Sirens drown the silence of night and wail through the afternoon in many Ukrainian cities.On April 24, missile attacks slammed Kyiv, killing a dozen people and destroying an apartment building.”This is a rescue operation,” one firefighter said. “And it’s right next to a school.”Neighbors threw shrapnel from their roofs as reporters told their stories below. A silent question pleaded in the eyes of those at the scene: How many more broken windows? How many more flowers left at fresh-made memorials?”It could be my family. It could be your family,” said Don Hutchens, the former head of the Nebraska Corn Board who traveled to Ukraine in the spring. He was looking at a picture left in a blasted apartment. “It could be any family in Nebraska, in the United States. But it ends up being a Ukraine family. And they didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t deserve this.”Nearly 60 died in an Izyum apartment. Hutchens stepped through the ruins, now a haunting time capsule of life before the killing began.Those who survive those kinds of attacks, like Ruslan and his son Maxim, join the ranks of the millions of refugees and internally displaced people (IDPs).”I don’t have any possessions,” Ruslan said. “Everything was destroyed.”They both shared the story of when they lost their home.”We got up to go to the bathroom,” Maxim said. “And the rocket hit where we just were.””Our biological clock saved our lives,” Ruslan said.IDPs live out contradictions like everyone else in Ukraine. They’re surrounded by shopping malls, flea markets, restaurants and tourist-trapping caricature artists on one hand — and rubble and sullen monuments on the other.Children are especially primed for that dissonance. Military chaplain Gennadiy Mokhnenko has run a refuge for orphans and kids from broken homes for years. That started in Mariupol, which was pincered by Russian forces in their opening salvo.”Officer called and told me, you must evacuate your children’s home immediately,” Mokhnenko said. “And it was like competition between Russian tanks and my convoy with women and children.”Mokhnenko usually is on the front, brandishing a rifle and Bible at the same time. But this trip, he saunters up to his Carpathian Mountain refuge, Republik Pilgrim, set up as an escape for the kids.”I have a lot of nightmares,” 11-year-old Max, living at Republic Pilgrim, said. “A lot of them, constantly waking up in fear.”The compound has facilities to play, pray and learn remotely amidst the calm of forests and streams.”They taught me how to read, how to write, how to express myself,” 13-year-old Kyra said. “I was very shy. Now I’m completely different person.”A project closer to home also aims to help kids in Ukraine: the Child of Light orphanage, going up outside Kyiv. The group spearheading the effort held multiple fundraisers in Lincoln in April.”There’s a lot more kids who have become orphans,” Ewon Gusanu, one of the leaders of the project, said. “The need is there, and it’s bigger than ever. You know, we can’t wait for the work to stop to be able to do something.”Elena Chucha and her family have called Lincoln home for years. Now, they’re helping make a home for children who’ve fallen through the cracks of a system facing existential war. It’s better for the kids, Chucha said, to stay despite the danger so Ukraine can find its own horizon.”Any child is our future,” Chucha said. “And the way we will raise these kids, mentor these kids, these kids will be our future, the future of this country.”Child of Light is set to open in the fall.NAVIGATE: Home | Weather | Local News | National | Sports | Newscasts on demand |
Sirens drown the silence of night and wail through the afternoon in many Ukrainian cities.
On April 24, missile attacks slammed Kyiv, killing a dozen people and destroying an apartment building.
“This is a rescue operation,” one firefighter said. “And it’s right next to a school.”
Neighbors threw shrapnel from their roofs as reporters told their stories below. A silent question pleaded in the eyes of those at the scene: How many more broken windows? How many more flowers left at fresh-made memorials?
“It could be my family. It could be your family,” said Don Hutchens, the former head of the Nebraska Corn Board who traveled to Ukraine in the spring. He was looking at a picture left in a blasted apartment. “It could be any family in Nebraska, in the United States. But it ends up being a Ukraine family. And they didn’t do anything wrong. They didn’t deserve this.”
Nearly 60 died in an Izyum apartment. Hutchens stepped through the ruins, now a haunting time capsule of life before the killing began.
Those who survive those kinds of attacks, like Ruslan and his son Maxim, join the ranks of the millions of refugees and internally displaced people (IDPs).
“I don’t have any possessions,” Ruslan said. “Everything was destroyed.”
They both shared the story of when they lost their home.
“We got up to go to the bathroom,” Maxim said. “And the rocket hit where we just were.”
“Our biological clock saved our lives,” Ruslan said.
IDPs live out contradictions like everyone else in Ukraine. They’re surrounded by shopping malls, flea markets, restaurants and tourist-trapping caricature artists on one hand — and rubble and sullen monuments on the other.
Children are especially primed for that dissonance. Military chaplain Gennadiy Mokhnenko has run a refuge for orphans and kids from broken homes for years. That started in Mariupol, which was pincered by Russian forces in their opening salvo.
“Officer called and told me, you must evacuate your children’s home immediately,” Mokhnenko said. “And it was like competition between Russian tanks and my convoy with women and children.”
Mokhnenko usually is on the front, brandishing a rifle and Bible at the same time. But this trip, he saunters up to his Carpathian Mountain refuge, Republik Pilgrim, set up as an escape for the kids.
“I have a lot of nightmares,” 11-year-old Max, living at Republic Pilgrim, said. “A lot of them, constantly waking up in fear.”
The compound has facilities to play, pray and learn remotely amidst the calm of forests and streams.
“They taught me how to read, how to write, how to express myself,” 13-year-old Kyra said. “I was very shy. Now I’m completely different person.”
A project closer to home also aims to help kids in Ukraine: the Child of Light orphanage, going up outside Kyiv. The group spearheading the effort held multiple fundraisers in Lincoln in April.
“There’s a lot more kids who have become orphans,” Ewon Gusanu, one of the leaders of the project, said. “The need is there, and it’s bigger than ever. You know, we can’t wait for the work to stop to be able to do something.”
Elena Chucha and her family have called Lincoln home for years. Now, they’re helping make a home for children who’ve fallen through the cracks of a system facing existential war. It’s better for the kids, Chucha said, to stay despite the danger so Ukraine can find its own horizon.
“Any child is our future,” Chucha said. “And the way we will raise these kids, mentor these kids, these kids will be our future, the future of this country.”
Child of Light is set to open in the fall.
NAVIGATE: Home | Weather | Local News | National | Sports | Newscasts on demand |