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 the first part of his new diary series, Paul reflects on his journey east and his first few days in the capital Kiev.
Wednesday, July 27
Leaving day is here. Darren, my co-driver, and I, get in the truck and away to Dover we go. Lots of work has led to this point, but until we drive away, it seems a bit unreal.
On the ferry at 10.30am. Should have been 9.30am, but roadworks delayed our arrival at the port. No queues, though, which is a relief given the traumas Dover had suffered last weekend.
Thursday, July 28
Driving day. We set out towards Lviv, turning left out the port. Only Jack, our leader, turns right instead. It will be more than a day before we see him again. Muppet.
I drive through France and then Darren takes over as dawn breaks over Holland. I’m back behind the wheel in Germany with Belgium far behind us, and wow is it large. We drive. And drive. And drive some more.
Poland at last, as the sun starts to fade. We have a long way still to go. More Red Bull is needed. We finally reach Krakow and find our beds. Never was a student digs such a welcome sight.
Friday, July 29
Krakow in the morning is a lovely sight. We get up leisurely as the driving hours regulations mean we can’t leave until 11am. We check the truck hasn’t got any issues and off we go, heading for the border.
Six hours later, we finally arrive at the Ukraine border. Here we’re given the runaround by Polish customs. We’re leaving the EU, you might think that was easy but no. Freight vehicles are expected to go to the last services, get a ticket and wait their turn. Two days is the usual wait.
We use our ‘humanitarian aid’ excuse and blag a space farther up the queue. Still, we get a Polish customs agent who gives us grief for not having the right paperwork, and our truck has to go over the weighbridge three times before they get it working properly. Four hours later we finally make it through and get into Ukraine.
We drive past lorries waiting to cross the border the other direction. And more lorries. Ten miles later we finally reach the end of the queue. What an amazing waste of people’s time, money and endeavour.
Across Ukraine we head, looking to reach Lviv. We reach the outskirts at 10.55pm, knowing there is a curfew from 11am. We hit a military checkpoint at 11.06pm, but our pleas of ‘we’re trying to reach Lviv’ are heard and off we go.
We’re staying overnight at Lviv Specialised Children’s Hospital, as our leader has a connection with a surgeon. I bed down in a side room, while Darren in his own room. His snoring is epic, so he gets a room of his own.
Saturday, July 30
The last leg begins at 10.45am. We head off before the others as the truck is slower than them. Across more country, we now see so many sunflowers, almost dazzlingly yellow in the summer sun. We’re surrounded by the reality of the Ukrainian flag, yellow sunflowers under a blue summer sky.
We pass through Rivne, a town half way between Lviv and Kiev. On our way out, I post on our team WhatsApp channel that we’re heading out, only to discover one of our team is still in the town. Should we turn around? But he knows he will take two hours to be ready to leave and we don’t have that spare, so we leave him to catch the train and head onwards.
Dark is setting in as we pass beneath the bare frames where road signs used to be, taken down to prevent them helping confused Russians using them to find out where they are.
We enter Kiev and start running through the streets, only for our navigation to fail when Darren’s phone dies. Ten minutes later and we’re off again, now using my phone.
Its dusk as we pull into the building which will be our base for a little while. We have a gym floor to sleep on, but before we bed down, time for a pizza and a beer. I meet Elijah and Tony and the others in the team. Ten of us at the minute, all ready for whatever tomorrow brings.
Sunday, July 31
We start the day with a coffee and an almond croissant from the local convenience store. It could be anywhere in Europe, but this is Kiev. Outside on the road verge we passed row after row of ‘homemade’ tank obstacles, sections of railway rails welded into gigantic pavement jacks. Sandbags create defensive positions, with gaps to poke the rifles or machine guns through. It is not a typical scene.
We unload a number of the smaller vehicles, ready for sorting on Monday. A huge pile of stuff, some really good, some less so. Our van and the eight pallets it contains will be sorted tomorrow.
The afternoon sees the rest of the team head off to Bucha and Irpin to see the destruction first hand and to undertake a local briefing. I’ve seen it before and am struggling with a long-standing back issue, so I stay at base.
When here before, we met Bogdan, who has cerebral palsy. He’s also unlucky enough to live between Bucha and Irpin, and his home was utterly destroyed when a Russian military ammunition convoy was destroyed outside his house.
He and his family were in the basement, so all survived, although Bogdan was injured and his wheelchair damaged, so we gave him a new wheelchair.
I get a message halfway through the day. Saturday we’re apparently going to try and start rebuilding Bogdan’s house. I have no idea what that entails, but bricklaying isn’t one of my skills, so hopefully others have more of an idea.
We head out in the evening to, of all places, an Irish pub. We meet up with Mykola, who is in the regular army. Our dinner of beer and fish pie is a really friendly one. He tells us next week he rotates to the front. It brings it home this time next week he will be trying to survive Russian shelling.
He’s just an ordinary guy, now faced with extraordinary challenges.
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