Why would an older woman like me want to go to a country at war? Isn’t this very controversial, even crazy or irresponsible? I am neither a politician nor a diplomat, a journalist, a professional aid worker, a medic or a fighter.
I am a civilian, a retired interpreter of the EU Court of justice, a university teacher and I sometimes post something on my blog. I support Ukraine in Putin’s war of aggression because I do not want aggressors to have their way and us to throw international law overboard. I learn Ukrainian and would like to help as a volunteer. Is that reason enough?
For some it is, for others maybe not. But where does this need to justify oneself come from? Hasn’t it to do with our own doubts?
Maybe, above all, it has to do with our desire to be liked and our fear of conflict. We feel obliged to constantly explain ourselves to others and justify our decisions. Because we want approval, we want to be understood and liked.
I hoped people would not think I am a war tourist or an adrenaline junkie. I didn’t want to come across as reckless or irresponsible, someone taking unnecessary risks.
Was it necessary for me to go? No. Ukraine will carry on and survive without me.
I had only told a few people about my plan. My husband did not like it – all the more so as my two sons wanted to join me for a few days in the beginning. It was their decision, I had not put any pressure on them; they are both adults. Maybe they wanted to give me a bit of support.
A close friend was shocked. I listened to all the arguments she put forward. But as the conversation went on, I became increasingly aware that there was no point in justifying myself. The obligation to justify myself was purely self-imposed and I could lift it from my shoulders again. I realised that I did not need to convince people that my plan is legitimate. It is my own decision. We all love harmony and it is nice to get understanding from the people closest to us, but we must not let that dictate our decisions.
Many people I know would never travel to a country at war. They are too afraid. They are also scared that something might happen to me or my sons. I understand that, I don’t take it lightly that people were scared for us.
I am not fearless — quite the opposite. But my desire to go was stronger than my fear. That desire had been with me since last year. And despite all my doubts, it hadn’t gone away.
Last year, I had already planned to go to Kyiv. Everything was booked, but at the last minute, I cancelled. Fear got the better of me.
At the time, that was probably the right decision. It is good to know that I am capable of admitting that I am too afraid and that it is better to step down. But a week later, I regretted it a bit and went to western Ukraine instead, to Lviv, thinking it would be safer there. In general, it is, but one night, Shahed drones – maybe even a missile – struck just three hundred metres from my hotel. I had no idea that I was staying near a building that would be targeted by the Russians. Yet, I didn’t regret going.
This year, I was determined to go to Kyiv, despite the worsening situation, the fear and the uncertainty. Ukraine isn’t for control freaks. You have very little or no control over things and have to learn to live with a constant threat.
Before the trip, I had prepared a sort of explanatory post that I wanted to publish on my social media account. Not for everyone, but for the people I thought would understand my motivation. It is good to reflect on our motives and put them down on paper — or, these days, on a screen. I had created a specific group of Facebook friends for this purpose and called it “Kyiv”. Sometimes, we need to save our energy for things other than Facebook discussions that are often less about constructive contributions than about self-centred outbursts.
But gradually I realised that I am absolutely at peace with my decision and that I don’t want to hide it. I came to learn and to help, because it is in line with my convictions. It was a decision based on what I believe.
I am not expecting admiration and I don’t deserve it. Others deserve admiration – Ukrainians deserve it, for their resilience. Was my trip an ego trip? Did my presence make no difference whatsoever, was it even a burden?
No. Nobody said: “What are you doing here? You’re naive. There’s a war on here. Go home.” The Ukrainians whom my sons and I met said: “Thank you for coming. The fact that you had the courage to come, to help us and to share our fate for some time means a great deal to us. It means we are not alone.”
And that is much more important than what some people back home might think about the journey. At some point during my stay – my sons had already returned home safely – I started making my posts visible to all my friends. It felt good – good to show who I am.
More about my stay in Kyiv will follow.