The Daily - Four Million Ukrainians in Limbo

Episode Date: March 28, 2022

Since the beginning of Russia’s war in Ukraine, 10 million Ukrainians — about a quarter of the population — have been displaced, and about four million have fled the country.Iryna Baramidze is one of them. From a middle-class neighborhood of Kyiv, the Ukrainian capital, she has been married to her husband for 12 years and has an 11 year-old son, Yuri.Over three weeks, our producer Clare Toeniskoetter followed Iryna as she made an impossible choice.Have you lost a loved one during the pandemic? The Daily is working on a special episode memorializing those we have lost to the coronavirus. If you would like to share their name on the episode, please RECORD A VOICE MEMO and send it to us at [e-mail]. You can find more information and specific instructions here.Background reading: After meeting with Ukrainian refugees in Poland last week, President Biden called Vladimir Putin “a butcher.”As Ukrainians flood into Poland, the travel industry has become part of an effort to supply transportation, accommodation and more to the refugees.Want more from The Daily? For one big idea on the news each week from our team, subscribe to our newsletter. For more information on today’s episode, visit nytimes.com/thedaily. Transcripts of each episode will be made available by the next workday. 

Can I pay you card or cash? Cash is better. A moment. I'm coming out. A moment. Thank you very much. Go out! Go out!

Go out! Go out! I've just arrived at the border, and as soon as my taxi pulled up, people were trying to hire the taxi. And a family got in, a grandma, a mom, and her two kids. One was maybe eight or nine, and then a very little baby that she was carrying in her arms. They loaded a stroller into the trunk and drove off.

And I'm just off the main road, and there's just a huge crowd. So many women and children. From the New York Times, this is The Daily. I'm Claire Tennesketter. When I first arrived at the Polish border, it was just days after Russia had begun its full-scale assault on Ukraine. There's just constantly people streaming in, thrower bags, with backpacks, with cats, with dogs, with giant stuffed animals. At that point, there were about 100,000 Ukrainians crossing into Poland each day. Where are you going?

Polish friends. You have Polish friends? Polish friends. You have Polish friends? Polish friends. And most of the people I spoke to had plans and knew where they were headed. Why do you go to Germany? I have a friend there. To stay with friends or family. I have an elder daughter. She lives in Finland.

And a friend of her will just arrive and will pick us to travel to Finland together with the dogs. For what they thought would be just a few days or weeks until the situation resolved. We hope it's going to be over soon. But over the course of just a couple days, as the war progressed, I watched the scene transform into the largest wave of refugees in Europe since World War II. Ten million Ukrainians, about a quarter of the country's population, have now been displaced. And almost four million have fled the country. Poland had opened its borders and like other countries in the EU

had announced that Ukrainians could live and work there for up to three years but at that point they hadn't organized formal assistance instead I found an impromptu volunteer network yes so we are offering free SIM cards for people from Ukraine. We have spaghetti, we have sweets, we have everything. A people from all across Europe coming to the border. Offering food. Tell me what your sign says. Free room in Germany, one person. Supplies.

Free transport and free house to Sweden. Transportation. Let's go to Luxembourg. And housing. She doesn't know where she's going at all in Europe. No, no, completely. Okay, good luck. To Ukrainians who now had no idea how long the war would last

or what they would do next. Over the next three weeks, I followed one of these women as she began to face those questions. It's Monday, March 28th. Okay, I think I'm locking up. After leaving the border, I traveled three hours west, to Krakow, Poland's second biggest city. And I headed to an apartment not far from the center of town.

Hello, Claire? Hi, Sven. Come up to the fifth floor. Fifth floor, great. Where Sven Hoffman, a 43-year-old German man, lives with his fiancée. Hi, Gosia. Nice to meet you. Gosia? Gosia.

A Polish woman named Gosia. I had first met Sven at the border, and he and Gosia had recently taken in a Ukrainian refugee and her 11-year-old son. Hello, my name is Irina. This is my son, Jura. Irina and Jura Baramidze, who were among the early wave of refugees to arrive in Poland.

They both have round faces and big smiles. We all gather around the kitchen table, and Irina starts telling me the story of what her life was like just a few weeks ago. 23 February, we make homework, we have some plan. 26 February, I must go to ballet with my son. The ballet? Yes, it was normal life. Yeah.

Because we're normal people. She said that before the war started, her life was predictable. All my life, I live Kyiv. All my life. She's from a middle-class neighborhood in Kyiv. Tell me about your husband. So my husband from Georgia. She'd been with her husband, Alexei, for 12 years. How did you meet?

We meet in Internet. He sent me a message. They got married and had Jura. What kind of work do you do? They both worked at a big company that dispatches tow trucks, taxis, and cargo trucks. Irina was a supervisor in their call center. And her husband was an automotive locksmith. They bought an apartment, and Irina's mom moved in. And until recently, one of their most pressing decisions was whether to adopt a dog for Yura.

Okay, we find, I find a shelter. Yura was sure he was ready. So Irina started taking him to a shelter to see the responsibility of walking a dog. We come morning and evening, some days, like five days. And after this, Yura say me, okay, I don't want dog. Turns out, he wasn't so sure. Yura, wake up! You like to sleep in.

Yes. He'd rather sleep and watch YouTube videos about trains, Chernobyl, and World War II, his three favorite things. We was together, relax, speak together, eat together. And after this, we not together. On February 24th, the whole family woke up to the sounds of bombs in Kiev. They spent two nights sleeping at Yura's school in the basement. Every night they start to bomb, bomb, bomb, bomb.

And then the next two nights, sleeping in the bathroom and the hallway of their apartment. And on the fifth morning, I wake up and I think I can't more, really. Right. I can't more. Irina decided she couldn't stay. She tried to convince the rest of her family to join her. He said, all will be okay, not nervous. But her husband was convinced the war would only last a few more days.

I understood that it wouldn't last until Kyiv, until the grapes. Even Yura wasn't scared. He trusted that the army would protect his family. But the feeling in Irina's gut wouldn't go away. I call and ask, do you have some driver who can take me and my son and go to train station? She called a taxi to take her and Yura to the train station. And they told her they had just one available in 20 minutes. She couldn't even tell her mother, who was out at the pharmacy.

But she said goodbye to her husband. What did you say to him? Of course that I love him and we will meet. Everything is fine, son. It's okay. And she headed to the train station. And after this, I go to Lublin. Lublin, okay.

Lublin city in Poland. Okay. Yes. Were you trying to go to Poland? For me, it was, it's okay. No Poland, another country. Just west? Yes, yes.

Only I must go from Kiev. She says it was a 10-hour train ride from Kiev to Kowal, a Ukrainian city near the border. And as they're on their way, she's aware that she doesn't know anyone in the EU. She's only traveled there once before, to Latvia. I understand I'm alone.

I don't have some people near me. But I'm strong. It will be okay. And I believe it will be okay. I am optimistic. But on the train, she learned that Jura's fifth-grade teacher had recently fled to Poland. It was her best option. So I called Jura's teacher, and she said to me that she is now in Poland, in Krakow. And I said, oh, I now go to Poland too.

Maybe you can help me. The teacher started making calls. Yes. So you call the teacher. The teacher calls a friend. The friend is your friend. And eventually word got to Gosia's aunt, who called Gosha and Sven. And they agreed to let Irina and Jura stay with them for a few days, maybe even a few weeks.

I'm very nervous who this family who take me and Jura. But they were still complete strangers. And Irina wondered what was she bringing her and her son into. I don't understand. First message, it was English. And on the final leg of the journey, she got a series of text messages from an unknown sender. And the last one was in Russian. I don't understand who sent me Russian message. Who knows that I come to Poland. Right, right. And you're scared because it's Russian? Yes, yes. Why scared? Because maybe some people know my number, and these people not good,

maybe they won't take my money. But you understand, I'm in country and I don't know anyway. It turns out the text was from Gosha, who was just trying to find the best language to communicate with Irina. And when Irina arrived at the train station in Krakow, I see that men and women go like this. She saw Gosha and Sven waving. And she says she relaxed a little. She spent her first few days with Sven and Gosia,

trying to sort out the logistics of her new life. It's first day we go to administration, ask about me, what I must do, how long I can stay in Poland, if I will like immigration, yes. First, on Thursday, she went to the Polish Department for Foreigners. She learned that unlike refugees in the past, who had to declare their refugee status immediately after arriving in Poland, she had time. At this point, she had 15 days, and Poland later changed this to 90 days.

Or she could leave Poland and register to stay in another country, something else that previous refugees didn't get the chance to do. Every country in the EU was now allowing Ukrainian refugees to apply for asylum. So next, she started exploring where she wanted to go. Next day, when we go to embassy USA, maybe I can go to my friend. One of her closest friends from childhood lives in Nevada. But she learned that unlike Europe, the U.S. hadn't changed its policies towards Ukrainian refugees caught in the war. They've since updated that policy and announced that they'll allow up to 100,000 Ukrainians in. And Sven call in embassy Germany because maybe we go in Germany.

Sven encouraged Irina to look into Germany, his home country, where he thinks she could get a better job and have a better standard of living. She was considering it. And do you think you'll work here? Yes, yes, I will work, of course. I don't have something like books where all time I will have money. I don't have this. Her main criteria in making her decision, she says, was a job, health insurance for her son, and housing she could afford. Is your husband still working right now? No, company not working now.

So he needs you to work here to help provide for him there. Yes, yes. Now price in Ukraine high. Before war one packet milk price was like one dollar. Now it's like two dollar. So there's extra pressure for you to get a job quickly? Yes. So anyway, I don't afraid work. I can do all. I can work in hotel, some restaurant. I don't know. Anyway, I can do all. Irina tells me she only had about a month's worth of money saved up, so the clock was ticking. But in order to find a job, she needed to register somewhere in the EU. And to register, she needed to pick a place to live. I don't know.

I don't know how I know. Part of what's complicated, part of what's making it hard for Irina to make a decision, is that she still believes that ultimately, even if it's turning out to be a bit longer than she originally hoped, she's just waiting to go back to the country she knows she wants to live in. I hope. Maybe it's some months, maybe some years.

I don't understand now nothing. Don't understand. When war finish, I will go to home. If I can, of course. We'll be right back. So we're going here straight left and then we are passing the hotel. Okay. Then we're going to the bank.

To the bank. The next morning, Monday, I go with Irina, Jura and Sven to the bank. BNP. A bank that Irina uses in Ukraine. How do you get the money at home? But you want to take it, but we don't know if it's possible now. First we have to ask and then it's not far. Irina had been traveling with some emergency cash, in hryvnia, Ukraine's currency.

Walking to the bank. Now that she was safely in Poland, she was hoping to deposit the money back into her account. But she learns that even though this is the same bank she uses in Ukraine, they operate independently. So she can't access her account here. And even if she opens a new account, they won't deposit Ukrainian money. My money from Ukraine, it's nothing now.

Okay, thank you. So she'll have to exchange it. Okay, I will take my money and find some with the Kampor exchange. But the exchange rate has plunged since the war started. She says that when she left, what she was carrying was worth $400. But when she tries to exchange it later in the day, she learns it's only worth $60. And have you already been together to this camp? No, no.

So you haven't been here? No, no, no. The same day, we go to a refugee center in Krakow that's been set up in a local sports hall. Sven is hoping that Jura can meet some kids his age there, and that Irina might be able to get guidance on some of her questions from the volunteers who are helping run the camp. And this is where we go in? Yeah, you see it's a long way back.

We walk in. But I have to turn off my microphone until I get approval to record from the refugee camp's coordinator. We go upstairs to talk to him, to a cafe and concession stand area overlooking a big basketball court that's covered with about 200 fold-out beds. Looking over all the people, Irina starts to cry. She hugs Jura and turns to Sven and quietly thanks him. She says she's grateful to be in a real home instead of a shelter. Yes, yes, that's okay.

The coordinator gives me approval to record, and we talk to some other refugees there while Yura plays games on Irina's phone. And even though she doesn't know her own plan yet, Irina tries to help them. We want to come to Germany. One woman, a pianist named Hanna, who performed in the Harkiv Philharmonic, is thinking about taking her son to Germany.

But she's worried about going to Germany, applying for asylum, and then not finding a job, and being stuck, and unable to find work in another EU country. Sven, I'm sorry, can you maybe call embassy Germany and ask something? Irina asks Sven to call the German embassy to see if those rules will apply to Ukrainians. They don't know yet, today on Monday. On Wednesday, there will be like...

And they tell him they need a few more days to figure that out. So the best is you have to wait until Wednesday, unfortunately, here. So for now, Hanna and her son were stuck. Hanna messaged me later with a video of her playing piano and said,

I really hope my piano wasn't blown up. of her playing piano and said, I really hope my piano wasn't blown up. What is all this? At the shelter, we also come across a makeshift job board of handwritten notes in Russian and Ukrainian, taped to a wall. Work, clean sports hall. Irvina takes a look.

Hair cut. But she's not ready to apply for anything yet, until she decides if she'll stay in Poland. Yes, it will be very hard for me. She tells me that she's been talking to her husband and mother every day, and it's clear that she's still holding out hope. Every day I think maybe tomorrow I will go to home, maybe tomorrow I will go to home, but no. That maybe the war will end the next day.

Almost a week later, on Saturday, I know something English. It's good morning, good morning, good morning to you. Good morning, good morning. I'm glad to see you. I meet up with Irina again. She started volunteering for a few hours a day, helping other refugees who are just arriving at the Krakow train station. I take the tram there with her, for her second day.

She's only about a week or so ahead of the people arriving, but she feels she already has something she can offer. Some people don't speak Poland or English. And I can help. I know some information about Poland. And second, I can't stay in a room and just sit. I must something do. We get to the train station It feels like the border A week earlier

But now we're three hours from the border And there are still massive crowds I'm in the train station And there's a big poster that says, Smaller cities in Poland mean greater possibilities of accommodation, lower cost of living, and better chance to find a job. Big cities in Poland are already overcrowded. Don't be afraid to go to smaller towns.

They are peaceful, have good infrastructure, and are well adapted. At this point, on March 12, 1.5 million Ukrainian refugees have arrived in Poland. The mayors of Krakow and Warsaw have both announced that they are full, and that they'll need to start sending people to these smaller towns and to other EU countries. — And they don't even exchange hryvnia. They don't accept it. — Here's Irina now in a yellow volunteer vest. towns and to other EU countries. Here's Irina now in a yellow volunteer vest. Irina's shift is at a rest station, where people can lay down for a few hours, and hopefully sleep, before their next train, bus, or drive. I check some bed free or not free, how many we have free bread.

She keeps a list of about 70 beds and cleans them whenever someone leaves. She hands out tea and coffee. Today I'll go on the bus to Berlin. I've seen bus or train, I don't know. She helps refugees connect with volunteers who have come to the station offering help. She knows how scared she was, and she helps people understand that they are safe. But mostly, people just want to ask her about the big questions.

You can find job in Facebook. We have some group. Questions she herself hasn't been able to answer. Where do I go? Where do I live? How do I get a job? Towards the end of her shift, You're driving to Italy? Yeah, no, not me, my friend. Irina meets another volunteer from Italy. She's come to help an 81-year-old woman who's traveling alone.

The woman has been stuck at the train station for two days. So I take her to home. I'm trying to help you. So when you have someone that wants to go to Italy, call me. At this point, the volunteer clearly thinks Irina is just another volunteer, and she's letting her know that she can be a resource if Irina encounters people who need help getting to Italy. Maybe you can help me.

Maybe you know some information if I will go to Italy and I will make registration. For you or for refugees? For me and my son oh I don't know I'm sorry and then she realizes Irina is talking about herself

and you want to go to Italy? I don't know but maybe you know some official information in Italy what do you have to if I will do this registration will I have medical card in Italy. What do you have to understand? If I will do this registration, will I have medical card in Italy? Yes, you will

have everything. My son can go to school. Yes, you can go to school. I can find job official. Yes, official. We have a few... After she asks her questions, Irina turns to me. What do you think about this woman from Italy? After she asks her questions, Irina turns to me.

What do you think about this woman from Italy? Yeah, it seems like she could help you if you want to go to Italy. Yes, but I'm afraid it's very hard. She says that even in a place like this, where it seems like everyone is trying to help, it's hard to know who to trust. When we leave the train station that day, Poland now has a lot of people from Ukraine. Very, very, very.

Irina has decided she won't stay in Poland. I must go to country where not a lot of Ukrainian people. And that she needs to go somewhere else, where there will be less competition for jobs and housing. But beyond this. We'll be France, maybe after tomorrow it will be Norway. I don't know, really. I don't know nothing. She still seems totally lost. And then, on Monday, March 14th, I get a text message from Irina. Her best friend, also named Irina, has also recently arrived in Poland from Ukraine.

She followed Irina to Krakow. And together, just like that, they've decided to go to Germany. Irina? Can you hear me? I rush over to meet her at the crowded train station. Irina! Irina! I'm so sorry, please. Oh, it's okay, don't worry. Internet not working. Yes, yes. Oh, I am so sorry.

No, no problem. I must wait. Some people can say about ticket to train to Germany. I find her in front of the information booth for Ukrainian refugees, where she usually volunteers. Yura is home with Sven and Gosia. If I will take tickets in this class, it will stay. Trains to Germany from Poland are free for Ukrainians,

but they aren't guaranteed seats. So she's waiting for a batch of free tickets to be released at 2.45 p.m. She's already been there for four and a half hours to make sure she gets them. You have your ticket? No, I must wait 15 minutes. Ah, okay. And what time is the train? 23 o'clock. Tonight?

Yes, yes, tonight. Wow. Yeah. Okay. I'm shocked when I learn she's planning to leave that night. Where do you go in Germany? I don't know. Really? Hofmann or like this, I don't know. Okay, but you know you have a place to sleep in Germany?

No, I don't have. You're just going to Germany? Yes, yes. And that she has no idea where she'll stay. At 2.45, she goes back up to the information booth. And they hand her the tickets. And this is the ticket itself. Yeah, it's a ticket.

Today, 14? Yeah. 14 today? Yes, yes, yes. Leaving that night. March 14th, yes. To Hanover. But it's near Sven City, I think.

Essen. Essen. And you've never been to Germany before? No never. And why Essen? You you have you know someone in Essen now or no? Because Sven from Essen. Maybe it's will not say Essen maybe another city. But you don't know where you'll sleep? No I don't know. No where why I know I will sleep in train. Sven is from Essen. And I know that over the past few days, he has been telling Irina he could try to help her find a place.

And maybe even a job in Germany. If that's what she decided on. And he warned that because so many refugees were coming now, things might start filling up there. But Irina hadn't told him or Gosia that she'd decided on Germany. I try to understand why Germany, and why now, with no plan in place, nowhere to sleep that night. Because in Poland it's full Ukrainian people.

Very full. And I hope that I will have in Germany a better job. I don't know nothing really. I don't know. It's only my think. Right. I think like this. But what will, I don't know.

And did you consider Italy after meeting Sofia two days ago? No. Why no? I don't know why. We want to go near Ukraine. Ukraine, Poland, and after this, Germany. Yes. Ukraine, Poland, and after this, Germany. Yes. I don't know nothing, really. I will see. I will see.

Like the morning two weeks earlier, when she woke up and decided she needed to leave Kiev for Poland. Today, Ir she woke up and decided she needed to leave Kiev for Poland. Today, Irina woke up and finally realized she needs to make her next move. It was like a switch flip. So we must do something and we will go to Germany. Yes. Okay, we can go? Yes.

Irina still has a few hours before the train leaves. She buys a gift for Sven and Gosia, some tea. She asks for the best of the best. Two minutes? And then we take the tram back to their apartment, where she'll tell them that she's leaving and pack her bags. One of the reasons you said you've stayed in Poland for so long is because you've had hope that the war will end soon and you could go home soon.

Do you think deciding to go to Germany means you've in some ways given up that hope? No, I have everyday hope that I will go home soon. Everyday. I don't know, maybe after five minutes we will send messages that all finished. And I will go to home. I will not go to Germany. We will soon.

We will soon. I don't know. And what emotion do you feel right now? Nothing. I don't feel nothing really. Wait this some days, four days, maybe five days, I don't know. And after this, this, I think I feel something. Not now. Not now. So, thank you. Good luck.

Thank you very much. Thank you. Bye bye. Six days later. Hi, Irina. Hi, Claire. Hi. Hi. I catch up with Irina over the phone.

How are you? I'm okay. How are you? I don't know. Because I have a lot, a lot, a lot of travel situation. I don't know, really. She tells me that a lot had happened since she left the relative stability of Sven and Gosia's apartment. We go to Germany. In Germany, we don't have flat room, nothing.

We ask some people what we must do. They give me address, address camp. Sven wasn't able to organize a home for Irina, Jura, and other Irina's family in Germany. And instead, they went to a big refugee camp. We come to this camp. All people use one toilet, one shower. And after two nights, she decided that she didn't want to stay there. So they got on another train. We see this train go to Switzerland. And we think, maybe go to in this country? Okay, go.

And almost by accident, they wound up in Basel, Switzerland. We go to policeman, ask what we must do. Again, he give map, we must go to camp. Where they were sent to another big refugee camp. And we stay two days. And yesterday, government sent us in another camp. And then, the Swiss government sent them to a third camp. In the mountains, overlooking the small 4,000-person village of Egerkingen. And that's where you stay now?

Yeah, yes, yes. And very good. I think we're lucky. Very lucky, yes. I think we're lucky. Very lucky, yes. Now, a week later, Irina's still living at this refugee center. It's a former psychiatric hospital with about 200 beds.

It opened for Ukrainian refugees in mid-March. She says it's comfortable. She has a private room with two bunk beds for her, Yura, and two people from other Irina's family. They get about $10 a day to buy food. Irina spends her days with Yura and cooking with other Irina's sister, and she's still volunteering however she can. An official from the camp tells me that Irina has taken it upon herself to organize a cleaning schedule for all the residents. But, will you work in Switzerland? I don't know nothing, really. They don't give me any information.

She is no closer to finding a job or school for Yura. He's taking some classes online, but he's not making friends at the camp. He won't talk to the other kids. I don't worry about my life and about my son, but I'm of course worried about life, my family in Kyiv. Every day we speak, send message every day. Irina calls her husband and her mom back in Kyiv. After we got off the phone, she sent me a video of a bomb and said, it's today near my house. It's today, near my house. It's been three weeks since I met Irina, and in many ways, so much has changed for her. She's gone from relying on a loose network of volunteers to a bureaucratic system of government aid.

And in navigating this, she's had to start over again and again. But in another way, nothing has changed for her. Her life and her family are still in Ukraine. And she is still in limbo, waiting to get back to them. and she is still in limbo, waiting to get back to them. Irina, when I talked to you the day you left for Germany, you told me that you weren't allowing yourself to feel any emotions. Now that you're planning to stay in Switzerland,

have you allowed yourself to feel anything? No, no no no i know i must stay in this place for save our life i know that after some times all be okay i know this i must only wait only wait and i hope all be okay. Yes, me too. Of course, yes. In a statement, ORS, which provides assistance to refugees in Switzerland, cited the enormous challenge Ukrainians face trying to integrate into Swiss life. They said they have started searching for more permanent housing for Irina and Yura,

and that they expect her to have the chance to find work. We'll be right back. Here's what else you need to know today. Russia signaled a possible scaling back of its war aims in Ukraine. On Friday, Russia's defense ministry said in a statement that the goals of the, quote, first stage of the operation had been, quote, mainly accomplished, and that it would now focus on securing Ukraine's eastern Donbass region, where Russia-backed separatists had been fighting for eight years.

It was not clear whether the statement was sincere or simply a strategic misdirection. But it amounted to the most direct acknowledgement since the war began that Russia was having difficulty taking full control of Ukraine. Thank you, thank you, thank you. And on Saturday... Rather than breaking Ukrainian resolve, Russia's brutal tactics have strengthened the resolve. President Biden ended his three-day trip to Europe

with an impassioned speech in Warsaw denouncing Putin. A dictator bent on rebuilding an empire will never erase a people's love for liberty. In the speech, Biden seemed to call for the ouster of the Russian leader. For God's sake, this man cannot remain in power. It was not clear whether Mr. Biden's remark was off the cuff, and the White House immediately sought to downplay it. But it risked confirming Russia's central propaganda claim that the West, and particularly the United States, is determined to destroy Russia.

Today's episode was produced by Claire Tenesketter with help from Stella Tan and Caitlin Roberts. It was edited by Michael Benoit and Lisa Tobin and contains original music by Marion Lozano, Alicia Baitube, and Dan Powell. It was engineered by Chris Wood. Our theme music is by Jim Brumberg and Ben Landsberg of Wonderly.

that's it for the daily i'm sabrina tavernisi see you tomorrow