If we analyze what currently holds Ukrainians together, besides a developed sense of humor, unity, and determination, a strong sense of involvement in good deeds is at work. Everyone finds something of their own, but life without volunteering and other expressions of kindness has become impossible for most of us.
This is the final interview in the project we are bringing to life in collaboration with the charity fund with the eloquent name "DobroTUT" (GoodHere).
"I just can't do otherwise. I can't leave the country. I can't abandon the guys who protect us. I must help everyone in any way I can, and I can't not do it," the words of Irina Zhdamarova, the heroine of this interview, echo throughout our conversation. She is very emotional, vibrant, a beautiful young woman with intense energy and a sparkle in her eyes that makes you believe: she will do what seems impossible.
The only place where Irina can allow herself to slow down and catch her breath is the space of "DobroTUT" (GoodHere). Somehow, it manages to envelop women with very different backgrounds, experiences, and temperaments with care. Moreover, they start allowing themselves to experience the fullness of life, despite everything they have been through. Lilia from Zaporizhzhia, Nadiia from Severodonetsk, Nina from Bakhmut, and Katya from Melitopol – they all talk about how important it is to have the opportunity to recharge, receive pleasant impressions, immerse themselves in communication with people who understand without words. And they succeed, but how? You'll understand it all by reading this and our other interviews.
And now, I'd like to point out that the coordinator of the fund, Lyudmila Pasha, whose story marked the beginning of our project, is referred to as "Dusha Georgiivna" (Soul of Georgiivna) within the community. A pretty expressive fact, isn't it? As Irina says, "a soul that wraps you in care like wings." It's a very close artistic image for her. She dreams of covering the frontline guys with wings; in reality, she brings them bulletproof vests, thermal imagers, medicine, and homemade treats.
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How did the war begin for you?
I didn't believe the war could be this way, that they would come from everywhere, and it would be on such a massive scale. I thought there would be an escalation in the east, an attempt to take the Donetsk region or something. And this is even though I had a lot of conversations with soldiers because my husband and I have been helping the army since 2014, and we had many acquaintances among the guys on the front lines. We even made arrangements with them that they would let us know if the actual start happened.
And then, on February 24th, at 6 in the morning, I woke up from a loud sound so powerful that the entire apartment building was shaking. I looked out the window and saw a plane flying right in front of me, at the level of my window. From what I understand now, it was a fighter jet. And right behind it, another one. "Ours," a thought flashed by. But their sound was so intense that I thought the windows would shatter.
And I immediately realized that it had indeed started. And then friends from the military called and confirmed it. My husband was on a business trip in Dnipro at that time. He called right away and said he was "flying" home. "Pack things for one or two days," he advised. He thought it would only be intense for the first few days, and things would somehow settle.
So, with a suitcase packed for one or two days, we headed to Dnipro. On the way, while driving in a column of evacuees from Zaporizhzhia, a plane flew right over my car. It always happens to me like that. So many cars around, but it flew over mine, almost touching the roof with its landing gear.
The child sat with wide eyes, and I said, "These are ours, don't worry. These are ours. Definitely ours."
In Dnipro, we settled outside the city at a friend's dacha. A few families gathered there. That's where we lived for the first few months of the war. Then we dispersed: some went abroad, and some rented separate apartments.
And then, on the second day, all the adults sat around an oval table, talked, and unanimously decided: we needed to do something. The guys from the Territorial Defense Battalion (TDF) standing next to us were in dire straits - no proper supplies, and it was winter. We decided to help them. We brought together all our resources and acquaintances, utilized everything we could, and started taking action.
We provided shoes, clothing, and food for 250 TDF members.
I cried from morning till evening, but I was constantly doing something, constantly preparing, preparing, preparing. Making four liters of pancakes - no problem. Cooking all night long - also no problem.
What do you remember most from that time?
We were staying at a cabin with friends. It was an exciting experience: some became unexpectedly closer, and we saw some from a different side. War reveals people differently. But it was precious that in our group, there wasn't a single (not a single!) person who thought only about themselves or their family. Everyone got involved in helping.
And there was another airplane story there. One day, a supersonic jet flew very low over our house. The kids were playing in the yard at that moment. They said later that they could almost see the pilot in the cockpit. They got terrified. My son had a natural fit, and then he was afraid to leave the house for a long time. We couldn't do anything about it. He eventually got over it. The older kids heard that it was our planes, and with other explanations, they ultimately calmed down. But my Artem was afraid for a long time…
Did you go abroad? You have a little child...
I understand that it's better to leave so your son doesn't hear or see all of this. But when thinking about others, I realize that the guys deserve attention and help. I can't abandon them. I can't do otherwise. I have to be here and help. Who, if not us? I ask myself: why should the guys protect me, risk their lives? Why should they die? So that I can live? Just because they are men? Or because they were the first to be there? And what about me? Just leave?
Yes, I have a son, but all the guys who are fighting now are also someone's sons...
Of course, at first, thoughts arose. There was so much emotional tension, which I had never experienced. I didn't understand how to cope with all of this. It was unclear how far they would advance, where they would stop, and where it might be safe. They were shooting at columns of civilians fleeing the war, so it was unclear whether it was safer to stay or leave. Those hesitations in the first two weeks were the scariest period for me, the most terrifying.
The emotional tension heightened because my brother was called up to the military enlistment office several times. I prepared him for war (he got everything he needed) because they weren't providing them with much at that time. They took him but then returned him, saying to wait. And then, a new round. Although in reality, everything turned out better, because with each call-up, I found something better or more for him. And when they finally took him, he was fully equipped. Still, those farewells - when you say goodbye each time, thinking that you might be seeing them for the last time - it was emotionally unbearable. Twice a week, I traveled to Zaporizhzhia to see him off. I couldn't not do it. It was impossible not to hug him and wave goodbye. On June 3rd, he was taken for training and stayed in Dnipro for a while. And then, on the 22nd, to ground zero. So I had a chance to "breathe" in this situation for a while.
Of course, I couldn't leave neither my brother nor the guys who needed help.
What's the most valuable thing about volunteering for you?
We try to help everyone. We try to find, make, and deliver precisely what the guys ask for. At first, we made custom-made bulletproof vests, which was challenging because they weren't providing them in the required quantity. We found binoculars, thermal imagers... and brought them to the front lines. And when the guys call and say that, for example, if it weren't for that specific thermal imager we provided, they wouldn't be alive, and they tell real incredible stories, it's precious. Then I think that everything isn't in vain. We're doing everything right.
And it's heartwarming when the guys send photos of themselves eating the food I cooked. They have their rifles nearby, their hands are calloused, worn out, and yet they eat with satisfied faces... They say, "It's like being at home!" That's the greatest joy for me.
It's funny, but my phone is full of pictures of other men - their underwear sizes and much more. It's a girly phone.
They say I'm like a sister to them already, maybe like a cousin, but still a sister. I'm very emotional, and all my guys know that I need them to reply, even if it's just a smiley face or "All good," so I know everything's okay. And they write. They know I won't be able to sleep, so they write.
And when someone from them or their brothers-in-arms ends up in the hospital, I'm there too! I handle things. For many of the guys, their wives went abroad. And they are left alone, you understand? I come, and they're alone. It's very tough for them emotionally. So, I sometimes become a friend, sister, and mother to them.
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Who helps you fulfill the guys' requests? You don't publicly announce fundraising, right?
My husband works for a large grain trading company. It has benefited the country during the coronavirus epidemic and continues to help now. They cover most of the requests. I don't advertise my activities on social media. I don't need any PR or anything like that. But when I see someone I can talk to about this, I tell them, or when I understand that this person can suggest something or direct me somewhere, I ask. I even found people abroad when we needed medication for the guys because we didn't have them then.
It's tough for me to see indifferent people, but many care. And we do what we need to do.
How do you maintain this pace? What helps?
When I go to these points near the front line and see how they are there... Our guys, of course, are the strongest, the best, but they are still human; there's no one who won't be afraid, who won't hurt, who won't get tired. So, I don't have the right to get tired, either. These trips to ground zero help me greatly because I see how everything is happening. I don't have rose-colored glasses. I also ask the guys not to hide anything from me. When I know the TDFth, I can help as needed and where needed. I'm well aware of their needs and sometimes ask things that others wouldn't even think to ask. And this experience helps, especially when you see how they react to questions and respond... A girl who asks the right questions is cool.
I have armor, helmets, and medications on my balcony - everything is there for the guys. And sometimes, I need to go to the front because that's when I can be more helpful. My husband says I'm crazy, but I can't be any other way.
And about what helps... When my brother was on the front line, he and his brothers-in-arms spent a month and a half 150 meters away from the Russian forces. Under constant shelling, without leaving. They didn't even have trenches, just a ditch half a knee-deep. They went there with just their rifles. So, we tried to solve everything - found, bought, delivered. And that's how they managed to hold on. He said so. Otherwise, it would have been impossible to hold on.
Where is your brother now?
He was seriously injured. He went out under fire himself, as his brothers were carrying the fallen soldier and couldn't help. His sciatic nerve is severed, so he can hardly feel his leg, or it only hurts but doesn't function. That's another separate story. When he was in the hospital, I practically lived there and couldn't help but help everyone there. So, I know everything about the hospital too. The doctors referred to me, as they later admitted, as "our active girl"... They didn't call me by name among themselves. I earned that title.
The guys in the surgery were in terrible shape. The injuries there were severe... But I tried to smile, joke, and could even scold them if they didn't follow the doctors' orders. They even met me near the elevator in wheelchairs, lining up on both sides of the corridor. I joked, "My racers." It moved me to tears.
And another thing, I find it very difficult to bear all the losses. But that's not a reason to give up. It's a reason to continue.
When I imagine that they're injured there, being carried, under intense shelling, I want to, like a dove, like an angel, cover them with wings, protect them, and take everything on myself. Such an intense feeling envelops me...
And people who join in also help. You wrote about one girl. It's Nina Nidens; she's from Bakhmut. We met in the "DobroTUT" project, and recently she shared her food supplies so I could cook for the guys. I'm very grateful to her. Very.
I got to know people like Nina through the foundation, and that's very important for me.
How did you join the "DobroTUT" foundation?
One day, passing by the "Vaikiki" store, I saw that something grand was happening there: their traditional event of providing free clothing for internally displaced people. I inquired about it, immediately registered, and followed their social media pages.
And within a day or two, "DobroTUT" organized an event at the theater. I went. And suddenly, it was as if I found myself in a family. It's such a fantastic feeling. Probably because everyone understands each other and knows the pain of losing a home, everyone has their own complex history.
This is even more familiar to me due to my interactions with the guys; they've experienced a lot. And we're very close.
And the organizers, the administration - they're very compassionate. So open and very empathetic. Tanya, Marina, and Yulia are, each in their own place, our fairies. You want to embrace them when things aren't going well, hug each other, and then it becomes warm.
And Lyudmyla - she's a whole separate story. She's like a ray of light...
A beacon! That's even more accurate. Such radiance from her. You know, she sees everyone, envelops everyone with love. I said that I wanted to wrap the guys in my wings, and she, always standing up for us, is our shield. Mountain.
Do you feel a certain closeness in this?
Yes. I see a bit of myself in her. If there's a question, it needs to be solved, and therefore, it will be solved. Iron lady, and at the same time so gentle, sensitive...
I'm very grateful to the foundation for introducing us.
Which of the paintings you've created are your favorites?
After we had a big celebration for the foundation's anniversary, all the volunteers who helped out there got an extra opportunity to attend a masterclass. That's when we depicted a girl in the Provence style. I recreated a dream - a girl walking in her thoughts, calm, beautiful.
Is that what you're missing the most?
That's what I really want. But right now, I can't afford it. I don't have the right to stop or rest. They tell me: you'll burn yourself out; you can't do this. You don't sleep; you don't eat. But I keep running. And as long as I'm running, everything spins. I only stop when I collapse, when I can't move. But if I can pick up the phone, then...
So, "DobroTUT" is almost your only chance to relax?
Yes, yes. They've fulfilled all my wishes that I wanted to realize during peacetime. And they've done it during wartime! Everything they do is so emotionally necessary! And it's such a great idea - to create a foundation that helps not only with food and items, but that's very important too. We must remember people's emotional state. So, I provide calming pills to the guys...
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And is the foundation like a calming pill for you?
For me, it is. I enjoy being there, I'm telling you honestly. And they invite me to help. And here, my mission, just like with the guys, is to help people in the foundation, where there are no outsiders or insiders. We help everyone.
So, here I continue, so to speak, doing my good deeds. It's a bit soothing because I manage to relax, enjoy, and help. It's essential to me.
