Polina and Maryna Borejko resignedly reenter their apartment building. The air raid sirens have just sounded howling through the southern Ukrainian city of Kryvy Rih. Mother and daughter were just outside, in their yellow training shirts, gym leggings and trainers. Ready to run. But now they’ve had to postpone their morning run. Polina (59) and her daughter Maryna (31) are not taking any risks. Next to their running track is a school building. Schools appear to be a popular object of the Russian armed forces.
Their morning run – six days a week, they go to church on Sundays – marks the start of a day in which they try to live normal lives as the war grips Ukraine. Polina and Maryna are not in constant danger. Kryvy Rih is fifty kilometers from the front, out of range of Russian artillery. “The city is relatively safe,” Maryna says, waiting in the kitchen. “There have been one or two rocket attacks since we’ve lived here.”
When the air raid siren goes off, they sometimes take shelter in the hallway. In the house, that is the safest place to stay, as is the bathroom. The rule of thumb is that you should be behind at least two walls at home, the outer wall and an inner wall.
After half an hour the air-raid siren sounds again through the city, the signal is clear. Immediately Polina and Maryna go outside, they pass two older women who wish them good luck every day. Five minutes later they are at the start of their course, a walking path along a football field of sand and stones, the school building and fitness equipment. Polina turns on her Strava app. The faster Maryna does not wait for her and starts immediately. Soon she is half a lap ahead, halfway she catches up with her mother.
Not to a psychologist
That was different the first time running. Then they stayed together. That first time was on March 22, after Polina had arrived in Kryvy Rih two days earlier after her flight on March 2 from besieged Mariupol, the ruined city that has been in Russian hands for months. Polina fled Kharkov, because of the Russian bombardments that the city has to endure every day. They moved in together in a flat of a former classmate of Maryna’s. The first night Maryna woke up with a start.
Her mother screamed. She didn’t notice and slept on. The next day she couldn’t remember any of her screams. Maryna made a connection with the events in Mariupol. Her mother did not see the point in going to the psychologist. She thought nothing was wrong. Maryna didn’t want to push her. “Since we hadn’t seen each other for a long time, she wanted to be with me.” So Maryna – herself athletically inclined – decided to go running with her mother.
It turned out to be the medicine to clear Polina’s head. “Running relieves me of heavy thoughts. I feel amazing.” She no longer screams at night.
After your run this morning, it’s time for stretches, abs, and planks. Diligently, Polina listens to her daughter for advice. “She’s my personal trainer.” She lost ten pounds since she started running. She puts running photos on her Instagram account boreiko_polina. This is how she keeps in touch with refugee friends. They support each other through messages.
Sweaty, they walk back after 45 minutes and take the stairs to their house on ten floors instead of the elevator for dessert. In her room, Polina’s bed is jammed between boxes, cupboards and the wall. In addition, a bag with documents and some clothes in case she has to flee unexpectedly. After showering and changing clothes, she starts her volunteer work. At a desk she ties together green strings that soldiers can put over their heads as camouflage hoods.
Books turned over
Maryna works on her sofa bed with her laptop on her lap. She does marketing for a company, for which she receives 7,000 hryvnia (192 euros) per month. In a cupboard she has turned over the books of Russian writers, so that she cannot see the title and author.
The two live on Maryna’s income, savings and 4,000 hryvnia that they receive each month from the son/brother who is in the army. As displaced persons, they receive 2,000 hryvnia per person per month from the Ukrainian government and can use public transport in Kryvy Rih for free. In the kitchen, the pantry is full of buckwheat, spaghetti and canned meat from aid packages from the Ukrainian government. In the first three months, both received 2,200 hryvnia from the United Nations.
Mother and daughter try to cut back on their expenses as much as possible. “You never know if we suddenly need extra money,” explains Polina. So they don’t go to the cafe or restaurant. They no longer buy fish, wine, beef and pork or ice cream. They get clothes from neighbors or others. Polina is wearing her daughter’s. When she arrived in Kryvy Rih, she only had winter clothes with her. The flat is free, but they pay for gas, water and electricity. When Polina goes to the market around noon, she asks for prices at each stall. In June inflation had risen to 21.5 percent compared to a year earlier. When the war started, Polina paid 13 hryvnia for a loaf of bread, now 15.50 hryvnia. Maryna chooses a cheaper brand when buying shower gel, shampoo and face cream.
The two women realize that nothing is going back to normal in their lives and emphasize that they have to stay positive. Especially since no one knows how long the war will last. “There are people who have it worse.”
A week later, Maryna texts that she is going back to Kharkov to arrange some business. Her mother is left worried in Kryvy Rih. She fears that a Russian missile will kill her daughter. Polina continues to run, Maryna writes. She keeps an eye on her mother’s performance on Strava. “She mustn’t fall behind.”
She herself runs three to four times a week in Kharkiv, she writes. “You don’t always feel safe out here on the streets.”
Read also this report about Ukrainian volunteers