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.