How a Polish drunk driver helped to make one Russian’s wish true
8. 12. 2025 / Tomasz Oryński
čas čtení
39 minut
[picture 1] – a note left by some Russian on my car’s window
It’s a frosty morning, early days of December 2022. A Russian person walks the quiet street in one of Helsinki’s industrial estates. An unusual car draws their attention – this model was never sold in Finland. While most of the car is covered with snow, a sticker on the rear window, a countour of Ukraine in blue-yellow colours draws their attention. On closer inspection, the car also bears a sticker with a large letter UK. Surely, it has to be Ukrainian!
The Russian comes closer. They try to peel the Ukrainian sticker off. As they started from Crimea, the sticker breaks at the narrowest point. They got angry, they try to break off the wing mirrors. But it turned to be impossible too – turns out in this model mirrors can fold in both directions. They spit at the windscreen in anger, then write in big letters НА ХУЙ! (~go to fuck) on the driver’s window. They still can’t get enough satisfaction. Digging through their pockets, they manage to find a peace of paper and a pen. A pen does not work well in freezing condition, but they eventually get it going.
“THIS IS NOT A
PLACE FOR THIS CAR. GO TO UKRAINE, DEFEND YOUR COUNTRY!” they write
and then they draw a picture offensive to Ukrainians. They stick the
piece of paper under one of the windscreen wiper and finally
walk away.
There is a saying: be careful what you
wish. Three years later, this very car became a part of
Ukrainian struggle for freedom.
THIS
ARTICLE IS AN ABRIDGED VERSION OF A TWO-PART ENGLISH-LANGUAGE PODCAST.
YOU CAN LISTEN TO THE FIRST PART OF THE PODCAST HERE, OR LOOK FOR
“LEWACKIE PITOLENIE” IN YOUR PREFERED PODCAST APP.
Chapter
1: Helsinki
[picture 2] – the car
My name is Tomasz and this was my car. Nearly three years later I’ve been sitting in my flat in Helsinki, wearing a neck brace and trying to fight the insurance company that is trying to rip me off in any way possible. Earlier this year I have been in a car accident when a drunk driver rear-ended me as I was returning from a trip to Poland. By this point one thing was sure – with an estimated cost of repair of nearly 5000 euro, there was no chance to get my car back on the road – even if we ignore the lowball offer of the insurance company, it was clear it is not economically viable to fix it.
It was a great shame. I really liked this car and I took really good care of it. I bought it new in Scotland 16 years ago, and there was never expense spared on keeping it in as perfect condition as I could manage – just a month before the accident I completed a suspension overhaul at cost of over 1000 euro. Of course I would not be able to MOT it while it had a mangled rear, but I knew one thing: Ukrainians need all kind of vehicle on the frontline. I know that, as 3 years earlier I volunteered to drive an old battered Volvo sedan which was then put into use by the soldiers of the Ukrainian Army. And on the frontline, nobody cares about car registration or inspections… I contacted some friends and asked if they know someone who could use such a car. They put me in touch with one of the soldiers, and we agreed: as soon, as I recover from my injuries, I will personally deliver this car to Ukraine.
My
recovery took longer than my doctors initially expected. I had too
much time on my hands. So I thought: it’s a shame to drive such a
long distance empty, maybe we can fill the car with something useful?
I asked the soldiers what they need and they told me: industrial size
powerbanks. These cost a lot, but while I might not had too much
money at this point, I had a lot of time and some friends. I
contacted Bylines Scotland and Britske Listy – two internet portals
I regularly publish with – and they agreed to promote my
fundraiser. I thought if we manage to get enough money for a small
powerbank it would be nice, but the response exceeded all my
expectations, people donated quite significant sums, others offered
to help in other ways – like
covering our VAT - and we
were finally able to purchase two big powerbanks, exactly to the
perfect specification so sought after by the defenders of Ukraine.
Soon
we got the money and I had a green light to
go from my
doctors, then we ran into trouble. Turns out the “instant
withdrawal” is not so instant after all. I do understand that there
is a need to protect the donors from the embezzlement, but the
company seems to be stretching every step of the procedure to the
maximum, which – along with some Polish bank holidays (the
fundraising company is based in Poland) resulted in nearly a week on
delay. It was maybe for the better, as at the same time it turned out
that sitting idle for three months, being covered with pile of autumn
leaves as I was recovering from my injuries, was not exactly
beneficial for the condition of my car. With a help of my friend
Julius, and Vadym, an Ukrainian mechanic associated with Auta
Ukrainaa, a pro-Ukrainian charity in Finland, we finally got it
going. And so, with everything set up, ferry booked, and powerbanks
ordered to my friend in Eastern Poland so I can collect it en route,
I was ready to go to Lviv,
where Stas – the soldier from the unit that was taking our goods –
was spending his holidays away
from the frontline.
Chapter
2: On the road
[picture
3] – Waiting to board the
ferry
Of
course, with my luck, the day of my departure happened to be also the
first day of snow this winter. After scraping my windscreen and
clearing the snow from the roof, I gave my partner a lift to a local
shopping centre. It was an emotional moment for us, as we grew very
attached to our car, that have been with us on many happy trips –
from the Orkadian isle of Hoy to the sunny rock of San Marino. Soon I
turned up on the ferry – and it turned out to be not only the same
ferry that I originally arrived to Finland in this very car three
years prior, but also the same, that I used when going to the
Ukrainian border with that Volvo for the army soon after my arrival.
Back then, I would never expect that three years later the war will
still be so far from any conclusion!
I had a voice
recorder with me, so just like agent Cooper in Twin Peaks, I was
making voice notes – which I later turned into a podcast. Driving
through the Baltic States, a small countries that flourish since
regaining their independence after the collapse of the Soviet Union
and aligning themselves back with their European family, makes you
think about how important for Ukraine the war is – if they lose, or
will be sold to Putin by their impotent or ill-willing “allies”
on the West, the whole future of the nation will be stolen from them.
Those thoughts kept me going through a treacherous, slippery road
full of black ice and battered with wind and freezing rain.
i stopped for the night in Lithuania, just before the border with
Poland. In the morning I crossed into my homeland, after being
briefly stopped by the border guards, who established a checkpoint
there despite the border being inside the Schengen are. This is not
only because of the migrant issue – Russia is sending thousands of
migrant across the border to Poland and Lithuania in hope that this
issue will polarize the society and destabilize the politics – and
I have to say, at least in Poland they are being fairly successful,
as anti-migrant hysteria is on the rise. The recent acts of sabotage
on the Polish soil also suggest that tightening security might be not
only a political stunt to please the right wingers.
The
further route took me along the Eastern border of Poland. I’ve
noticed an unusual amount of military traffic – not only spanking
brand new army lorries of the Polish army forces, but also several
vehicles from the allied NATO armies. As I arrived at my friend
Jakub’s house
near Lublin, he confirmed my observation: the military traffic is on
the raise. A small airport near his home, which used to just get a
few Ryanair flights, is now a regular destination for the heaviest
cargo planes in the world, as the main hub of Ukrainian logistic in
Rzeszów is not always able to copy with all the traffic. They might
be living almost 100 km from the Ukrainian border, but the war can be
felt pretty well – they are being regularly woken up in the middle
of the night by the military jets being scrambled to intercept drones
and rockets heading into the Polish territory. And everyone in his
small, 40 000 strong town still remembers the first days of full
scale wars, when they have been overwhelmed with a river of people,
fleeing Ukraine (their town is located on the main route from Lviv to
Warszawa) and only thanks to widespread
rush to help of pretty much
everyone they were able to provide refugees with food and shelter.
Also this time Jakub didn’t
even need to hesitate for a second when I asked him for help. “For
Ukraine? Say no more”
– he told me.
Jakub used to live in Liverpool and today
works as a sworn translator from English – he understands the
British mentality well, so he was really happy to see what a great
response from my Scottish readers our fundraiser had. Because if you
live in Britain, the war might be indeed “a
quarrel in a faraway country, between people of whom we know
nothing”, but if you
are in the eastern frontier of NATO, there is no doubt that it is
very real, and thus you probably understand the importance of staying
with Ukraine better.
Jakub put me up for the night, and
in the morning helped me to load my car with the powerbanks. Then I
continued the journey towards Ukrainian border with the new food for
thought.
Chapter 3: Ukraine and me
[picture
4] – at the Ukrainian
border
Even
the border crossing is an eye-opening experience. The large, modern
terminal on the Polish site, fitted with the newest electronic
systems and decorated with signs informing of the EU funding used to
renovate it is a start contrast with the facilities on the other side
of the river Bug. The short
drive across the bridge feels like if you just travelled 25 years
back in time. The much smaller facilities on the Ukrainian side are
in chaos – the much-needed construction work results in the whole
crossing being just one big sea of mud. While the younger border
guards are friendly and speak good English, the older officers seems
to have a completely different mentality. One of them spotted
powerbanks on the back seat of my car and started to shout at me,
aggressively, for not having proper slip of paper on me (I have no
idea what he meant, the slip of paper was handed to me on entry by
the border guards and I just
took it from them: as I
don’t read Ukrainian alphabet, I have no idea what was written on
it). He forced me to walk in the rain through the mud back to the end
of the queue and demand from the soldiers that they swap it for the
correct one. He was still at my car when I returned and shouted at me
with visible satisfaction that, despite what I was told, oral
declaration on the border won’t be sufficient. How dare I arrive at
his border without proper documentation for the high value items I am
clearly importing to Ukraine?
I tried to explain to him,
that those are donations for the Ukrainian army, even tried to show
him the fundraiser page but he was not taking any of that. “Everyone
can make a page like that, and I should trust you just because you
say so? How do I know you are not some kind of businessman who’s
going to sell those powerbanks on?” he asked. “So
I should not trust your soldiers either?”
- I replied to his question
with my own - “After all,
they could be businessmen too and sell those powerbanks as soon as I
turn my back on them”. As you can guess this had not improved my
situation and as a result, I spend next 6 hours sitting in my car,
waiting for the Ukrainians to sort the necessary paperwork on their
side.
Luckily, I had a book with me – a Snake Island by
Małgorzata Szejnert. This book tells a story of the Polish army men,
who, after Poland succumbed to Nazi-Soviet invasion of 1939 found
themselves in limbo, based on the Isle of Bute with pretty much
nothing to do. It is a fascinating book and it made me think about
the fates of families during the war. Especially that at this border
crossing, I was just 15 minutes drive from when my grandmother was
born. No, we weren’t
Ukrainians: my
great-grandfather, as a veteran of the Polish war for independence,
when he fought with Piłdusdski’s legions, was given a plot of land
there, as a part of the army officers settlement program – which
was, at the same time, an attempt to colonize the predominately
Ukrainian areas with ethnic Poles. Both
of my great-grandparents were teachers and my great-granny,
Franciszka Bazgier, got in trouble with the authorities as she
refused to forcibly Polonize
her pupils. She was not only tolerating speaking Ukrainian at school,
but openly encouraged Ukrainian families to celebrate their own
culture and tradition. As a punishment, she was send to a small
village school, where they had to survive on the payment from the
pupil’s parents. Mikulicze was a very poor village back then, so
children were bringing the student’s fees in nature – fruits,
vegetables, eggs, sometimes a chicken… In winter, every child was
tasked with bringing a couple of coals from home, so they could heat
the class by placing them in a furnace.
[picture
5] – my great-granny and her
Ukrainian pupils (family archive)
t
might have been a humble existence, but in my grandmother’s
memories it was a truly happy childhood. She played with Ukrainian
children, and when I was a kid, she was singing me some Ukrainian
folks songs and lullabys.
With the war, everything has
changed. First the Soviets
came and my great-grandfather had to flee and hide in the
underground. Then the Nazis came, and that encouraged Ukrainian
nationalists to stand up against the Poles, whom they considered the
oppressors. My great-gran
and her daughters were saved by parents of their Ukrainian
schoolchildren, who helped them to flee to the nearby city at night.
They ended up in Volodymyr
where they were able to rent a room in a small house and get a job in
a restaurant, which was soon turned into German officer’s canteen.
A few days later a half-naked teenage girl was found in the forest.
Apparently she was the only other survivor of the massacre of the
Poles from the village. Some weeks
later, when my family was sitting at the porch of their new
accommodation, a young couple from the village saw them. They were
greeted but were too afraid to approach. Finally the woman burst in
tears, saying “Ms Teacher, how you can even forgive us Ukrainians
for what we did to you?”
I decided to look up Mikulicze
on the internet. The Polish
Wikipedia page for the village is very brief. It basically says “A
village in Wołyń departament,
today Ukraine. It used to belong to the church. In 1943 25 Poles were
murdered here by Ukrainian
nationalists”. The
Ukrainian page is a bit more extensive. Down to the list of all the
murdered people. Some of them have gore details of how they died
described in detail. But wait, those are 26 names of Ukrainians
murdered by Poles. There is only one line before which says “10
Poles also died”.
I
sighed: one day our nation will need to sit together and work out our
historical differences. But surely, this is not a time for it. Now we
have to work with Ukrainians, because they are not only fighting for
their own freedom, but for
our security too: as Gari
Kasparov has put it recently: the NATO had been created for the sole
purpose of preventing Europe from Russian imperialism. And the only
ones who do the NATO’s job nowadays are Ukrainians, who were denied
membership.
In my grandmas war stories, there were a
couple of good Germans. I particularly remember one who, when my
grandma was forced to work as a cleaner in a makeshift hospital for
wounded
Nazi soldiers tried to protect her from typhoid epidemics by locking
her up in the attic and taking over her duties. He told her there is
only one condition: as the building used to be a Polish Lyceum before
the war, the attic was full of books. “You have to promise me
you’ll use this time to study. Because no matter who’s going to
win this war, your country will need educated people” he told her.
Incidentally, there were no positive stories about the
Soviet solders in my granny’s memories. She refused to talk about
them at all, and whenever there were some snippets, they were always
portrayed as utter savages. Enough to say, that after surviving the
Soviet then Nazi occupation, when the Red Army was approaching again,
everybody decide to flee to the West. Apparently, being occupied by
Nazis was still better than being liberated by the Soviets…
And
what about Ukrainians? As a kid I was always confused by my granny’s
behaviour. She could speak for hours about her happy childhood in
Ukraine. But late at night,
her PTSD was kicking out. She was getting out of bed several times
every night, checking that the doors and windows are locked properly
“because Ukrainians might come”. We
loved to listen to granny’s Ukrainian stories and
the songs she liked to sign to us,
but we were warned by my mom not to touch the subject ourselves, so
we don’t trigger any of the traumatic memories.
I
remember one time, I was driving my gran to the doctor’s
appointment. A radio was playing in the car, and suddenly a song
recorded by a Polish band Voo Voo together with Ukrainian band
Haydamaky came
up. I quickly switched the radio off, but my gran protested. “No,
please put it back” she said. I observed her wish and we drove for
a bit, listening in silence. Then I noticed my granny is crying.
“This was my dream all along” – she said to me when the song
ended – “to hear young Polish and Ukrainian people singing
together again”.
My
gran was very moved with the Orange revolution in Ukraine, following
it closely. The Majdan and subsequent Russian invasion of Crimea and
Eastern Ukraine moved her deeply too. In the later years of her life
my parents got a live-in nurse. They were a bit afraid, as she was
Ukrainian, but it turned out to be the best. They were sharing
stories and singing Ukrainian songs together. My granny died during
Covid pandemic. I wonder what she would think of me, heading into the
town she was born in a car, trying to do a little bit to help the
Ukrainian fight for freedom?
Unfortunately, this was not
a day for sightseeing. After spending all day on the border, it was
already dark, and on the top of it, as Scots would say, it was baltic
and drookit. It was no time for getting out of my car. So I just made
a small circle in the city centre, unable to see anything and decided
to head straight for Lviv.
Chapter 4:
Lviv
[picture 6 –
Lviv]
But of course, this trip was not about
sightseeing. I was not the
most important guy around.
We sat down with Stas and his
wife Ira and had a long conversation. I wanted to be sure I did not
bothered him for nothing and the help we brought will be really of
use. I did not wanted to be that yet another westerner that just
dumped some old crap at Ukrainians and is now going home, happy with
“being helpful”. To my relief, Stas assured me that we did it
right: we used our contact and asked them what they need and then
brought exactly that. He told me that this is very important, as many
Westerners are full of good intentions, but then waste energy on
driving vans full of basic products across half of the continent,
while the same things can be bought cheaper locally “we might be at
war, but we still have a properly functioning country” – he told
me – “and if you want to help, giving business to local companies
helps us, as they give job to local people and pay taxes here” he
told me. The same goes for the military help – the tactics varies
in time and can be completely different at various part of the
frontline. Something that is desperately needed by the soldiers at
one location might be completely useless to their colleagues just 200
km north or south. Therefore it is important to liaison with the
people on the ground – told me Stas – and those, who are still
involved in the fight, as the war changes so rapidly, that someone
who finished his service just months earlier might be already out of
touch with the current tactic and technology.
But
according to him
this is also why this grassroot activity
and fundraising
is crucial for the war effort. Army is a behemoth, and it’s a
government institution after
all. This
means the decision time might be long and there will be surely loads
of paperwork involved. Soldiers might need something today and the
army supply chain might only be able to meet their needs in six
months or so
– by which time the item
in question might be already obsolete, as the war technology changes
so rapidly.
The bottom line is: if you want to help
Ukraine, ask people in the know, and work with them directly.
Otherwise it might be better, if you just donate money to the
professional NGO’s or even the official government fundraisers.
[picture 7 – Stas with the car and one of the
powerbanks]
It is clear that Stas and Ira had a good
life. He is a game developer and she is a musician and sound
producer. As he told me, just before the war escalated they bought a
new car. They were thinking to use it to flee the country when the
shit hits the fan. But when this actually happened, they decided to
stay “We won’t go away because some crazy madman we should not
live here and this land belongs to him” – he told me. Just like
me, Stas was doing everything in
his life to avoid army –
or, in fact, any kind of structured, corporate world
- and so was his wife. But
now he is serving in the armed forces, where he can put his skills to
use – his tool is a computer, his unit is coordinating work of
various branches of the army – the air force, the drones and the
artillery. Meanwhile Ira took a job in a government organization
promoting Ukrainian culture abroad – an Ukrainian version of
Aliance Francaise so to speak. “Stas work is to ensure that the
current war finishes” – she says. - “My job is to ensure that
another war doesn’t start”.
In
Ira’s
opinion one of the reasonswhy
other countries were initially reluctant to help Ukraine is that they
didn’t know anything about her country – and so they weren’t
sure if they
can trust those people
that they really didn’t know anything
about. In my view,
her work is also important, as I see many Westerners parroting the
Russian narration.
We also spoke about relation with
Russians. Of course there is plenty of good people, who are appaled
by what their country is doing. I have a Russian friend who lives in
Poland for more than a decade now and was trying to help as a
translator when the waves of Ukrainian refugees came, but it was very
difficult. As Ira explained to me, while many Ukrainians spoke
Russian as their first language – she and Stas also grew up in
Russian-speaking families – due to recent events, hearing Russian
when abroad can trigger stress and trauma in Ukrainians.
I
also wanted to know what are the realities of living at war. The
Russian propaganda often uses clips showing everyday life in major
Ukrainian towns as an argument, that the war is not impacting anyone.
I could myself record a clip like that as well, as I was driving
through the city centre bustling with a colourful night life. But
when I met Stas on my arrival, and wanted to grab some food before
the curfew, we walked to a nearby supermarket and on the distance of
500 m or so I noticed a man in his early twenties walking on
prostetic legs and another one, slighty older, with a missing hand
and eye. So it’s enough to
get out of the car and the perspective changes dramatically.
We
discussed it referring to the example of a Polish computer game “This
war of mine”, in which
– unlike most of the computer games about wars, where the player
takes a place of a frontline soldiers or a general -
your task is to survive in
the city under the siege as a civilian. This game is inspired by the
siege of Sarajevo but Ira says “our war is not like that. In this
game all you think is about survival. Here, we have such moments, but
the other day we still live our lives, go to the pubs or concerts,
meet our friends etc.”. Still, the war has a heavy impact on the
every day life. I once saw someone in Britain saying “I am so fed
up with life, I wish the bomb fell on my street and it all would be
over”. But this is not the case – bomb fall on Ukrainians every
day, and yet they still have to get up in the morning and go to work,
make money and pay their bills. “I travel a lot abroad due to my
work” – says Ira – “and I can see how our people are worn
out. After three years of war, it takes Ukrainian people longer to
process everything. Even a small task sometimes can take a lot of
effort, you can see demotivation and a lack of energy. You are
affected of three years of sleep deprivation and hard for for the
cause that does not bring much visible results and you don’t know
if you won’t have to stretch your energy for another 10 years.
Sometimes I even get angry when I go abroad and see how much energy
people have there”. Still,
this impression might be wrong “I remember when I lived in London”
– says Ira – “and when there was snow, everyone was calling and
saying ‘I am sorry, I can’t come to work today because it’s
snowing’. In Ukraine people call and say “I am going to be 5
minutes late today because the bomb just fell on the building next to
mine and it will get me a little longer to get ready”.
According
to Ira, it is not the time for Ukrainians to work on the traumas yet.
“Because” – she says - “when you start to unpack things,
you’ll just melt down and it’s going to be the end of it. After
the victory – or whatever – we will have a huge meltdown of the
society”. She can’t even imagine what will happen then.
I thought about my childhood
in the 1980’s Poland.
It was two generations since
the second world war, and still we were living it – not only in our
grandparents stories, but also all the kids were playing war, “Poles
and Germans” was much more popular than “Indians and Cowboys”
for example. Can’t imagine
how it can feel for Ukrainian children who are now living with the
real world around them.
This
conversation made me feel like an idiot, so I asked it straight away:
is it ok for us, Westerners to even ask such questions? We probably
wont’ be able to understand it anyway, so maybe we should just shut
up”? I asked. Stas replied to me that of course if it’s some
tabloid journalist asking “would you be sad if someone close to you
died” it’s outrageous, but if someone does it from the bottom of
their heart because they want to understand, even the stupid question
is appreciated. “I am really happy when someone asks questions” –
Ira agreed with him
– “Sometimes people don’t want to ask questions, because they
feel they don’t know enough and they are afraid to embarrass
themselves. Sometimes they are also afraid that if they ask a
question on difficult subject during an event the mood will go down,
but this is not a good reason to do not ask a question”.
According to her, the Ukrainian events, which had great
attendance in the beginning of full scale war, are now less popular.
People avoid going to Ukrainian pavilion during exhibitions for
example, afraid that there will be just “yet another talk about the
war”. This is why the Ukrainian cultural ambassadors are now trying
to work together with their Eastern European neighbours. “People
still look down on us” – she says – “so it’s good for us to
work together, and show us
as many parts of the greater
New Eastern
Europe”.
So what is the best way to understand Ukraine?
Be curious, but check your sources. Stas also points out that the
fact that the Western Media use self appointed “Eastern European
experts” who were for years based in Moscow also makes it difficult
to convey the Ukrainian point of view.
Ira’s advice is:
do not be afraid to ask questions. Come to Ukraine. Make Ukrainian
friends. If you want to read news from Ukraine, read the Ukrainian
sources. She seems to be truly annoyed by the Western approach, where
people don’t trust Ukrainian soldiers like Kiyv Independent, but
are happy to read the same things two weeks later when for example
the Guardian will write their own article based on Kiyv Independent
source.
I for once will surely be back. I found Lviv to
be a beautiful city, similar to Kraków or Vienna, full of friendly
people. It seems the tourism is still happening. Bard and restaurants
are open, I bought some fridge magnet in the souvenir shop at the
market square. But scratch the surface and you can see it is a
country at war. Large power generators are placed at every second
corner. Historical monuments had been removed for safe storage. And
at the train station there is very strict security. Accordint to Stas
mostly because many young men don’t want to be drafted and are
looking for a ways to flee the country.
Chapter
5 – privillege
[picture
8 – at the train station in
Lviv (photo: Stas Shostak)]
When
I boarded the train to Poland, men in military uniforms were walking
up and down, looking for men in the drafting age. As I am still
relatively young, I had my passport checked three times. They also
went trough my backpack very throughoutly.
We arrived at Przemyśl train station in Poland nearly 90
minutes late, as there was yet another delay at the border. And this
was not the end of the struggle still. Everyone from the crowded
train had to get out and form an orderly queue for the Polish border
control. After standing in it for over 20 minutes in a freezing cold,
I moved forward just enough to notice, that there are only three
kiosks opened – one of which had a sign saying EU-EEA passports
only. I walked forward and asked a Polish border guard if there is
another queue for that lane that seemed to be not used at all. She
said that the queues are separated only after the queue enters the
building. “This makes no sense” – I complained – “so
everyone has to queue for two hours together only to be split into
two queues 3 metres before the actual passport check? Perhaps you
should just open all the lanes for all instead?”
“I
don’t know, I am new here. I think there were another doors here,
but they are closed for some reason” she said, stood in silence for
a bit and then walked up and asked the staff to open the other doors
then called all EU-EEA passport holders. When I skip the queue when
travelling to or from the UK, I don’t feel guilty – after all,
Britons brought Brexit on themselves. But here I felt back taking
advantage of my privilege – it’s because of Russia that
Ukrainians are not able to travel with convenience. There are no open
airports, the only way to travel is to go on a train, which
due to a gauge change can mean
a late night transfer at a
small train station in provincial Polish town. I still had to queue
for another 20 minutes, as only one security lane was open for
everyone, and I stood there, avoiding looking in the eyes of all
those people, who have to queue for so long and now had to let me go
in front of them.
[Picture 9 – smoke cloud over Lviv
(photo Stas Shostak)]
Even despite shaving at least 90
minutes of my queuing time, I was too late to catch the last train,
so I had to stay in Przemyśl for the night. I was laying in bed,
trying to book a train ticket for next day, but for some reason my
card would not go through. One of my Mastodon followers offered to
buy me a ticket by wire transfer from his Polish bank account. When
I asked for his bank account so I can pay him back, he told me there
is no need. “Consider it a donation
for your next Ukrainian fundraiser, or
pass it to Ukrainian fundraiser of your choice”
– he told me.
As
I was waiting for another train in the morning, a three-lingual
announcement informed us, that the train to Kiyv that was supposed to
depart in 5 minutes will be delayed for at least an hour. At the same
time Stas sent me a message. A view from his balcony showed a dark
cloud over the city. “It seems you left Lviv at right moment” he
wrote, adding a smiley face. We were talking about expected snowfall,
so I asked him if that’s all. “No” – he replied – “a
Russian rocket hit a tyre warehouse nearby and it is now on
fire”.
So will
I start another Ukrainian fundraiser? I don’t think so. I only
started this one, as I was going with my car anyway. But I have no
doubt I will continue to support Ukraine even more. Because before my
trip I knew there are brave people there, fighting for their freedom
and our security. But now I hope I am allowed to say they are also my
friends.
[Picture
10 – Powerbanks at the frontline (photo: Armed Forces of
Ukraine)]
* * *
As many of you
donated, I owe you a financial report from my trip:
The total amount of
money raised was €1825.62. Additionally I was given 263.99 Polish
currency.
Cost of purchase of
powerbanks: 7554 PLN (netto). We bought them in a very good price and
a friend offered to cover VAT and delivery costs. Finally we ended up
paying just 7500 PLN.
As I had 263.69
donated in PLN, I only needed to €1708,90 to meet the remaining
balance of 7236.01 PLN. My dad was lending me some money in PLN, so
instead of physically exchanging and transferring fundraised euros to
Poland only to then exchange and transfer my own PLN to Finland, I
did a “switcheroo”, which allowed us to save over 10 euros on
exchange and transfer cost.
I drove to Lviv
where I met with Stas, one of the soldiers from the unit that got the
donations. I transferred the car and powerbanks to him physically,
but formally it was done properly, through an Ukrainian NGO. After I
physically handed over the car, we drove to the postal warehouse in
order to send the powerbanks away, so they get where they are needed
as soon as possible. As I write those words, they are already working
on the frontline.
I am happy to report
Stas was doing great for first time in a RHD car :-)
Speaking of the car,
there is still some snag with the paperwork, so it waits in Lviv.
After the paperwork will be sorted, it will be serviced and also sent
where it needs to be.
As you might have
noticed, thanks to all the discounts we got, we were left with 116.72
euro change, which I donated to AutaUkrainaa, a charity run by the
Ukrainian Association in Finland, Ukrainalaisten yhdistys Suomessa
ry. I donated for the sub-account created for helping Ukrainian
hospitals, including field hospitals.
They are providing
humanitarian help to Ukraine, I once took some stuff for them when I
drove an empty van Helsinki to Poland empty and I was impressed how
well organized they are logistically. They also helped me to get my
car running when it developed some problems just before leaving for
Lviv.
* * *
As promised, none of those money
were used on travel purposes or anything related to my car.
However, some of you donated also to my personal ko-fi page to the
total sum of 98 euro. I also got 100 euro donation to that purpose
from my mom :-)
As those were separate from the main
fundraiser, I did not been keeping receipts and stuff, so I can only
offer you a loose break down:
Of those 198 euros, 25 euros were spent on a set of new spark
plugs for my car, 44 euros on the ferry ticket, 112.23 on petrol to
get to Ukraine, and then 27 for accommodation in Przemyśl, when the
train from Lviv arrived too late and I had to stay overnight.
In Lviv Stas and Ira have put me up in a nice hotel near their
place, and Stas paid for my train ticket – and I invited him to a
dinner in exchange. I also had some more food on the way, had to buy
screenwash and whatever, so there is definitely no change left from
this lot :)
I would like to thank everyone who helped all this happen:
-
Julius Mättö and Vadym Vechirka who got my car running after it was
stationary for three months (also Atro and Zosia who came with jump
leads from the other side of Helsinki to help me start it).
- r/Finland community and Kasper Kannosto of
https://www.yourfinnishfriends.org who gave me advice how to do
car-related paperwork properly
- Jakub Sobiecki, my long
time online friend from Eastern Poland who agreed to take delivery of
powerbanks and put me up for the night in his home. (if you ever need
an English-Polish translator in Świdnik, he is your man!)
- my other friend, who wants to remain anonymous, who sourced
powerbanks cheaply through her company's contacts and took care of
some of the costs
- Stas Shostak, who spent some time of his precious holiday time
to babysit me in Lviv, and his wife who has not been to angry at him
for that (at least I hope so). They also put me up in a nice hotel,
and even found a couple of hours to show me Lviv.
- one of my followers on Mastodon, who purchased a train ticket
for me when my card payments weren't going through and then donated
the money to Ukraine (and to that other one who also offered to do
the same, but was just a bit slower).
- to the editorial team of Bylines Scotland and to Jan Čulík of
Britské Listy, who
agreed to publish my fundraiser.
- to everyone else who
provided assistance, advice or shared the fundraiser links to help
spread the message
- and last but not least to everyone who honoured me with their
trust and donated money to this cause.
THANK YOU
EVERYONE!!!
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