worse than I have driven before. At times I’m slowed to under 20mph because of the bumps. I rejoin the original highway, much to my suspensions’ relief, stop to refuel and I’m off once more.

I reach the outskirts of Kyiv and see road signs for Bucha, just as a huge thunderstorm rolls in. Rainbows appear and a chance to stop and photograph them over Bucha, a symbol of Russian war crimes with a much more positive future now it is free from that oppression, is unmissable.

Welwyn Hatfield Times: The rainbow over Bucha.The rainbow over Bucha. (Image: Paul Zukowskyj)

I arrive back in Kyiv, to find our base deserted. The guys are not yet back from their aid mission to Kharkiv. They send me a couple of photos and videos of what they have been up to, delivering aid to hundreds if not thousands, and helping a community having to attempt to live ‘normal’ life in the basement of their block of flats, all while shells land around them.

I get a shower and some food and head to bed for the best night’s sleep for some time.

Friday, August 5

After breakfast, it’s time to head out to see All Ukrainian Charitable Fund, a charity linked with Goods for Good and Gerard in Lublin.

I meet Julia, who runs the charity. Another truck is parked in front of the building, and pallets of food are being unloaded. In an effort to speed things up, I lend a hand.

Once they’re unloaded, I get a coffee and chat with Julia. Their charity helps refugees, anyone homeless, hungry or destitute. They want all the aid on the truck, so we unload it all and it gets stored away.

Their place is a very grand home, but still a home, and it is stacked floor to ceiling with material. Food, washing up liquid, clothes, bags, the variety seems endless, stacked everywhere.

Julia and her team explain that the pulse of aid waxes and wanes, at the minute it is waxing, more is arriving than going out, but they’re feeding 3,000 people a month and what I see there will not last anywhere near that long.

Having chatted with Julia about how we might work together, and about what aid the team in Lublin has that she needs most, I head back to base and meet up with the team. They have some stories to tell from Kharkiv, including being rather closer to Russian shells than they really wanted to be.

Time for a pizza, a beer, then bed.

Saturday, August 6

Today, I and two other team members are tasked with sorting the aid we have on site and at our warehouse. It’s really hot work, the room is above 30°c and there is no breeze or airflow whatsoever. Our speed of sorting is not the fastest, and there is a massive pile to get through.

By 3pm though we’re done, so we head out to see what the rest of the team have been doing.

On our last trip we met Bogdan, who has cerebral palsy and is confined to a wheelchair.

War is no respecter of disability, however, and Bogdan found himself manhandled into the basement of his home and trapped there for a week when a Russian convoy was ambushed on the street in front of his home.

His home was utterly gutted and his neighbour’s house was literally razed to the ground after a tank exploded next to it.

The team had been helping prepare the area for rebuilding. Cleaning bricks to reuse. Pulling up an old block paved path and cutting down a tree.

Bogdan and his family were there the whole day, looking on. They had fed the team with homemade Pierogi and apples from their garden.

We mucked in and lent a hand, breaking up the concrete path base and rescuing edging stones and blocks for the new home.

We left around 7pm, feeling very satisfied and with Bogdan’s smile and handshakes to help us on our way.

A bit of planning, some more Pierogi, and off to bed.

Sunday, August 7

Having not done anything at our other warehouse on Saturday, a quick sort out of that was the order of the day.

Sunday had been listed as a rest day, so many of the team had a lie in and then headed to a local swimming pool.

My councillor diary was unfortunately in need of attention, so I took more rest and spent the afternoon catching up on emails and the parts of my life that do not stop when I’m not around.

Welwyn Hatfield Times: Paul's dragonfly.Paul's dragonfly. (Image: Paul Zukowskyj)

While eating lunch I was joined by a dragonfly, apparently looking to stay out of the rain. It let me get incredibly close, so I managed to get a fantastic photo. It’s amazing really that nature treats war just like everything else, get on with it and if it hands you an opportunity, take it.