Margreet van Beest-Bons lived and worked for years as a missionary diaconal worker in Ukraine, together with her husband Jan, in The Anchor, Zhytomyr. She left for eastern Ukraine with current project coordinator Iryna to encourage soldiers on the front line. A journey about the many dead and wounded, the senselessness, fake news, recovery and reconstruction of this torn country. Above all, it became a report on injustice as well as justice.
We are expected
It is the night of Monday 14 to Tuesday 15 October. Just now, after four hours of driving, the driver has parked the bus on the hard shoulder to change with his colleague. Judging by the road signs, we have crossed the Polish border. For a moment I had dozed off, but suddenly I am wide awake again.
We left early Monday morning from Rotterdam Central bus station and by now we were a thousand kilometres closer to our first destination: the town of Zjytomyr. Messages like 'Your house is ready' and 'Tuesday night we will have a barbecue and we hope that after the long journey you still have the energy to come to us, if only for a hug' show that I am being waited for. What more could I want? I feel like a blessed and rich person. My arrival is looked forward to and I too can hardly wait to see and hug our friends again and to move again in the city that is so familiar to me.
Driven and called
Yet the purpose of this trip is different from all trips before 24 February 2023. The circumstances are also different. The country is at war and embroiled in a fierce struggle. Ukrainians are fighting for their lives and for their freedom. There are daily attacks by missiles and drones and deaths and injuries. Several websites of the Dutch government therefore advise against all travel to Ukraine.
I am aware that travelling to Ukraine, especially to eastern Ukraine, involves risks. But even though I will not change and save the whole world with this trip, from the depths of my inner being I know I am driven and called by God: to 'do justice and be faithful' by committing myself meticulously to ensuring a dignified existence for others.
God will do justice
I am outraged by the injustice in Ukraine and the injustice worldwide. There is so much violence of war. Occasionally a sense of futility overwhelms me. But with this trip, I get to give hands and feet to justice. As a team from Het Anker, we have the opportunity to spread God's love and the message of hope: God will rise up and bring justice to all who have been wronged. I get to journey in the faith and knowledge of the shelter of the Most High, as stated in Psalm 91. Ukrainian soldiers are often encouraged with this psalm, and it is this psalm that constantly accompanies our journey.
With a head full of thoughts, I look out of the bus window. It is a clear night and the sky is chock-full of stars. I try to look beyond the stars. I know that God is with me and that his help comes from heaven. Occasionally I catch a flurry of conversation from fellow Ukrainian travellers, about military funerals, bombings, relatives, corruption, arranging documents and doctor visits.
Slowly the night passes, the morning light breaks through the darkness.
The aid convoy
It is Thursday morning, 19 October. Yesterday, we and the team made final preparations for our trip east. Three buses and a trailer full of relief supplies are ready for departure. A pastor from a Baptist church in the Zyytomyr area and a chaplain from the Ukrainian army are travelling with our team and some volunteers. It sounds crazy, but we have all been looking forward to this trip and we are also enjoying it immensely. We are grateful that Gos gives us the opportunity to do this work and that so many people have made this financially possible. Before driving, we thank our God together and ask Him for His blessing and protection.
No words for the suffering
On the route from western to eastern Ukraine, you have to pass numerous guarded 'checkpoints'. Via the provinces of Kyiv, Poltava and Kharkiv, we approached the city of Slovyansk after almost 12 hours of driving. We travelled the last part of the journey over Ukrainian territory that was occupied by Russia, but was freed by the Ukrainian army after some time.
Driving through the town of Izium, I think back to the images and reports of the mass graves found here. Residential complexes and residential areas have been destroyed by rockets. Many people have fled this city through humanitarian corridors.
With Iryna, I talk about cruelty, terror, trauma, violence, torture and mass murder. My brain is working overtime. The scale of the suffering and human drama is beyond comprehension and our conversation soon falls silent. It is simply too horrifying for words.
Along the way, the Air Alarm app has already raised several alarms. That means the airstrikes continue even during the day. And now we are standing in pitch darkness at the Donetsk province checkpoint. All sorts of (personal) documents, bus and trailer cargo and even our mobile phones are checked.
Military vehicles drive off and on. It is as if I have entered another world. Here, freedom and peace has a (too) high price. This transcends all reason. The injustice makes me restless. I make this journey to be present with the other team members in the misery and to feel, carry and suffer with the pain and suffering of our Ukrainian neighbour.
Courage to act
In the middle of the night, we cut dozens of kilos of groundnuts and onions for the next day. We reflect on the long journey and conclude that this motivation does not just come from ourselves. This is where heaven touches our hearts with the spirit of God's love and connection, peace and justice. God calls us to do this and this faith has set us in motion. I share with them the words from the song Make our hearts restless and in particular the words:
Ignite in us your anger to resist injustice!
Give us courage to act. Let us fight for peace.
For it is Thy kingdom for ever.
A loud: 'Amin, amin, amin' follows in chorus.
Moments later, I walk outside to the toilet block. I hear an explosion and look up and pray: 'God, with You I know myself safe. This is the only way I can lie down in peace and fall asleep. Please keep us.'
Cooking for the military
After a short night, we set off towards our workplace for the day, a place along one of the supply roads to the Ukrainian army's front line. Praying, we start this day asking God for safekeeping and a blessing, and for wisdom to be allowed to speak the right words to the soldiers we will meet.
Full of enthusiasm and fire, we set to work. Hundreds of soldiers enjoy a hot meal this day and also take meals for their comrades. We distribute medicines and thermal clothing, personal care products, rat and mouse poison for in the trenches, fruit, water, coffee and tea, biscuits, sweets and camouflage nets. The soldiers are happy and grateful for our help. At the same time, we have the opportunity to thank them.
Praying for peace
With several soldiers, we talk about fear and what it is like to deal with tension and uncertainty on a daily basis. One soldier tells me: 'Only a fool knows no fear.' A chaplain I speak to says the battle is tough and that everyone prays. 'Pray for us,' is his request as we say goodbye.
It is an impressive and intensive day. At the end of the day, we thank God at this not everyday workplace. We thank Him for His safekeeping and the special meetings and conversations with the military. In the distance we hear the explosions and we pray God for protection from the Ukrainian army and for strength and courage to endure every day. We beg God for peace and freedom for Ukraine but also worldwide.
After prayer, we look at each other. We experience the peace and presence of God in this place of war. The situation does not change because the war is not over, but we were allowed to see God at work this day and witness that heaven touches earth.
Trail of destruction
The next day, we visit residents of three occupied, but later recaptured by the Ukrainian army, villages in Charkiv province. The chaplain on our team tells us that many young girls lived in cellars during the seven to eight months of occupation, to avoid being physically abused. Only at night did they come out briefly to get fresh air.
Most of the people we meet in these villages are elderly. There are only a few children. You can see the dejection and fatigue on their faces. Two and a half years of war not only leaves a trail of destruction in terms of civilian targets hit. The impact on people's personal lives is beyond description.
The villagers share their grief, horror, fear, pain, emptiness, anger and helplessness. Living in uncertainty for months because you don't know whether you will live or die in the next hour. These are the consequences of diabolical terror. How do you keep this up? The frustration sometimes spills out. This is living to survive. For a moment on this day, we may step into their lives to let them know they are not alone. I feel connected to Ukraine, the people and their fate. I feel connected to the scars of almost a thousand days of war in Ukraine.
Not only
We give people food, medicine, cleaning supplies and personal care products. And through a short word from the Bible, songs and prayer, we tell about Jesus, our hope.
As we pray, we hear Ukrainian anti-aircraft artillery shooting a number of drones out of the sky. Later, a woman comes up to me and asks if she can hug me: "Thank you for everything, your coming and hugging me makes me not feel alone."
What a contrast to life in the West. And again those words ring in my head: 'kindle in us your anger to resist injustice!' Even if this help seems like a drop in the ocean, we believe God will ensure that these drops become a cup of cold water.
Resilience
Despair and hope, sadness and joy, anger and resignation, helplessness and recovery, fear and calm. All emotions and feelings pass by on this journey. We see devastation and reconstruction, futility and resilience.
The extent of human suffering is beyond comprehension. There is a lot of misunderstanding as to why this war happened. You feel the helplessness and frustration. At the same time, we see that life goes on. The resilience and perseverance of Ukrainians are visible in everything. Huizen and flats are being renovated or newly built, bought and sold. Coffee shops and restaurants are open. We too are sitting with friends in a restaurant one evening enjoying each other and delicious food, while at night the air alert goes off due to massive drone attacks.
Faith and trust
The first topic of conversation the next day is a violent explosion that woke me up in the night. It's about ballistic missiles, kamikazedrones, shahed drones and glide or hover bombs. Words I could never have imagined I would learn in the Ukrainian language. Yet these conversations with our friends always end by expressing faith in and trust in God: 'Even though sometimes we don't understand anything at all, we experience that God provides. Without Him we are nowhere and only with Him are we safe.'
I am constantly aware that now someone else was the victim, but that I have no guarantee that I cannot become a victim myself.
Carried on hands
I see death up close when I attend the funeral of a 22-year-old soldier killed at the front. His father is one of the pastors of a Baptist church in Zjytomyr. Right at his child's grave, that pastor talks about Life. Life in Christ. And this is also the hopeful message we may hear and pass on during our journey. The words 'that there is no greater love than to give your life for your friends' sound completely different at the funeral of this boy, who will forever be 22. Here, this message takes on a deeper dimension.
At the military cemetery in Zjytomyr, I think again of Psalm 91. God instructs his angels to watch over us wherever we will go, we will be carried on our hands. This transcends the blaring sirens of the air alert, the explosions of rocket attacks and bombings. And even death. In that trust, we were allowed to go on this unforgettable and special journey. God is good!
Twelve days after our departure, we arrive at the train station in Gouda. It is Saturday evening. The journey totalling some six thousand kilometres is over.
About the project
Read more here The Anchor, the project Margreet led. After her departure, Yrina Linnyk took over. Currently, refugees from eastern Ukraine are received in Het Anker. Our support remains unabated.
