Agnieszka Holland: The light is within us

Ganna Yarovenko is a Ukrainian journalist and filmmaker. Since the start of the full-scale war, she, along with her mother and children, found refuge in the Polish town of Mława. Despite everything, Ganna continues to work on her film projects. She is currently working on a documentary titled «Mama's Voice», which tells the story of an extraordinary friendship between a Polish and a Ukrainian mother amidst the war and the psychological crises their families have faced.

Waking up in Kyiv - falling asleep in Warsaw

I was in Kyiv when the full-scale war began. We had not prepared any emergency suitcases, just gathered our important documents. At 5 am, I woke up to the sound of wailing cars. My windows overlook the Batyeva Hill, and there were flocks of crows, screeching as if we were in medieval times. I immediately knew something was happening. When I turned on the TV, everything became clear. Putin was on the screen, announcing the start of his so-called special operation. My godfather called me and told me a missile had landed near his home. That is when I gathered my children, my mother, and our documents, and we headed to a village near Irpin, where my father lived.

Back in the 1990s, when I was making a program about the war in Bosnia and Herzegovina, one of the key lessons I learned was that when fighting begins, you should head to the countryside. Supposedly, you have a better chance of survival there

There is firewood, water from a well and a garden. However, one saying stuck with me - if you have children - you are as good as dead because they will slow you down in every way. Almost immediately after we arrived, we could hear the sound of fighting and artillery fire in Hostomel, not far from where we were. Fighter jets flew over our house.

I knew we could not stay there. That night, we slept fully dressed, but I could not close my eyes. I did not sleep for three days from the start of the war. At 1 am, I heard a powerful explosion. I screamed, «Get up! You have ten minutes to pack. We are leaving.» As we drove toward Kyiv along the Warsaw Highway, huge columns of military equipment were on the move. At first, I thought they were our Ukrainian tanks, but it turned out they were Russian. Later, I learned that by 6 am, those tanks were shooting at civilian cars in Bucha. Those three hours saved our lives. My mother left with us, but my father stayed behind. The next morning, he found himself under occupation.

Simply fate

We spent 25 hours in the long queue at the Ukrainian-Polish border. During that time, I remembered a journalist who once interviewed me when my film «Free People» was shown at the Jagiellonian Festival in Lublin. I wrote to her: «Marianna, I am terribly sorry, but right now I am standing at the border with my mother and two children. What would you recommend I do in this situation?» Almost immediately, through social media, she found a Polish family who agreed to take us in.

Adapting to a foreign country was not easy. First of all, you know nothing. It feels like being thrown into water, like a kitten. Suddenly, you drop to the level of a five-year-old

But the biggest surprise was the Polish family we ended up with - Kaja and Janusz Prusinowski. When they showed us around their home, I saw a disc on the wall titled «Heart». I had brought the same disc home from Lviv in 2015. My ex-husband and I listened to it so much that we practically wore it out. And now, five years later, I found myself meeting the creator of that music in person. I had spent my whole life working with ethnography, making films about folk musicians, and here, under these circumstances, I found myself in the home of Poland’s most renowned folk musicians.

The Poles have a beautiful word: «los». It corresponds to the word fate - something inevitable. And this was exactly that kind of «los» in our lives. The very next day after we arrived, Kaja and I went to the local school. At that time, Orest was 13, and Malva was 5. Orest was immediately accepted into the 7th grade, and Malva into kindergarten. We lived with the Prusinowskis for three months, and it was there that the idea for a new documentary film was born - this time, an autobiographical one. My sister Larisa encouraged me to pursue the idea and even helped with the finances.

«Mama's Voice»

The completed film tells the story of my life with the Polish family from my perspective. It is a story about female strength and mutual support, about how my daughter Malva longs for her father, and how my son Orest is forced to grow up quickly. There are several storylines in the film: one focuses on the strength of women, another on the relationship between father and daughter, their longing for each other, and the impossibility of reuniting. There are also scenes with my parents. In fact, I have a lot of footage that did not make the final cut. With the material I have filmed, I could create a four-part series. Every scene says something meaningful to the viewer.

One of the most philosophical scenes in the film takes place early in the morning when Kaja and I sit by the lake. After surgery on my throat, my voice had become raspy, as if I had smoked my entire life. I wanted to talk about my voice while we were by the lake. Could it ever be restored? Kaja gave me advice and guided me through vocal exercises. We even sang together. It was a strange, dreamlike state - there we were, holding hands, singing a song about the sun, with the lake bathed in sunlight. It was not rehearsed, we had not planned anything in advance. At one point, Kaja whistled a tune and asked: «Do you hear the frogs croaking?». I replied: «Yes, everything alive has its own voice, but I feel half-alive». That scene became the inspiration for the film’s title - «Mama's Voice». Another interesting scene involves making a traditional doll called motanka. I taught Kaja how to make one, and as we worked, we talked about life, children, and our marriages, eventually transitioning to the topics of war and Putin. I suggested: «Let’s make a motanka doll of Putin, cast a spell on it, and burn it». It was a kind of protest, with the hope that the doll would take Putin with it. It was all spontaneous, without consulting any witches or fortune-tellers - it came from a place of genuine impulse and sincerity. The hardest part was watching myself on screen.

It is a purely psychological challenge because you never see yourself objectively. You focus only on your flaws, and I had to wrestle with that. Twice, I have battled cancer. I was a completely different woman before the illness, and it had taken a toll on me physically

The overall concept of the film was to express gratitude to Poland for welcoming my family and four million other Ukrainians as brothers and sisters.

This film is not about how poor and unfortunate we are. It explores women’s friendship and core human values. We started filming in April 2022, and the last day of filming was January 2nd 2024 when a neighbouring building in Kyiv was bombed. The blast shattered the windows and doors of both my apartment and my parents' home. Unfortunately, I do not know what tomorrow will bring, so the film ends with that scene and the acknowledgement that the war continues.

Freedom is the most precious thing

But my life is not just about the films. In the town of Mława, where we still live, we have established a community centre with the support of the St. Nicholas Foundation. We work with Ukrainian children there. Sadly, many of them still speak Russian, and it is during my lessons that they hear Ukrainian. They also open up about their problems. I have introduced a historical component to the centre as well. From time to time, I organise museum tours so the children can learn about the history of Poland, which has been eye-opening for me. Many did not know what the Polish-Lithuanian Commonwealth was. Some thought it was a type of sausage, while others believed it was the name of a medicine. We also have creative workshops where we sculpt, draw and sew. Currently, our team consists of just three people: me, a Ukrainian English teacher and a psychologist. The psychologist helps the older children - those after 8th grade - take career aptitude tests and figure out their future paths.

Of course, we want to return to Ukraine, but only once the war is over

I also have health issues, and I am dependent on medication for the rest of my life. I worry that I will not be able to find the necessary medicines in Ukraine. Currently, I am under the care of an oncology hospital in Warsaw and undergo regular checkups. You know, during the first six months in Poland, I did not feel any emotions. I could not cry or laugh. It was as if I had become like my favourite character from Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow. I do not know why, but sometimes I feel just like him - always finding a way out of the toughest situations. That is how I manage.

Sometimes, I wonder what post-war Ukraine will be like. I hope our neighbouring countries become independent states, and that Russia collapses. I want Ukraine to become a member of NATO and the EU, and for everyone to stop lying. I do not know how realistic this is. I am deeply angry that this war and the Russians have robbed me of time with my father and my children of moments with their grandfather. Those are moments that will never return. I am furious that the windows of my apartment are shattered, our cities and villages are being destroyed, and people are dying. It is terrifying to think about the world our children are growing up in. My grandfather, who survived a concentration camp, always taught me that the most precious thing in life is freedom. I dream and believe that freedom will always remain with the Ukrainian people.