March 28, 2022

 

The Przemysl Refugee Center

 

 

Przemysl is a Polish city of 60,000 residents approximately ten miles from the border of Ukraine, where over 500,000 refugees have passed through on their way to other parts of Europe. The city has converted an abandoned shopping mall into the Humanitarian Aid Centre, also known as the Przemysl Refugee Center. This is where I reported for duty on my first day of volunteering.

 

All cameras and other recording devices are strictly forbidden inside the building, so I am unable to show you what I encountered.  Here is a rough map of the center and its layout and services. 

 

 

Imagine a medium-sized shopping mall with empty spaces where the stores once used to be.  However, those spaces are now all occupied by various humanitarian aid agencies dispensing information, services, clothing, toys, medicine, SIM cards, etc.  Hot meals are continually served by the World Central Kitchen.

 

The center is teeming with refugees, all trying to figure out the next steps in their journey. I see on the faces of the adults a mixture of weariness, anxiety, sadness, hope, and gratitude.  I don’t see very many smiles.  The children, on the other hand, appear resilient and do what all children do—play. I must watch where I’m walking as children zip around on their scooters. The halls are filled with the sounds of children laughing, crying, dancing, and generally trying to occupy themselves to forget what they have experienced.

 

Type of Wood Charities

 

I am volunteering with a small group associated with the Mormon church called Type of Wood Charities.  Their primary purpose in Poland is to provide shuttle service for the refugees in vans and cars from the border towns to other parts of Poland. They also provide new suitcases at the border to the many Ukrainians who are traveling with all their earthly possessions in plastic bags.

 

One day before leaving the US I started a GoFundMe campaign to raise funds for Type of Wood Charities, announcing that every cent donated would go directly to provide services and goods to the refugees.  Family, friends and strangers donated $3,000 in 24 hours and the total is up to $10,000 in four days!  If you want to be a part of this campaign, go to https://gofund.me/024c1b07.

 

I connected with several of the volunteers from the group and we headed up to the border at Korczowa. Peter and Lee are Canadians and are godsends as they speak Ukrainian! We found a mother, daughter and baby boy who needed a ride to Lublin, a 3-hour drive north. I volunteered to take them in my rented SUV while the others looked to fill up their vans with those wanting to go to Krakow.

 

My First Shuttle

 

My first passengers are Nadia (mother), Sophia (daughter), and Baby Alex.  They are from eastern Ukraine, scene of the heaviest fighting and destruction.  Since they don’t speak English and I don’t speak Ukrainian, we rely on Google Translate and gestures to communicate.

 

Alex doesn’t like being in a car seat, away from his mother’s arms, and he lets us know that in no uncertain terms for the first 30 minutes of the ride. Then for the next 15 minutes he decides that he is hungry and wails some more.  I’m finally able to pull over into a rest stop and Nadia breast feeds him.  He promptly falls asleep in her arms and she asks if he can stay in her arms and I agree, knowing that what I’m allowing is illegal and dangerous, but I’m not sure the three of us can be in a car with a crying baby for the next two hours and forty five minutes.

 

I narrowly avert a serious disaster on the drive to Lublin. Here is what happened:  

The gas gauge on the SUV is confusing and I mistakenly thought I had enough gas to get to Lublin.  However, a warning appears on the dashboard about an hour from our destination that the car is low on fuel. We’re on a freeway with very towns, gas stations, rest stops and it’s late on a Sunday night.  The freeway has a narrow shoulder about four feet wide on one side. If we were to run out of gas, we would be stuck on this narrow shoulder.  

 

Keep in mind that I don’t know who to call (is there a 911 or a AAA in Poland?) Even if I were able to reach someone, how would I communicate with them?  We would have to spend the night in the car on the side of a dangerous highway, praying that we wouldn’t be hit by a speeding or drunk driver.  The realization that there were no options short of miraculously finding a gas station open on a late Sunday night gives me a sinking cold feeling in the pit of my stomach.

 

Well, a miracle happens.  We get off the freeway onto a smaller highway that runs through deserted villages. I’m sure that we are running on fumes, so I slow down to preserve what is left of the fumes.  I am just about to give up and start looking for safe areas to pull over when I spot an old gas station.  The sign isn’t lit up and it looks to be closed, but I see a light in the office and drive in. What a strange and eerie gas station—all but one of the pumps aren’t even functioning pumps.  They are made of wood to look like pumps!  An old man and his wife are in the office, and he proceeds to fill up the tank with the one real pump as I almost weep with joy and relief. 

 

There was no other gas station on the road for the next five miles, so I’m certain we would have run out of gas. 

 

This reminds me of a Twilight Zone-like episode where a dark, eerie and strange gas station with wooden pumps suddenly appears in the dark.  If I drive through that village again, I wonder if it actually exists. 

 

Well, we finally reach our destination and the Polish man who agreed to house my family tells me in good English that they will be joining twelve other Ukrainian refugees in a large building and proudly says that his village has already taken in 120 refugees. As Nadia tearfully thanks me, I am relieved that she, Sophia and Alex are safe and in good hands.

 

I drove another three hours back to my hotel exhausted but exhilarated, knowing that I was able to help one family navigate through this heartbreaking experience. As soon as my head hit my pillow, I was out like a light.