MARCH 31 • 2022 | 13

Editor’s Note: Carole Rosenblat is an American journalist
living in Budapest. She headed to the Polish border with
Ukraine on a humanitarian mission and found herself wit-
ness to a mass exodus from a brutal war. Here is her witness
testimony and stories of the people who fled.
A

nna Yemchenko sits next to 4-year-old
Yeva at a picnic table under the perpetu-
ally gray, early March skies of Hrebenne,
Poland. Smoke from flaming logs on
the ground and in cans lit to warm cold
hands of refugees and aid workers fills
the air. Until the war began, they lived in
a two-bedroom apartment she owned in
Kyiv. Her daughter’s father, her parents, brother and his
family, and other relatives are still in Ukraine, with most
living in the cities of Enerhodar, Zaporizhia. The name
of the city literally means “energy gift” and
is named such as the city is the base of a
nuclear power plant.
Anatevka, Anatevka
Underfed, overworked Anatevka.
Where else could Sabbath be so sweet?
As we talk, she takes breaks to calm her
daughter’s cries and hold back her own.
Yeva is overtired and over-stimulated.
Anna pulls a laptop from her bag and opens a cartoon
stored on it as an aid worker brings bowls of soup.
“What have you told her?” I ask. It’s a question I’ll ask
many moms over the next few days. “I told her we’re
going on a trip.
”
How does one decide what to take when they don’t
know if they’ll return?
“Warm clothing, some hygiene items. I took a lot of
things for her and less for me, all the paperwork for
everything, food, a blanket and that’s it.
”
Anna’s parents are originally from Russia but found
themselves working at the plant in Ukraine when the
USSR still ruled. The communist government told them
they needed to move there and work at the plant, so
they did. That’s how communism works.
“Why did they stay when the fighting began?” I ask.
“When we were discussing the plan in case something
happened, they said they were not going to leave anyway
because all their life they lived there. Also, to understand
fully, it’s that a nuclear power station is not a place to
play with weapons. They knew that, for the citizens of
the town, nothing’s basically going to change because
nuclear power stations demand people to work for it to
sustain it. It would be really stupid to bomb the town
where the station is, so their life is definitely going to
change if the [government] powers change, but they’re

not going to leave because it’s just too [incomprehensi-
ble] for them to leave.
”
After a couple of hours, Anna’s arranged ride can’t
seem to find his way to this border encampment. He’s
a friend of a friend whom she’s never met. I arrange for
him to find a business to park at and send me the name.
Within a few minutes, we’ve loaded Anna and Yeva into
my rental car and driven five minutes to a convenience
store with a parking lot that looks like rush hour on
I-696. Dozens of cars wait to meet evacuees that they

THIS PAGE: (ABOVE)
Signs dot Warsaw call-
ing for an end to the
war. (LEFT) Flags and
other signs of support
are on display across
Europe.
FACING PAGE: A
woman sits at the bor-
der refugee area with
possessions she was
able to gather before
leaving Ukraine.

continued on page 14

Carole
Rosenblat

On the ground with
Ukrainian refugees
fleeing into Poland.