ON THE COVER

“WE EACH CARRIED ONLY ONE 
BAG PER FAMILY. NOTHING 
MATERIALISTIC MATTERED. 

WE SIMPLY HAD TO LEAVE.”

— IANA SYROTNIKOVA

continued from page 13

14 | JUNE 2 • 2022 

windows, and damaged the gas 
pipeline.
Six cars parked outside the 
building burned down, includ-
ing ours. Our possessions were 
lost. We ran outside and saw 
a mess of debris — broken 
windows, dents from fences 
that flew into the air. Yet some-
how, everyone who lived in 
our building was alive. In this 
moment, we learned a valuable 
lesson: to forget about material 
things and appreciate every 
survivor. That day, many people 
died in other places that were 
bombed, including 28 people 
trapped in the rubble of our 
regional administration.
The hell that had become 
Kharkiv was no longer just 
audible; it was visible.
As the day went on, more 
than 10 rockets flew over our 
home. We spent the remainder 
of the day and the following 
night in the basement of our 
building. For the first time, I 
truly encountered the kindness 
of strangers — neighbors with 
whom we had only said hello 
offering us a place to sit, which 
we returned the kindness of by 
offering them food.
In the basement, we didn’t 
have the ability to go outside, 
use the restroom or contact rel-
atives. We each wore two jack-
ets, gloves, a hat and a hood. 
The night seemed endless, 
and the bombing didn’t stop. 
To this day, I remember the 
sounds and shaking walls. We 
were afraid the basement wasn’t 
safe enough, calculating by the 
sounds of the bombings which 
side of the basement the rockets 
could potentially strike next.
My husband didn’t close his 
eyes even once, keeping our cat 
Lady in his arms all night. We 
didn’t have a carrier, and she 
was nervous from the sounds 
of the bombing. The next day, 

we learned that almost all resi-
dential buildings around us and 
a school where students lived 
and studied were destroyed. 
Our home was no longer our 
fortress.

LEARNING TO SURVIVE
We had to make an urgent deci-
sion. Many Kharkiv residents, 
including my friends, were leav-
ing the city. There were massive 
lines and traffic jams. Our lives 
were now at risk. The problem 
was, we have a large family and 
there was no longer working 
phone service. Miraculously, 
with the help of neighbors, we 
managed to contact my parents. 
Together, we spent many hours 
making the most terrible deci-
sion of our lives.
However, the decision wasn’t 
unanimous. My husband’s 
parents refused to leave. When 
we said goodbye to them and 
hugged them, I was afraid we’
d 
never see each other again. 
Because our car burned down, 
they gave us theirs, leaving 
them nothing to drive away 
with, if needed. With my 
husband and our cat, we left. 
From the other end of the city, 
my parents, brother’s family 
and four more families of our 
friends also left. We each car-
ried only one bag per family. 
Nothing materialistic mattered. 
We simply had to leave.
For the first time since the 
start of the war, I left my home. 
And for the first time in my 
life, I saw completely destroyed 
houses, checkpoints, a large 
number of people in uniform 
with machine guns, trenches, 
barbed obstacles and signs to 
watch out for mines. It felt like 
a movie, but it was real and 
terrifying. Until we left the 
Kharkiv region, we continued 
to hear planes and explosions. 
I wondered if we would die on 

TOP: En route from 
Kharkiv to Dnipro.
LEFT: Family 
history book from 
Israel project.