Ukraine stories: Staff, faculty share harrowing, inspiring experiences

The war in Ukraine is on their minds and hearts every minute of the day. These are some of your co-workers whose family, loved ones, friends are caught up in the war. Learn about their experiences and how you can help.

Here are their stories in their own words.

Oksana Kharabora

Lab manager, infectious diseases division, School of Medicine

Most of my relatives are living in Ukraine — aunts, uncles, cousins, grandparents. I am an only child and was able to bring my parents here to North Carolina in 2013. When war started in the eastern part of Ukraine in 2014, I was so glad they were here.

My cousin is in the military now. He is 24. He studied law at university, and now he’s fighting.

When I finally talked to my cousin after the war started, it was so emotional for me. He was not allowed to tell where he was, just to be safe. He could only call for about 30 seconds or a minute. He sent me a picture of him with all this military gear on. I asked him if he has a bulletproof vest. I want to send him one, because you can buy them here, but you need special permission to send those.

His mom, my aunt, calls from Ukraine, and she is crying. She is so afraid for her son. Sometimes he tells her they don’t have enough food. The situation is really, really hard there. My mom and I have been crying since the war started on February 24. I try to calm her down. I tell her everything will be fine. We pray and ask for his safety. But what can we do? It’s a war. It’s not safe.

When my mom starts to cry, I tell her it is better not to cry. It’s better to do something.

We are part of the Ukrainian Association of North Carolina. The war started on a Thursday. We all met that Sunday near the capital in Raleigh to show support. I came with my daughter, who made a poster: “Stop war in Ukraine.” She is 7, but she understands what’s going on. She was so emotional. It was heartbreaking.

We bake food for Ukrainian fundraisers. We’ve been gathering medical supplies and humanitarian aid. We have a list of what to send, things like band-aids, tourniquets, pain killers. I went to Walmart and purchased everything. When I learned how many kids became orphans, I bought a lot of baby stuff, like formula and blankets. We worked in a big warehouse, packing everything in boxes, putting the boxes on pallets and loading the pallets into trucks. We were sorting and packing all day. We sent everything to Poland. From Poland, it will be distributed to Ukraine.

Oksana Kharabora with her daughter, Maria, and father, Ihor, at a rally for Ukraine.

Marta Overchuk

Postdoctoral research associate, biomedical engineering department, School of Medicine

I grew up in Lviv, Ukraine. After attending Ivan Franko National University there, I entered a doctoral program at the University of Toronto, Canada. On Feb. 24, 2022, when Russia invaded, I was in Canada packing my suitcases and getting ready to move to Chapel Hill for the next stage in my career.

It reminded me of 2014, when I was taking exams and preparing for a competitive graduate school program during the day and going to protests in the evening. This happened when our then-president decided to withdraw from association with the European Union and start developing closer ties with Russia. That started the Revolution of Dignity. Lviv is a pro-Western city, so everybody didn’t want that. About 30 of us students went in the streets to join protests that took over the whole country.

From November 2021, I was rationally understanding that something is going to happen. My husband pays careful attention to the news, and he was saying, “Marta, you have to be prepared that war can happen.” I was responding, “There is no way of being prepared to this. If this happens, my world shatters.”

My mom lives in the U.K., but my dad, both aunts and my grandma live in Lviv, an hour’s drive from Poland. I started talking with them in November about a possible invasion. Everybody’s sentiment was that even if something terrible happens, it probably would be in the east. I tried impressing on them the importance of being prepared.

In early February, my aunts and my grandma, who is 83, realized that they had to do something. I sent them some money. They bought some portable chargers, necessities, some food just to stock up. Because nobody really knew when something would happen, they held off from buying tickets. My dad helped them. My grandma didn’t have her updated passport that would allow her to leave. Thank God they applied for her passport. I think she received it right before Russia invaded.

On Feb. 24, of course, it was impossible to leave because everybody was trying to do the same. Rockets were hitting cities nearby. On March 1, they got on an evacuation train. It was brutal because there were probably 250 people crammed in a train car meant for 54 people. They both caught COVID during the trip and my grandma ended up in a hospital, but at least they got to safety.

Since entering Poland, they’ve been supported by volunteers and my dad’s friends. I’m grateful for that. My dad’s still in Ukraine, taking care of his sister. We use Zoom and Facebook Messenger to communicate. It’s been relatively safe, but on calls I constantly hear air raid warnings in the background. Then they go deep in the apartment, so there are two walls for protection. That’s the reality.

My emotions come in waves. It’s tough. I am trying to be useful. I have connections with universities in Kyiv and Kharkiv. I’m trying to help scholars from Ukraine find jobs here. And I co-organized an event that raised over $1,000 for the Ukrainian Association of North Carolina to buy and send medical supplies.

Marta Overchuk’s mother Olya Baklan, left, grandmother Halyna Baklan and aunt Oksana Baklan just after their safe arrival in England.

Mykhailo “Misha” Shvets

Doctoral student and graduate teaching assistant, computer science department, College of Arts & Sciences

Every day since Feb. 24 for me, as for all Ukrainians, has been filled with endless pain watching as cities are destroyed and civilians tortured, raped and murdered. I’ve spent dozens of hours on the phone with my family members, who are all in Ukraine.

My mother lives in my home city of Dnipro, not far from the front lines, and has heard hundreds of air raid sirens. She stops her activities every time to seek shelter. Yet, she manages to pull herself together, continues carrying out her work duties and supporting her elderly parents. Millions of Ukrainians like my mother are staying strong and have the backs of our warriors: running the economy, caring for each other, volunteering.

In the war’s first days, my father’s family with children ages 5 and 7 found themselves in a hot spot on the outskirts of the capital, Kyiv. For two weeks they had no electricity, heating, tap water and food supply. My father made dangerous trips every day to find a place with some poor cell phone connection to get news and send a few texts like:

“They fired mortars over our heads, now enemy tanks are firing a little from the side — loud explosions. About 200 meters from us.”

On one trip he had to run for his life from Russian soldiers. Later at that same spot, reporters found a burnt car with four dead bodies of those trying to escape the occupation. My dad joined a self-organized motorcade to get his family out. They were able to pass the Russian tanks blocking the road, but along the highway they witnessed numerous cars shot and buildings and gas stations burnt down. They are now in the west of the country in a safer place, even though no place is truly safe in Ukraine at this moment.

My family is lucky to be alive and to not have been physically assaulted by the barbaric Russian forces. Many are not lucky. Ukraine is paying an exorbitant price in this fight against pure evil. Paying with lost lives, shattered destinies, traumatized children, broken hearts. Recovery will be hard. Yet, it’s not hard to help. It doesn’t take a lot of time to attend a rally or charity event or to volunteer for a donation drive. We need people to show up and stand with Ukraine. We fight for our future and defend values of democracy for the whole world.

Misha Shvets, upper left, and his father’s family in Ukraine.

Rachel Thimke

Executive assistant to the chair, nutrition department, Gillings School of Global Public Health

Yuliya Shyrokonis and I are like sisters. We met 11 years ago as freshmen at NYU. I was having a bad day. Yuliya walked into my room and wouldn’t leave until I felt better. She will be my maid of honor when I get married in July.

Yuliya was in Michigan, but joined her family in Kassel, Germany — her grandparents, her great-uncle, his daughter-in-law and her two daughters. A family friend and her daughter are also there. They all left Zaporizhzhia in southeastern Ukraine in March. They traveled 750 miles to Poland, where she and her mom met them at the border. A grandmother as well as uncles who are under 60 cannot leave; a cousin and her husband with stage 3 cancer are there after fleeing Mariupol.

They moved the group to Germany because there’s more social assistance and financial assistance for refugees. None of her family speak English or German. Most of them are in their 80s and struggle with technology. Yuliya is the main one helping them and has done a massive amount of work. A Ukrainian friend who also brought their family over has been explaining the process.

I’m helping with administrative things as I can. I contacted organizations before we knew about Uniting for Ukraine, seeing what legal channels were available for refugees. I’m helping draft social media alerts to try to get people to push the U.S. to expedite processes. I’m doing fundraising and administrative support for her family’s efforts. My fiancé and I are sponsoring her great-uncle for entry to the U.S. through Uniting for Ukraine.

There’s a great sense of relief for people whose families are safe, but many are in a bureaucratic purgatory. We think the ripple effects of the war will include a marginalization of people who don’t have passports like the old, the poor and those who haven’t traveled internationally. Then there’s the trauma of all this, being uprooted without any control over it and after having lived their whole life in a place. We don’t know how to help them with that feeling. All they left with was a small suitcase each. Can you imagine? I hope that people will seek out ways to help.

Rachel Thimke, left, has been helping Yuliya Shyrokonis, right, bring her Ukrainian family to safety.

Charity concert for front-line paramedics

Attend a celebration of Ukrainian music, art and culture 5-7 p.m. May 22 in Hill Hall’s Moeser Auditorium to raise money for Ukrainian paramedics on the war’s front lines. The event will feature soprano opera singer Alina Cherkasov and pianist Taras Filenko. Admission is by donation.

Sponsored by the Ukrainian Association of North Carolina and spearheaded by Maryna Kapustina of the UNC School of Medicine, the event is presented with support from the College of Arts & Sciences’ music department and Center for Slavic, Eurasian, and Eastern European Studies.