It’s the time of year when my bosses in Washington DC review annual plans and budget requests for the upcoming fiscal year (which starts October 1 in my working world). It’s never a very fun process, as we each try to lobby for our regions to get a reasonable share of the ever decreasing budget pie. This year there are some new people in the Washington office, and it’s always more time consuming the first year with a new boss. Lots of questions, lots of detail needed, lots of explanations, and of course lots of jockeying to make a good impression on the new boss. I guess I wasn’t as suck-up-y as my colleagues, or something. She actually chastised me mid-way through an hour+ phone call, said it was frustrating that I was not reviewing the budgets critically and recommending cuts. I was flustered, said I didn’t know she had expected me to do that, usually my role has been to lobby for the countries in my portfolio. She told me my other colleagues were more “cooperative”.
Fuck you, was all I could think. In a rare moment of self-control, I actually kept my thoughts in my head and didn’t say anything out loud. Thank goodness for non-video conference calls, though, as I have no poker face at all. I’m sure I would have received a much more severe chastising had she seen the expression on my face.
The call was at the end of the day my time, and I walked home nearly in tears. She really upset me, and I kept going over and over the conversation in my head. “Doesn’t she know what’s going on here?” I wondered to myself. And then it hit me. Of course not.
I mean, in theory, she knows what’s going on here, but of course it’s not front and center in her life the way it is ours. When I got home, I composed an email, thought about it a bit, and hit send.
I am sorry I caused frustration during our call today. I sometimes forget that just because all we in Ukraine can think about is the war, it’s not consuming your lives, too.
I have to admit, I am physically and emotionally exhausted. Aside from being completely overwhelmed with the [big upcoming work events], 10 months of living with the “situation” in Ukraine is taking its toll on me, as on everyone else here. l try not to check the news all day, but it’s impossible. I try to sleep through the night, but it’s impossible. For a little context of what our lives are like, last week my husband Igor went to his hometown to try to enlist in the army so he could defend his country in this utterly lopsided war with Russia. His vision is bad and they didn’t take him now, but registered him for if (more likely when) there is a general mobilization. Last night, one of our dear friends from Igor’s hometown was in Kyiv and stayed overnight with us. He was called up several months ago to work in the military enlistment office. Over dinner, Vlad told us about enlisting hundreds of guys, and having to ship them out with almost nothing. Their parents and wives and children and cousins bring money to Vlad and ask him to buy a helmet for a son, or a bullet-proof vest for a husband, or send some food to a cousin. Vlad also has to arrange their funerals, as they come back, 2-3 every day, in coffins. If (when) my husband is mobilized, Vlad will have to ship him out too, and it will be me desperately trying to get clothes and equipment and food for his unit, and it will be Vlad organizing his funeral if he comes back in a coffin.
I volunteer with an NGO that is helping injured soldiers. We buy medicines and equipment from abroad that the Ukrainian hospitals don’t have and desperately need, we try to get the worst cases abroad to European, Israeli and American hospitals, in hopes that they’ll have some chance of survival, if not real recovery. We also fundraise and deliver cash to injured soldiers and their families. I’ve lost count how many men I’ve met who are paralyzed or missing an arm or a leg. I’ll never forget the 20 year boy who had both hands blown off.
I took a vacation day last week to travel across Kyiv to a pharmacy warehouse where I could buy pre-natal vitamins and other essential medicines in bulk for a group of pregnant women who fled the havoc in the east this summer and are now living in a church shelter in a village on the other side of Kyiv. When I got there to deliver the vitamins, I found out the shelter’s sewage system had just completely broken, so 170+ refugees from Donbas all have to use one outdoor toilet (really just a pit). The church is trying to decide to use its limited resources to finish the heating system before winter, or fix the sewage system.
I share these examples, not as an excuse, but rather with hope that you will understand why it is difficult for me right now to care if [a partner organization] gets $10,000 or $12,000. Yes, I should have been better prepared and more engaged in the discussion today, and I’m sorry I wasn’t. I will try to do better next time.
Thank you for your understanding.
If you have the inclination and means, every donation, no matter the size, makes a difference.
To help equip soldiers with essential protective gear and non-lethal equipment: Ukrainian Freedom Fund
To help injured soldiers (the fund was started to help those injured during the Maidan revolution, and now we also help injured soldiers): Fund Medical Needs of People Injured on Maidan
To help the Donbas refugees at the church shelter outside Kyiv: Logos
Anka in Kyiv 