Some events in David's life

Elena held an ECG course at Visby Hospital on Thursday and Friday, and I joined as a test subject. However, I didn't have to be there the whole time, so I took a walk in the forest and found an abandoned house – which was locked – but had an open window. And if there's a ladder under the window...

In addition, we went on some excursions, did orienteering in a beautiful Gotlandic forest, and participated in a photo quiz in Visby. You had to go to a location on the map and then match the correct photo taken at that spot. While walking through Visby's many alleys, Elena took pictures of beautiful doors.

Once a month, the UN Association in Kristianstad holds a demonstration with the motto "Russia out of Ukraine." This Saturday, I was one of the speakers and shared my encounter with the Ukrainian girls. To the Swedish audience, I focused on how the situation in Ukraine is moving towards improvement. To the Ukrainian audience, I emphasized that all corruption must be fought – both at the highest and lowest levels.

Last Friday evening, I returned home after an 18-hour train ride, 20 hours by bus, 3 hours by boat, and 5 hours of transfer time. Elena and Sonia welcomed me with spaghetti and meat sauce, as well as chocolate ball dough.

My relatives gathered 1,260 EUR (1,370 USD) before I left, of which 550 EUR (600 USD) went to Operation Change, 230 EUR (250 USD) to the girls at the nursing home, and the remaining 480 EUR (520 USD) to Jonas M's front-line deliveries.

I've been reflecting on what I took away from Ukraine. One thing is that Ukrainians are generally very kind. Take traffic, for example: it's much more intense than in Sweden. Higher speeds, smaller margins, more people taking liberties. But almost no one honks or gives the finger. They use both the brake and the steering wheel and adapt to what others are doing. As a non-Ukrainian speaker or Russian speaker, it's often difficult to make oneself understood, but Ukrainians are patient and often quick to pull out their phones to translate.

The second thing I take with me is their sorrow and, although they hide it well, also their sense of injustice. They didn't ask for this war; they just want to live in freedom and build a better country for themselves and their children. They understand that it is their problem that Russia has attacked them. They are incredibly grateful for the help they receive from other countries. But when I dug deeper, especially the women said: "Why must my husband, my son, my brother die?" Their rational understanding of the conflict clashes with their emotions. Moreover, they realize that even though they are tired of the war, they have no choice. They wish there could be a peace agreement, but will the Western world really protect them when Russia has regained its strength? Maybe they are forced to fight until they win the war? It's very similar to the situation during World War II. How many people today think that Britain should have sought a peace agreement after Hitler had conquered most of mainland Europe? How many think that the U.S. should have given up Hawaii and other Pacific islands to appease Japan?

I received some pictures. The first two are from the military facility where we delivered stoves and pallets. The third picture is from the girls at the nursing home. When refugees came from the east, they needed an immediate place to stay, so they moved into the abandoned student dormitory. At night, the refugees slept in the rooms, and during the day, the furniture was moved out or pushed together so the girls could renovate. They continued like this for months until all the rooms were somewhat renovated.

Yesterday, we received a very exciting assignment. We were to drive to a military facility and deliver stoves and pallets. The EU pallets are used for various purposes, including as flooring in tents and bunkers, with carpets laid over them. We drove through a training area with burning tires, trenches, obstacle courses, an area for urban combat training, and much more. Everywhere, there were soldiers training and the sound of gunfire echoed. We passed by a group that might have been returning to their tents after training. They looked tired and determined. Some of them were women. Further ahead, we reached the area where they live. It almost looked like an Eastern European campsite—tents with cars parked wherever possible, clothes hanging to dry, and some tables and chairs. We continued driving and passed an area likely used to acclimate soldiers to fighting with or against tanks. However, this area had sandy soil, so it did not look as dreadful as Donbas.

Soldiers helped us unload, making the process incredibly fast. Then, I told the major how fascinating it was to see this area and managed to get myself a little extra tour. The military had actually ordered us to leave as quickly as possible since they had been bombed the day before and feared a follow-up attack. We got a look inside a bunker, a logistics tent, and a tent where the staff managed their planning—almost like an office.

Today was the best day of the entire trip. I had previously been assigned the task of arranging a delivery to the women who had set up a retirement home. Since I am not only here to deliver supplies but also to learn more about life here—and life during wartime—I sent strong signals that the women picked up on. So, we started by attending a concert for the elderly, and I could imagine that it was a type of performance that might have taken place in a Soviet-era community center. Then, we participated in the food distribution. The food is delivered warm by World Central Kitchen, a nonprofit organization. Today, it was a type of large meatball made with ground meat, eggs, and rice, served with boiled buckwheat and a banana for dessert. There were some portions left over. My colleague did not want to take food from the refugees, but I was eager to taste it, and it was undoubtedly delicious. Some vegetables would have been nice, but the residents keep their own food supplies in their rooms to supplement the meals.

Then it was time to leave. My colleague is usually the talkative one, but now I was the one chatting away while he made several attempts to stand up from his chair. Eventually, my delaying tactics worked. A 93-year-old woman had fallen a week ago and fractured her arm. After the hospital visit, it was determined that she needed more care, so she was moved to a private care facility costing 2200 SEK per month. The average pension is 1500 SEK. However, she was unhappy in the new home and wanted to return to the women, and we were asked if we wanted to come along. I said YES. My colleague said NO. Since I had mentally prepared for this, I quickly suggested that my colleague take the car to the warehouse while I stayed behind.

The private care facility was in a nice, modern house with high fences surrounding it. To enter or exit through the gate, someone had to press a button at the reception. There was a beautiful garden with three cats. The reception was tiled, with a fine visitor’s sofa. But then, the conditions changed rapidly. The elderly lay in both rooms and corridors, with minimal space for personal belongings. The 93-year-old was impressively alert for her age and was annoyed by the mentally ill patients pacing back and forth or making various noises. However, the women’s retirement home lacked the resources to care for a 93-year-old woman with a broken arm. This issue was solved when the women arranged for a caregiver who, for 1500 SEK per month, would help her with hygiene, grocery shopping, and similar needs. So overall, she was moving to a better place for a lower cost. Rent at the women’s home is 40 SEK (which goes to the house owner), and beyond that, she only needed money for medicine, breakfast, and supplements for the provided lunch and dinner.

I spent seven hours with the women, and we delved deep into their lives, opinions, and assessments of Ukraine. I had mostly spoken with men aged 50–60 before, which had given me a rather bleak impression. But now, the age range was 22–38, and they saw gradual improvements. They told me that everyday corruption had significantly decreased. The most common examples of everyday corruption used to be bribing the police when caught speeding and giving money under the table to hospital doctors. But none of them had paid bribes for at least the past five years. If they received fines or other penalties, they had to be paid at the bank. Bribing the police was something they wouldn’t dare try—it was illegal, and there was a risk that the situation could become even worse. They also mentioned that their parents were used to giving money under the table, but now they sometimes faced the embarrassment of having their bribes refused.

Schools are improving. Children with different needs (ADHD, autism) are integrated into regular classrooms as much as possible. Children are generally not afraid of their teachers and could cooperate with them in a Western manner. Some old-fashioned authoritarian teachers remained, but a sort of compromise existed—these teachers knew about modern educational approaches, and parents taught their children that they would encounter such people in life and must find ways to work with them.

The people I spoke with belonged to Ukraine’s middle class in a major city, and while change varied in speed, they believed progress was happening in the villages as well. Some of them had grown up in smaller communities. In the cities, at least, there are extracurricular activities for children. The problem was that these usually cost money, which excluded the poor. All of them viewed Zelenskyy very positively and were annoyed by those who complained about everything he hadn’t done. They felt that people didn’t understand that Zelenskyy couldn’t decide everything on his own—there was a large number of "old political elites" obstructing progress. However, they did not want Zelenskyy to have more power. They did not want a “Putin” in Ukraine who could do whatever he wanted.

One concern was taxes. Roads and buildings are often in poor condition. One had to be insightful and a certain type of person to see the improvements and understand that change takes time—especially when so much money had to be spent on the war. They also felt it was unfair that low-wage earners making the minimum salary of 1800–2500 SEK per month still had to pay 30% in taxes. In general, the willingness to pay taxes was very low, and many tried to avoid it.

We had a long and interesting discussion about gender equality. It started when a delivery of furniture arrived, and the girls immediately stepped aside while several men, including myself, carried everything inside. "Of course, we could carry things – but we have men for that," was their response when I commented on how different this was from Sweden. It was fascinating to hear young women reason so differently than Swedes.

I occasionally asked slightly provocative questions to see if they truly believed what they were saying. In summary, both men and women should help at home, but with different tasks. Some things are done by men, others by women. And they were completely fine with the fact that, as women, they would have less "free time" than men—because men are expected to bring in more money for the household.

When I explained how things work in Sweden, they could see some advantages but considered them low-priority issues. The only aspect they found interesting to adopt was the Swedish approach that both boys and girls should learn the same basic life skills—how to cook, do laundry, do carpentry, sew, and so on.

In the evening, I rejoined my colleagues for a farewell dinner. Before the westbound train departed, I went into a store to buy some food for the journey. There, I was confronted by a military man in his 50s or 60s who, speaking 99% Ukrainian, talked to me for at least five minutes. He was so grateful for the foreign aid and for my presence that tears began to flow. From what I understood, he had fought in Donbas for three months, often without food or water. He had just arrived by train for a few days of leave. He was generally optimistic but carried visible sorrow and pain. When he mentioned Trump, I saw anger. I think he was trying to say that people are dying for freedom and democracy and that Trump had blood on his hands. There were many firm handshakes and hugs. It was the most overwhelming experience I’ve had hera, and it felt almost wrong to board a train away from the battle that will determine what kind of future my daughter Sonia will have.

First, we took a trip to the city of Zaporizhzhia. In Sweden, the Zaporizhzhia nuclear power plant is the most well-known, and it is occupied by Russia, but the city itself remains Ukrainian. We made a quick delivery of fire extinguishers before heading back to Dnipro, where we revisited the basement women who weave camouflage nets. After unloading, we were invited for a coffee break, and through an interpreter, I had the opportunity to speak with some of the women about their experiences. One of them had lived under occupation, and her strategy was to remain as invisible as possible. The Russians were primarily looking for men who could be forcibly recruited or suspected of sympathizing with Ukraine. As an older woman, she was left alone.

Eventually, it became unbearable to stay, and they used a humanitarian corridor to reach Ukrainian-controlled territory. The journey was 180 kilometers and took six days to complete. There were countless checkpoints and interrogations by Russian soldiers. The children slept in the car, while the adults lay directly on the asphalt. Stray dogs roamed around them, searching for scraps of food. She has now been living in Dnipro for two years. Her grandchildren have adapted and live relatively carefree, but she still cries almost daily over her lost home.

Two other women lived downstream from the dam that the Russians blew up. One of them was lucky and lived on a hill, so she was "only" surrounded by water. This allowed her to evacuate in a more controlled manner, bringing along two cocker spaniels and a bag of photographs. However, she had to leave behind another dog and two parrots. Many people managed to flee, while the elderly who couldn’t escape perished in silence. But the haunting sounds of dogs, cows, horses, and other animals left behind to drown still torment her. Another woman lived on lower ground, and for her family, there was no choice but to flee as quickly as possible, taking little more than the clothes on their backs.

It was difficult to ask them to share their experiences. Their pain was evident, but I wanted to hear their stories so I could pass them on to you. I tried to be considerate and end by asking how their children and grandchildren are living now, so they had something more positive to talk about. They all emphasized how important the sense of community in the basement was. Producing these nets, sleeping bags, mattresses, gloves, and more is not just a way to help Ukraine but also a form of therapy that helps them endure their situation.

When we returned to the base, the air defense system activated, and we could see tracer rounds in the sky. Whether they managed to shoot down the drone, I do not know. I neither saw nor heard any explosion.

I saw that the attack on Dobropillya made it into the news back home in Sweden. Russia carried out a so-called double tap—two ballistic missiles hitting the same location half an hour apart, targeting both the initial site and the rescue personnel who had gathered. About ten hours earlier, we were 400 meters from the impact site, delivering supplies.

We didn’t stay long at the base. Yesterday, a smaller truck was loaded with 100 fire extinguishers and two hospital beds, and two of us headed north for a delivery to Sumy. The truck was sluggish, and the check engine light was blinking, but since it’s an old vehicle with 350,000 kilometers on it, we kept pushing forward. Near Kharkiv, we took the left turn, and a few kilometers before Okhtyrka — 30 km from the Russian border — the truck started acting up. I spotted a bus stop where I wanted to pull over, and just before reaching it, the truck died, rolling the last few meters.

At first, I felt a bit lost. What do you do when your vehicle breaks down in the Ukrainian countryside? We sent an emergency message to Operation Change, and soon, three Swedes and three Ukrainians were working remotely on a solution. After a while, two Ukrainians showed up and started troubleshooting. Two became three, and three became four, but after a few hours, it was clear that the truck needed to be towed. It turned into a calm day in beautiful sunshine, and we spent the night at a hotel. This morning, we took a bus back to Dnipro. The truck will stay for repairs, and the delivery will be completed later.

After an afternoon at the warehouse, we are now back at the base. The time is 10:20 PM, and the air defense is firing its automatic cannons. Apparently, drones are approaching or flying overhead.

Two days ago, we once again headed east with two overnight stays in Sloviansk. We delivered supplies to eight locations. Fire extinguishers and adult diapers are things we frequently distribute. In this shipment, we also had a lot of dog food with us. A new experience was when a pastor guided us to a village where we handed out shoes, clothes, warming candles, and incontinence pads. We drove into the village where many people were waiting—and then we got stuck in the Ukrainian mud. Oh well, I thought, we’ll just have to stay here and distribute. But we weren’t allowed to start until the pastor had given his sermon and handed out bread. The idea was that we would unpack our boxes in the meantime. But quite a few people weren’t interested in the pastor or his bread—they just wanted to see what we had brought. It felt humiliating to have to keep people away from our boxes, but we couldn’t let them start taking things either. That would have been unfair, and in the worst case, it could have led to fights.

When we finally opened the doors, there was a scramble to find the best items. But despite that, the atmosphere was pleasant, and the people were very grateful. I think the biggest impact of distributing supplies in the villages is showing people that they are not forgotten. These are people who have stayed in their homes and still have their belongings, unlike those who have fled or been evacuated and lost almost everything.

Then it was time to try to get out of there, and one of the villagers brought his small tractor. But we were on a slope, and he insisted on pulling us upward, while we wanted to be pulled downward. At one point, we had a tow rope attached to a tractor in the front and another tow rope attached to a group of cheerful old men in the back. Luckily, we managed to make the tractor driver realize that it would be embarrassing if there was a tug-of-war between him and the men—and that he would lose. So he joined the "pulling backward" team and got us back onto the road.

At another location, we delivered toys, wheelchairs, and fire extinguishers and got help from a great young guy. It was perfect because he could move around among the boxes and crates much more easily than we could. I was impressed by his strength since the fire extinguishers are quite heavy. But the feeling of helping out among adults probably gave him an extra boost of strength.

In the evening, drones struck the city, but at such a distance that we didn’t hear anything while sitting indoors. However, the man we stayed with was outside smoking and saw two fireballs rise into the sky.

One sad thing I reflected on was that the cities in Ukraine, especially those in the east, are run-down. That makes it hard to really see the effects of the bombings. Here and there, there are collapsed houses, but unless they were hit directly in the middle, leaving an obvious unnatural hole, the damage could just as easily be the result of neglect. Surrounding buildings were likely damaged by the explosions as well, but it’s difficult to tell. I truly hope that Ukraine will be able to get its democracy, corruption issues, and the country as a whole in order so that it can go through the same transformation that Poland and several other Eastern European countries have experienced.

Today, I am so tired that I can barely remember what I did. But according to the photos, we loaded the car and delivered the supplies somewhere in Dnipro. What I do remember well, however, is a visit to an organization we were interviewing to determine if it is a legitimate entity that Operation Change should support. Three young women (20-25 years old) welcomed us and showed us a four-story nursing home they had set up six months ago when 140 elderly people had to be evacuated from villages in the Donbas region. A group of about ten friends had heard about the need and found an old student dormitory as a solution. Now, these ten friends run the nursing home around the clock entirely as volunteers.

I don't understand how they have managed to accomplish so much in such a short time, but they have secured assistance for new windows, room furnishings, rewired electricity, and renovated plumbing. The students' shower was in the basement, which does not work for elderly people in a building without an elevator. Instead, they have managed to install a shower cabin on each floor. However, even though this is a major improvement, nearly 40 people share each shower.

Each room houses four elderly residents, and while the heating is acceptable, moisture seeps in, so black mold is visible on the walls in almost every room, and there is no ventilation. Since the building lacks an elevator, most residents are confined to their floor. The women’s wish list includes refrigerators. The elderly receive meals served in their rooms twice a day, but any additional food—or leftovers they save—is kept in a bag next to their beds. The women worry about what will happen in the summer when it gets hot in the rooms and the food risks spoiling without the elderly noticing.

Poor girls. What an enormous task they have taken on and what tremendous challenges they are facing. One thing Operation Change can help them with in the near future is bedding. Currently, there are only as many sets of bedding as there are beds, which makes changing them complicated.

Full-day trip to a village southeast of Kharkiv, where we delivered hand sanitizer and stoves to a wonderful group of elderly ladies. A Ukrainian version of a sewing circle - except instead of preparing for a Christmas market, they are making supplies for the war. Their men came to unload the truck. They were a fun bunch as well — lots of instructions flying back and forth, with more focus on brute strength than strategy.

The ladies also take care of two bomb shelters, one of which was used as a torture chamber by the Russians during the occupation of the village. Now, it is once again a shelter, but they are trying to preserve the traces of torture as evidence for future generations.

Once the unloading was done, they treated us to a three-course meal with soup, chicken, and blueberry pie. They were such lovely women, and honestly, I would have loved to stay there for several days. But they were also worried. They spoke about soldiers who hadn’t been able to change their socks for 50 days because they were stuck at the front. They are anxious about what will happen now that Trump has become friends with Putin, but at the same time, they know giving up is not an option—it would only make things worse. They are deeply grateful for the support from Sweden and other countries, even though, in reality, we should be the ones thanking them—for taking on the fight against Russia so that we don’t have to.

Mostly warehouse work today, but we also made a delivery of nearly 100 stoves, which are welded together in Sweden and then sent to Ukraine. These are then distributed to soldiers at the front.

When we are not working, we stay in a house with a kitchen, a bathroom, and a living room on the ground floor. In the living room, our leaders have combined an office and a bedroom. Upstairs, the volunteers sleep on mattresses on the floor. It is simple accommodation—relatively fresh furniture but often a bit broken. The house was probably built by enthusiastic amateurs and will likely develop mold problems if it hasn’t already. The windowsills have peeled because condensation runs down from the windows. I’m just glad I don’t own it.

The location of the accommodation and warehouse is secret, and we turn off the GPS on our phones when approaching. Every morning, we check to ensure the vehicles haven’t been mined or tampered with. Each person always carries a first aid kit with supplies optimized for self-bandaging in case of an emergency. We have also trained to bandage ourselves using only one hand. We have protective vests and helmets as well, but we only wear them in dangerous areas. Otherwise, we just bring them in the vehicles.

Yesterday was a full day at the warehouse. Today, we first visited a basement where women produce camouflage nets, mattresses, and pillows for soldiers at the front. One might think it would be more efficient to buy these in a store and send them to the front, but the mattresses and pillows are specially designed to withstand frontline conditions and be easy to carry. Additionally, making them serves as a form of therapy to cope with the anxiety of war.

Next, we delivered stoves to a group that supports the military with supplies. They treated us to coffee and showed us a small exhibition of items they had received from the brigades they supply. Among the exhibits were parts of a Shahed drone, some things the Russians had left behind, and many paintings created by soldiers as part of their rest and recovery at the rear lines of the front.

Before coming to Ukraine, my relatives collected money and entrusted me to put it to good use here. Operation Change collaborates with many Ukrainian partners, one of whom is a builder who repairs bomb-damaged houses so people can continue living in them. He had come across a youth center that had been damaged in an attack. Since only the rooms with intact walls and roofs could still be used, he wished for help to restore the center. Because Operation Change ensures that funds are used correctly, I contributed 4,000 SEK to support the repairs.

Driving east from Dnipro means getting closer to the front line. There are many military vehicles in traffic, and the number of checkpoints increases, but the atmosphere is friendly when we are inspected. I thought the effects of the war would be more visible, but relatively few houses have been hit by bombs this distance from the front. The most apparent scars are windows replaced with plywood, trenches, and tank barriers.

We stayed overnight with a man to whom we delivered batteries. He and his comrades dismantle various batteries, such as those from power drills, and repurpose them into batteries for drones, which they then give to the military. He lives near Sloviansk, an area that was taken over by separatists in 2014 before Ukraine reclaimed it a few months later.

In the morning, we unloaded a ton of hand sanitizer for a woman who then distributes it to the military. While we were there, a bomb struck about a kilometer away. A little later, we were in another church when another bomb hit. This time, we could slightly feel the windows vibrate. As we sat documenting our work, the pastor suddenly paused for a moment and then told us that his friend had been confirmed dead in the first bombing we had heard.

The pastor was scarred by the war. He said he was bitter about what had been inflicted upon them but did not hate the Russians. He saw Russia as an imperialist empire with many different parts, where the only unifying force is military power. He said that as a believer, he was certain that this is the world coming to its end and that he was focused on preparing for his journey to heaven.

On the way home, we passed the checkpoints again. After showing our empty cargo space, I sat on the truck's loading ramp, enjoying the beautiful sunshine while the soldier interviewed me about where we had been, what we had done, who we had met, etc. Some questions were difficult for me to answer, and I offered to retrieve the documents, but that was not necessary. He noted the answers I could provide on his phone and carefully asked if he could take photos of our passports. It was a strange experience that the man with a machine gun across his chest acted as if I was the one holding all the power.

On Monday, a truck arrived from Sweden, which took a few hours to unload. There were clothes, toys, stoves, medical supplies, hand sanitizer, adult diapers, and much more. Hand sanitizer is used in the trenches as fuel for light and warmth. It is evident that women buy far more clothes than men, as significantly more women’s clothing is donated compared to men's. However, we had to take a short break when TV4 conducted a video interview with Bernard, one of the supervisors down here. Once everything was unloaded, we brought forward one of our trucks and loaded it full of supplies destined for Zaporizhzhia. Two others and I ended the day by starting a drive westward.

On Tuesday morning, we reached a city south of Kyiv. There, we received two trucks carrying fishing nets, which were unloaded and handed over to the military. The fishing nets are used for protection against drones.

Today, the truck was packed again, along with a smaller truck. Before the trucks were sent off, we recorded short videos where we explained where we were going and what the truck was loaded with. This is important for generating publicity, which in turn can lead to donations. Mats and I drove the smaller truck eastward to Kramatorsk, where in the evening we reached a church where part of the load was unloaded. The church supervisor kept asking, "Is this also for us?" and eventually became teary-eyed over everything we unloaded. He told us about the internally displaced people who had fled to Kramatorsk from cities further east and whom they were now helping.

I am here assisting Operation Change, a Swedish organization that started with just a few passionate individuals and has since grown to around 120 volunteers. Much of the work is done in Sweden, collecting, packing, and shipping supplies. The efficiency of Operation Change is impressive. Initially, I thought we would be delivering supplies directly to villages, hospitals, orphanages, etc. While this was common in the beginning, they have since built many contacts and now mostly deliver larger loads to individuals who then handle further distribution. Bernard and Jennifer are the "managers" on site, and I am deeply impressed by how they keep track of everything in the warehouse, instruct us on what needs to be done each day, and coordinate with the Ukrainians on what they want delivered in three days. Everything must also be documented. The Ukrainian customs office registers all incoming supplies. Operation Change then has to report where the materials go. That’s why we carry paperwork for each recipient that must be stamped and signed. It is a time-consuming process, but it prevents corruption, and Operation Change has a strict rule that everything must be traceable. Additionally, we take photos of the recipients along with the supplies they receive.

The journey began yesterday with a flight to Rzeszow via Warsaw. Already in Rzeszow, the war made its presence felt, as this is the airport that receives a lot of military equipment destined for Ukraine. Around the airport, anti-aircraft defenses are deployed, and trenches have been built.

Time was a bit tight, so I took a taxi to Przemysl, where I met my fellow volunteer. The station in Przemysl is divided into two parts. One side faces west and has the Western track gauge. The other side faces east and has the broader Eastern track gauge, and to get there, one must pass through passport control.

We settled into sleeper cabins with four beds and got to know a father and his two 15-year-old twin sons. Denis was very happy to speak English. They are Ukrainians but had already been living in Poland before the war. The father and one of the sons happened to be in Ukraine when the war broke out, and instead of being able to board a plane, the father had to drive his son to the border. He himself stayed behind.

The things the father told us were horrific and emotional, and tears came often. In the beginning, they barely had any weapons and were sometimes only armed with knives. One of his worst experiences was helping evacuate children from Mariupol—children who, despite starving, were so traumatized that they didn’t react when given a piece of bread to eat.

He spoke about when he was a sniper and ended up in a situation with Russians both in front and behind him. Wounded, he had to crawl back to safety. After six months of service, he was injured and had to leave the army. Paradoxically, it was a fellow Ukrainian who injured him. They were working on a trench when a soldier fell and landed on his leg so badly that he can no longer serve. The fortunate thing for him is that he still has all his limbs and is relatively mobile. However, the psychological scars are far greater and torment him day and night. Now, they were on their way to Zaporizhzhia, where his mother had been hospitalized.

After a night on the train, we arrived in Dnipro around lunchtime, where we were picked up by the two Swedes who have been here almost permanently since the full-scale invasion began. Within an hour, we were sent on our first task: dropping off a truck at the repair shop and picking up the one that had been fixed.

Otherwise, today has mostly been about information and training. GPS must be turned off when we are at the warehouse, accommodations, or recipients. Vehicles must be parked optimally for evacuation. Photos must not be taken in a way that reveals our location or where we are delivering aid. Yes, there is a lot to learn. Tomorrow, there will be more training and work at the warehouse in preparation for an incoming truck with supplies from Sweden.

For those who don’t know, my employer and I reached an agreement in December that I am "released from work due to lack of work" and will receive a salary for X months before leaving the company. It’s a solution I’m very satisfied with, and I’ve had no trouble keeping myself busy. In fact, this last week has even been quite stressful. Today, I produced 530 promotional mailings for Elena’s company, EKG-expert, under the shining February sun.

My mother’s cousin, Dag, had a lot of Super 8 films that his father, Valfrid, had filmed during the 60s, 70s, and 80s. This fall, we had them digitized, and today we held a screening for the family. Elena prepared the food, with a common theme of Ukraine. She cooked some dishes herself, while Ukrainian refugees provided the rest. Dag planned which films we would watch and acted as a commentator. I took care of the technical setup.

There were 31 of us who got to enjoy rolling wheat fields, tractors, garage relocations, but also girls in miniskirts, weddings, and the family's biggest bow tie. Even though we spent the entire afternoon on this, there are still a few hours of film left to watch, and I realize that I want to watch all of them together with Dag, as his storytelling about what we see on screen is at least half the fun. And today’s screening made it even better, as so many others could contribute their own insights.