14 Kalinowice
Rita found a volunteer and talked to him. She asked where could we get on a bus, or call a cab, or something to get to the nearest town. She was speaking Ukrainian and the guy was speaking Polish, so with enough patience they understood each other.
I was just standing there, carrying a bag with both cats inside. I covered them with a towel that Kiril gave us. I was a little scared of looking in the carrier, ever since the morning that we put them together (so they could warm each other up) I didn’t hear a single meow, or felt a single movement. I think they were both too scared. A little bit like myself. And I was starting to wonder who could help us now.
The help came in the form of a short, assertive and loud Polish woman named Agata. She and her sister had driven to the border from the town of Kalinowice to help people. We happened to be standing there when she asked the volunteer guy if anyone needed help.
Agata took us to her car, loaded everything up and just started driving. For the full two hour drive I was in awe. How a complete stranger, in a place I’ve never been before, speaking a language that I couldn’t understand, was willing to take us not only to a place to spend the night, but to her home, without hesitation, without questions.
Another thing that impressed me was how fast she talked, and how loud her voice was. She would ask Rita something, then comment with her sister, then return to the conversation with Rita without missing a beat. To my ignorant ear they even sounded like they were speaking the same language. I felt like crying when I realized that she reminded me so much to my late aunt Graciela, who raised me. She felt so familiar in her mannerisms, and her voice, even though I couldn’t understand what she was saying.
“Zelenskyy! Ooohh co za prezydent!” Agata yelled while motioning with her right fist in the air.
It’s the one and only thing I understood.
Agata was the first person outside of Ukraine who showed us that she fully understood the gravity of the situation, and the grave danger that comes with it. Not only for Ukrainians, but for a lot of Europeans like herself and her family, living so close to the border.
We stopped by her sister’s house first, to warm up and drink tea. I took the opportunity to separate the cats again, to make them more comfortable now that they were not in the freezing cold. They both felt like exploring the house, but I didn’t let them out their carriers. After a few minutes, Agata told us it was time to go, we said bye to her sister and her sister’s family, and left.
During this second car ride I had many things in my head. I couldn’t help but to feel like, again, I was a burden for everyone around. That feeling of being an incompetent adult, carrying only the clothes I was wearing and one extra t shirt in the bag, and not speaking enough languages to get by. That feeling I came to realize, was not me being a burden, so much as me being a refugee.
Experiencing that specific kind of defenselessness, and the dark realization that there’s absolutely nothing you can do, is devastating. If a crazy person with enough power decides to start dropping bombs on you, you have only one option, to try to save yourself.
That night we slept in Kalinowice. It was quiet. The first quiet night since the war started. The first time that I knew we were safe, but I couldn’t let myself fully believe it.
I thought that for a while, the skies will no longer be blue, and the air won’t be fresh, the fields won’t be green and quiet. The news won’t be good for a long time. You have to accept all of that. With enough effort and luck, you can successfully remove yourself from the horror, even though the horror can’t be removed from you.