In March, I went to Ukraine to volunteer. I walked dogs at the animal shelter, I helped prepare food for the military at the kitchen, I taught English to orphan children, camo netted, made other military supplies and received people from Eastern Ukraine fleeing the war.
One thing I’ve been told is that no where in Ukraine is safe, which is absolutely true but Lviv is far safer than Kharkiv, Odesa and other highly targeted cities.
A lot of people wonder why Ukrainians don’t just leave the country “if it’s so unsafe” and from my understanding, it’s home. It’s what they know, what they love and if there’s one thing I know about Ukrainians, they are proud to call Ukraine their home, they love their country and are resilient until no end. Yes, it’s unsafe. Yes-as of May 2026, there is still a war going on, despite the negligent media coverage, and yes Ukrainians are still defending their land.
One of the many things that you can do is go to the train stations and meet refugees fleeing from their country. Many of them don’t have homes left; their houses left to rubble, some lost family and others have missing limbs.
Initially, I didn’t know if I should go here. I didn’t know if there would be any point to going to the train stations as someone with little Ukrainian proficiency and it was in the kitchen where Ewen had said that it was worth it. Ewen, from Australia who speaks no Ukrainian.
He told me that he had gone one time to wheel an older lady off the train, in a wheelchair. She hugged her bag close to her chest as they had gone down the elevator. Later, when she was brought food, she looked at one of the Ukrainian volunteers, “He is not Ukrainian?” The volunteer shook her head, “He is from Australia.” Instantly, the woman began tearing up. “Other countries still remember us?”
And the truth is, yes. We do. So I went to the train stations, not to show off my Ukrainian, not to be someone who can answer questions in Ukrainian, nor someone who can do something big or impactful, but someone on the sidelines to show these people who lost everything that they’re not forgotten. That people from America, Australia, people from oversees came to help a cause and that we are still thinking of them. Supporting them and caring.
There weren’t many volunteers today, which was fine as there also weren’t many trains either. Some days are heavier than others, but this day we had gotten 3 trains to Lviv.
All the volunteers besides myself and the tall man (Ewen) were Ukrainian. The lady on the far right had raised her 12 year old daughter on her own as her husband was fighting for their country. The woman next to her had lost her husband and kid(s?). There was no shortage of heartbreak in Ukraine, but there was also no shortage of resilience either.
The first train, held a few older Ukrainians. As a non-Ukrainian speaker, we would carry luggage, sometimes help people off the train or if they couldn’t walk, help them walk to the cars, taxis or wherever they were going next. We could bring them food and get them situated in other ways. The fluent speakers could help with housing, food, transportation or other resources.
The second train was a young woman and her daughter. The daughter was on crutches and a soldier had come out to carry her off the train. It’s moments like these that makes me fall in love with Ukraine. In America, we would see that as heroic. In Ukraine, it’s a given. People help. As soon as her feet touched the floor, crutches in hand, the man disappeared. He wasn’t looking for thanks, he wanted to make sure she was okay and on her feet.
We brought them downstairs and lead them to the taxis on their way. One of the pros, I think is that while Ewen has a clearly Australian accent, he is also white by race. As an Asian, I stick out like a sore thumb and there were a couple of moments where the mother kept looking at me, almost as if she was doing a double take. And this was kind of my purpose of being here, with the hope that my presence says, “I’m not from here, and I haven’t forgotten about your suffering.”
The last train was from Zaporizhzhia and it only had one refugee, an older woman with a tote bag. The bag was stuffed with cans and it wasn’t that Ewen was trying to include me, the bag was insanely heavy! Some people don’t really know what to expect when they arrive.
Almost 100 years ago, the Soviet Union controlled food distribution in Ukraine, starving over 5 million Ukrainians to death, redirecting all produce to Russia and confiscating any food in the home. Now, this lady was older, but I doubt alive during this. However, as a mental health professional, food hoarding behavior is often a sign of trauma related to starvation, whether systemic or not. Perhaps she just wanted canned food, but I am curious if it went deeper than that for her. It was a HEAVY bag!
Her family was here so there was no need for resources or anything, and we just brought her to her car.
The train station had toys and children’s drawings for those that stayed a little longer before going on their ways. It’s a hub of sorts for people wanting to find more safety. Even if you don’t speak Ukrainian fluently, I do highly recommend coming here and helping, even if it’s just for a day. I did many volunteer activities while I was here and I’m not a big crier, but I will say that there were a couple times here where I did tear up. Maybe it was the closeness, maybe the fear in these people’s eyes or maybe it was the tiredness in their souls. Perhaps it was a a mix of all of them.
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