Світ: занепокоєння смертями в Україні

The first day of school for Ukrainian schoolchildren — September 2 — began to the accompaniment of Russian rockets. Instead of sweet sleep in their beds, the children were forced to flee to the bomb shelters, where they tried to get at least a little more sleep. But the enemy did not stop the attack, firing more than a dozen cruise missiles and about a dozen ballistic missiles at Kyiv alone. And in two days, the most tragic event in Lviv happened - during the attack, a whole family died - a mother and three daughters. But, despite this, Ukraine continues to live. Indomitable Ukrainians demonstrate their strength and power in dances, at exhibitions, on catwalks. Because the Russian enemy is unable to do one thing - break the spirit of Ukrainians.

Text: Natalya Ryaba

On September 7, demonstrators staged a protest in Prague, holding blue and yellow umbrellas. The participants of the rally called for effective air defense for Ukraine and to give it the opportunity to strike back. Demonstrators created a "map" of Ukraine using blue and yellow umbrellas.

‍

Students of the International Academy of Personnel Management watch as rescuers put out a fire in one of the buildings of the university after a rocket attack on Kyiv on September 2, 2024. While hiding in the bomb shelter, the students heard the whistling of rockets and explosions.

‍

Ukrainian military medics render aid to a wounded Ukrainian soldier at a stabilization point in the Chasiv Yar region on September 6, 2024.

‍

A Ukrainian servicewoman talks on the phone with her children. On September 13, Russia and Ukraine conducted another exchange of prisoners. 49 Ukrainians returned home — 23 women and 26 men. For the first time in a long time, it was possible to return the "Azovs" to Ukraine. The United Arab Emirates helped organize the exchange.

‍

Ukrainian schoolchildren sing the national anthem during the ceremony for the beginning of the new academic year in Lviv, September 2, 2024.

‍

September 4 became the most tragic for Lviv during the entire war. A mother and her three daughters were killed in the attack. Only the father remained alive. The whole city came to the funeral of the dead. As a result of shelling in Lviv, seven people died, 66 were injured. Also, 188 buildings were damaged, including 19 architectural monuments.

‍

A couple looks at posters depicting fallen Ukrainian soldiers of the Azov Brigade at an open-air exhibition in Kyiv on September 23, 2024.

‍

Freya Brown, a dog trainer in the British Army, with her military dog ​​Zac during a training session with Ukrainian army personnel, at a barracks in the East Midlands, U.K., September 10, 2024. Two years after invasion, large areas of Ukraine are covered in landmines and unexploded ordnance, including cluster munitions, and dogs play a key role in keeping soldiers and civilians safe.

Presentation of Veronika Danilova's collection as part of Ukrainian Fashion Week, September 1, 2024. The designer dedicated her collection called "Garden of the Clouds" to her homeland, inspired by memories of a Ukrainian garden and blossoming apple trees.

‍

On this special day, our editors and authors wrote a couple of words about their work at Sestry, about their heroes, their emotions - about everything that became so important during this year of working in the media.

Joanna Mosiej-Sitek, CEO of Sestry

Our year on the frontline in the fight for truth. We are a community of women. Women journalists. Women editors. Our strength is our voice. We stand for shared European values, democracy and peace. We are the voice of all those who, like us, believe that the future lies in dialogue, tolerance and respect for human rights. These people believe in a world where we can forgive past grievances and focus our energy on building a better future. They are not divided by the words of politicians. Every day, we do everything possible to listen to and understand one another, knowing that this is the only way to fight disinformation and fake news. Our voice, our struggle, is just as vital to our security as new tanks and drones. Over the past year, we have given a platform to thousands of stories in our effort to build a better world. We understand that building a strong, multi-ethnic, and united community is a long journey, and we are only at the beginning.

Maria Gorska, Editor-in-Chief

When my colleagues at Gazeta Wyborcza and I decided to create Sestry.eu, it was the second winter of the war. My newborn daughter lay in her stroller, wearing a red onesie covered in gingerbread men, and all she knew was how to smile and reach out to her mother. Today, my little Amelia is a strong toddler, running around the park near our home in Warsaw, shouting, «Mom, catch the ball!» and laughing when I lift her into my arms. She comforts her doll when it cries.

She still does not know what Ukraine is. And that is why I am doing this media project. Not to one day tell my child about her homeland, but to ensure that she grows up in an independent, safe, and prosperous Ukraine - as a free citizen of Europe.

Tetiana Bakotska, journalist

The stories we publish in Sestry make an impact - motivating readers to take action. After my article about a refugee shelter in Olsztyn that had been closed, leaving some Ukrainian families in dire straits, five Ukrainian families reached out to say they had received help. Single mothers raising young children were given food, clothing and fully stocked backpacks for school.

Thanks to the article «Sails Save Lives» and the efforts of Piotr Paliński, hundreds of meters of sails were collected in Poland to be sewn into stretchers for wounded soldiers. On August 24th 2024, Olsztyn scout Dorota Limontas delivered the sails to Kyiv as part of a humanitarian convoy, along with medical equipment for several Kyiv hospitals, donated by the Voivodeship Adult and Children’s Hospitals in Olsztyn.

After the publication about the humble mechanic, Mr. Piotr, who in 2022 donated over 500 bicycles to Ukrainian children, the initiative gained new momentum. Once again, hundreds of children - not only in Olsztyn but in other regions of Poland as well - received bicycles as gifts. Bicycles were also sent to Ukraine for orphaned children cared for by the family of Tetiana Paliychuk, whose story we also shared.

Nataliya Zhukovska, journalist

For me, Sestry became a lifeline that supported me during a challenging moment. The full-scale war, moving to another country, adapting to a new life - this is what millions of Ukrainian women faced as they fled from the war, leaving their homes behind. I was fortunate to continue doing what I love in Poland - journalism. Even more so, I was fortunate to engage with people who, through their actions, are writing the modern history of Ukraine - volunteers, soldiers, combat medics and civil activists.

I remember each of the heroes from my stories. I could endlessly recount their lives. One might think that a journalist, after recording an interview and publishing an article, could simply move on. That is how it was for over 20 years of my work in television. The subjects of news stories were quickly forgotten. But this time, it is different. Even after my conversations with these heroes, I keep following their lives through social media. Though we have only met online, many of them have become my friends. Reflecting on the past year, I can only thank fate for the opportunity to share the stories of these incredible, strong-spirited Ukrainians with the world.

Aleksandra Klich, editor

When we began forming the Sestry editorial team a year ago, I felt that it was a special moment. Media like this are truly needed. In a world ravaged by war, overwhelmed by new technologies and crises, where information, images, and emotions bombard us from all sides, we seek order and meaning. We search for a niche that offers a sense of safety, space for deep reflection, and a place where one can simply cry. That is what Sestry is - a new kind of media, a bridge from Ukraine to the European Union.

Working with my Ukrainian colleagues has restored my faith in journalism. It has rekindled in me the belief that media should not just be click factories or arenas of conflict, but a source of knowledge, truth - however painful - and genuine emotions, which we can allow ourselves to experience in the hardest moments. Thanks to my work with Sestry and the daily focus on Ukraine, the most important questions have come alive within me: «What does patriotism mean today? What does it mean to be a European citizen? What does responsibility mean? What can I do - every day, constantly - to help save the world? And finally: Where am I from? For what purpose? Where am I headed?» These questions do not leave a person at peace when they stand on the edge. We create media in a world that is on the edge. The women of Ukraine, their experiences and struggles, remind me of this every day.

Mariya Syrchyna, editor

Over our first year, our readership has grown steadily - numbers show that our audience has increased 8-10 times compared to last year. This growth is because Sestry is no ordinary publication. Most of us journalists live in other countries due to the war, but from each of these countries, we write about what pains us the most. About Ukraine and its resilient people. About what hinders our victory over the enemy - hoping to reach those with the power to help. About the challenges we face in our new homes and how we overcome them. About our children.

We strive to talk to people who inspire and bring light in these dark times - volunteers, artists, doctors, athletes, psychologists, activists, teachers, journalists. But most importantly, we tell the stories of our warriors. I once dreamed that Ukraine’s elite would change and that the country’s fate would be shaped by worthy people. That wish has come true - though in a cruel way. The new heroes of our time are the soldiers who nobly bear the weight of the fight against both the enemy and the world’s indifference. Here, at Sestry, we tell their stories again and again to everyone who has access to the internet and a heart. In three languages. We hope that these stories will ensure their names are not forgotten and their deeds are not distorted.

A sister is someone who can be anywhere in the world but still feels close. She may annoy you, but if someone offends her, you are the first to defend her and offer a hand. That is exactly the kind of publication Sestry aspires to be - reliable and close. All the way to victory, and beyond.

Maryna Stepanenko, journalist

I have been with Sestry for nine months. In that time, I have conducted 22 powerful interviews with people I once only dreamed of speaking to in person. Politicians, generals, commanders and even the deadliest U.S. Air Force pilot. Getting in touch with him was a challenge - no online contacts, except for his publisher. There was also a fan page for Dan Hampton on Facebook. As it turns out, he manages that page himself and is quite responsive to messages.

It took me two months of persistent outreach to secure an interview with Kurt Volker, but I eventually succeeded. And my pride - Ben Hodges, whose contacts were once obtained under strict confidentiality.

In these nine months, I have learned a few key lessons: do not be afraid to ask for an interview with someone you admire, and when choosing between talking to a Ukrainian celebrity or a foreign general, always opt for the general. I am grateful to be the bridge between their expert opinions and our readers.

Kateryna Tryfonenko, journalist

«Why did you ask me that?». This is one of those funny memorable occurrences. I was working on an article about military recruitment, with part of the piece focused on international experience. One of the experts I spoke with was an American specialist from a military recruitment center. I made sure to tell him upfront that the questions would be very basic, as our readers are not familiar with the intricacies of the United States military system. He had no objections. We recorded the interview, and a few days later, I received a message from him that began, «I am still very puzzled by our conversation. I keep thinking about the questions you asked me. Why did you ask me that?». The message was long, and between the lines, it almost read «Are you a spy?». This was a first for me. To avoid causing him further distress, I offered to remove his comments from the article if our conversation had unsettled him that much. However, he did not object to the publication in the end. Although I wonder if, to this day, he still thinks it was not all just a coincidence.

Nataliya Ryaba, editor

I am free. These three words perfectly describe my work at Sestry. I am free to do what I love and what I do best. Free from restrictions: our editorial team is a collective of like-minded individuals where everyone trusts each other, and no one forbids experimenting, trying new things, learning, and bringing those ideas to life. I am free from stereotypes. Our multinational team has shown that nationality and historical disputes between our peoples do not matter - we are united, working toward the common goal of Ukraine’s victory and the victory of the democratic world. I am free to be who I want to be in our newsroom. Yes, I work as an editor, but I can grab my camera and run as a reporter to protests or polling stations - wherever I want to go. No one forbids me from creating what I want, and I am grateful for this freedom. It gives me wings.

Anastasiya Kanarska, journalist

Like many women, I always thought I wanted to have a son. Well, maybe two kids, but one of them had to be a boy. But as my understanding of myself and the world grew, and the likelihood of not having children at all increased, the idea of being a good mother to a happy, self-sufficient daughter became an exciting challenge. Learning from each other, respecting personal boundaries, and caring for one another - that is what makes working in a women’s circle so empowering. For me, starting work with Sestry coincided with a deeper exploration of my female lineage - strong women like my colleagues, who at times embody Demeter, Persephone, Hera, Aphrodite, Artemis, or Hestia. The themes of my articles, whether written, edited, or translated by me, often mirror my own life events or thoughts. Maybe that is the magic of the sisterhood circle.

Olena Klepa, SMM specialist

«I feel needed here». I went to my first interview with Sestry three months before the official launch of the project: in old DIY shorts, a T-shirt from a humanitarian aid center, with a «dandelion» hairstyle and seven years of TV experience. I was not looking for a job. I was content working as a security guard at a construction site, always learning, taking free online training. But for some reason, all my supervisors kept asking: «Have you found something for yourself yet? Any interesting opportunities?» They would tell me I did not belong there and was meant for something greater.

Sestry found me. So, when I first went to the meeting, I decided, «All or nothing». It was not a typical interview. It was a meeting of people with similar values and a shared goal. We spoke different languages but understood each other instantly. The plans were ambitious and, at first glance, unrealistic. They needed a social media manager. The responsibility scared me, but I never say «I can't» until I try. Experience has shown that you can learn anything. At Sestry, I feel needed. I feel like I have room to grow. I love that I can combine all my accumulated experience here, that I can experiment. But most importantly, I no longer feel guilty. My country is at war. The enemy is not only on the frontlines. Russian propaganda has extended its tentacles far beyond its borders. By creating social media content, telling stories about Ukrainians on the frontlines to people in Poland, and showing Ukrainians that Poles «have not grown tired of the war», I am helping Ukraine hold its ground in the information space.

Beata Łyżwa-Sokół, photo editor

Many years ago, a photo editor colleague considered changing jobs and trying her luck abroad. However, one editor strongly advised her against it: «You will never be as recognised in a newsroom in New York or London as you are at home. You will never reach the same level of language proficiency as your native-speaking colleagues. At best, you will be an assistant to the head photo editor. In a foreign newsroom, you will always be a foreigner». She listened and stayed in the country, despite having studied English at university and being fluent enough that language would not have been a barrier. A few years later, she left the profession altogether, deciding that journalism no longer had a place for her - that it simply did not exist anymore.

Since then, the media landscape has changed drastically. Many believe that in the age of social media, journalism is no longer necessary. The world is evolving, and so are the media. However, I never stopped believing in its importance. I did not run away from journalism; instead, I sought a new place for myself. That is how I found Sestry, where I met editors and journalists who had come to Poland from war-torn Ukraine. After a year of working together, I know that we are very similar in many ways, but also differ in others. We listen to each other, argue, go to exhibitions together, and share a bottle of wine from time to time.

When I started working at Sestry, and we were discussing what kind of photographs should illustrate the site with our editor-in-chief, Mariya Gorska, I heard her say, «This is your garden». It was one of many fantastic phrases I heard during the months of working together - words that shaped our professional and personal relationships. In an era of fake news, bots and media crises, it was particularly important to me, as the photo editor of Sestry, to consider how we tell the story of what is happening in Ukraine through photography. I observe the media around the world, and thanks to the editors on our site, I notice that these images are often superficial, not based on direct testimony or experience, and rely on stereotypes.

For me, direct contact with Ukrainian journalists and editors is invaluable in my daily work. I am convinced that journalism projects based on such collaboration represent an opportunity for the media of the future. They are a guarantee of reliability and effectiveness in places where people’s lives are at stake, even in the most remote corners of the world.

In Kathryn Bigelow’s film «Zero Dark Thirty», there is a scene where the protagonist, a CIA agent responsible for capturing Osama bin Laden, faces a group of Navy SEALs participating in the operation. One of them, sceptical about the success of the mission (particularly because it is being led by a woman), asks his colleagues: «Why do you trust her? Why should I trust her?». Another replies: «Because she knows what she is doing». That is exactly how I feel working at Sestry. I work with editors and journalists from Ukraine who know what they are doing and why - and I feel incredibly comfortable because of that.

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.