‘We miss our wartorn country, but London has welcomed us’: four Ukrainians on their new lives in the UK

From finding jobs to the challenges of adapting to a new culture, Katie Strick asks refugees about their honest experiences of moving to the capital
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A former Burberry exec who fled missiles and landmines for a safer life in Westminster with her son. A young artist who left her family in Kyiv to start a new life in Brixton. A lecturer from Lviv now working in Gail’s and her local GP surgery in Kentish Town.

These are just some of the 100,000 Ukrainians who’ve fled the war in recent months and are now settling into new lives with host families in the UK. There are fears that the cost-of-living crisis will force thousands of families to abandon the refugees they’re currently hosting. Lord Harrington, the refugees minister, is asking for funding to double the ‘thank you’ payment from £350 a month to £700.

In the meantime, below four women living in London tell their honest stories about moving to the capital - and how the generosity of their hosts has been a lifeline.

Ukrainians can be closed with their emotions — our British hosts have helped my son and I to open up

Maria Yarova, 38, a former Burberry exec from Kyiv now living in Westminster

Former Burberry exec Maria Yarova, 38, begins a new life in London with her son Alex, 13
Maria Yarova

When I tell the story of the last few months, I still can’t believe it’s my life. My son Alex, 13, and I lived in a flat in central Kyiv, just behind an area that’s been the target of several missiles since we left. A child died there in a strike just a couple of weeks ago. Even when a state of war was declared, we didn’t believe it. It’s the 21st century and we are peaceful people, war still felt like a threat.

But at 6am on 24th February, some family friends called to say the city was being attacked. We packed some clothes and documents and fled to our second home, just 30km away in a small village. The city was a mess, people were running around buying food, the roads were at a standstill, everyone was trying to leave.

When we got there, it became obvious that we’d fled to somewhere more dangerous than where we’d been before. The army was there and there were missiles going off nearby. We stayed there for a week, then decided to risk it and leave, despite lots of landmines nearby was worth it. I told my son what to do if he found himself alone - to take his passport, stay close to the ground and get as far away as possible - and saw how frightened he was. It was the most difficult thing I’ve ever had to do.

We stayed with some friends in another city for two days, then stayed with some more friends in the Lviv region. At this point I’d almost stopped sleeping. The sirens went off so regularly and I was permanently worried about my son.

Maria Maria Yarova and her son Alex (right), with their British host family, the Gallaghers
Maria Yarova

For Alex’s sake I decided we should leave. I knew the English language and saw lots of supportive Facebook posts from people in the UK. I found a nice post from a family of five in London called the Gallaghers: Adam, a lawyer; Angela, a school governor; and their three children Sophia, 15, Alban, 12, and Natalie, nine. They looked smiling and happy in photos and Alban was a similar age to my son. I could picture us living with them. I couldn’t believe it when they said the room was still available. They wrote to me every day after that, helping with paperwork.

We received our visas three weeks later and all five of the Gallaghers met us at the airport, waving flags and welcoming us. Back at the flat, they had balloons and a cake decorated with Ukrainian colours and cooked us a wonderful pasta bolognese for our first dinner. In our rooms they’d laid out everything we needed and more: clothes, food, toiletries, flowers.

Since then they’ve helped us to get to know the British culture, taking us to see a Saracens rugby game, and surprising us with theatre tickets and a boat tour on the Thames. It was Alex’s birthday soon after we arrived and all five of them gave him a present.

Angela has been particularly amazing with Alex, contacting schools, doing his homework with him, helping him prepare for interviews at various London schools offering places to refugees. I’ll never forget the look on his face when he found out he’d got a bursary place to start at Whitgift School in September. He was in love with the school and its people the moment we walked in - he couldn’t believe how respectfully the children were treated there. It’s always been his dream to study and become a community like that. We’re so grateful to the headmaster and head of admissions for giving Alex a chance. Meeting such wonderful and supportive people has helped hugely with our recovery.

Yarova says opening up about their feelings has helped her and her son to feel better after the war
Maria Yarova

It’s not all been easy, of course. I worry about overstaying our welcome with the Gallaghers - they’ve been sharing their food with us since day one, which has helped us hugely, but they only started receiving monthly payments for hosting us last month and immediately chose to transfer that money to us instead. We were so touched. Alex and I have been recieving £200 a month each in universal credit but I want to work and earn my own money, so I was relieved when I was finally invited to start a paid internship at Christian Dior’s head office last week. I hope that one day we’ll be able to afford to rent our own place and leave the Gallaghers to live their lives.

The cultural differences have been difficult, too. We Ukrainians tend to keep our emotions inside - we don’t always show it when we’re happy and grateful and we don’t want to burden people with the pain of what we’ve been through, but British culture is to be much more open and communicative so sometimes our closed emotions can probably make us come across as rude. Staying with the Gallaghers has helped us, though. Alex and I are both getting better at expressing ourselves - I can see the changes in both of us every day.

My main ask is for the British people not to judge us. We might be getting better at opening up but I also understand that I am far from back to my normal self. I’m still sleeping badly, still internalising many of my emotions and still getting used to the culture. Most Ukrainians I speak to say the same.

My main coping mechanism has been trying to let go. I’ve always been a planner but the war has shown me how quickly everything can be taken from you; your home, your car, your property. Apparently missiles have hit the 14th floor of our apartment block in Kyiv and our flat is on the ninth floor, so I’ve had to make an active decision not to get stressed about the house or I’d suffer every day and I don’t think I’d survive.

What all of this has taught me is that even when you lose all your possessions, education can never be taken from you, so you can never lose everything. So my focus now is on giving Alex the best education possible, so he can build his future and hopefully one day help to rebuild his country. We will always be Ukrainian. Hopefully one day can take our knowledge home.

I want to be a survivor, not a victim — moving to London feels like a silver lining

Viktoria Zavhorodnia, 31, a fashion exec from Kyiv now living in Brixton

Viktoria Zavhorodnia, 31, is now living with a family in Brixton
Viktoria Zavhorodnia

Before the war, I was living in a suburb of Kyiv and working for Ukrainian Fashion Week. I’d turned 30 last year and had always had a dream of becoming a musician, so bought myself a piano, found a teacher and started learning music last winter.

Six months later the war happened and I had to give up that dream. I thought about staying in Kyiv, but I couldn’t do it. It felt like my life there didn’t belong to me anymore. When you stay in a city that’s being bombed every minute, you don’t know which minute is your last.

A friend and I left Kyiv two days after the war started. First we went to Lviv, then Poland, then France. Then when a friend in London texted me about the Homes for Ukraine scheme I jumped at the chance. It had always been my dream to come to London. I’m in love with its history, its culture, its language. I never thought I’d have the chance to move there, so it felt like a small, surreal silver lining of the war. It showed that even in the darkest time in your life you can still have the brightest moments.

A month later, in mid-April, I got my visa and took the bus to London from Paris. It was my fourth move since the war so it was hard and stressful to adapt at first. But time heals. I moved in with my host family - Nadia, Tom and their daughter Fernanda - in Brixton six weeks ago and they’ve made me feel part of the family. Tom’s parents were refugees from Germany, so he understands what I’m going through and that I need my personal space.

Viktoria Zavhorodnia says she loves London’s weather, food and culture
Viktoria Zavhorodnia

By total luck, Nadia and Tom happen to have a synthesiser in their home, so I can practice the piano. I’ve been practicicing Bach and trying to learn Bohemian Rhapsody. I’ve also been painting, presenting my work at charity events for Ukraine. Art has made me feel re-energised and helped me to realise that you cannot run from yourself, even when you’re running from war. I’d love to start selling my art, do some photography or work in a music shop to start earning some money.

Summer in Kyiv can be like a sauna but here the weather is perfect - it’s not too hot, too cold or too rainy. The air feels fresh. I love that even at night you can get a bus in London, and I also love the food; the fresh salmon they sell at Brixton Market; British traditions like Toad in the Hole. I can’t wait to cook my first Christmas pudding.

I also love the British people. Maybe it’s the fact that people are kind and I understand the language. But if I go to any other European country I always feel like a foreigner, but here I feel equal and the same. I’m lucky I speak good English so I’m not interested in joining these groups for Ukrainian refugees, I want to make friends my own way and make my own circle.

Now, the main challenge the mental one in my head. I’ve always been a flexible person but fleeing the war is like being a kitten taken from its box and thrown to the street. Yes the street is marvellous, but it’s still the street. I miss my parents and brother back in Kyiv, but I know the war is not forever. Sooner or later it will end and I’ll go back to my parents, hopefully more developed as a person. Coming to the UK has proved to me that this world is so big and there are so many good people, as well as filthy and horrible ones. I don’t want to be a victim here, I want to be a survivor.

My colleagues at Gail’s Bakery ask about the war — my mother is optimistic but I think it is far from over

Bohdana Kryviak, 41, a medical lecturer from Lviv living in Kentish Town

Bohdana Kryviak on a day out in London
Bohdana Kryviak

Befor the war, I was a senior lecturer in Latin medical terminology in Lviv. I was staying with my mum and brother 35km outside Lviv, not far from the Polish border, when my mum woke us up with the words: “Children, the war has started”. We heard that Kyiv was being bombed and started calling our relatives there, checking that they were OK.

My daughter Anastasia, 23, and her boyfriend both worked at the university in Lviv - he’s British, so they left for the UK three days after the war started. I relaxed as soon as she left, knowing she was safe.

The real fear kicked in a few days later, when the Russians started bombing a military base not far from my mum’s town. We’d wake up to the sound of bombs and flashes in the sky and I couldn’t even escape when I was asleep, the bombs were in my dreams. From that moment it started to feel real.

It wasn’t my plan to move to the UK at the beginning. My sister lives in the USA so I thought about moving there, but my daughter was in the UK and it was closer than America. A British family I’d met when dropping my daughter at the Polish border helped me to find a host family and luckily the Homes for Ukraine process wasn’t too difficult for me. I filled in the documents, waited for three weeks, then travelled to London a few days after celebrating Easter in Ukraine.

Bohdana and her daughter with their host Nikki and her son Joe
Bohdana Kryviak

Leaving my mum and brother was emotional - I felt stuck in the middle, between them and my daughter. But my host family - Nikki and Tom, and their sons Joe, 24, and Zack, 21 - picked me up from the airport, along with my daughter, and helped me to feel comfortable. Nikki is a paediatric physiotherapist and Tom is a clinical neurophysiologist, so we had a medical link, which was nice.

Nikki’s husband Tom cooked us a delicious lasagne on our first night together and they gave me my own bedroom. Since then they’ve surrounded me with care and attention, doing every bit of my paperwork with me and taking me Ukrainian events and concerts; to their sons’ ballet performances; to the local parks and Hampstead Ponds.

The Kentish Town area feels very comfortable and safe. I’ve met some other Ukrainian women and Nikki has introduced me to her friends. I’ve been cooking them Ukrainian dishes, such as stuffed dumplings called Varenyky. My daughter is now living and working in Reading but often joins me here in London. She’s the same age as my hosts’ son Joe, who comes back to visit too.

I now have an administrative job at a GP practice and have a part-time job at Gail’s Bakery, who have been very proactive in hiring Ukrainian refugees since the war started. I enjoy both jobs just as much as my old one back in Ukraine and it’s been a good chance to gain experience and contribute to the new society I’m living in, although speaking to patients and customers can be stressful because they have different pronounciations for things and young people use a lot of slang I’m not familiar with. But my colleagues have been kind, asking about my family and the war back at home.

I speak to my mum back in Ukraine all the time. She’s busy working as a psychologist and doesn’t have time to sit around reading the news very much, so she’s feeling optimistic about the war. She tells us it will be fine, that she’s living a relatively normal life and that she doesn’t want to leave. I’m not as optimistic. I’m expecting more attacks and unfortunately I don’t think the war is likely to end anytime soon.

I’m trying not to make any plans, but I miss my family and friends and the Ukrainian language. I just want to read a good old fashioned Ukrainian book! At the same time I know I am lucky. For now I’m focusing on improving my English and trying to live day-by-day. I hope my mother is right.

Children are adaptable, my little ones don’t speak much English but they’ve settled into London life already

Alona Donetska, 35, an online children’s store owner from Kyiv, now living in Hampstead

Alona Donetska and her family outside the Natural History Museum in Kensington
Alona Donetska

When the bombs started going off near our home near Kyiv, I told my children it was just planes flying overhead. I had to stay strong for them — they’re only seven, five and one so they’re too young to understand the war. Ten days after the war started, my husband and I decided to leave Ukraine so we just told them we were going on a journey.

That journey lasted five days: we travelled through Hungary into Romania, where we spent two days, then onto Poland. We spent two months there: the bank where my husband Maxsem works put us up in a hotel, then we moved into a flat with some other Ukrainian families.

There in Poland we faced the difficult choice of where to move. One of my university friends, my son’s godmother Angelina, already lived in London, so we decided to follow her and she helped us onto the Homes for Ukraine programme. She then helped to connect us with our host family, lawyers Sarah and Patrick in their forties and their children Ben, 12, and Annabelle, nine.

We moved into their home in Hampstead near Barnet a few weeks later and have a floor to ourselves: two bedrooms and a bathroom. They met us at the airport and it felt good to see that someone had thought about us and was trying to make our life better. They’ve been so kind and welcoming throughout, taking the children swimming, cycling and playing football, and helping us with paperwork and finding schools and nurseries. Even the neighbours have been amazing, bringing us cakes, toys and children’s clothing and inviting us around to tea.

Alona Donetska
Alona Donetska

The first weeks were hard though: finding schools and nurseries and trying to find a job. My husband hasn’t been able to find a banking job yet so he’s still having to travel between London and Kyiv, and the children were put into different schools at first so the school run was a real workout, running arounud with the pushchair. My youngest is currently in nursery one day a week and will be starting five days a week in September, so now my focus is to try and find a job and improve my English.

That’s been hard though, too. I haven’t been able to get through to Barnet Council for two months now and I need their help with things like our promised £200 a month per person from the government, sim cards and English lessons. Every time I go to the council offices they give me a different excuse: come back another day, we need to see you and your children together, other reasons. It’s left me feeling very disappointed and sad.

Luckily, the children have adapted more easily than we have. It’s easy when you’re that young. They’ve made new friends, play games with other British children and are being invited to birthday parties. They have some Ukrainian friends nearby but only British friends at school, but they get on with it because children are good at playing.

Overall, we feel very welcomed by the British public, but our communications with the Government and council have been less positive. We love the area, London’s parks are beautiful and I’ve made friends thanks to some great programmes for Ukrainians. We hope to stay in the UK, but we do need more help.

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