Natalia Bloch
Victoria's braids. Grpahic generated with use of ChatGPT.
The two women differ in terms of age, education, and approach to raising children. Victoria is resourceful; she gets a job on her own, and finds a school for Nadia. She works long hours in the restaurant, so they rarely see each other. But in the evenings, Monika sees Victoria crying in the kitchen: – She suffered greatly because her partner was in the army. She would stand there in the kitchen and cry often, saying she couldn’t contact him, that they weren’t allowed to contact each other, because he was on some kind of operation. The kitchen was often the space in host homes where, in the evenings – after putting the children to bed in a shared room – mothers could finally lower their guard.
Then something happens that radically changes the relationship between the women. Monika’s ex-husband decides to go on a humanitarian mission to Ukraine and take their elder son with him. – It was so terrible for me, and Victoria saw it, because suddenly I too became a victim of this war, just like she was, you know? And the two of us in that kitchen were already crying. And it was a moment of such closeness. I remember calling my ex-husband: “Turn around, the air raids are starting over there.”
Monika walked from wall to window, convinced her son would return from that war in a metal box. Victoria understood her rage: – How stupid he is, how stupid he is! People are fleeing, and he is just pushing there. Monika: – That's just what supported me. I say, “Oh, stupid, how could he do that?,” she says, “Let him go on his own, but why is he taking his son?,” I say, “Exactly, that’s exactly the point. He’s had enough, he’s 50 years old, he can go to Bucha, right?.” Bucha was supposed to be cleared of mines by now, but Victoria knew the Russians left traps behind; they put bombs in washing machines or left these thin wires – you just step on them and they explode. Monika wished Victoria hadn’t told her. – I thought I’d go crazy – she recalls.
She never forgave her ex-husband for that trip. – And I also had this reflection that the help we provided here, in our homes, is much more difficult. You have strangers in your home, and you have to deal with that every day, and it’s a truly difficult everyday situation. And here someone goes to Bucha and makes a spectacle of it. I say, “Come here and live with strangers in your home, but not with people like Victoria, but with people who really, you know, can’t cope. That’s where you’ll be a hero.”
Victoria quickly became independent. She moved first to an apartment on the same street, and then to another one a little further away. She and Monika didn’t have much contact, busy with their own daily affairs. Monika thinks it is ok: – It’s a very good sign. It means she has her own life now, and it’s actually very good that she doesn’t have to contact me. But I think it’s based on the principle that she knows I’m here, and if she needs me, I can help, right?.”
But one day, a few months ago, Monika needed something from a store she usually doesn’t go to, early in the morning, when she’s usually still asleep because she works afternoons. She spotted Victoria on the street: – And that’s how we met. It was an empty street, in the morning, and we just say, “Hi, hi, how are you?,” and she says, “I’m sorry, I can’t talk right now, something terrible is happening, I don’t know what, I have to go.” So I say, “Take care, but if anything happens, call me.” But I knew from her face that something was wrong.
That same evening, Monika called Victoria – that morning meeting was haunting her. Victoria was crying. She was on the train, saying she was going to Ukraine. – Are you crazy? – Monika asked. But Victoria was going to a funeral. That day, she received news that her partner had died in an attack somewhere in the trenches. They talked for a long time. Victoria said: – Maybe fate somehow brought you there that day.
Closeness
When walking near the Poznań Arena sports and entertainment hall, which has been converted into a shelter for Ukrainian refugees, Monika feels uncomfortable: – I was looking at all these children, these mothers sitting there. And we were just going for walks. And for me, this contrast was so awful. It did it feel right, you see, we have a big apartment, a comfortable life, it is not fair.
When a few days later, she sees a Facebook post by a fellow artist that reads: “nice girls are looking for a place to stay,” and the photo shows a young woman with long blue and yellow braids, a 10-year-old daughter, a dog, and two cats, she immediately lets him know that she could help. Her elder son went abroad to study, so there's a room available. This is how Victoria, Nadia and the animals, who previously slept with 800 other refugees in the Arena hall, end up at Monika’s apartment.